« Late-Mid-Week-Videoless Dots | Main | For your holiday weekend »
May 26, 2006
Friday Shuffle - The Panic! In the Shuffle Edition
Long-time readers of this blog might recall that I've had quite a history with panic attack and anxiety disorders. If you'd like to familiarize yourself with that period of my life, feel free to read any of the archives from June, 2004 - April, 2005. Although I'm not sure why anyone would want to do that. Unless you like reading about people losing their minds over things like, oh, I don't know, cats and shit.
It's been well over a year since I had a panic attack. I still get anxious, but I've accepted that I'm just anxious by nature. As long as my anxiety isn't dictating my life, I can deal with it. Add to my long list of quirks and idiosyncracies.
Of course, from the start I've been concerned that Clara Jane might follow in my panicky path. There's been research that kids born to anxious, panicky mothers pick up the stress hormones in utero, giving them a predisposition to their own panic and anxiety problems. Thanks, Media! That news makes it so much easier for a panicked pregnant lady to relax! So far, Clara Jane's been pretty easy-going and down-right fearless.
Until today.
Allow me to digress momentarily. I'm no longer fond of my new haircut. Seems that once it de-Mary-Tyler-Moore'd itself, it decided to go-completely-psycho. The back and sides are large enough to be used as a nest for a renegade family of homeless possums. And the bangs ... don't even talk to me about the bangs. Too short and the razor-cut ends - I'm not exaggerating - flip straight up. I look like I have little arrows on my forehead, pointing the way to the entrance to Chez Possumhovel.
I'm not a fan of using tools and potions to make my hair do things it's not going to do naturally. It's too much work and, well, you know what they say about trying to fool Mother Nature. Besides, I have weird hair that doesn't respond to most tools and potions. It's really, really thick and naturally wavy, but baby-fine. On the rare occasion that I can find barrettes that are strong enough to handle the sheer quantity of my hair, chances are they're going to slide right out due to the complete lack of texture.
The whole reason why I picked this haircut is because it should have worked with my natural hair. It worked with the waves and my lack of texture. But then my "stylist" had to get all happy with the razor. Not happy. Not happy at all.
Since I'm a proponent of finding hairstyles that agree with my hair's natural state, I don't own a curling or flat iron. If my hair was meant to be curly or striaght, it would be curly or straight without being forced into that state by me. Besides, I graduated from high school in 1991, which means I spent most mornings of my adolescence with a curling iron in hand, fashioning my hair into an elaborate Aqua-Net-induced pineapple that reached far, far into the clouds. It might have housed possums; I don't know, for my hair was so far from my scalp they could have lived three stories up from my head and I would have been completely unaware. Point is, I have a rarely-used blow dryer in my hair styling arsenal, and nothing else. Well, a brush. I do have a brush.
Did I ever tell you about the summer when I stopped brushing my hair and managed to grow one single dreadlock? That's a story for another time.
So anyway ... This morning Clara Jane was coloring at the dining room table while I stood before the bathroom mirror, blow dryer and brush in hand, working to flatten my arrow-y bangs. (Why do they call them "bangs" anyway? Because that's the sound it makes when the stylist hits the floor after you hit her for what she's done to your hair?)I dampened my bangs, brushed them flat, and blew them dry.
As soon as I turned off the dryer, I heard the screaming. Panicked, horrible, screaming. Clara Jane bellowing, "Mama! Come back! Come back! Come back!"
Fuck my hair. Just ... fuck it. Flat bangs aren't worth traumatizing my kid, who doesn't like noisy motors. The vacuum cleaner, lawn mowers, weed eaters - she's afraid of them all. We thought she had gotten over the blow dryer fear, but apparently not.
For the next hour, Clara Jane wouldn't let go of me. As in, if I put her on the floor, she clung to my shirt and cried that horrible, "Come back, Mama! Come back!"
This is what I used to do when I panicked. I couldn't stand being left alone. When I was four, when I was 32, it was the same. Please don't leave me to be afraid by myself. Please don't go away because, if I take my eyes off of you, there's a chance something awful witll happen and I'll never see you again.
We dealt with it. Plowed through it, even though it was horrible. I know I could have cancelled our entire day just to comfort her, letting her grip my shirt and cry while I rubbed her back. But what would that do? That would teach her that she doesn't have to deal with her fear because I'll do it for her. She'll never learn to deal with her fear and next thing you know she'll be 32 years old, begging someone to not leave her alone because she's scared. She'll be me at the worst point in my life.
On the other hand, she's two.
Ultimately, I think it worked. While she cried and screamed, I didn't go out of her sight and kept telling her that it was okay to be afraid. We would deal with it. The worst part had to be when I attempted to walk into the bathroom, home of the blow dryer. She grabbed the tail of my shirt, screaming, and tried to pull me out.
Let me just say that my kid? She may still be shorter than a yardstick, but she's one strong little beastie.
Eventually she calmed down and we seem to be relatively back to normal. Well, a slightly shaken version of normal. To see the part of myself that I hate the most in my child makes me wonder what kind of chance she stands if she's learned this trait from me, or if I imprinted it on her DNA, or passed it to her like poison through the umbilical cord. I learned to deal with it at age 32. How do I adapt those lessons to a 2-year-old?
This is parenting: learning from the worst parts of your life and passing on that knowledge so that your kids don't get to repeat your trials.
If this shuffle scares you, I promise I'll hold your hand and we'll listen to it together. And really, don't worry about the possums. They're not worth the panic.
1. Section 12 (Hold Me Now) - Polyphonic Spree
2. Cigarettes & Chocolate Milk - Rufus Wainwright
3. All the Way to Reno - REM
4. I Didn't Like You Anyway - The Donnas
5. Knock Me Down - Red Hot Chili Peppers
6. Less Than You Think - Wilco (a 15-minute panic attack set to feedback - how appropriate)
7. At Least That's What You Said - Wilco (live in St. Louis, 3-19-06)
8. His Eyes are a Blue Million Miles - Joan Osbourne
9. The Idea of Growing Old - The Features
10. Thunder Road - Bruce Springsteen (which just happens to be my #1 all-time favorite song)
Posted by Robin at May 26, 2006 03:33 PM
Comments
Poor Clara Jane. I feel for her. I can't stand loud things like vacuums and drills lawn mowers either. It just unhinges me.
I'm in love with your shuffle. Thunder Road is my second favorite Bruce song.
I hate badly cut bangs. I'd be livid if I had bangs that flip out. I actually wish I could break the bangs habit but I can't. I have the bangs monkey on my back.
Posted by: Dixie at May 26, 2006 05:28 PM
each of my girls experienced this sort of fear. We addressed it by confronting it. Looking at it (Vacuum for instance), touching it, turning on and off...it helps if they know you control it and it isn't wild.
I loved the film, what a little sweetheart.
Posted by: JO at May 26, 2006 08:19 PM
bach's rescue remedy - for you - for panic. seriously.
riley has taken turns being afraid of the blender, the vacuum, the weed-eater... VERY scary stuff!!! if he can hold the item and play with it, it helps.
now he just makes a load vroom noise when i turn on the vacuum.
i think you should just shave your head. bald chicks are HOT! do it! do it! DO IT!!!!
Posted by: karajoy at May 26, 2006 08:41 PM
Dix, I'm the same way with loud motors, truth be told. I remember when I was a kid, I told my mom I wouldn't have carpet in my house when I grew up because I hated the sound of the vaccum. We had a pick carpet-tearing-up party a few years ago.
Jo, I think that's what we're going to have to do. Clara Jane saw the blow dryer during her bath tonight and freaked. I think she'll get to play with it tomorrow.
Karajoy, I wish you'd reminded me about Bach's earlier! Yeah, you would have had to have been psychic, but still. I was at Whole Foods today and almost bought some of Hyland's Calm Forte. I think I'll be going back tomorrow. And don't tempt me to shave my head. Believe me, the thought has crossed my mind. Unfortunately, I have a really lumpy skull. As in, it looks like I've had several unfortunate accidents. I'd only be hot to people who like head injuries.
Posted by: Robin at May 26, 2006 09:27 PM
You did very well in this situation. The child will surely benifit from your parenting techniques. Well done !
Posted by: Maria loves pictures at May 29, 2006 09:49 AM
Why not get some scarfs, and make do with those on your head until it grows out?
We have passed some of our anxiety to Boo, but we're trying to teach him how to deal with it now, versus when he's 30 too.
Toy hair dryer for her.
And thanks for reminding me of the pinapple do's from long ago.
Posted by: Cassie at May 31, 2006 10:10 AM
