Tacos That Don’t Smell

🌮 🌮🌮🌮🌮🌮🌮🌮🌮🌮🌮🌮🌮

I was out for my ear appointment with Hunter this morning. I showed up 15 minutes late, and felt like a jerk. I was in the shower forever trying to get the hair off of me. It didn’t work. I showed up to Hunter a hot mess. As she welcomed me in to her healing space I felt the pit in my stomach knowing today wouldn’t be like the other sessions we have. Normally, I am so relaxed on her table as she works her magic on my ears and puts me to sleep. Today, I could only think of how when she touches my hair, massaging my scalp her hands would become covered in my hair. Although I did relax, I could feel the hair and feel her having to continually wipe it off her hands. I could take the pain on my head, but my heart was emotionally struggling. I wanted to hide. I wanted to be alone. I wanted nothing more than to never feel another broken off piece of hair. It was like each piece was traumatizing me over and over again. I came home and tried to shower off my hair again and then tried to hide from the world in my bed, covered with my hat and buried under the blankets in my pj’s. I didn’t want to walk, I didn’t want to talk. I wasn’t hiding long before Vanessa came over for a snuggle in my bed with tacos that don’t smell. Tacos are our thing. These days, tacos on the weekend are not a thing. The smell of everything makes me gag. Vanessa shows up with this giant stuffed taco pillow and a pair of clippers. As she snuggles in to my bed and holds me close in her arms, I cry. She’s here to help, like she always is. I don’t have to hide from her. I don’t have to dress for her, or pretend I’m okay even for a second. She just knows. She knows when I need tacos, or to scream. She knows when I say I need something I really need it. And this weekend, I needed what’s left of my hair off. I needed that one more sound of those clippers to take what they could off of my patchy, sore head so I didn’t keep feeling it fall on me, or feel it between my fingers. I felt trapped in my hat. Every time I moved hair would fall on me. My black hoodie covered in blonde stubble. I needed it over. And, I needed to be held by my friend. As I sat on the bench in my shower with her, my left over hair covering the floor, I felt so relieved. As Vanessa cleaned up the hair and I showered off I couldn’t feel any more hair, just thankfulness. Thankfulness for my friend who just knows what I need. Thankfulness for my friend who I can taco bout anything with. Thankfulness for my friend who shows up with clippers and tacos that don’t smell. 💗