I put the hairdryer down and let out a sigh, not just of relief but a proper exhale which was my nervous system doing a bit of a reset. Drying my hair is an effective self soothing behaviour for me and one which I learnt as a child and now continue as an adult.
For those of you who don’t know what a self soothing activity is, it is one which is used to regulate our emotional state. This one allows for sensory stimulation through the repetitive combing of my hair as well as the noise and the heat from the hairdryer.
The first time washing my hair post surgery was needed. That sigh released tension that I had been holding in my body, tension that had already come out in the form of tears.
For those of you who know me well, you will recognise that my hair is important to me. I have worn it various ways, short, very short, curly, long, bobbed, with a fringe and without. From my early days of queuing in the bathroom to get a cutthroat razor hairstyle, styled by my Dad, I have enjoyed getting my hair cut. My hair is thick, really thick which my Dad enjoyed showing me when he used the thinning scissors for a long time, without denting the thickness of my hair. Hairdressing was one of the many jobs my Dad turned his hand to when I was a young person. I didn’t visit a hairdresser until my teenage years and the resulting relationships with Ken, Janine, Sophie and now Ceira have been closer than some of my family members!
So part of my recovery is making sure I can keep my hair clean and tidy. If that sounds vain, I promise it isn’t, it’s not vanity, it’s bringing me back to a sense of self. When my fringe sits right, all is right in the world.
My hair has its own personality. When I am down and frustrated the curls come weaving out daring others to look at me and turn to stone. Like medusa snakes they have come in use over the years. They can stop people in their tracks, they can start a conversation and they can silence.
One or two snakes seen in my fringe can be playful, give me a devil may care attitude, when the whole head is snake-like, then people need to tread carefully around me.
As a young child we had our hair washed once a week and now as an adult I try to do the same. I do not have any patience for more than that unless I am presenting or speaking to a large group of people and a blow dry helps get me in the zone.
With five children plus her own hair, hair washing day was a real chore for my mum, perhaps another reason why I limit the time on this task. Lining us up at the sink, each of us had our hair washed one by one, sometimes my older sisters helping out. I don’t remember much hair drying, it was drip dry then.
My mum however was different. When her hair was so long that she could sit on it, I have clear memories of standing on her chair behind her and combing her hair out, helping her dry it. When she got fed up with the time it took to dry, she cut it short and then Saturday afternoon became mum’s hairdressing day. Putting her hair in rollers, with setting lotion she would sit underneath the salon type hair dryer we had in the home for at least an hour. This was a time when she allowed herself time, reading her magazines and painting her nails. The noise of the dryer was calming, it was a time when we would be put in front of a Saturday afternoon film so that she could keep an eye that we were not up to mischief.
How does all of this relate to my recovery?
Time for self care of course.
Time to take time to just be with the simple things.
Time to indulge in a self soothing activity.
Time to focus on one thing and one thing only.
Oh the other sigh came from my partner Carl who was sighing with relief that he didn’t have to turn his hand and take on the role of hairdresser for the morning! As his sympathetic nervous system relaxed, mine joined his as well as we co-regulated with a smile.
