I had my hair cut last week. Nothing particularly significant in that you might think, but that wouldn’t be quite the truth.
My Summer was mostly taken up with having and recovering from what became a rather nasty bout of Covid. Most of the details to this are not important for now, except to say that for a while the most overwhelming symptom was extreme fatigue and I spent a considerable time in bed. For those who’ve never experienced fatigue, no it is not just feeling tired or being lazy. It is a total and utter cannot move or do anything crash.
During that time I could manage to get myself to the bathroom but when it came to taking a shower I needed assistance. My then rather long hair got washed (several times I might add) but as I just could not cope with the brushing or drying of it I double looped it in a scrunchy to make a loose bun before retreating to my bed.
So what happens to hair that’s treated in this way? Yes, you guessed it! It gets tangled. Not condition it and comb it to untangle it tangled. But proper messed up there’s no way to untangle it tangled. There was nothing for it but to apply the scissors. Something that I resisted for as long as I could, and something that once I relented my Darling Husband did with what I feel was just a little too much enthusiasm.
Anyway, this was not the haircut I had last week. This was the let’s just get your hair untangled and easier to cope with through the illness haircut. And to be fair, it did that very well. Even though I didn’t like it much it was easier to deal with and as I slowly recovered my strength, energy, and health, it did the job. It even prompted several comments (once I was back to seeing people again) on how lovely it looked and even that DH had missed his vocation (I cringed at every single one and no he won’t be changing his occupation any time soon).
I suppose it worked quite well as additional motivation to get better though – I couldn’t wait to visit my hairdresser to get it sorted properly. Actually though, I also felt some resistance to getting it sorted. I didn’t know what I wanted doing with it. What exactly would sort it and make me like it better? So wait I did. All through the proper old fashioned convalescence that I gave myself. Being self-employed makes it tough to properly rest up and recover with no income, but I knew this had to be the way. When the Universe has floored you as thoroughly as it floored me this time there is no choice but to listen.
Fast forward and I’m recovered and back to work. I did resist booking that professional haircut for a while though, as if that act would be an official acceptance of something I didn’t want. Then a conversation with a friend (an idea that was later echoed in my sister circle) set me right. “It makes sense” she said “to cut your hair and release whatever traces of illness may still be lurking”.
So, as we settle fully into Autumn and sink into the “letting go” season, make sense it does. I visited my hairdresser, embraced the physical, emotional, and spiritual release, and am now loving my new professionally cut shorter do.