haircuts & mania {pixie}

i was waiting impatiently in the hair salon, and the fumes of sprays and chemicals clogged up my nostrils so that i struggled to breathe. my heart was beating so violently that i had a peak at the left side of my chest – it was actually visible, the boom boom boom was plain for all to see and i hoped with all of my pumping heart that no one would notice.  next i began hyperventilating, in true panic attack style, and glancing at the door. i needed fresh air, and i thought i would faint if i didn’t get it. i knew that i could still do a runner or i could just ask for a trim like i had the last couple of decades. it’s been a long time since i was in such an anxious mess, and it seemed ridiculous to be using so much emotional energy on getting a radical hair cut, but at the same time, i wasn’t going to let myself pike out now. not. now.

this eternity of anxiety did come to an end, when i was finally speaking with my stylist, showing her pictures, and discussing my preferences. yes please, a bit of hathaway mixed with williams and a dash of mulligan for good measure.  it was a relief to have finished my intense freak out, although i felt a certain fatigue from all the adrenalin expulsion. my very lovely, very perfectionist hairdresser took nearly two hours over my new cut – and i endured some hideous stages, the worst being a long period of looking just like justin beiber. {same hair shade too. not cool. } at times i wondered if she could actually pull it off, because the hat-of-thick-hair look was just the complete opposite of chic & cute. i tried to keep up beat inside, but it wasn’t until she finally straightened and waxed the ‘do’ that I was put at ease. i had a pixie, and i’d survived the ordeal. 

the best bit was realising that i loved the cut, and the second best bit was when she said , ‘you have a lot of hair.’ you have a lot of hair. i wanted her to say it again.

for me, this serious cut was more than breaking stereotypes, doing something i wanted regardless of peer/parental opinion, having a change, looking a bit more mature. it was a celebration of having my hair fully grown back from my long struggle with trichotillomania.

{literally: hair mania}

when i was in my early teens, i NEVER EVER thought i would have boy short hair – i thought i would have a wig. i needed every long wisp that i had to cover those bald patches. i used heavy duty gel to stick down the spikes of newly growing hair which would poke through my long strands and give me away. my adolescence was a lonely scared one. just the word ‘hair’ made me feel sick to the core. i didn’t go to the hairdresser for years because i couldn’t go {home cuts done in privacy of bedroom} – because they would find out that i had missing hair, and that would lead to them find out that i was insane. and then what would happen? 

even when i was 19 i felt that i would never be free from trichotillomania – and in many ways that’s true because it’s always something i want to do and have to fight. 

but have learned the self control to say ‘no’, and that has enabled me to grow back my hair, each little strand which was plucked out a hundred times. you can’t have a pixie cut if there is a bald patch, or a thin area, and that’s why this is a victory.

it was worth admitting it, and getting help, and praying, and denying my impulse desires to feel that i’m no longer a slave to this strange addiction. this is a reminder that there is great hope for change and recovery. that today’s battles can be tomorrow's victories even when we think we are way beyond help.

 "No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it." 1 Cor 10:13