I was on a high after buzzing my head, for like, 3 weeks. I was proud, my head felt soft and fuzzy, and I literally didn't even have to towel my head dry after a shower. It was ahhhmazing.
|Don't these look so happy?? This is one and two weeks after the buzz, that's why.|
Then--no big surprise--the regrowth started. And it didn't hurry.
Pretty soon I looked like a full-blown baby gorilla. You know what I'm talking about. 2 inches of straight up fuzzy helmet hair. I couldn't style it. I couldn't make it behave with product, I couldn't even comb it. It was funny for a minute, but then my demons emerged.
Last fall when I started this hair thing my motivations were two-fold. One, I wanted to try all the hair styles. Fun, scary, exciting. That sounded like a recipe for empowerment. And two, I wanted to challenge my looks. My eating disorder was ruling my life and my body image issues had become unmanageable. If I changed my hair and eventually buzzed my head I'd be forced to face down all the shallow parts of myself. I pictured myself laughing at them. I pictured myself cleaning out these closets in my soul and when I found the brutal abusive boyfriend people refer to as ED (Eating Disorder), I'd laugh at him and kick him out. Like a boss.
What I found instead was more like that creepy little girl from The Ring, staring me down and leering from a haunted corner of my mind. Every time I tried to tell her I was strong she smiled her disturbing, crooked smile and whispered her little lies in my head. I believed them.
Dammit, you guys, I believed them.
|I don't have many pictures of this time, for obvious reasons. But here's one where you can practically feel the insecurity oozing off of me.|
I began to empathize with suicide. And it scared the hell out of me.
Nathan, of course, had noticed this drastic darkening. He'd seen me retreat into myself and become a bitter, snippish version of the girl I once was, and he was scared, too. And when I finally confided the depth of it he stepped in. He was strong enough to do what I couldn't. He didn't suggest professional help. He demanded it.
I can see now that my hair journey did exactly what it was supposed to. It took me to the shallow parts of myself and I faced them. I just didn't picture that enemy being so out-of-my-league. I really thought I was strong enough on my own to let the illness go, guys. But I wasn't. And so began the chapter of my life I call the hell of therapy. It started with intensive work at the Center for Change eating disorder clinic. I'll tell you all about my tyrant dietician, and the Hallmark-movie group sessions, and my excruciating one on one sessions. But I'm not gonna lie. It's the hardest thing I've ever done. And I'm not done. So, if you want the truth, stay tuned. I've been promised it will be worth it in the end.
|This is me at the end of September. One cool thing about baby gorilla hair is the amazing bed head.|
P.S. Comments on and sharing this blog is greatly encouraged. I love to feel connection, especially with those that are suffering these things along with me, and also with those that love and care. Please feel free to share the blog posts with others, and comment away.