A bad hair life
So yesterday became a strange and uncomfortable one. I still haven’t had my hair cut, but do have some optimism about getting it done next week, when the colleges reopen after half term. College salon equals professional cut, under watchful eyes of tutors. They’ll probably fall over themselves to make sure I’m comfortable as well. Near triumph!
As it is Hallowe’en, the above picture seems fitting. Thing is, it took a huge effort of will to make the phone call to the college, only to find out that it’s half term. Prices: good, cutting crew: good, timing very bad as I wanted to…
I tried to explain this to dear hubby, he quite naturally asked what the importance of it all is when it’s family that are coming at the weekend. I said that I wanted to look my best and feel comfortable. Simple. But following that call, I had a huge belated panic reaction. I made notes afterwards, as this is a real thing, with real physical symptoms. Here goes.
Huge sighing, eye twitches (eyelid on left eye), tingling in both hands; relieved, heart very noticeable beating loudly, elation and slight euphoria, mental relief. Huffing, big sighs of relief, trying to breathe out whatever the fear was before telephoning the college. Panting.
Then I made my way downstairs, my mind constantly re-working what had just happened, questioning why I’d left it so long, what the bother was in the first place, why on earth hadn’t I rung them a week ago, the hair would be short and sweet by now!
Too much happened following this, I got hungry (don’t cross me if I’m hungry!), so decided to make lunch with hubby in and out of the kitchen. The cats were hungry too, so there was a good deal of loud mewing, they are bengals and anyone who knows the breed will understand; it is loud, insistent and not to be ignored…
The someone knocked AT THE BACK DOOR.
Why do people do that? I HATE IT!
It turned out to be the nice man from the Mori Poll, I spoke to him about three months ago and there he was again, with a new poll. Mrs Nice composed herself and spoke politely with him though I couldn’t think of when it would be convenient for him to visit. We agreed on Thursday morning at about 11.30am – this means I can be up, dressed, fairly composed and have eaten breakfast. I don’t do mornings very well.
When I finally sat down to eat my food, it looked really difficult. Too many colours and bits on the plate (home-made gram flour flatbread and cottage cheese, green salady bits with red tomatoes and peppers, actually yummy) so the business of eating felt like a real challenge. Then I bit the inside of my mouth twice within two mouthfuls. I put the food down and fled upstairs, buried my face in a pillow and sobbed. Both cats joined me, they’re good that way.
This reaction, I believe from sharing chat with Aspies, is a ‘meltdown’. It happens when far too much information, stimulation or change of circumstance hits the nervous system and conscious processing goes for a break. Holding It all together to make food, feed cats and talk to the Mori chap filled up my already highly stimulated brain and led to a feeling of complete chaos. Weeping is a great way to reduce that feeling, there’s science to prove it, as the production of tears combines with massive secretion of endorphins, which helps to relax the system. I ate the rest of my food a little later, still upstairs, quietly and with the cats for company.
This kind of collapse of reason is by no means a new thing. Hair management is a definite trigger, as mentioned in my previous blog. In exploring this strange new Aspiesphere, I realise I can easily recall many other times when apparently ordinary circumstances have completely robbed me of sense or presence of mind. It has happened when someone has looked at me oddly, when I couldn’t wear the right clothes to a wedding, when trying to buy a packet of biscuits in a small supermarket. My reactions are not always the same; being looked at oddly will make me hide, or try to get away; the wrong clothes issue was sorted (though unsatisfactorily) by a kindly relative and the biscuits just frightened me right away home! That was a long time ago though.
After my last good haircut, I coloured it. So this picture shows me with ‘good hair’ actually!
Paradoxically the hair on my head is quite good. It’s all the life that goes on inside there, plus the circumstances of the day that conspire against me. Honestly, it’s a ‘bad hair life’ when it takes all this trouble just to get a tidy head!