Be Careful What You Ask For

Bad Hair Day

Bad Hair Day

How many times in your life have you heard “Be careful what you ask for, because you might get it?”

My hair dresser got me good a few days ago. Been with her forever, she is in the 8 month of her third baby in the making now. I met her when she was just newly married.  Until yesterday, I would just let her do whatever she wanted to do with my hair and it always worked out pretty good.

What she did was finally, after all these years together, was cut my hair exactly how I wanted it cut. I think I micromanaged ever hair on my head. She did seem to be laughing a lot, come to think of it, but I just chalked it up to pregnancy hormones.

I got home, looked in the mirror and thought “oh my GOD, this is hideous. No wonder she never listened to me before.” Having a few self-esteem issues obviously, but then I started laughing.  All these years I trusted her to be an expert and do what she did best, then I butted in and thought I knew better. As we say in the gaming world – FAIL!

So I hate my haircut and will probably wear a bag over my head for a few weeks. At least it wasn’t a tattoo or piercing or something else more permanent than a bad hair day.

So what I learned was that I have trust issues even with a hair stylist. I have to trust experts to be experts. That’s a lot to ask, in my opinion. All my life I have labored under the delusion that the only one I could trust was me. Then the “me” that I knew took a flying leap into bipolar mania and suddenly I couldn’t even trust myself.

Trusting any one now requires a giant leap of faith, more faith than I can muster most days. I finally let down my hair last night (what’s left of it) with Mr. Husband a few nights ago and tried to tell him how I feel about this illness, and what I’m most afraid of. Telling someone my fears has always been a huge risk for me because it always seemed like I was giving someone a menu of items to use to push my buttons.

I’ve been keeping him at arm’s length and talking about bipolar disorder in a distant kind of way. Keeping it clinical; chemicals, neurons, clinical sounding diagnosis, medicine in terms of milligrams, rather than effects, side effect of meds, long term prognosis, etc. Instead of telling him that my biggest fear is the loss of trust of my judgment, the integrity of myself as the person I thought I knew.

Hubman told me that he has always trusted my judgment and still does.  It was a huge relief and I had a good cry over it. I had been harboring the fear that he was going to start chasing me around with a butterfly net.

2 responses

  1. candyforbreakfast | Reply

    Oh dear…Head scarves can be so chic,I need to get some for myself.

    1. yea head scarves, there’s a thought 🙂

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