Chopping Off My Security Blanket

Almost everything nowadays in my life has become a task of carefully calculating and methodically planning and executing it, including getting my haircut. In order to complete tasks such as this which require me to leave my home and access unfamiliar territory is done so with a vast amount of anxiety and anticipation. To try and ease some of my discomfort I aim to do these tasks on days that I will be least likely to run into someone I may know, even if it’s someone I haven’t seen in ten years. I also tend to only do such tasks at certain times of the day when again I figure I am less likely to run into someone I know. Keeping this in mind though trust me when I tell you that there are still several places you will never find me no matter what day of the week or time it is, including the local mall which I have not stepped foot inside of in more than two years.

It’s been quite a while since I got a haircut and I knew I needed one…badly. I have always kept my hair somewhat long and I’m pretty sure it’s from the trauma my mother caused me as a young child when she forced me to keep it short and often times during my early youth I was even seen sporting an unsightly bowl cut! But like every other task, simple or not, the planning and executing is an extremely paralyzing feat. The best part about my hair salon is that I can book my appointments online and don’t have the added anxiety of having to pick up the phone and talk to someone live which is at least one less thing to stress over!

So today was that day, the day I so carefully and methodically calculated (all last week) as the day I needed to get my haircut, and even executed the perfect time of day for me to do so as well. I knew my hair was lacking any lustre and thought maybe a new shorter hairstyle could liven it up; maybe the change would be good for me. Ya well as usual, I was sadly mistaken.

I have come to realize that my hair is somewhat of a security blanket, something that gives me comfort and ease, kinda like how Linus from the Peanuts comic strip feels as he totes around his blanket everywhere. It represents safety and something I so often find myself trying to hide behind. It is part of my identity and a part of my self-image that wasn’t so frayed. My hair was a part of me I welcomed compliments from as it distracted others from all of the many insecurities I have about myself, including everything that my hair surrounds.

It’s not my hairdresser’s fault at all, he was only doing what I asked of him, and I was confident in his ability to complete this undertaking smoothly, and he did so for all intents and purposes because I am now sporting a new, healthier, trendy and very summery hairdo and I know that it’s only hair which will eventually grow back. I also know that whether or not I believe it to be true, my hair doesn’t actually define who I am, but for now it has left me and my already agonizingly low self-esteem lying in a tangled up ball on the salon room’s floor waiting to be swept away together.

Author: Kim Fluxgold

Wife, mom of 3 beautiful children, dog lover, creative sole and children's book Author. Sharing my journey with depression and anxiety through blogging in hopes of educating and ending the stigma.

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