A Haircut.

The humble haircut. Simple, innocuous, and a symbol of renewal. Shedding and revealing new growth underneath. It offers a feeling of rejuvenation and new confidence. At least that's how I see it.

For me, right now, it's a capstone. I've been on the road of recovery for 18 months, dealing with physical damage that tore straight through my confidence. During that time, I had to accept that my body had taken irreversible damage, leaving behind a permanent reminder. The scars are visible, yet only I can feel the metal within.

Mind and body are inextricable, and damage to one can also draw the other toward ruin. Confidence suffers, then fitness suffers, which becomes just a cyclical torment. Here, now, just before this rudimentary haircut, I've returned for the most part to the level of fitness I enjoyed before being so woefully injured. This fitness, fueled by the surge of confidence I claimed 6 months ago, will now feed the cycle positively.

Pushing forward, I now stand at the edge of the best time of my life, prepared to continue.

The last 12 months have been a whirlwind, bringing me so many first-time experiences and bonds with people that may never be broken. A new chapter in my life has been written, punctuated with all the fun I've had so far.

I've also come to realize that when you're at the high point, and everything seems to be going your way, watch out. You could be blindsided. It's a lesson I've been taught time and time again, but it appears that I'm failing to actually learn it.

I'm one of those people that feels unstoppable when life goes my way. For the most part, it works just fine. Being brought back to reality, predictably, is always humbling.

It's pointless then to wonder: "What went wrong? What mistakes did I make?" Because I'll then come to find that the word "mistake" is just a misnomer. There are no mistakes, just experiences to learn from. Where lives intersect is a grey area where no one person ever has control.

It brings life back into perspective. What you can control, you find that you have near-absolute mastery of. What you cannot control, however, you can learn from. It's nothing to fret about, but something to accept. Don't hold on to them, just let them go.

When you actually learn to love again is when you become vulnerable again. But, then again, isn't it worth the risk?

After such episodes, the big picture appears again. Passions that I had neglected presented themselves to me again, begging for my attention once more. Through them, I find enjoyment that I thought I had lost completely.

When I look back, I see a great change. When I would keep what I feel private, I now can share it. I've gained compassion, trust, friendliness, strength, and heart.

Time for that haircut now.