um. so, i got a haircut.*
which is a big deal because i’m also publicly acknowledging my (self-diagnosed) mild to moderate trichotillomania.
that obsession was part of the reason i continued to grow my hair out; to cover up the bald spots from where i would pull it out whenever no one was looking and i was nervous or anxious or bored or not paying attention or etc.
this has been going on intermittently for years, since high school, actually. but i finally decided to face it head on. with you. not because the internet is a support group, but because i have nothing to hide.
and i was about two years overdue for a haircut.
and it feels like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders,
and the shame, guilt and worthlessness have been eased a bit,
and i am human (mostly),
and i am not a victim,
and wow i cut my hair yes and it’s so short and whoa what is that, is that a bald spot,
and yes it will be awkward to explain,
and there is the possibility that my hair will never grow back in that spot.
and if that is to be, then so be it.
either way, i am free.
again and again.
i am free.
as are you. as are we.
we are free.
if you’re suffering from this sort of thing, know that you’re not alone. find someone to talk to about it. it will liberate you. and in doing so you may realize it’s actually not that big of a deal at all.
*** HUGE thanks to nathaniel sullivan for his mad styling skillz, and for listening to my nervous babble.
also, file under first world white people problems.
also also, sub-file under continuing to dispel the myth of the image of the artist.