This is a Really Real Mental Health Post.

I’ve needed to get my hair done since this all started, months ago. My normally shaved sides were 3 inches long. My bright and vibrant unicorn hair was faded to a muddy pastel.

I couldn’t believe how much it was destroying my self image. Not only had I put on a significant amount of weight, but now my hair, something that was normally raved about, was unkempt and gross. I stopped working to bring out the curl. My hair lived in days old ponytails, the long sides tickling the inside of my ears.

But I had made and cancelled a hair appointment before. I had set up plans with family for an outdoor hair cut and that got cancelled too.

There was so much anxiety holding me back. Anxiety coming from every direction. I’m anxious about catching/spreading COVID. I’m afraid to leave my house.

But it also masks an underlying situation. My agoraphobia is rearing its ugly head again. My anxiety is becoming more than I can easily live with. I’m out of practice with pushing through it, so that mental muscle has atrophied.

My world has closed in upon itself. Even taking the dog out is scary and uncomfortable. Leaving my front porch seems like I’m walking through quicksand. The world is large and scary and feels dangerous.

And this is where COVID comes back in. The world is dangerous right now. So telling my brain that it’s safe, feels like a lie. But not feeling safe is what makes the agoraphobia worse.

Every anxiety imaginable comes to the forefront when I need to leave.

I’ve been here before.

Multiple times.

But I know the only way out is through. Pushing myself to go when the last thing I want to do is open that door.

So I pushed, and my bright pink and purple undercut is back. My smile is just that little bit bigger. My face feels a little less round. I feel like myself a little bit more. And this morning it was a little bit easier to push myself out the front door for a frivolous trip to Starbucks.

There needs to be more (socially distant) frivolous trips in my future. I need to work that muscle again.

I’m tired of being scared.