I’ve often been labeled a “hippie loser,” but here’s the thing: I’m winning. Yes, I have long hair, and I love it. When I take care of it, there’s a profound sense of joy and pride I feel, an expression of who I am. Sure, I prefer gym shorts, Birkenstocks, and a polo or button-down shirt; it’s my unique style. Over the past few years, with the help of Sami and Nikki, my sense of clothing and self-presentation has improved. When I go out and socialize, I dress appropriately, blending comfort and style.

The stereotypes don’t bother me as much anymore. I understand that some may see the long hair or laid-back vibe and jump to conclusions. I also know my limits. Maybe I missed an opportunity to shape people’s hair and beard expressions, but I see my potential in other ways. Those who take the time to get to know me understand my condition and are often sympathetic. I may have physical shakes, but that doesn’t define me.

I don’t have kids, and I no longer date. Instead, I operate with unconditional love with all. If the way I express that love bothers someone, if it doesn’t work for them, repulses them, or brings them shame, I respect that. At that moment, I mark it as a pin in my timeline and move forward. I won’t dwell.

I’m doing okay for myself. Slowly but surely, I’m turning a corner toward my next step. I am, in many ways, the best version of a “hippie loser.” I don’t take much pride in someone else’s judgment, but I do admire their effort in putting a label on me. As for me and my life… no labels are necessary.