shinga: (Default)
I think the whole "holy shit my hair is fixed and beautiful" thing is actually really finally hitting me on an emotional level. Like I'm getting randomly happy-weepy about it this morning. I don't really know WHY? Maybe it's because I got kind of emotionally raw/strung out last night so I'm just kind of more open to feelings and such right now.

Maybe this entire week I've just been hurting too much to really FEEL much of anything outside of trying to survive the pain. Now that painkillers are working I'm suddenly able to feel things I've been putting on the back burner. Hell that'd also explain last night... nothing of note exactly triggered that mood but suddenly I was sobbing out of massive insecurities I've not been weepy about in months.

Pain does strange, strange things. On one hand too much of it tears down emotional walls and suddenly you don't have the energy to avoid those problems. On the other hand the pain is taking all of your focus so you might feel emotional and weepy but don't have the mental capacity to figure out WHY because, hey, the pain is SO FUCKING LOUD.

This was supposed to be about my hair and now I'm talking about chronic pain and its emotional fuckery.


It's been an interesting 12 hours or so.
shinga: (Default)
[I haven't talked much about it due to the massive amounts of shame and self-loathing that's come with it... but several months ago life went to shit and I wasn't able to maintain good self-care and my hair became traumatically tangled and matted, from the bottom to root... considering my hair was down to my thighs this was a HUGE problem. I wasn't able to fix it, I was terrified and ashamed and I felt awful. I didn't know if there was any hope or if I'd just have to shave it all off and start over... it broke my heart. I needed something about me to be fixable, SOMETHING, especially my hair... the one thing about myself physically that I prided in, the one thing I had so much control over. Luckily one of my best friends has a puzzle-solving mindset, massive patience and availability, and was willing to work on it every week for months... without her I would have lost my hair. I'm still filled with shame over the whole ordeal but I've learned a lot of patience from it, and it brought me closer to my friend... give me a while away from this mentally and I'll be able to comfortably say I don't regret that it happened because the good outweighed the bad]

Okay with the backstory covered...

My hair is, for all intents and purposes, done.

It's weird, it's... it's amazing right now. It's brushed out, soft, looks like it was never even tangled much less matted beyond recognition. Yet I'm still anxious and expecting to wake up with it all matted up again... I'm brushing it obsessively and I braid it before bed to ensure this doesn't happen, but I'm still worried.

I haven't posted any pictures. I still need to dye it... I'm afraid to ask for help with that for some reason... the shame is still there, maybe that's it? Like anyone who is going to dye my hair is going to be able to tell how bad it got and I'll cry and it'll be this whole huge emotional vulnerability thing. I don't know. I might just do it myself.

Maybe it just hasn't completely sunk in yet that it's fixed. It's done. Sparrow's amazing patience and diligence paid off, it's incredible. I have no idea how I'll ever repay her. God knows I wouldn't have been able to do this on my own... maybe that's part of the current anxiety, I don't know. Now that it's done and I'm back to regular maintenance by myself I'm worried about a "relapse"... that because I got myself into this mess I'm clearly not able to be trusted.

Logically this is ridiculous. It was a perfect storm of circumstances out of my control that led to this happening in the first place, circumstances I REALLY don't see ever happening again (and if everything DOES go as tits up as it did then, I'll be far more careful)... I'm in a good place now, taking care of my hair will be easy. I'm not as sick as I was, I'm in a stable home environment, etc.


I need to relax and let myself just kind of get used to it all over again. It's been finished for a grand total of two days, it's okay that I haven't really fully accepted it yet.

I have my hair back. I have it. It's mine. I feel like a timid Sampson, granted power back but not trusting that I won't lose it again the second I take it for granted. Is that what's bothering me? I think I'll not appreciate what I have so I'll lose it again? Because that's 1000% not how that works, if I'm seeing this from some sort of fucked up universal karmic justice sort of viewpoint. Even if the universe had some sort of say in this, I doubt it gives any shits whatsoever about how much I appreciate my fucking hair. The universe would have far better things to concern itself with.

I think I'll feel a bit more... "right" as soon as the roots are dyed. I'll feel a bit more right when a lover's fingers run through my hair and touch my scalp. I'll feel a bit more right the more and more I brush it and it doesn't hurt. I'll feel a bit more right the more I have it down and feel it touching my skin. All those little things will add up and soon all the dread and shame will be gone, left as nothing but an echo of something I used to be.

It was a process to fix it, it's going to be a process to accept that it's fixed. It felt weird to tell my therapist yesterday that I felt... so far... weird. Just "weird" was all I could say. She asked if I was excited, if it had boosted my self esteem. And the answer was no... I mean, not yet. Yes there's SOME excitement, there's SOME regained confidence but it's not all there yet. I'm holding back a lot of it. Like I'll get excited or confident and immediately shove it down with "not yet, we're not there yet, listen to your fear instead".

The mind is a frustrating thing. Self-awareness of this only gets you so far. But the more I'm open about it... willing to talk about it... the more I'll be able to crawl my way back to what I used to be before this all happened. Wait, actually... fuck that. I'll not crawl my way back to shit. I'll march my way to something better, stronger, wiser, and more powerful than I could ever have hoped to be before. This situation, the last few months, sucked... but goddammit I'll take it into me and use it to be stronger and better. I've done it for far worse things... just because this wound is still pretty fresh and aching does not mean it won't become a pretty kickin' badass part of me. Soon.
shinga: (Default)
Every night for a week my dreams have... varied. But the one constant thing that keeps getting in there is my hair. My hair being beautiful again, brushed out, the thing I used to be so proud of. It's not quite there in real life, but it IS close, and I think when I'm sleeping I feel that the strongest. When I'm awake I'm fretful and anxious about it, feeling defeated and upset and aching for it to all be okay. When I'm asleep I can at least feel hopeful. So... let's hope THAT side of my brain is the logical one. It usually is, honestly.

God do I miss the feeling of my hair being effortlessly brushed.



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