And so I just keep on bumbling along

by frogpondsrock on September 23, 2012

in Uncategorized

I went to the hairdresser yesterday and had the first proper haircut I have had in over twenty years, I will publish a photo when I get near a camera. I had won the voucher in a charity auction and thought I had better smarten myself up a bit before I head off to Adelaide for the Ceramics Triennale.

It was quite bizarre sitting in a salon having my hair cut, trying to give an idea of myself to an unknown hairdresser, a professional small talker. I was trapped under the cape unable to wave my arms about, and so having lost any sense of  the theatrical, my words became small, as I felt small in that chair. Though the mirror told me that I was not small at all. Oh no that mirror shouted at me that I was old and fat and ugly. So I shunned the mirror and looked past the surface reflection of myself and studied the hairdresser instead. For all my scrutiny, I doubt that I would recognise him again.

The true test of a haircut is the next day and mine has passed with flying colours. I looked into my nicer mannered mirror this morning and all my hair needed was a quick rub with my fingers and I was ready to face the day. That is all I ask of my hair, that is does not bother me.

After my trip to the Salon I went to the supermarket and wandered the aisles aimlessly looking for something.

I remember when my non smoking Mother was first diagnosed with Lung cancer, I bumped into her unexpectedly at the supermarket one day, and arm in arm we wandered the aisles aimlessly together, both of us looking for something. We laughed at each others indecision, as I inherited my decisiveness from her and we both cried small tears in those aisles surrounded by all the things that neither of us needed.

I am so incredibly stressed and the fear is nibbling away at my soul. I worry about my baby as she worries about her baby and all the emotions that I felt as my Mother was dying come thundering back to bother me.

Your comments and support are keeping me sane.

Your prayers for Evelyn soothe me.

Small things are keeping me sane and as much as my distractability annoys the ones that love me, it is saving me.

You my dear internets are saving me also.

Evelyn was eight weeks old yesterday.