So the other night I was sat around my coffee table in the living room playing Monopoly Ultimate Banking with Olivia and my youngest sister when she pipes up;
“Hey girl you need to get rid of that big grey hair in the middle of your fringe”
Woah, Woah, Woah!! Pick on the old girl why don’t we. Mock outrage ensued and we were falling about laughing at my new silver streak. Highlights au natural! But I could see her, inching across the table at my newest sign of ageing and desperately wanting to tug it out.
I think the issue is more hers than mine. If I’m going grey then she’s not far behind me really. I’m ok with my grey hairs. They are just sporadic and random and nothing a box of hair dye won’t cover really. Speaking of which I really do have one and need to get a move on and sort out my multicoloured mess. Naturally dark brown, these days I prefer to be black, with a hint of blue.
One thing that does bother me though is over colouring. Making my already fine hair thinner and fragile than it already is. I’m not sure if you have come across any pictures of me with my hair down, there aren’t too many around. I had to go back 28 weeks on Instagram to find this one. But I keep it above the shoulders, parted fringe with layers to give it a bit more body and volume. Also being rubbish at hair styling my go to look is all up in a mini bun type thing. Whatever is easiest!
My Hair Demons
This also stems from a really bad habit of picking my split ends! *gasp* I know, I know. You really shouldn’t. But growing up I had really bad social anxiety and suffered panic attacks brought on by bullying. I sought comfort in playing with my hair and up until around 5/6 years ago (so this lasted a good 15+ years) I would indulge my habit of ruining my hair for that sense of calm and peace it brought me.
If my hair was up I couldn’t pick at it right! Wrong. Most of the time, especially when home alone or stressed, I would just take it out and split away. As I got older I noticed certain sections were becoming thinner and thinner. My habit making me too embarrassed to make regular visits to the hairdressers. My hair just got worse and worse. The worse it got, the more I picked. The more I picked the thinner it became. It even got to the point where I could see for myself the thinning patch on the side of my head.
This meant for a while I would keep my hair down to cover it. But being a vicious circle I couldn’t stop. There was even a visit to the doctors as I was worried I wouldn’t be able to stop and I would literally pull my hair out. He fobbed me off. Wasn’t interested. I actually even started looking around for various fixes including hair transplants should it come to that. Yes, I really was that worried about it.
Eventually, I don’t remember when I stopped. In the early days, I remember telling myself, oh it’s xx days since I’ve done it (split end pulling that is). I think finally finding myself a brilliant hairdresser who I am still with to this day and my life settling down somewhat has helped. It’s been years since I have had any split ends never mind pulling them apart. I actually finally feel comfortable to talk about it and not feel the urge to go and start up again.
For me, it was my coping mechanism. People deal with different things in different ways and although my hair was a mess, in some way that provided me with the comfort I couldn’t elsewhere growing up. I am glad I finally managed to stop doing it. Especially now Olivia is at an age where she can copy me and pick up my bad habits to take with her as she grows up.
Have you ever experienced anything like before? If you would like any more information or help with similar problems then this page has a lot of useful information to help you in confronting any hair pulling problems you may have.
*Disclaimer: This is a collaborative post*