I'm late hitting the keyboard today. Friday is my psychotherapy day, so most of the morning is spent travelling to the appointment, having the therapy session and then travelling home again. As There and Back says in her blog "therapy is hard", and I found today's session very traumatic. I knew that this was not going to be an easy process after having had my assessment meetings at the hospital, but I don't think I realised just how much 'baggage' that I have been carrying round with me without being aware of it.
Anyway, I came out of the hospital after my session and I knew that I just had to have a cigarette. Don't all start shouting at me about how anti-social it is or how it's bad for my health, I am well aware of that. I smoked for many years and then a couple of years ago I decided to give it up. I can't use the patches because they tend to set up an allergic reaction on my skin, I can't stand the taste of the chewing gum and I have real problems with the inhalator (I don't know why but I just find it a waste of time) so giving up for me means doing 'cold turkey'. Sometimes I can go for weeks or even months without having a cigarette, but occasionally something happens and I have this overwhelming urge to have one, and this morning was such an occasion. I know that they say you should get rid of all cigarettes, lighters and ashtrays when you give up, so that you won't feel tempted, but when I feel like I did this morning I think it is better for me to have one or two cigarettes than to get into such an anxious state that I do something really stupid. This means that I always have a packet of cigarettes with me, although it can sit in my handbag for months without me opening it.
I smoked a cigarette as I walked up to the bus stop and while I waited for the bus to arrive. The bus journey is about 20 minutes in duration, even though I live in London and the hospital is only about 4 miles from my home, but this morning it was taking a little longer due to the inordinate number of roadworks that are going on, and the number of vehicles parked where they shouldn't have been. Still the journey did allow me to gain a little more equilibrium and I decided that it would be worth my while not getting off at my usual stop but going a little further to do a bit of shopping. All I was really looking for was some extra-large-eyed darning needles that I need for sewing up some knitting that I had just finished and another garment that I shall probably finish knitting tonight. And while I was doing that I thought I might as well pop into the hairdresser's and see if I could get an appointment in the next couple of weeks.
I had my hair cut a couple of weeks ago after having let it grow for quite a while because I just couldn't be bothered to make an appointment, but when I looked in the mirror after it had been blow-dried I suddenly realised how much grey hair there was in a very prominent position and, in fact, throughout. So I walked into the hairdresser's this morning and asked if I could make an appointment to have some highlights put in and my hairdresser said "Do you want me to do them now?" I was somewhat taken aback; she meant it. So I took a quick trip to the bank to get some money, and into the sandwich bar because I was getting hungry (I can never eat breakfast on a Friday because I am always so strung up), then it was back to the hairdresser's.
Please don't get the wrong idea about me, I'm not a vain person, but I do have a bit of a thing about my grey hairs. It's strange because I really don't have that many, certainly a lot less than most people of my age and hair colour, but my Dad still had very little grey hair when he died at the age of 81, and I am very proud to have inherited so many of his characteristics that I get a bit paranoid about this silly little thing. Well, there was a lot of friendly banter in the salon and I was soon feeling a lot better than I did when I left the hospital, and by the time I left I was feeling incredibly uplifted. I'm supposed to be saving money at the moment so that I can have a holiday, but I think it was money well spent. From feeling very traumatized when I left the hospital I now felt as though I could face the world and give a good account of myself.
By the way, I never did buy the needles that I wanted so I suppose I will have to go out for them tomorrow.
3 comments:
Ah, there is nothing like a trip to the hairdresser. I am naturally not grey, but white and let it stay like that for a while after I retired, but have recently gone back to having it coloured (a very gentle shade of fair, but not blond) just for a boost to my self esteem.
Good for you!
Therapy is hard and it often gets worse before it gets better, that's certainly been my experience anyway. Now, however, I am starting to feel the benefits of the therapy and noticing some real changes in myself, as are others, which is good, so it's definitely worth it. Short term pain for long term gain as they say.
There's nothing wrong with wanting to look your best and giving yourself a little boost. Good for you!
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