Hair me out

I love color! Over the years I’ve expressed my love of colors in some interesting ways. Sometimes it has been through my fingernail polish (orange, many shades of green, black, white, red, glitter, purple, etc), clothes, different colored pens for taking notes and even with different colors in my hair. Recently (this has been in drafts for some time…) there was an article shared in Prompt-ly by Mel about how pink is the IN color right now for dying your hair. After reading this article, I couldn’t help but think of my hair-journey over the years. I’ve had many colors, but never pink-pink and I don’t think I will. I’m just not that type of a girl.

One of the first times I remember dying my hair was when I was about 14 years old. My best friend and I at the time, had roughly shoulder length hair. We cut our hair on a diagonal (not losing the length on one side), but we did opposite diagonals. So depending on who was on the left and who was on the right, you either saw a down-arrow or an up-arrow. And then we died the bottom inch or two in black.

Then a couple of years later, my group of besties and I dyed our hair with Kool-Aid (and vinegar). It worked quite well, even if we did manage to get color everywhere and especially on our hands. The Kool-Aid smell was great, even if there was a hint of vinegar to go with it. We found that purples and reds (grape (my favorite to drink), black cherry, cherry) gave the best colors.

I’m on the right hand side in the below picture. I know you can’t see my Kool-Aid dye-job, but trust me, it is there as a light purple-ish (not pink!).

I know that at some point during my teenage years I also used regular hair dye to get some low-lights (opposite of high lights). I always went darker, never lighter. I had a complex about being called a blond and thus never wanted blond hair. I think I was ditsy enough (although, most of it was an act) without needing it to be reinforced with hair color.

My first really crazy color was Manic-Panics’ Forest Green. I was 18-19 years old, working in at my first real-real job the coffeehouse. It was a cool job and most of the ‘kids’ would come in there. I definitely spent way too much time there. But, back to hair color… I dyed my longish hair forest green, without bleaching it first. The color would have shown up much better if I had bleached my hair first, but it still showed well enough. My bosses weren’t too impressed, so I had to wear a hat while at work.
I wish I had a picture of this time, but if any exist, I have no idea where they are.

I’ve also dyed my hair with henna. I loved the orange/red it would give me. I think one of the first times I used henna was when I was about 20-21 years of age. Right around the time I met Mr Siili (but I was still with my ex).

This first picture is one time immediately after dying my hair. (Notice my frog corner in the background? I loved that little wall-corner area.) The second picture was during a ‘photo shoot’ one afternoon while playing around with a cloak and fun dresses. I’ve always loved this mischievous smile on my face. I’ve also dyed my hair with henna years later while in Finland, but if there are any pictures, they aren’t anything special.

The picture below is just after I had gotten my hair dyed with red and blond stripes in Estonia. I think this must have been around 2002 or 2003. I did buy those elf-slippers from the open air market. (I still have them, but need to fix the bottom of one.)
The 2nd and third pictures just show my hair in better color-detail.

Sometime during the first few years of living in Finland I played with Manic Panic hair dye again (and some other brand I can’t remember the name of). By this point I had some Forest Green left, but I also had Tiger-lilly, Midnight Blue, Purple Haze and some other purple-ish color of which I can’t remember the name. Usually I would do a stripe or two in my hair and not my whole head. I even managed to get Mr Siili to dye his hair a time or two, mainly for Vappu (May 1st, Finland’s Labour Day) or a costume party.

One year, October 2006, I went all out for a costume party and dyed my long locks all purple. I LOVED IT! And talk about my work being shocked when I went in the next week.

A few weeks later, I decided it was time to chop all my hair off and donate the braid to Locks of Love. This was the first time in years (since junior high?) that I had my hair this short. My work was yet again shocked.

A few weeks later, I added a blue stripe in my hair. When I got tired of that, I removed the purple and blue (which turned green) and dyed my hair Tiger-lily, with a stripe of Forest green. This time my work was shocked, but they were waiting for it.

This picture must be sometime early 2007. The orange is gone, but there is still some color that is not my own. Also, my hair has grown out some.

End of August 2007 saw me with my mostly natural hair color, and a bit longer in length, at the next costume party.

Two years ago I dyed my hair a dark brown. I liked it! The below picture was taken when Mr Siili and I were in the US visiting my family (September 2010). The black cat is Sabby (aka Sabbath).

Yesterday, my hair was decently long for my weekly Paxlet pictures, but I’ve been thinking of chopping it off again for a few weeks. (My hair is up in a clip/ponytail thingy.)

And today, this is what I have now! Ignore my not-so-smiley face, it’s hard taking photos of oneself. LOL

I’ve been thinking that while I am on maternity leave, I might bleach it and dye it some funky color. Blue? Green? Purple? And then as it gets closer to going back to work, I’d chop it all off (very short) to get rid of the color. But, who knows, I may keep the color when I go back to work, I don’t think work will mind.

As you can see, there has been a long journey with me and my hair. And I know it’s not over yet!

When, Not If

Since my therapist appointment yesterday, I’ve been thinking quite a bit about using “when” and not “if” when talking about my/our future now that I am pregnant. But this sure is difficult!

I can remember before we ever started TTC, I would quite often talk to my friends about “when I’m a mom” or “when I have kids”, etc. And then we did start TTC and I was even more excited about “when” I’d finally be a mom and “when” I’d get to do stuff with my kids. Even after TTC for a year and a half, plus surgery, I will still quite optimistic about “when”. I’m quite sure that even during the first couple of cycles with IUIs, I was still talking about “when”.

What I don’t remember is when my “whens” turned to “ifs”. How did I start thinking and talking about “if I get pregnant” or “if I ever become a mom”? How did it happen that when talking with my friends, I no longer got as excited to tell them “when I have a kid, we’re going to…”?

Even now, when I am 9 weeks pregnant and the therapist asked me to describe “how my life will be in a year, when all things go correct”, how come it was so hard to tell her my plans “when”? I was so unsure in my telling our future and how I see things when all things go correct, that I had to do it two times. The second telling I had to take my time and choose my words carefully. I had to think about using “when” and not “if” or “hopefully” or “maybe”. It really was difficult! But when I did manage to tell how I see our future “when”, it sure felt great! It was like this little gate popped open inside of me. (I am sure I got a goofy grin on my face.) I was able to peak through the gate and start to see that there really could be a great future “when” everything goes well. And that is what has been happening since. I’ve been slowly thinking more and more of “when” and not “if”.

So, here’s my story I told the therapist about “when” things go great and where I see us in a year:
When I give birth to my baby this summer, my family (dad, siblings and maybe even stepmom) will come visit us. We’ll have been in our new home for a while, so they’ll have a place to stay with us and not need a hotel. Mr Siili will still be working at his job and he’ll like what he is doing (even if he doesn’t love it, he’ll be happy enough). I year from now, I will still be at home with our little one. The three of us will be a happy family even if we don’t always get enough sleep. (Ok,so I just added this last sentence. *grin*)

Love and break-ups

No, not my own break-up, at least not a current one. I’m talking about Eva Longoria’s recent break-up from her husband, Tony Parker. In the article I read, she had the following advice to pass on.

She told America’s InStyle magazine: “One thing I did learn is you don’t hold on to the bitterness of the loss; you hang on to the beauty of the love. Remember all the good things. There was a reason you met someone and a reason why you were together.”

Exactly! That’s exactly what I said when my ex and I broke-up and still say to this day, more than 13 years later. Actually, I’ve said and thought this about all of my exes, except for one. That one I wish I had never known, even if I did learn some lessons from him, the hard way.

My ex and I had been together for 4 years, living together for the last year. I was 17, almost 18 when we met. He was almost 21 and had just gotten out of the Navy. We hung out constantly for a month before we became an official item, on my 18th birthday.

He was/is a good guy. He was older (all my guys have been), made me laugh, could draw like nothing I had ever seen before and he also wrote poetry. Although, not your typical flowery poetry, this stuff was mostly dark and moody. I honestly can’t remember what exactly it was that drew me too him. Other than what I’ve already mentioned and that his physical traits are they “type” I go for. Just taller than my 5’8” (173cm), slender and slightly muscular, but definitely not over done, nice arms and a squarish jaw line (at least that is what I see). My ex introduced me to online MUD games (Multi-User Dungeon / Multi-User Dimension). Think Dungeons &Dragons online, but online. He also liked to drink and smoke.

Another thing that defined my ex, even if he didn’t admit this to himself until many years later, is the fact that he is bi-polar. I don’t mean that he has minor mood swings from happy to sad, he has full on episodes that sometimes last months at a time between the manic and depressive stages. When he’s depressive he drinks a lot (more than normal) and does a lot of drawing and writing poetry. During these episodes he has also done bodily harm to himself. He has a starburst pattern of scars on his chest from a pair of scissors after a night of drinking (before I met him). Thankfully he didn’t cut himself much when we were together, at least never anything like that.

We had our share of ups and downs. Many of our fights were over his drinking. He’d tell me that he was going to have a drink, just one. That one drink turned into one more drink and then another and another. Pretty soon it was many drinks and he was drunk and a bit aggressive. He never hit me or verbally abused me, but he also wasn’t always the most pleasant. I think our first big fight was close to our one year anniversary and if I remember correctly, it had to do with alcohol. I’ve sometimes thought back to that and wondered why I didn’t leave him then. I can’t tell you why I didn’t leave then, I can only say now that I hadn’t learned what I need to learn yet. And hindsight is 20/20.

I can remember one fight in particular. We were at a friend’s house and some of the guys left to go get some alcohol. They were gone for ages, I was tired and wanted to go home. Myself and someone else went to go look for them. We caught up with them at some bar. I wasn’t 21 yet, so I had to wait until the friend brought him out. When my ex got outside we started arguing. How could he abandon me like that?! Especially when we were only supposed to be there for a short time and then go spend some quality time together. We were standing in the middle of the road (quite busy during the day) yelling at each other. We yelled at the top of our lungs. I even pushed him a few times. You know those two handed shoves to the shoulders. What I really wanted was to punch him. But I didn’t. He ended up going his own way and I went home. I probably didn’t hear from him for a day or so and I’m sure I was the one who went looking for him afterward.

We went to the local community college together. He lived with his parents, I moved out on my own and also moved back home at some point. We spent a lot of time with each others’ families. He actually knew my stepmom before I did. His parents got to like me after they got over the fact that he was dating “the girl with that thing in her nose”. After we’d been together for 3 years, we decided to move in together, a couple of hours away from our hometown. Life went on as normal, until our last big fight a few months before our 4th anniversary. Before this fight, I had noticed that I was distancing myself and pulling a way from it all for a while.

My ex was in one of his ‘moods’. He had been out drinking with a co-worker (or more, I don’t remember) and they got up to some mischief. Illegal mischief at that. And they brought their mischief back to our apartment. A huge pile of it into our living room. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. I started freaking out on him, crying, screaming, yelling, crying some more. I cried so hard that night. I cried so hard I was in physical pain. It was one of the stupidest things he had ever done (that I knew about).

I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to get out of there. I had been corresponding with a guy from the MUD my ex and I played on. I decided I was going to take a month long holiday, in Finland! My ex and I had me this guy at the beginning of the year when we was in the US visiting other MUD people. My ex and I sort of broke-up, but in the end he suggested that we just take a break during this time, I agreed. Although, I knew that nothing would be the same and I wasn’t sad to be leaving him behind while I went off on my adventure. My ex had also told me at some point earlier in our relationship that if we ever broke-up, that was it. We would be done and over with. No getting back together. I remembered this, even if he didn’t.

I went to Finland. Had an amazing time! It was close to midsummer after all and it never got dark. How can a person not like that?! About halfway through my trip, I called up my ex and told him that we were done. When I came home, it would not be as his girlfriend. Where one romantic relationship ended, another started. But that was not the end of my dealings with my ex. At the end of my stay in Finland, my new guy and I flew back to the US (this was prearranged). My ex had just gotten out of the hospital for a collapsed lung. He blamed that one me. We tried talking some things through. He told me he was going to ask me to marry him before all this happened. It was all I could do to not laugh. Seriously?! I think he was just trying to poke me where it hurt. Talk about awkward moments as we all existed in the same 1 bedroom apartment for a while. My new guy and I ended up renting a U-haul at 5pm one evening and moving my stuff back home to my dad and stepmom’s house.

My ex was very angry with me for a long time. The few times I talked to him soon after our break-up, he told me how everyone hated me in the town we had moved to for what I did. I was a bit upset that people would judge me so harshly (if it was even true), especially when they didn’t hear my side of the story. How could I dare to being a new guy home already and to our shared apartment? (Did he forget this was arranged before I even left the US?) My ex tried to get our mutual friends to be mad at me. True friends didn’t take sides. He told me that this new guy and I wouldn’t last long and that this was just a rebound fling. And many more hurtful things. I never talked bad about him (even if he did about me) as I knew he was hurting, I was too. But I think more than anything he was shocked and hurt that I finally got enough of a spine and stood up for myself. I didn’t take his crap anymore. I broke it of, not him. Not him.

In any case, I’ve always cared for my ex. I had spent almost 4 years with this guy, I truly cared for him. First and foremost, he was a friend before a boyfriend. I know we were together for as long as we were for a reason. Both of us needed to learn something( or somethings) and that was why we were in that relationship. I did get a letter from my ex a few years later. He told me he was sorry for how he treated me among other things. He was forgiven long before that. I had no bitterness towards him, nor anger. I still care for him and wish him the best in life.

(not so) Wordless Wednesday

I’ve been trying to think of something to post all day, but I just don’t have it in me today. Nothing comes to mind that I want to share and I don’t really want to try to think of something. The funny part of this is that I’ve just recently joined Prompt-ly, a ‘place’ meant for bloggers and writers to share ideas and prompts to help get our juices flowing. And yet, I have nothing today. But I have been thinking of this image all day, so I’ll share it instead of more words.

p.s. Hubby would be shocked at my “loss” of words. LOL