Hair (2)
I’ve been busy in a contract environment since I last wrote, and when things are tense and focus is extreme, it’s hard to mentally disconnect and muse. I also haven’t been on an airplane for a week and a half, so my mind has not been freed from the burdens here on the ground. But today, on Mother’s Day and my daughter’s 14th birthday (no more “Life With a 13 Year Old”), I’ve been given a brief respite from the chaos and the tension, and I have time to catch up, reflect, and refresh.
The least important thing I have to say but the most urgent thing I want to write about is a follow up to my last posting about losing my comb. I went 6 days without a comb. By day 6, I found I no longer had any anxiety in the morning when I got done with my shower and needed to fix my hair – I just used my fingers like my family always said I should. For the first few days, I would wonder if folks could tell I hadn’t combed it. By the 4th or 5th day, I realized they didn’t care even if they did realize it or know it. And by day 6, I can honestly say that my addiction to a comb had ended.
And then a friend of mine did the worst thing he could possibly do for me – he gave me a new 69 cent comb. I was first disturbed that he spent that much, and then frustrated that he had once again awakened the passions of my addiction. But in time, I took that comb out of its box and slipped it into my back pocket and all seemed at peace again. I haven’t used the comb yet, but I find comfort that its close by in case I do need it.
I want to thank all of those who suffered through this with me during every phase of the withdrawal from my addictive behavior…first, the years of anxiously seeking a comb when I evidently really never needed it; second, the withdrawals and thus the irritability I experienced and exhibited during that period without a comb; third, the doubting and incredible disbelief I portrayed when my loving family would tell me I really didn’t need a comb; fourth, the love and compassion exhibited by my close friends and family throughout this crisis; and fifth, the peace I now feel with a comb once again nestled snuggly in my back pocket.
Life is good once again.