Hello,

So you may or may not know that I am shaving my hair off for the charity MIND on 27th May. Read on to find out why......

 

There a few reasons for the hair shave. 

 

Reason One

I have always been curious off how it would feel with very little hair. Ive experienced long hair, and mid length hair, short hair, varied colours in my hair, straight hair, curly hair, hair that doesn't give a damn about how I want to style it. Yet I haven't experienced shaved hair. As a female, apparently as our hair gets shorter our sexuality changes (or not), and I wonder why this happens. How is it common knowledge that a female with short/shaved hair is thought off of being a lesbian? As I have mentioned to different friends, for my longing to loose my locks, the female friends would voice “why do you want to do that? your look even more off a dyke!”. Now Im happy with my sexuality and wonder if its people who aren't who create and continue these ridiculous stereotypes. Ironically, none off my lesbian friends actually have short hair. I guess Im curious off how people will approach me, and how men (in the romantic sense) will approach me, if at all.

By shaving my hair I hold up no more barriers as I would with longer hair, but perhaps in others perspectives Im creating a vibrant picture off my life. This doesn't bother me or effect me in my decision. Woman have been given a stencil of how to “look”, as well as men Im sure, however we have to remember that I can only experience this as a woman. Famous “people”, magazines, billboards, TV shows, showing us how we can dress or should dress for our figure, skin tone, hair length. Not embracing us, not only as women but as humans, as a form. Why aren't we encouraged to show our scars, our cellulite, our eczema, our skulls. So Im using this opportunity and freedom to express that, perhaps to encourage someone, somewhere to not stress about the fact they had a poppyseed lodged in their teeth all day. I mean really, who cares.

 

Reason Two

Its been almost a year since I eloped back to Leigh. Before I was living in Bristol and although I love Bristol, it was there where I really experienced my own mental health issues and discovered how it felt being truly vulnerable. In a nutshell, after graduating from uni, a month or so after the lease had run out of my house. This led me to be “homeless” for two months. Spending my time sofa surfing and not knowing sometimes where I might sleep that night until 10pm was horrid. I had no choices, or options as I saw them. I had no where to have privacy. Also, I was battling like alot of people unemployment. Going to the job centre every two weeks to sign on. Being spoke down too as if I was a fraud and had no skills or actual qualities. Try walking into the job center and telling them your a dancer, and thats actually what you've got a degree in and they didn't hide the sniggers. So my degree appeared worthless, even my 8 years in customer service based roles didnt seem to cut it. I was applying for jobs that I was over qualified for and still not getting an interview. The long and short was that year in Bristol trying to make my life a life was a struggle. A real dark, grimy, sleepless, soul destroying struggle. Eventually I found a part time job, that didn't stretch my rent. I started having these funny turns, once turned into once every two weeks, till they became so often it was worrying. I saw a doctor that suggested it was just stress from the previous chapter, nothing a good diet and some sleep wouldn't fix. hmmm. Well, they turned into panic/anxiety attacks that took over my life so much I had to quit two jobs that I was working. The sense of worry never left me and just got more and more. It felt like I was constantly having a heart attack, leaving me unable to rest or sleep or do anything other than lay in my bed and clutch my chest whilst looking up at the ceiling. The anxiety ruled me now, i went round a friends house to have dinner and had a panic attack and had to leave. I ignored my phone, just looking at my phone while it rang no matter who it was gave me anxiety. Eventually I suffered from social anxiety, acrophobia and depression. I couldn't leave my house, sometimes the thought of leaving my own bedroom to go the toilet brought a panic attack complete with short off breath, hysterical tears, confusion, frustration and a raised heart beat. If you know me now, or if you knew me before all this then your know, that I love talking to people and being around people. I love making people smile or laugh and I love being cheered up. I love life even the dark parts. However, when I was going through this I couldn't see an end, I didn't believe there was an end. I thought, thats it, this me for the rest off my life, and the only thing I could control was whether I lived or not. For some unknown reason I never experienced with committing suicide, perhaps I deep down knew this wasn't it, or perhaps deep down knew that my family and friends would help me or maybe it was a thought that evaporated as soon as it materialized. Who knows. Im a lucky one, I had an amazing doctor back in Essex, and a brilliant therapist and was fortunate to have shelter at my parents house. I know some people don't have that, or even that little bit off freedom or confidence to say, “I need help”. This brings me to my third and final reason...

 

Reason Three

 

Elliot Morgan. I used to live two doors away from him when were nippers. His sister Milly was my age but they had a bigger garden so thats where we would play. I spent my childhood with the family and living and growing up next to elliot. I experienced his bad temper, once he threw a massive plastic toy box and my head. Surprisingly it didnt knock me out! He apologized once he calmed down, but me and Milly just thought it was funny! He used to dress up, and sing. “Me and Mrs, Mrs. Jones”. He had such a beautiful voice and didn't have any training. We used to have family BBQ’s, go hang out at belfairs park and attempt at playing tennis, or just hang out in the woods. He was well loved by family and friends and an amazing character. A fews had gone by since I last saw him. We grew up, I went to uni, he went to Portugal to work within his uncles bar. Life happened for the both of us. Then one day I got the phonecall from a mutual old school friend that he died. He took his life. I sat on my bed unable to speak or make sense off what I just heard. I couldnt picture it, I still cant. It doesnt seem right, but I guess it never does with death. All the memories from when we were kids came back. His face, his temper, his voice, his ashma. All those memories that had be stored away neatly came out in a big fat thud. 

Ive been told that Elliot may have struggled with depression aswell. Sometimes you dont ask for help because you dont think you need it. Elliot was a strong person and within a loving family unit with friends who cared so much about him, but from my own experience that can sadly mean nothing.

 

So in memory of Elliot and for the benifit off helping others like us and perhaps you or someone you know that suffers from mental health issues, please donate. As much as you can. Educate yourself by going on the MIND website. Ask for help if you need it, its not weak. Ask questions if you need to. Create a safe space for people around you can talk to you, listen, and really listen, but also know the importance that you too are heard. Theres so many sights, countries, sounds, taste, places, things to experience in life. If you can, perhaps doing it with a smile or with a sneaky giggle to yourself would be nice.

 

Thanks for taking the time to read this, please feel free to ask me anything. Like I said, I do love a chat. 

 

Avril Hockett x