I cannot believe it has been two months since i have updated this thing. i don't even want to think how far behind i am in writing jobs and writing for me.
Lots to share i think. I know i refrained from writing within the week after i cut most of the hair from my head. I was walking around, a big ball of anger responding to inquiries that i had a 'crazy' episode or that it's easier to get dressed in the morning and my absolute favorite, the implication that i could not squash my homosexulaity down any longer.
First and foremost, although my hair provides an annoyance and frequently i want to shave my head, it is not because i lost my reason. My life is an episode of crazy, with varying degrees that have nothing to do with my hair; although, i have an ex who would beg to differ with that opinion. Next, and again, if the length of my hair had anything to do with making it easier to face the world, in or out of pants, i would totally keep my hair at the optimal length - for the very use of easing my days- sadly the length of my hair has nothing to do with the difficulty i feel while i breathe in and out around people. Sign me up for the super powered hair, giving me the strength to face the world head on - pun unintended, but noticed... so i'll mention it. And finally, this bit about sexuality linked to hair. This is such a huge thing i could write essays on the matter. A haircut does not make one gay, and unless i'm intimate with someone, i find the inquiry terribly vulgar.. That's all i'm going to say on the matter here.
So how do i respond, and what am i getting at? What i say - because people can easier understand the astetic reason for this reset: I need to get comfortable with the grey and just had to get it all off my head to start over. What i want to say - that would take hours over coffee or beer to explain: I felt stuck. What I've worked out in my brain about this hair stuff:
In eighth grade i was pretty sick one day and couldn't go wherever it was everyone was going. I looked in the mirror and saw the ugliness in my face. The ugly crept through from inside and i was angry that i couldn't be normal. I cried. I could not verbalize the feelings or the thinking - both internally or externally. I took scissors and cut my hair shorter than it had been - i was just going to say ever, but then i remembered that time in sixth grade where i had an uneven head because of a slumber party shenanigan. :)
But in eighth grade, i went to school, after this weekend of sheers, and people complimented me. I, with my inability to draw in nice things, responded to each compliment with a growl and the words, "shut up."
Before, then, now, and i'm assuming forever, there is a modicum of care how i look - of course there is. But i have never, nor ever will be, obsessed with how i look. I much prefer how i feel. And my hair was making me feel bleck. So, I cut it off. Nothing more. Except in responding to this most recent round of comments I realized that it is so much more! It's everything. I have this silver and grey hair under all the layers of colors. I am struggling to embrace the grey. But i'm warming up to it. It's a little shorter than I'd like, but so is everything else in my life. And as I stand looking in the mirror, smooshing the goop to keep the cowlicks under control for the day, I look at my face. I look at the brightness that is coming through my face these days--
For anyone who doesn't know, I've been diagnosed with chronic pancreatitis and have had a few episodes of acute pancreatitis with some surgeries. It's painful, it's exhausting and it's restricting my diet - which is killing my spirit. I needed to reset my habits. I needed to reset my routine. In order for my body to survive, I needed to stop treating it like it was an extra in caligulia's life and care for it like the extraordinary machine i know it can be.
But my mind...? My spirit...? I made this commitment to writing and it feeds my soul. I made commitments with writing - for myself and others - that i'm not keeping. And my brain is starting to feel as pained as my body was. I am struggling to find a balance. When my body is malnourished, my brain doesn't work well. When my brain is not nourished, my body fails in ways that would take hours to explain.
I'm trying. I'm struggling. ... the last doctor i went to calmed my concerns that i'm not getting better with the words, "you live with yourself everyday. recovery is slow. think about how you were when...."
So I have commited to a literary fair in September. I have a few thigns to do to ready myself for the event. I am going to do this - and i'm going to kick ass at it!
I'm still terrified on a daily basis of the reflection i see in the mirror daily. But if i have to, I'll just cut off all the layers of extra and start over again - as long as i have it in me.
Lots to share i think. I know i refrained from writing within the week after i cut most of the hair from my head. I was walking around, a big ball of anger responding to inquiries that i had a 'crazy' episode or that it's easier to get dressed in the morning and my absolute favorite, the implication that i could not squash my homosexulaity down any longer.
First and foremost, although my hair provides an annoyance and frequently i want to shave my head, it is not because i lost my reason. My life is an episode of crazy, with varying degrees that have nothing to do with my hair; although, i have an ex who would beg to differ with that opinion. Next, and again, if the length of my hair had anything to do with making it easier to face the world, in or out of pants, i would totally keep my hair at the optimal length - for the very use of easing my days- sadly the length of my hair has nothing to do with the difficulty i feel while i breathe in and out around people. Sign me up for the super powered hair, giving me the strength to face the world head on - pun unintended, but noticed... so i'll mention it. And finally, this bit about sexuality linked to hair. This is such a huge thing i could write essays on the matter. A haircut does not make one gay, and unless i'm intimate with someone, i find the inquiry terribly vulgar.. That's all i'm going to say on the matter here.
So how do i respond, and what am i getting at? What i say - because people can easier understand the astetic reason for this reset: I need to get comfortable with the grey and just had to get it all off my head to start over. What i want to say - that would take hours over coffee or beer to explain: I felt stuck. What I've worked out in my brain about this hair stuff:
In eighth grade i was pretty sick one day and couldn't go wherever it was everyone was going. I looked in the mirror and saw the ugliness in my face. The ugly crept through from inside and i was angry that i couldn't be normal. I cried. I could not verbalize the feelings or the thinking - both internally or externally. I took scissors and cut my hair shorter than it had been - i was just going to say ever, but then i remembered that time in sixth grade where i had an uneven head because of a slumber party shenanigan. :)
But in eighth grade, i went to school, after this weekend of sheers, and people complimented me. I, with my inability to draw in nice things, responded to each compliment with a growl and the words, "shut up."
Before, then, now, and i'm assuming forever, there is a modicum of care how i look - of course there is. But i have never, nor ever will be, obsessed with how i look. I much prefer how i feel. And my hair was making me feel bleck. So, I cut it off. Nothing more. Except in responding to this most recent round of comments I realized that it is so much more! It's everything. I have this silver and grey hair under all the layers of colors. I am struggling to embrace the grey. But i'm warming up to it. It's a little shorter than I'd like, but so is everything else in my life. And as I stand looking in the mirror, smooshing the goop to keep the cowlicks under control for the day, I look at my face. I look at the brightness that is coming through my face these days--
For anyone who doesn't know, I've been diagnosed with chronic pancreatitis and have had a few episodes of acute pancreatitis with some surgeries. It's painful, it's exhausting and it's restricting my diet - which is killing my spirit. I needed to reset my habits. I needed to reset my routine. In order for my body to survive, I needed to stop treating it like it was an extra in caligulia's life and care for it like the extraordinary machine i know it can be.
But my mind...? My spirit...? I made this commitment to writing and it feeds my soul. I made commitments with writing - for myself and others - that i'm not keeping. And my brain is starting to feel as pained as my body was. I am struggling to find a balance. When my body is malnourished, my brain doesn't work well. When my brain is not nourished, my body fails in ways that would take hours to explain.
I'm trying. I'm struggling. ... the last doctor i went to calmed my concerns that i'm not getting better with the words, "you live with yourself everyday. recovery is slow. think about how you were when...."
So I have commited to a literary fair in September. I have a few thigns to do to ready myself for the event. I am going to do this - and i'm going to kick ass at it!
I'm still terrified on a daily basis of the reflection i see in the mirror daily. But if i have to, I'll just cut off all the layers of extra and start over again - as long as i have it in me.
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