Don't think it. Please.
But one of my closest friends is Eva. And Eva is also my hair stylist.
There, you just thought it! How very New York of her.
But it's not like that. I've known Eva for years. I knew her when she was dating my friend and then no longer dating said friend. And in the end, I kept her. She was the more genuine person in that couple. And I've never regretted my choice.
So some days, when we both need it, I wait for her outside of her salon with a grande passion tea lemonade for me and an iced caramel macchiato. We stroll around..window shopping down Fifth Avenue, chatting and mocking multiple outfits, hairstyles and people (of course).
But a few years ago, Eva was the first friend I ever had that called me out on my insomnia. Putting aside that it came with eratic behavior and wicked cruelty (my vicious icy tongue lashed out more than once at our friends), it was also hell on my appearance.
She told me to meet her for a late dinner, she wanted to talk to me. So I waited at the salon until things were all settled and closed up, and she told me to sit in the chair. She picked up a few strands of my hair and glared. Yes, I'd been cutting my own hair. Not in a demented kind of hacking way..but being up at bizarre hours of the night..you notice things. Like uneven hair. And you set out to rectify it – always doing more harm than good.
"Can you fix it?" My words more a question than a plea.
She sighed and looked at me. Fifteen minutes later my hair was washed and she was snipping away, evening out my uneven and unhappy tresses while I talked. And she listened. Without comment for 40 minutes while I let it all out. Everything that ran through my mind at 2:54 AM. Everything that haunted me..everything that woke me up out of a deep sleep. Everything came out. Fears, sadness, stress, anger..
And when we were done, my hair was perfectly coifed. New bangs, clean cut..and it was all even. She stood behind me in the mirror and said "Life is like hair, honey. No matter what you do to it, there's always some way to fix it. Whether it's alone, which I don't recommend doing unless you have a beauty license, or with the help of a friend. It'll always be okay. So don't sweat it."
And I'd love to say that my insomnia ended that night. But..it didn't. But I learned that sometimes it’s not about fixing a problem..but just being able to verbalize it. Just being able to say..“this is what’s wrong..and me saying it outloud won’t make it worse..won’t give it more power.” That changes your world sometimes.
And changing your life a little helps too. I shut down working on my laptop earlier now (mostly because SL slows me down..LOL). I've (been put on) started a sleep schedule. A routine helps. And someone to kind of enforce it does too.
But letting it all out still works best for me. Because if stuff can't torment you, they can't keep you awake either. And I have a few rough nights now and then..I won't lie. But it’s better. I’m better.
But I talk now. I don't keep it to myself. And a few days of sleeplessness trumps a few months of it – even if my ego takes a slight hit (you can't imagine how horrible you feel if you've never had insomnia - it's not even about the sleep - it's about turning your mind off just for a little and keeping your sanity).
:) And sanity is such a fragile thing in this wacky world.
Until next time,