I, am a damn good hair stylist. Cutting, dying, perming, it is one of my five skills I can talk confidentially about, knowing what I can do, and when I can do better or not than someone else. I've never gone to cosmetology school, never been licensed - and I never plan to do either. I recently did the coolest dye job of my life, and then almost immediately had another hole placed in another one of my walls, so in honor of the occasions, a lore drop.
Growing up, I had long hair. Brushed stick straight when wet, dried a frizzy mess, and always tangled. In second grade I had it cut, instantly regretted it, and immediately went back to growing long hair, this time always in a ponytail. I don't remember the first time I woke with a giant chunk of hair missing from the back of my head, but I was still in elementary school. Hair almost to my waist, except for a 2in chunk cut above my shoulders, on a school day... I grabbed scissors and hacked away the rest of my hair before heading off to school, then used the following days to fix stragglers wherever I saw them. It was messy and it wasn't straight, but I would end up having plenty of time to get better.
Shortly after realizing that anytime my hair grew past my shoulders I would wake up with a chunk of hair missing, I started using Sun-In to lighten my hair, and eventually graduated to other colors. My self consolation prize of sorts. Being my own hair salon led to being my own piercer, as well as doing both for neighbors and friends as my skills improved. While in junior high, I had a safety pin in my eyebrow, that I would take out every day before I went home so it wouldn't get ripped out of my face, and I can still see where the hole used to be when the... pastiness? glow in the dark skin? I dunno, in the right angle, when i'm not at all tanned you can see it.
Am I dancing around the violent part of this story while I try to figure out exactly what I want to say about it? Abso-freaking-lutely.
One of my sisters has a chromosome disorder, which leads to a laundry list of mental and cognitive disorders, which leads to lots of experimental medication, which leads to a pretty good way to get away with almost anything. Screaming, yelling, kicking, hitting over the smallest things, raging around not satisfied without letting out every piece of anger and venom, onto another human. At least, during the daytime hours. Apparently, the night time version translated to getting chunks of hair chopped off.
In her paltry defense: she was swimming in a cocktail of meds trying to keep her sane and you know, alive, her dad was only in her life if she visited him behind bars, and I'm the family villain, so what else was she to do except take it out on me? I didn't just take it though, I learned safety holds, and learned myself a temper. I wish I could say I never responded in anger to it, but I would be lying. all the way through elementary school to the end of high school, this continued. For chunks of time I would just leave my hair short, but I have always wanted long hair past my waist so more often than not I would grow out my hair and see how long I could get it before waking up needing a drastic pre-school chop.
Junior year, I am woken up in the middle of the night by a two-handed drop punch to my stomach and a pair of scissors next to me. I left my mom's and stayed at a friend's as long as her parents would allow while I attempted the only ultimatum I have ever issued: She leaves and gets professional help or I leave. My mom never got her the help my sister needed, and less than a year later I had moved out permanently. I promised myself I would never live in that house again.
Fast forward to today. My mom and the three kids she adopted from her youngest living in my home with my son and I bc my childhood home is not safe for humans to live. Middle child was exposed to all sorts of unknown drugs and behaviors while in the womb, so guess what! He has uncontrollably anger issues, exactly like my sister growing up did. Once again I am stepping up on the regular to both be the shield for the others in the house. Except when I'm not home. Then my son steps in. It's not ok.
It wasn't ok when I was a child, and it's not ok that it's happening again. It's especially not ok that my son is involved. I've asked him to stay out of it, but if I'm not around he can't sit idly by and not do something. I'm both proud of him, and heartbroken at my failure as his parent.
I am at a loss. I personally can't do anything that I haven't already done/will continue to do, but something HAS to change. I can't live through another generation of violence, and this new batch of kiddos don't deserve it either. I wish I had some sort of uplifting reassurance for you, my dear anonymous eyes. Some sort of mantra reminding us that the hardships we endure end up being worth it in the end.
But you see, my dear eyes, I'm tired, and things feel pretty depressing, for lack of a better word. I'm still stubborn as hell, so that's still going for me, at least. And that's the best I can muster after such a draining lore drop and existence. I'll work on coming back here soon(ish) with a non-lore drop update that as long as you ignore my living situation, is actually mostly good. ;)
Hasta luego.
