January 29, 2023
We need more trauma-informed hairdressers who understand sensory processing issues.
People walking past the shop front windows,
looking at you,
while you are trying *not* to notice them
and *not* to look at yourself in the mirror.
The chair
whose height and swiveling
I'm not in control of.
Feet dangling, ungrounded,
useless in the event that I need them.
That plastic thing that gets wrapped too tightly
around your neck:
it’s so long that it covers your arms,
rendering them useless in case you need them.
*And then* somewhat straight-jacketed me
is asked to lean back,
elongate and expose my throat
and the entire front side of my body,
defenseless.
Stare at the ceiling
while someone outside my field of vision
washes my hair,
while I pretend to enjoy myself.
Trauma-reenactment, much?
Back to the swivel chair.
Hairdresser boobs in my face,
and deodorant,
and the chemical assault of the hair salon.
Snip, snip sounds just outside of my field of vision,
causing my ears to hyper-focus in
on the metallic slicing of scissors,
while trying to tune out the music
that is set just a wee bit too loud
in order to drown out the sounds
of hairdryers and other voices.
Meanwhile, the hairdresser is making
pleasant conversation,
and I can't hear a word that they are saying.
I've been holding my breath this entire time.
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Now that I understand trauma and sensory processing overwhelm, it makes sense why previous hairdresser appointments required a solid nap afterwards: it was so that my nervous system could recover from the hypervigilance, sensory assault, and much needed dissociation to get through the experience.
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Moving to rural Alaska has caused me to realize the ways in which I would over-ride the messages from my body, while doing things considered normal and necessary by society's standards....and to deconstruct those standards for my own personal liberation.
These last ten years, my beloved has cut my hair. I sit outside, in the open air. (Looking into the distance is naturally calming for the nervous system.) I shake off my clothing (and body) afterwards. It's a good bonding experience.
Or I flip my head/hair upside-down, into a five gallon bucket, and snip snip away. It's a wonderful practice in non-attachment and incredibly freeing!
We've lived without mirrors in our home since 2006, and since my home hair-cuts, no one's ever said anything about my hair.
Tomorrow: I'm paying for my first ever haircut in 10+ years. I'm open to new experiences, without holding my breath
September 14, 2024
Julia Pishko, a former hairdresser and now trauma educator and sexual assault advocate, had seen my post on social media - about trauma-informed haircuts - when it first came out. On hearing that I was coming to Denver, Colorado, to speak at a conference, she reached out to me with the gentle offering of an outdoor haircut. We exchanged messages and she attended my conference workshop with authentic engagement.
After the conference day finished, we chatted for about half an hour inside the hotel lobby. I felt comfortable with her.
We got set up outside at a picnic table.
Julia brought a robe for me, to collect the hair, instead of that plastic tight-around-the-throat gown that renders your arms useless.
She opened up her case of tools in such a way that I could see everything as she placed items on the table.
My feet were on the ground, ready to run, if need be.
I jammed my hands into the slats of the table (which was very resourcing for me) and my friend, Daniel, also came.
No mirrors. No claustrophobia and imminent-trapped feeling from being stuck inside with only one possible exit. The breeze and the birdsong were soothing (instead of hair salon music and the smell of chemicals)
Julia and Dan spoke to each other for most of the haircut, which not only alleviated the need for me to make conversation, but also kept my social engagement system online.
Julia shared about her hairdressing career, and tutoring her clients across Zoom during the pandemic, about how to cut their hair. Daniel talked about his hair woes during the pandemic, a perspective that I’d never considered as my (male) partner hasn’t paid for grooming services in nearly 30 years.
We shared a love for hair professionals with whom we have no languages in common - mostly due to the relief from small talk. Dan and I talked about our own internalized racism as it pertains to haircuts, and Julia shared about her learning curve when it came to learning to cut and style the wondrous variety of human hair.
I unapologetically grimaced the entire time, squeezing and releasing tension in my eyes, jaw and face, all mini-resets for my stress response and social engagement systems.
I stuck my fingers through the slats in the table and clung on, giving expression to both my attachment need and my frozen terror until eventually (about twenty minutes into the haircut) my hands softened. Then I was able to participate in the conversation between Julia and Daniel.
This entire experience made me realize how much I mask my tension and deny myself my body’s wisdom for self-regulation.
Biggest heart-expanding thank you’s to both Julia and Daniel for providing me with the least unpleasant / best hair experience that I’ve ever had ❤️
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