Mid-Length Crisis

"I'ts all in my head..." I keep telling myself. Actually, It is what's ON my head that concerns me.
Perhaps this last haircut isn't as bad as I imagine it; everyone assures me that it's really just fine. And it is only hair, after all. It grows. I can pull it back, or highlight it or wear a hat. People are starving all over the world and have no hair due to malnutrition. Why is this one haircut creating so much angst?
The desire to do something different, make a change, shake it up...it's about my fear of inertia and stagnation. Or delving deeper still, it's about my fear of death.
When I gaze in the mirror at my reflection and curse the layers, colour and length, I realize that trying to affect a change that I hoped would inject some vitality into my life did little more than simply shorten my bangs. I still feel the same and I blame my haircut for the unease and dissatisfaction.
This is universal, isn't it? At some point in our late 30's, we look in the mirror and wonder who is looking back. How do I identify myself? How do I want to identify myself?
For now I think it may be time to put the mirror away and look inside. And let my hair grow.