The haircut.

This past weekend was a whirlwind.  Yesterday, I finally took the plunge and cut my hair.  It felt different than I thought it would.  My hairdresser was named Ron and he was awesome.  He listened to what I wanted and patiently cut layer by layer.  I thought it wouldn't be a big deal, but I was surprised to see myself becoming more and more bitter throughout the process.  Every time my mom or Beth would tell me how cute the cut was or how great it was coming along, I quickly told them I didn't like it.  I seriously failed to embrace the adventure of it all or see the silver lining.  The cut came out cute, it really did, and I wouldn't mind it a bit on someone else.  But the simple fact that I didn't want to cut my hair and yet I had to cut my hair made me hate it.  Something happens when we become adults and we realize that we very rarely have to do anything we don't want to do.  It is absolutely infuriating when we are forced into something we can not say no to.  That's where I was on Saturday.  When it was finished, I forced a smile and hugged Ron, because he was so gracious and wonderful.  We picked up our stuff, took some obligatory pictures, said good-bye and thank you.  I walked out the door and lost it.  I'm horrible at being mad.  My anger quickly overwhelms me and I always end up weepy.  Which is, of course, what happened.  I cried on Beth's shoulder and repeated over and over that I hated it.  Then I was mad at myself for being upset over something as stupid as hair.  Then I was even more angry at myself because I made my mom cry.  I need to try harder not to cry in front of my mom - I know it's horrible for her to see and even more horrible knowing that she can't make this better.  We left to meet up with my husband where I quickly dissolved into tears again.  He seems to honestly love the haircut, which I'm so thankful for, because I was so afraid that he wouldn't.  The rest of the day was spent in Asheville buying super cute barrettes (the only redeeming feature of the cut) and avoiding mirrors.  I hate that I spent the last day with my parents and the entire lunch with Beth thinking about myself, what a waste.  

The haircut has had a very strange effect on me.  I have cut my hair almost this short in the past and back then it definitely didn't look this good, but I was proud and excited to show it off.  It's hard to explain, but right now I'm almost embarrassed.  Going in to work today, I avoided as many people as I could and I wished with all my might that the people I did see wouldn't comment on it.  Of course they did and they said really kind things to me, but I just want to live in a world where it didn't happen and I don't start chemo soon and cancer doesn't exist.  Writing that I see that it's probably not the healthiest way to deal with this, but I just feel too fragile, too sad, too tired to talk about this in a real way with people I love or fake apathy with people I don't know well.  A weight has descended on me and it now seems like my life has been colored by cancer.  It's always there, in the back of my mind.  I am now constantly worried about chemo and how sick I'll be.  Every time I get a headache or my stomach hurts a little, I think of how much worse it may be and how easily I'll crumble under it.  This isn't like me, I'm not a worry wart, especially about physical things.  It just seems like with the haircut, the countdown has tangibly begun.  I'm terrified.  I know it's not a good excuse, but this is why I haven't been acting like myself, why I seem distracted or uninvolved in conversation, why I easily become tired or overwhelmed.  I hate it and I am so sorry.

Danny and I leave for our mini vacation on Wednesday.  More than anything, I would ask for prayers for freedom and joy.  I so want to enjoy this time but I am afraid that this dark cloud will follow us there  and continue turning me into a quiet, flat, detached woman.  This isn't who I am or who I was meant to be.  Help me fight this tendency to worry and reclaim the joy I have in Christ.  Let my last few days before chemo be marked by reckless abandon, giggles, inside jokes, glorious freedom, kitchy tourist traps, and radical, permeating, uplifting love.  I pray that peace comes and reigns in my heart, that I would turn my eyes from myself and look to love others, that the week ahead prepares me for the months to come so I would be equipped and ready.  Thank you so much for your forgiveness when I don't deserve it and your strength that carries me forward.