“I’m tired of being inside my head. I want to live out here, with you.”
― Colleen McCarty, Mounting the Whale
I discovered the first shimmer of silver on my jet black hair when I was 15.
As an obsessive person this was no good.
I started cutting out the silver strands as they grew and taped them on strips of paper. I kept all the strips and compared them every few weeks to the new growth.
I spent endless hours on the internet searching for causes of premature gray hair. Began meditating every night, imagining dark hair sprouting out of my head in a fast time lapse. Popped vitamin B12 pills every day. Ate exactly 22 cashews every day to get copper. Squirted onion juice on my scalp three times a week (yes, it is as disgusting as it sounds).
This obsession went on for years.
Of course, nothing worked. All this thrust me further into an inescapable spiral.
Every time a new silver hair appeared, I could feel my mind being tugged into a maze of revolving doors. My thought got away from me and carved deep scars in me.
Today, I don’t care about the color of my hair anymore, although I have way more grays now. Why doesn’t it bother me anymore? I wish I knew.
I don’t choose my obsessions. I have new ones now. But this is me, and life goes on.