The Time I Lost my Shit and My Hair Too...
Well, it finally happened. I lost it. Screamed at the top of my lungs kind of lost it. Just to be clear - not like 2007 Britney. Yes, I did shave my head, but that was a very deliberate, me in full control of my emotions kind of thing. But more on that later…
In general, I’m the type of person who just ‘handles’ things. I keep it together - not because I feel like I have to - but honestly just because I’m hard wired that way. I’ve been doing it my whole life. I’m an enneagram 3 which basically means I get shit done. We are called ‘the Achievers’. We do stuff and then we do more, often times at the sacrifice of ourselves. We can also be very out of touch with our feelings - meaning we push them down and push them down again throughout our life to the point where we aren’t consciously aware of how we are feeling, nevermind try to articulate it. On the outside (and in our consciousness) we are just going with the flow. We adapt to what’s happening and ‘look’ like we have it all together. But friend - we DON’T. Not even close. Because everyone reaches their breaking point. Even us 3’s. Eventually, after we stuff and stuff things down some more, we reach our tipping point and usually it’s something VERY simple that set’s us off and then we IMPLODE.
It doesn’t happen often but when it does…watch out!!! It ain’t pretty.
That is exactly what happened Saturday morning. Momma lost her S.H.I.T. Scream at the top of her lungs kind of thing.
But before I go there, let me first paint the backdrop.
It had been a week. It has been for all of us. This little thing known as the ‘pandemic’ - you know the one - the one that has us all confined to our homes! I’ll be honest - my life hasn’t really changed much since the ‘stay at home’ order as I already work remotely, my immune systems is already weakened so I’ve been limiting where I go and had been careful about being around anyone who is sick or coughing anyway - but at least I had the OPTION. I could go out and about, as long as I’m careful. Not anymore. BLECH. I hate being tied down. I despise people telling me what to do. It makes me want to do the opposite. Anyway - you get the picture. We are all in this same scenario. That alone has people going bat shit crazy (seriously - what’s up with the TP everyone??).
Okay, and THEN this hair thing. Okay, I get it - everyone knows that when you go through chemo, you lose your hair. It’s a known thing. You know it’s coming. You try and prepare emotionally, mentally. You even cut your hair shorter to help ease the blow. But when every freaking day, more and more hair just falls out - it’s like death by a thousand paper cuts. Just stop the freaking madness already. And it’s not just a strand here and a strand there. It’s a whole sink full of hair every morning when you comb through it - and even MORE when you wash it. Hair in the drain. Hair on the walls. Hair in your towel. Hair on your pillow case. Hair on your shirt. Hair in your food. Every day you wonder….is today going to be the day when I have to shave it all off because…..what’s the POINT?!
THEN on the morning where I’m mentally preparing myself for my weekly wash (knowing the havoc that will be on the shower walls & floors), I get a call from my Dad that someone near and dear to me in our family has passed away.
Wait, WHAT?!
Seriously, God? At this point, I just go NUMB. I’m in survival mode. I can’t even cry. I just FROZE.
Y’all - any one of those things alone is ENOUGH. Like - give me a second to just breathe, Lord. Really. I need to find my footing and process through all of of this.
That was on a Friday.
In hindsight, I can see the signs of how the stress and anxiety was building. I tried sharing how I was feeling with a few close friends. It helped. It helped to get it out, but it was just the tip of the iceberg. Again - I am so often not in touch with how deeply I am feeling something until the lid blows off the top.
And it’s typically a VERY small thing that makes it blow, is'n’t it? Like that one little thing that just pushes you over the edge and that poor little unsuspecting person or thing becomes the impetus. The tipping point.
On Saturday morning, it was Stella. Stella the bulldog.
For some strange reason, Stella too was having a bit of a week. She had become VERY territorial with Sully (the unsuspecting male bulldog) and was displaying dominance. Maybe she was channeling me, or maybe she was hormonal, I’m not sure but Stella would not leave Sully alone and just kept picking fights with him. She picked a fight on Saturday morning, it escalated, which made ME escalate, and before I knew it - I was screaming at the top of my lungs while unloading the dishwasher:
STELLAAAAA, SHUT UPPPPPP!!!!!
The top blew off and I have no idea where it went. It is a bit of a blur. Screaming. Dishes flying (JK - I didn’t throw anything but just added that for affect). It only lasted a few seconds. I surprised myself with the intensity of my scream. I think I scared the fam too who all came running to help unload the dishwasher (is that all it takes?? ;-)).
But you know what - it felt SO GOOD to get it out. Bat shit crazy just feels GOOD sometimes.
I am not saying this is the best way to handle things. It’s not even a good way to handle things. Yet - it’s REAL. It happened. I didn’t apologize. I laughed about it after when telling my daughter the story. But it was real and it needed to happen.
THEN - later in the week, I was faced with the decision about what to do with my hair. Yes - cancer is the gift that just keeps on giving. I knew the moment was coming. I honestly didn’t want to face another hair washing. I knew I had to face the inevitable but I wanted to do it in a way that I had control over. In a way that enabled me to honor MY feelings. I wanted to have the power to choose vs. feel like a victim of my circumstances. After praying that morning, I took my tools into the bathroom, locked the door, looked into the mirror and knew the timing was right.
Don’t get me wrong, I was scared shitless - but knew that I would feel powerful and free on the other side! So I didn’t think any more about it. I just started. I took a few pictures along the way to document the experience, yet with each swipe, I felt lighter. I felt more raw. More real. More vulnerable but in such a powerful way.
When I was done, I sat in front of the mirror in my bedroom and just took it all in.
I thought about how much this disease has robbed me of. My body. My health. My energy. My hair. That it may seem like nothing is left - but that is a LIE. What is left is ME. The real me. Without all the dressing on the outside. Without any of the things that would typically distract us. The things that seem like they are important, but really aren’t.
Do I wish things were different? Do I wish I didn’t have to go through this? Or learn these lessons this way? Abso-freaking-lutely.
But as I have said before, I don’t believe God gave me this situation, but I KNOW He is using it to show me the REAL me. The strong, powerful, beautiful me - not because of what I’m able to do or how I look, but because of who I AM.
I’ll be honest, I’m still finding my new normal. I’d be lying if I said I feel powerful and FREE every moment I look in the mirror. I don’t. I feel somewhat like a cross between Susan Powter, Sinead O’Connor and Moe from the Three Stooges - but I’m learning how to rewrite the scripts. One day, one look in the mirror at a time.
Lastly, I just also want to take the opportunity to say that there is so much that is going on with each of us beneath the surface. Not just me and cancer - but with all of us. This time we are living in is testing us all. Just because people may ‘look’ like they are handling things - don’t miss REALLY seeing people. Sometimes we see only what we want to see. It’s hard to see others suffering. We want to fix it. We want to make them feel better. Resist the urge to do that! Let’s just allow people to FEEL what they are feeling - even if it’s messy. Even if we don’t know how to handle it. Even if we don’t know what to say.
xoxo