Good grief
Grief and I have... a complicated relationship. I won't go into all the details because it's far too much for one simple blog post (I'm working on that memoir, slowly but surely!), but in the late spring of 2018 I went through what I think can really only be described as a nervous breakdown. I was in the doctor's office for a way overdue appointment, and instead of saying "I'm worried because-" I instead burst into tears when trying to explain to this total stranger all the horrible things that had happened to me in the last 4 months. All the losses I had experienced. And as I listed them off on my hands the practitioner's eyes grew wider, and her smile faded. "I'm......just going to go grab someone from behavioral health for you.” she said, slipping out the door, and coming back shortly with a counselor.
Too many losses for any person in that amount of time, I'm told by my doctors now. It would have been too much for anyone. I still don't always remember to give myself that reminder- that I'm not weak, and that I deserve credit for simply staying alive and continuing on.
And I've pretty much been in LOTS of therapy since then. The good news is that I have learned SO much about myself, the world, humans in general and their behaviors, (specifically, I have learned to spot other traumatized people pretty well- especially those who seem to have experienced great loss- and that helps me interact with them in a healthier way) but mostly I learn skills for how to deal with the trauma in myself that it has left behind.
One of the the most difficult things in my life now can be grief, and how any grief at all triggers me right back into that time where the grief and mourning were so overwhelming that I felt like my body was made of lead and simply moving it around was a nearly insurmountable task. When crying wasn't just crying, but an act that left me feeling like my eyes might actually get damaged somehow from how hard they were being pressed shut,- how badly they were forced to be bruised and swollen.
When you leave those moments behind, you hope it is forever. So PTSD is this special kind of gift where you get to relive them again and again for what feels like forever. It leaves you with this feeling of way-too-awake, like you are a raw, exposed nerve, while simultaneously keeping you from ever fully resting- sleep evades you and even when you do sleep, you're never really fully asleep like you used to be.
So…. It's taken me a little while to write about the loss of Maureen.
The first time Maureen came into my salon, I was ready-to-pop pregnant with my daughter who is now 8.5. My memory is too poor now to remember the first thing she ever said to me, but knowing Maureen (and what timid little Mormon-y me was like back then, it likely embarrassed the fire out of me).
One thing I KNOW, is that whatever she said surely made me laugh. Maureen always made me laugh.
If it wasn't physical humor (for an older lady, she'd surprise you by suddenly doing a little jig-in-place out of nowhere just to make sure YOU DIDN'T THINK she was THAT OLD. :: hands on hips with a little flirty wiggle::)
No- if it wasn't the physical humor, Maureen would hit you with some sexual innuendo that would stop you in your tracks and make you question everything. (Did you really just hear what you think you just heard come out of that sweet little lady's mouth?! WHAT?!) 🤣
Maureen was the kind of client that comes along so, so rarely in our careers as hairstylists (and I'm at this SO lucky point where it's dwindled down to basically only these clients left for me)- ones who we have grown our career with- the ones who we bond with so deeply that we worry when we don't see them- that we know in our gut when something is off. Ones that their joys are our joys, and we are privileged to join them in their excitements, and yes- it is a privilege to support them in their sorrows as well.
Over the years I have seen various states of Maureen:
-Jaunty, peppy, "I walked here!" Maureen (whether this or by bus- she was always careful to arrive very early so she could sit and catch her breath a minute)
-Tired, overworked Maureen (will still make jokes, likely about how she is the tin man and her joints need oil. She may or may not mime it and do sound effects while she slowly gets up or down from chairs. Will fall asleep as soon as you leave her alone.)
-Lonely/sad Maureen (least favorite, do not recommend)
-Excited Maureen (like literally so cute, have I mentioned yet she's like under 5ft tall?
-Generous, friendly, positive, Maureen (this one stays at all times with all other Maureens)
It was just as likely that she would miss her appointment that it was she would show up for it, and over the years I came to expect the behavior and forgave it easily, (though this is pretty much the unforgivable sin in salon world).
To me, she was so easily forgivable.
It was obvious Maureen was trying-she wanted to see me- and I truly wanted to see her too.
If she missed her appointment, I knew I'd have a long-winded message on my machine with a thousand apologies, and probably a card or letter was already in the mail. All that wasn't needed, of course- but to her it was.
Maureen was the most gift-giving-est person I knew. She always brought in something when she came in for her appointment- and I mean little things!- but they would be the cutest most thoughtful little things. At her last appointment she brought a pack of disposable masks and a bottle of hand sanitizer. OF COURSE. 🖤
She would make us all laugh (a little bit in discomfort) at the shampoo sink by making animal noises while being shampooed. Her go-to was purring, but it was often an outright meow or bark. I suspect that she was on a tight budget by how she stretched appointments, and I can tell she always carefully factored in giving everyone generous tips. ("I wish it could be more, I wish it could be more", she'd mumble, waving away thank yous with her hand).
Though I am bound by no laws or oaths like a doctor, counselor, or whatever else, I don't believe in kissing-and-telling. (or is this hairdressing-and-blogging?) So I don't ever want to spill anyone's beans on this blog. But I do think from my own perceptions and conversations that we had, that Maureen was a person that tried really hard (and seemingly did a pretty decent job) at "self redemption" if there is such a thing- but that she never actually forgave herself for anything she did in her past.
But that doesn't matter now. No, what's important now is to just sit back, close my eyes, and think about tiny Maureen, who likes her blonde highlights in her medium brown hair to be "chunky." (I mean.... I couldn't really argue with her logic when she said, "If I'm paying for them, I should see them, right?! Make them like stripes!") And she never deviated from her cut in all the time I knew her: a chin-length A-line bob. It seemed to be the only thing she could easily manage- she was plagued with enough hair for 3 people and at least 5 different textures within it.
She sent a greeting card in the mail to us at the salon for every holiday, and sometimes just because.
She was a fucking gem.
If I sat and thought for long enough to think of every single client I've ever had in the last (holy shit) nearly 20 years I've been doing hair- like if someone was somehow able to provide me with a comprehensive list that includes pictures and background info and all that kind of shit so it jogs my horrible memory that is clouded from PTSD and other chronic illnesses-even if that were possible, I really do think I can say pretty damn confidently that Maureen has been my favorite client I've ever had.
Don't tell the others.
Actually? Go ahead.
Because if they met Maureen, they'd get it.
She'd be their favorite, too.
🖤
