Haircut Musings

At 4 pm yesterday I decided I need a haircut, after watching A Whisker Away on Netflix and lying in bed all day. Time to change something about me, time to feel good, I thought to myself.

I've had the same old hairstyle all my life. Barber's Cut. 2x3 clean cut on the sides and back and small bangs on either side of my forehead, "pabilog na buhok" when it grows a little bit longer, as a co-worker would say. It was my hairstyle on my first birthday and every birthday after, in every single event in my life, graduations, holidays, and weddings I have attended. From my baptism to the baptism of my nephew. And the reason why I don't change it is that I don't think I want any style for I have believed in the versatility of Barber's Cut. I could rock that hair in any event, even in funerals.?

But that's bullshit, right? If I am being honest I know it's not the true reason.?

4:15 pm. I opened the door of the salon. No one was there aside from Kuya Jovan, my barber ever since I moved here in Quezon City. His jet-black hair is still long, the irony of a barber. Our relationship usually involves casual nodding in the streets and him quickly knowing if I "cheated" on him when I sometimes get a haircut from another barber shop when he's not available. "Alam ko ang tabas ko eh" he would say.?

"Tumaba ka!" he said. A very subtle Filipino greeting. I laughed painfully because he didn't need to say it out loud. After a full 5-minute awkward catching up, I finally managed to tell him I want to be bald for a change. He asked me if I was sure and then I was brought back to a conversation with my former psychiatrist when she was also asking me if I was sure.?

"Are you sure, anak?" she asked. She was asking if I was sure it was okay to be transferred to another expert. "Yes," I breathed out. But to be honest, I wasn't sure, I just needed to say yes because I was left with no choice but to adapt again and be resilient.?

She was the second doctor in the past two years, who was helping me fight, at worse, and embrace, at best, what was inside my head. But the time has come for me to be referred to someone more experienced than she is for I am getting worse. And it kind of sucks.

I have grown to love sessions with her. I felt calm and guarded even though our recent consultations were done via call or video conferencing. I trust her with anything. But she's sending me away and I hate that I can't blame her because her reasons were valid. And the fact that I feel really really really bad about feeling this way makes this referral more justified and needed.?

"Huwag na lang. Iyong dati na lang, Kuya" I said to my barber, asking him suddenly to cut my hair just like the usual. Barber's Cut. He chuckled and plugged the razor and started shaving my hair then proceeded to cut it with small scissors. I sat there quietly for 20 minutes until he pulled out the blade and started shaving and forming the edges to finish. This is when I realized how much I resist change and how much I don't want to get uncomfortable with it. And maybe I'll resist this coming change too.

My doctor was there when I didn't want to eat or when I want to overeat. She was there when I overslept or when I couldn't even doze off. She was there when I don't wanna talk or wanted to be a chatterbox for the next 2 hours. I don't want to change it. I don't want to be vulnerable to someone again. But I realized that it's not because I am too attached to her, it's because I don't want to be myself when going through change. I don't want the uncomfortable adapting and the required resiliency. But I need to go through it, all because I am getting worse.?

Kuya Jovan assisted me in the shampoo chair to wash my hair. I was imagining how drastic the change would be in transitioning from one psychiatrist to another. The hassle of opening up about your problems and getting uncomfortably comfortable with him. The unnecessary reopening of wounds and playing alive and dead both at the same time.?

But change is the only permanent thing there is, right? How come I can't ever get used to it?

I stood up from the barber chair after Kuya Jovan blow-dried my hair. I paid at the cashier, gave the barber his tip, and walked out of the salon.?

It's been two years. Two years of restless chase with my own mind. Maybe on Sunday when I finally meet my new doctor he'd have the answers to why I keep doing this to myself.?

I might resist change now and maybe for a little more while. Only now do I realize that if a change is too much for me now, then maybe someday it won't be? Maybe it will change, right? I'll just have to wait like always.?

So I guess this is me, for now. I know that someday I need to look at myself as a clean sheet and need to stop comparing myself to the old me who was happier and sane. I should find more ways of getting comfortable with my new self now and eventually get better. Someday, I'll ask Kuya Jovan to shave all the hair on my head, maybe then I'll let everyone know how much I have transformed. Maybe then I'll uncover a part of myself that yearns to be seen and heard.?