I Am My Hair

I am not happy with my hair. When I was a young pup (way back in 2000) I had beautiful, long hair that was great to work with it. I always got compliments on it, and very often was asked if it was even real. My senior year of high school, I decided that I wanted to cut my hair because it wasn't healthy and was becoming difficult to take care of. About a year ago, I began to regret that decision and my decisions thus far with not having taken as good of care of it as I should have up until this point.  It only took me five years to grow long hair when I was younger, and I know that the case could be the same now if only I could really get into taking care of it the way that I should. My physical appearance (while not unsatisfactory to others in any way) has now become the focus of my disgruntled state. On top of having short hair that I'm still not used to, I have tons of scars that I can't seem to stop picking at resulting in gross marks being left all over my body for people to find. If only I could attack my physical appearance the same way that I attack school, then I would be satisfied in that area.
Essentially, after doing some research I have found that black hair care is a science. It's going to be an intense process to make it better than what it currently is, but I know that if I can stick to it I'll be happier. Patience is a virtue. God is testing my patience so much with waiting for that all around happiness with myself that I have been seeking. I know it will come, it's just super hard to wait on.