Leaving the hairdressers is the same charade every time. You touch your hair enthusiastically and say “wow, it looks great” when she shows you the back, which you can’t actually see, or care about. You shake off the gown and try not to twitch as all the extra inches of hair offcuts that you wanted to keep slide into your t-shirt. You tap your foot awkwardly as the card machine loads and gush about how great the service was as you leave through the door. Then you count 5 long steps before you grab your hair in your hands and shake it in a desperate attempt to restore it to its pre cut look, and the tears you’ve been holding back for the last twenty minutes finally began to fall.
For me, having my hair cut and it not turning out the way I hoped is the ultimate physical embodiment of how out of control I often feel. When I feel out of control mentally, control over my physical appearance becomes much more important to me, as if I need to prove to myself that I have control over something. Anything.
A bad haircut is so much worse than a bad hair day, because when I’ve taken the steps to sort something out, and it backfires, I feel useless.
These feelings of uselessness are highly damaging. I begin to obsess with the idea of my own failure. If I can’t even manage to get my hair cut correctly, how am I meant to function in todays fast paced society? One minor mistake triggers the feeling of being unable to cope with life. It is a dangerous reaction. My thoughts are so inwards, that I forgot that theses things happen to other people too, and I will not be the only person to have a disappointing hair cut today.
I forget that, whilst incredibly frustrating, these little stumbles are survivable.
I had a wobble last week. I was exhausted of all my efforts slapping me in the face. It felt like whenever I took a step forward, the world put something in my path to knock me back down. I was desperate and angry. I’m sure you have felt like that, on more than one occasion and I wanted to tell you that it happens to us all.
What can we do?
We pick ourselves up, brush our badly cut hair and carry on.