Bad Head Day

Today was a Bad Hair Day. A very Bad Hair Day. I would post a photo but I don’t want to scare any of you good, good people. You all deserve better than that. I’m not sure if it was my now infamous cap, the windy conditions or that I’m in desperate need of a haircut but I resembled a 5′ 11′ Northern Irish troll when I finally reached the office this morning. Which is not a good look.

My arrival was greeted by a chorus of guffaws from my rarely sympathetic colleagues causing me to beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom to inspect the damage. I looked like I’d seen a ghost. It would have been a truly hair raising experience if it wasn’t for the fact that my hair was already raised. There followed a frenzied few minutes of wetting it down and trying to restore some semblance of sanity to my appearance. I looked like Albert Einstein after he stuck his finger in a power socket.

Makeover complete I returned to the office looking every inch the suave, sophisticated middle manager everyone knows and loves. Note to self – always keep a tube of hair gel in the office to avoid a repeat performance in the future. Or stop being so lazy and pay a visit to the barber’s to get it all whacked off. Hair today, gone tomorrow. I apologise. That was possibly the worst pun in the history of WordPress.

That’s the good thing about Bad Hair Days. They can easily be rectified, no matter how dire the reflection that greets you in the mirror. But what about those Bad Head Days? When no matter how hard you try and no matter what you do you can’t shift the smog of sadness which silently settles on your mind like volcanic ash. As it settles you become more unsettled. For you know what is about to follow.

Unsettled by depression and despair. Depression like a giant raven which sinks its talons into the meat of your mind and refuses to let go. It is relentless and seeps into every recess, polluting and contaminating your every waking thought and every restless dream. Dreams that make you scream. Screams that nobody hears because you are entombed in the solitary prison that is your consciousness.

Alcohol. Drugs. Sex. Money. They offer only temporary release, a momentary relapse in the onslaught which rains down on you like meteor showers hitting the atmosphere of your soul. Souls full of holes which can never be mended. Irreparable damage to irreplaceable hopes and aspirations. You feel utterly alone and are utterly defeated. You fly the white flag of surrender against a backdrop of nightmarish proportions.

Bad Head Days have a habit of becoming Bad Head Weeks. Then months, then years and before you know it your life is slipping through your fingers and you are left staring at nothing. Why wash? Why eat? Why answer the phone? Why get out of bed? Why breathe another breath? Options decrease as the anguish increases. You are broken. And choking. Choking on the bitterness of empty promises and seductive lies.

Lies. Soul ties. Time flies and before you know it they are gone. The loved ones, the loyal ones, the people you felt would always be there to catch you when you fell. Fell into hell. You’re in freefall. But it’s not free. It has cost you everything you’ve ever held dear. Suicide is painless they say. Not for those you leave behind. They will die every day reliving the day of your death. There is no hope at the end of a rope. Hope is living. Even if living is little more than survival.

In order to thrive you first must survive. A minute at a time. A breath at at time. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat ad nauseum. Until you are sick. Until you vomit up the poison. Until you see that first chink of light on the horizon. That first hazy sunset which cuts through the smog and warms your frozen heart. Scream. Scream until your lungs burst. Scream until you are heard, until you get the help you need to visit tomorrow. And the tomorrow after that.

Are you having a Bad Head Day? Or know someone who is? Please don’t suffer in silence. Get help. Today. Now.

Raise your voice. Kill the noise.

❤️🙏🏻❤️🙏🏻

32 thoughts on “Bad Head Day

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  1. “I resembled a 5′ 11′ Northern Irish troll when I finally reached the office this morning. Which is not a good look…” I am belly laughing until the tears stream. And I happen to love the pun. My grandfather was Irish. Jokes including puns are a part of the family fabric. 😉

    Oh, but what a hilarious opening to a truly heartbreaking subject… Depression. I pray that anyone who is suffering today reads your post and takes your wise advice to seek help. Great post.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You don’t want to see a photo of me having a bad hair day lol. Trust me. I’m going to read your post, I didn’t know that as your posts always seem so upbeat and positive. I pray that ugly cloud never darkens your door again 🙏🏻

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  2. I am having a bad head day a day later… so yes yesterday was definitely a “no” day…
    But today is quite great ! Maybe because I never wear caps? 😄😄

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  3. I’ve had many a bad head day. Depression’s power is so hard to break because it encourages isolation and when the brain pushes aside the input of others, help goes unnoticed and eventually the depressed soul decides help doesn’t exist.

    I hate the day I wake up, not with bad hair, but with the the bags under my eyes that seem to make me look a lot like Moe from the Three Stooges. This makes me run from the mirror with vigor I normally don’t have early in the morning.

    Have a great day! Thanks for your blog!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. this is you at your best. I thought it was so good it deserved more than just a mere like. I think you thrive in this style. Tell a story make it humorous bust out a few great one liners and then segue into the deeper meanings.

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  5. I am battling my way through depression, right now, with the help of a councilor, a rehabilitation worker, and a psychiatrist.
    It’s a lot like what is written here, but I have body aches and long moments of uncontrollable sobbing.
    My body often feels too heavy to move more than just a trip to the bathroom. Some days, I fantasize, happily, about the release of death.
    When I think of the sadness my “loved ones” will have after my passing, I think “why aren’t they calling? Why aren’t they coming by? Why aren’t they checking on me? If they will miss me when I’m gone, why not help me while I’m here?”
    I know this sounds selfish and inconsiderate, but a call to see how things are, an ear to whine into, and a little bit of company once in a while without judgement or suggestions, goes a hundred miles when I am really bad.
    A text is sometimes enough to lighten my load enough for me to brush my hair.
    I could go on, but I think you get the idea. You may not see any difference when you interact with someone who is depressed, but, trust me, they feel the difference, just like they feel the absence.

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      1. Ouch. That’s a really tough one. I always make sure to thank those that are there for me during my dark times. I do my best to listen to them and be there for them during their rough times.
        I have been accused of taking advantage of people. The only thing I can say is that there are times when my depression bout lasted for a couple of years. I just couldn’t pull out of it for anything more than the absolute necessary stuff and then there were times when even that was impossible.
        When someone takes your care for granted, they are using depression for attention. That’s my opinion. I have no degree or special knowledge.
        I have no ideas as to how anyone could know the difference. I’m sorry. I wish I knew more.

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          1. Thanks. I am only here today because of people who didn’t give up on me when I pushed them away and made them feel like they were the cause of my pain.

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  6. After many days i have read a very good blog i had both problem of bad hair and bad head but now both are settelted due to postivity and cocount -avacoda oil 😊

    Like

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