“Messy Sexy” Started with a Hair Cut
I decided to cut my hair super short for the first time when I was 23.
I brought a photo of Karlie Kloss and said, “Something messy/sexy like this.”
I knew my first long-term relationship was on it's last leg and I wanted to make a big statement to usher in that impending change.
Little did I know “messy/sexy” ended up being the perfect descriptors to the rest of my life as I've known it…and a practice in acceptance, contentment, and choosing to feel how I want to despite any sort of appearances—internal or external.
It felt fun—and a little naughty even—to sit down in the chair and tell a new hair dresser “I don't care as long as it's messy/sexy”.
What this meant to me was that I could just roll out of bed in the morning and I didn't have to do anything for my hair to look good. That the disheveled look could also be attractive.
That there could be something sexy about being a bit of a mess.
In hindsight,
I think it was one of my first attempts at trying to embrace imperfection.
Trying to embrace the radical mess the shape of my life was taking.
Trying to embrace being seen, accepted, loved as my messy self as much as my sexy self.
What I've realized is how performative my life has been—which was practiced both onstage as a professional dancer and offstage as a deeply sad and wounded human trying to hide my pain.
Smile.
Get straight A's.
Be a people pleaser.
Put on an outfit.
Put on a show.
No one will know.
And for the most part, no one knew.
For the most part, everyone is so wrapped up in their own performative life that they fail to notice or ask someone else if they're okay. Adults don't tend to question the home-life of high-performing children much less other adults they get success highlight reels from.
So we learn to hide our pain and suffering. We're taught it's weak or burdensome to share this side of ourselves. That there's something wrong with it. That only what is good and great and happy should be shown, seen, and celebrated
…because that's mostly all that is shown, seen, and celebrated.
Which isn't authentic living or relating. That kind of life isn't real even for the happiest of humans (I've asked). We were never meant to go through these things alone.
Our darkness, shadows, and pain are as equal a part of our existence as our light and joy.
While our shadow parts might feel scary, annoying, burdensome now, at one point in time, they helped us survive. They served the purpose to get us through the initial pain and traumas. And they deserve to be acknoweldged and dare I say—loved—as much as things like our laughter and passion.
And the wild thing is, when we acknoweldge and love these parts of ourselves, they integrate and heal. We come back to more wholeness. Vibrancy. Vitality.
We become more alive with the light of love pulsing in every cell.
Life is not all rainbows and butterflies—not even on this beautiful 'aina of Hawai'i.
So Messy Sexy Life is about embracing it all. The paradoxes of universal truth. Living in the “yes, and…” space.
It's…
Where wild transformation meets remembering who you've been all along.
Where living out loud meets loving and valuing yourself, first.
Where courage meets contentment.
Where everything meets nothing meets anything is possible.
Where messy, imperfect action meets the sexy power of being fully alive.
Where recovering perfectionism meets creative play.
It's the cross-section and the full circle around both. Nothing is off limits. We're getting real, here. I heard badass babe and self-proclaimed “shame slayer”, Shoshanna Raven, say something of this sort, and I’m in full support:
“It might be scary, but I’d rather be scared and experiencing life to the fullest than dying never have lived.”
