Big Leaps, Small Traps
When it's time to start over again
This one started with an urge that came out of nowhere this morning and wouldn't leave me alone. I wasn't planning to write about it, but it's been sitting at the edge of everything today, not so quietly demanding attention. So I gave it twenty minutes and a new page in my notebook.
This morning I woke up and all I wanted was to shave my head. I’ve had this feeling many times before, though I’ve only acted on it once. Big impulsive decisions have always been my specialty.
I moved to Spain without ever having visited. That was seventeen years ago.
I said yes to marrying a man after seven days of knowing him. That somehow worked out as well.
I shaved my head in 2021, with honestly no regrets.
I tend to glide gracefully through life’s giant leaps. It’s the little things that trip me up. For example: Washing my hair or going to the gym? Both need to be done but I only have time for one. If I go to the gym I’ll feel good for the rest of the day, but if I wash my hair I’ll look good when it’s time to be on display. But if I don’t go to the gym, I’ll have to go tomorrow and tomorrow is even busier than today. Like many others with ADHD I create a trap for myself out of minutiae.
It’s 1:50 and I still have a full head of hair. I thought about booking an appointment with my son’s barber Fran, but he’s not available for another five hours. By then, who knows how I’ll feel. Some decisions are made best in the moment. It’s easy to lose your nerve in the pause.
At one point, I stood in my bathroom mirror with a pair of scissors in one hand and my partner’s clippers in the other. I only have two weeks of growth since my last dye job, but the silver strands are already showing through. As I held the blades next to my scalp, I reminded myself that no matter what, I will still be me.
My ego chimes in with her usual warnings. She prefers the complements I get when my hair is long. “¡Me encanta tu melena. Que pelo más lindo!” And so forth and so on. A follower on Insta once confessed that her main reason for following me was that she liked my curls. What will happen to her once they’re gone?
My soul, on the other hand, is egging me on. She wants to run into the sea and dive head first into the waves. She wants the freedom that comes from having one less worry. She longs to stop sitting at the salon. “Imagine all the time we could have,” I hear her say. She’s nudging me to let go of the last four years, and watch all the old energy fall to the floor.
But in that moment, I put the scissors down. I looked at my reflection, and stuck out my tongue. I pulled my hair back, returned the clippers to their drawstring sac, and left to go sit on my bed.
Things are in flux, as they always tend to be. I do my best to remain open to the change. I can feel the closing of another cycle as my birthday approaches. How the hell did I end up at 43?
Maybe I should take a deep breath and keep growing my hair. Collect all the complements, keep my monthly appointment, and take the maintenance as an opportunity for self-care. But even as I write this, it doesn’t feel quite right.
My life is always richer when I choose to let go, not when I hold tightly to what I already know.
What will that look like today?