My Hair Changes Colour!
Seriously, it does. It doesn’t change to purple or red or anything like that, but it changes from brown to grey and back again. I found my first grey hair when I was 13 years old. Pretty harrowing for a teenager who clearly worries enough as it is. Down the years, that grey hair brought round many of his friends to have a party on my head, get pissed and generally upset the brown hair establishment. I think that’s as far as I can push that metaphor. I worked out that they were very stress related, the more stressed I was, the more greys I’d have. And if I had no worries, those greys would grow out and be replaced by brown.
I mention this because a few weeks ago I was starting to look like someone had poured a can of Dulux white gloss on my head. This time last year I was in an entirely different place. I had a decent job, earning decent money. I was in a relationship approaching it’s seventh year. I had a nice car and a nice house, filled with all your mod cons and luxuries. My life was simple. Work, come home. Watch some football in glorious HD. Go out at the weekend. Repeat ad infinitum. No stress. But I was deeply unhappy. It felt like a life unfulfilled, and when I realised that I would be doing the same thing over and over again for the next 40 years before I’m then carted off babbling to a nursing home, I decided some changes had to be made.
No-one can change everything at once. I wanted to do it gradually and let it all hopefully piece together by the end. The first thing to change was the relationship. My heart wasn’t in it and it wasn’t fair on me or her. It was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life, and probably ever will. I haven’t told anyone before how hard it was for me to do it. I had to be the callous one, otherwise it’d be too easy to slip into old habits. Hopefully one day she’ll forgive me, but that’s her right to decide.
Next up would have been the job. I’d started looking elsewhere because I was in a rut and needed a change. Before I could do that, a whirlwind of shit happened. The next five months went by in a blur, but by the end of it I’d found myself out of that job but not in the ways I’d expected, I’d ventured into a new relationship and I’d moved to another country. By anyone’s yardstick, that’s a lot to happen in a short space of time. Especially when my head had been up my arse for the most part. So, when I was visiting home last month, I thought I’d had an epiphany. All that happened came to slap me in the face and the realisation nearly pushed me to a mental breakdown. What am I doing with my life? Am I making the right choices? So I made the decision to stay at home and be around friends and family, for my sanity. This meant hurting someone I love in the process, but I thought I had to do it for me. Then ANOTHER epiphany came to me and I realised I couldn’t be without this person, so I came back to her and committed to her fully, which I realised I wasn’t doing previously.
This leads me back to the hair. It’s now returning to a healthy shade of brown. I can only assume my hair is like a groundhog that predicts the winters. It’s a very visible marker of my wellbeing, so I think this means I’m doing the right thing. If you see me walking down the street and my head is greyer than the British sky, make sure you cross to the other side!
P.S. I got a call about that job. They offered me part-time. Goddammit.