Embracing a New Identity

I started beauty school two months after my 18th birthday. One week after graduating early from high school and three days after getting my wisdom teeth removed.  The haste in which I launched onto this path had nothing to do with a passion for the industry or fulfillment of a childhood goal.  There was no indication that this path was a fit for me any more than, say, a program in accounting.  Floating on the surface of the unfamiliar waters of depression, and a palpable sense of not belonging, I was adrift, and this is where I landed. Also, my parents decided for me this is where I would spend my time until I became a wife and mother and I complied.

Over the course of my 14 month program, I would transform from the quiet, naive, small town girl into something entirely different.  The beauty school world is full of creatives, misfits, trouble makers and those who have been perpetually onboard the struggle bus and are not on the traditional path or even a linear one. These people helped me find a part of myself  that I didn’t know existed.  The part of me that wants to color outside the lines.  The part of me that easily slips into the subversive and counterculture. But, in full honesty, I also looked around and realized that I had a level of professionalism that many of my colleagues just did not.  By that I mean, I saw a clear path to success if I could keep my head on straight and learn the craft. This may have been my first manifestation.  I could see to believe and it happened.  The industry gave me a sense of belonging and my first taste of success.

This is all to say, being a hairstylist wasn’t just something I did, it was who I became to learn I was. My identity was so deeply tied to the salon industry that I didn’t even know who I was apart from it.  My worth was wrapped up in my ability to translate people’s expectations into a reality reflected in the mirror but also to the connection I had with my clients. The intimate nature of how the work is performed opens people up emotionally.  Being naturally curious about people, with no time for small talk, I found that I have an innate talent in building intimate relationships with people where they feel genuinely seen and heard.  Making people look and feel good gave me an energetic high, but over time, that dual role snowballed into unspoken pressure to be everything to everyone who sat in my chair.  I couldn't figure out a way to show up differently, I was no longer reaping the reward, but I was just as attached to the impossible expectation and I certainly wasn’t having fun.

I straddled those two roles for every day of my 25 year career.  On one hand, I was explicitly providing a technical service - the art and skill of doing hair. On the other hand, I was implicitly a confidant, paying close attention to the person in my chair, listening to their stories, holding space for their emotions, and sometimes feeling like I was the only person in their life truly seeing them. As much as I enjoyed having my hands in hair creatively and connecting deeply with people, performing both roles simultaneously proved unsustainable and draining, and it wasn’t long before I hit burnout.  Career ending burnout.

Trying to heal my burnout took me down the road of personal development.  And there I discovered imposter syndrome! And my tendency to people-please! Oh, what are these things called boundaries! The salon industry and the nature of working so intimately with the public is demanding, not just physically but emotionally, and it certainly requires professional boundaries.  Did they teach this in beauty school? If they did I missed it or was too hungover to hear it.  I didn’t know how to say “no” or respond properly to unreasonable requests, and I carried this terrible fear of not being good enough.

When I left the salon, I felt not only physically and emotionally exhausted but also untethered. Who was I now that I wasn’t doing hair? Could I ever have a shot at doing something else? And honestly, was it too late for me to have another go at something? Would people only ever see me one way? I could have let those fears paralyze me, but luckily I found joy in the process of answering those questions. I treated my personal development like a full-time job, as if I was earning a master’s degree in what took me down.

I went to retreats that challenged my beliefs, read stacks of spiritual and personal development books, listened to countless podcasts, spent time in stillness, wrote about my thoughts and fears, did an annoying amount of yoga and meditation and just committed myself to the mundane, day-to-day work of changing who I was. I had to let go of the identity I clung to so tightly.  I had to redefine myself, not based on what I do, but based on who I am. 

And in the process, I found something bigger through other peoples stories.  I realized that I am not alone in everything I have been through - burnout, self-doubt, addiction, identity struggles - in fact it is more common than it's not. There are so many women in this culture exactly where I was, feeling stuck, drained, and unsure of how to move forward.  This insight is what lead me to coaching.  How could I be so passionate about this new way of thinking and being and not do something to help others reach their higher potential?

My new purpose is to use my own experience and the real life, hard fought awareness I found to help every woman I possibly can. To help them see that it’s never too late to change, to grow, to create a new identity, especially if the identity you’re living in is outdated or possibly even hurting you.  I’ve learned that burnout doesn’t have to be the end of the story. That the dream life  is possible - it takes work, but so does living inauthentically and out of alignment with your wants and needs.

As painful as it was at the time, leaving the salon industry and facing my issues set me free. Surrendering my identity allowed me the opportunity to rediscover who I am, who else I could be, and challenged me to rewrite my own story. And now, one of the gifts on the other side of that letting go is the beauty in being able to witness others do the same.