Haircut of independence

Life at IH is a weird step between being wholly dependent on the support of family, and truly declaring your own independence as an adult. Supposedly I have been an ‘adult’ for two years now and whilst I can cook, and clean, and make doctors’ appointments without too much stress there are certain things that continue to remind me of how woefully unprepared I am for the ‘real’ world.

I have never been able to steel myself to make an appointment for a haircut- and to be honest, I don’t think I will start now. We all have weird fears or anxiety about seemingly harmless things, for some people it is certain animals, for me, it is sitting in a chair for an hour while someone makes small talk and questions me about hairstyles I don’t understand. I honestly have no training in the art of hair and I am generally not in the business of telling others how to do their jobs, but apparently that is required at a hair salon. Fortunately for me, after an impromptu and impulsive stop at the hair salon/dodgy caravan at the Queen Vic Night Market I found my perfect hairdresser. There was little communication with my German speaking stylist and after I gave him free reign to just go for whatever he felt was appropriate I felt like I had taken a step in the right direction in my life, albeit a quite small step. That probably doesn’t demonstrate that I am trying to take a mature approach to my day to day life but it’s the thought that counts right? Surely ‘sort-of’ facing your fears is better than living in a limbo of childish habits.

I still rely on my mother to talk me through my irrational fits of stress.

I have dirty clothes covering the floor of my room.

I continue to do my work at the last minute.

I am nowhere near ready to be truly independent but I no longer need my mum to tell me I’m cool- I have a German hairdresser for that now.

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