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Hair barometer

Anymore now, when I catch a glimpse of my reflection while at work, I discover that it looks like I’ve been vigorously rubbing a balloon across my head. I can’t even blame the hardhat for this. Without fail, I walk around work with a perpetual case of bedhead.

In school I’d joke that the craziness of my hair was a fairly accurate representation of my current state of mind. Frazzled was a popular hairstyle for a while. Ohio humidity helped to exacerbate whatever my hair was feeling. Oregon doesn’t really do that too often, not in the same in-your-face way that Ohio did. Oregon is so laid back like that.

I’m leaving for my belligerent home state tomorrow. (More on that later.)

My anxiety level has been all sorts of mortifyingly high these days, and I’ve avoided examining the possible causes. Work has taken over my life more than ever, and I’m constantly exhausted, so if I even begin to consider stressors beyond work, I get a little meltdowny. So, not gonna think about it.

But I have a new therapist in addition to the hippie therapist, and this new therapist is eventually going to use EMDR therapy with me to more or less de-triggerify me. I sprinted through general descriptions of The Big Traumas for her, and the physical response I had reminded me that I still haven’t talked about this stuff with people out here. There’s rarely a good way to broach the subject, y’know? So I’m still simmering from last week’s sprint. I suppose what has me wound up the most is that when she mentioned that she’d need to screen me for dissociative disorders so that she’d be able to formulate a more effective treatment plan, I immediately knew that this was going to be critical. And difficult. I’m not terribly sure why no one else has thought do those screenings, especially considering how generally ineffective treatment has been so far, but here it is, finally. I’ve dealt with some version of the disorder for well over a decade, and now I find myself attempting to re-view my experiences with the awareness of my tendency to cope through dissociation. It’s unsettling…like suddenly discovering that you didn’t brush your hair like you thought you did that morning.

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