I own two dogs and a cat. They are hairy critters and I’m a neat freak. It’s a bad combination, so bad in fact that I put up toddler gates in my home to pen them into my kitchen and dining room. The shedding was swallowing the entire house and frustrating me to no end, not unlike the ragged mop on my own head.
Having kept my hair long since youth, I decided to finally cut it off. My five pregnancies had done a number on each strand. I was also tired of my face being dragged down by the length. So I decided to change it up and sport a cute pixie.
Both decisions were sensible ways to solve two hairy problems in my life. But then a third one came along that truly clipped me. I developed writer’s block, something that I had only heard about before. As a writer, the bad case that I had equated with unexpected baldness.
I did everything to try to solve it. With everything that I did, however, my case just worsened. I became agitated. And hopping over the gates throughout the house every minute (sometimes tripping to my demise) as well as wrestling with my pixie each morning, just made my agitation worse. My clever solutions had obviously gone awry and then dried up completely.
Finally, one morning, I just gave up. Tearing down the toddler gates, I threw them into the basement. Jumping out of the shower, I just slicked my hair back and accepted looking crazy. And you know what happened? My writer’s block gave way to sixteen new ideas, including this article.
I can only conclude from the experience that my desire for control was controlling the best part of me in my head — my creativity. My own worst enemy, I traded joy and freedom for perfection and that perfection had stripped me of my imagination. The fact that I hadn’t even realized it until my writer’s block firmly set in is shocking.
Sometimes that is just the way life happens. We roll until we hit a bump that stops us in our tracks. Then finally we crack, cry or both, only to change direction and grow in understanding ourselves better. I am certain many a mom can relate.
Suffice it to say, I am keeping the gates down permanently and growing back my hair in a relaxed fashion. My pets are happier. I am happier. And my editors are happier.
As we live in a society that frowns upon “giving up,” I can’t say I agree with never doing so anymore. Sometimes “giving up” is actually the right move. You just need to know when it’s appropriate and how to get out of your own head to do so. And if all else fails, simply throw your clippers in the air, pass life the appointment book, and take the day off. That next feeling will tell you everything you need to know.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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