The Hairdresser Who Became My Friend

It was my second year living on my own and I was a mess. I hadn't had a hair cut done professionally. All I did was trim my bangs so I could see. My employer demanded that I get a haircut or I lose my job. Working in the food industry requires you to be in good appearance.

I couldn't stand having my hair touched. I was afraid that this person would hurt me like my mom would hurt me. I was afraid that if they stroked my hair they would hurt me. I was afraid that she would burn my hair or destroy it like what my mother did to my hair. I was afraid that she would use the electic haircutters and cut my skin and so that I would bleed and bleed. I was afraid that she would burn my neck and my forehead. All the fears were in full force.

But there I was-- I had to get the haircut. I looked in the yellow pages of the phone book under 'Beauty Salons.' and found a small salon. I knew where it was located. I made the appointment for the next week. After I got off the phone with the nice lady, I went to bed and cried myself to sleep.

The day arrived for my appointment which was set for 4 pm. At work all I could think was how to get through my appointment at the hairdressers. I knew I had to make a plan, but what? "This lady will probably think I am nuts," I thought. I was scared. I knew I had to tell her but I didn't know how.

After work I got on the bus to get to my appointment. My body was shaking and my head started to ache so bad. I was in bad shape. I had no choice. My employer was ready to fire me if I didn't get this haircut and I didn't want to lose my job.

When I arrived at the salon, I told the lady at the front desk who I was and sat down in the lobby area. I was shaking so bad. My tears started to flow. I told myself to get a grip. "She is not going to hurt me," I told myself. My name was called and I quickly wiped my tears away and followed her like a little girl. She led me to her cubicle at the back corner of the salon. Nobody could see us. She gently asked me to sit on this chair so I did. She introduced herself as Marie. Marie was young and pretty. She was at least ten years older then I am and she had a son. His picture was on the corner of the huge mirror.

I also saw various combs and brushes on the counter in the front of the mirror. I saw her golden scissors at the left side where the combs were. At the right side of the counter, I saw the hair dryer, the curling iron and the electric haircutters. I started to produce tears but I had to hold it in. Marie asked me what I wanted done for my hair. I didn't know. I never thought of it. I just knew that I had to get a haircut. I told Marie that I didn't know.

Marie picked up the purple comb. I started to shake. She started to comb the one side of the hair gently and I jumped. Marie jumped back a little bit. By now I was already in tears. "Now, I got her mad," I told myself. But she wasn't. She grabbed a chair that was at the back of the salon and put it near the chair I was sitting on. She twirled my chair so she can see my face and she sat down on her chair. "Marie is going to give me a lecture," I told myself. I was crying softly. I didn't want Marie to hear me but my tears were drooping down my face. I was waiting for her to lecture but she didn't.

Maire gently picked up my hand and started to massage it. She gently asked me if someone hurt me badly. I tried to hold back my tears and said yes. She asked me if I was a survivor and I didn't understand about that. She asked me if I was sexually, physically and emotionally abused. I was crying harder. She knew my secret and I didn't have to answer. She let me cry. She gently asked me what happened to me with regards to my hair. I finally told her.

After I told my story to her, I was in a mess. I was shaking and I couldn't stop crying. I knew my time with her was up and I figured she had other customers waiting, but I still didn't have my haircut. I told her that if I didn't get my haircut, I would lose my job.

She said that she had only one customer left and then the salon closed. I said to her, "Oh well, I will let you go."

She said, "Wait a minute, sweetie! Let me finish what I had to say." I apologized to her for cutting her off.

Marie asked me if I had any plans for the rest of the day and I said no. She gently grabbed my hand and we went to the staff room. It was beautiful. It was the color of rose on the walls with beautiful pictures hanging up. The couches and chairs were a floral pattern. The room was beautifully decorated. Marie led me to the couch and handed me her teddy bear to hold. She said to me, "I will give you a haircut after I finish with my last customer and I close up the shop. Why don't you stay in here, hold the teddy bear and maybe lie down till I get you, okay?"

I quietly said okay. She said that she would come back and check on me every fifteen minutes until she was ready for me. I said okay. She closed the door gently and here I was, alone in this room. I cried myself to sleep on the couch.

Marie woke me up an hour later. She was gently rubbing the back of my hand and calling my name in a gentle voice. I apologized to her for sleeping on the couch. She told me not to apologize. She said that it was understandable for me to fall asleep. She asked me again if I had plans for the evening and I told her I didn't. She asked if it was okay for me to to spend several hours with her. I said it was okay with me. She then told me what the plan was and asked if I was okay with it. I said yes.

Marie gently grabbed my hand and led me to her cubicle. The music was on. It was soothing to listen. It helped me calm down a bit. She put the teddy bear on the counter in front of the mirror. She asked if the music she chose was okay for me and I said it was fine. She put the cape on me and raised the chair up. She said, "I am not going to wash your hair as I know it will trigger you. You hair is clean so I am going to spray water on your hair, okay?" I said okay. I started to get scared as she was spraying water on my hair. She kept reassuring me that I was safe and she was not going to hurt me. She picked up the purple comb. I was shaking but not as bad. She said to me, "I am not going to massage your head this time as I know it will trigger you, okay sweetie?" I said okay. I was relieved but I was still shaking.

She gently put one hand on my head and she started to comb my hair. When she came to a knot my hair, she picked up another bottle and sprayed on the knot. She said that the stuff in the bottle will help with the knot on my hair. She continued to comb through the knot, making sure that she was not hurting me. The knot came out really easy. I was surprised but I was still scared. She continued combing my hair until it was ready to do what she needed to do.

Marie went to the drawer underneath the counter to grab some barrettes. She said she needed them to divide my hair so she could start cutting. I said okay. As she was dividing my hair she noticed that my hairline was very low. She said to me, "Looks like we got a slight problem. We will need to take your blouse off, to shave up to the collar line. How would you feel if I asked you to take off your shirt and put on a smock so that you won't have to expose your private areas?" I relunctantly said yes. I knew why she said that. She didn't want to choke me when she pulled down the back of my shirt and putting on the smock backwards would be safer.

Marie gently took my hand and led me to the small washroom and closed the door for me to change in private. I sat down on the toilet seat shaking so bad and my tears flowed down my face. I kept telling myself, "Marie will not hurt me." I saw the smocks hanging on the hook on the door. They were purple smocks. I slowly took off my favourite pink shirt and put on the smock, with the opening at the back. I finally came out of the washroom and Marie helped me tie the smock at the back.

She then gently grabbed my hand and led me back to the chair. Marie put the cape on me and then picked up the purple comb and the golden scissors. She kept reassuring me that I was safe as she was combing my hair. "Stephanie," she said, "I am going to cut about four inches off your hair as your ends are badly damaged." I was holding my tears in as I said okay.

I freaked out when I heard the sounds of the scissors cutting my hair. i jumped ..my mind was going bonkers ... I was shaking so bad. I really thought she was going to cut me! Marie picked it up and tried to reassure me that she was not cutting me. She continued to talk to me in her soothing voice as she was cutting my hair. By then, I was shaking so bad but Marie knew how to calm me down. She continued to cut my hair as quickly as possible.

Marie wanted to move my hairline up to above the collar so that my hair wouldn't stick up when I wore a shirt. The sound of the electric shaver would freak me out so she decided to use the scissors. I was glad that Marie decided to use the scissors. She gently cut my hair close to the skin without hurting me. And then she cut my bangs. She continued with the combing until she was satisfied that the cut was good and she put the scissors down on the counter. I was relieved. Marie knew I was crying but she kept soothing me and reassuring me that I was safe and that she was not going to hurt me. She kept on combing for a few seconds which seemed a long time and finally she put the comb down beside the scissors.

She took the cape off of me and sat down on the chair that she had put it there earlier. Marie gently grabbed my hands and told me that the haircut was finished. She wanted to blow-dry my hair and curl it but she said we could do that at a later time once I felt more comfortable with her. She said, "You have beautiful hair."

I said thank you, although I didn't believe her. Marie knew I didn't believe her. She said, "I am not going to charge you for this haircut, sweetie. I would like to make a deal with you, okay?"

What kind of deal?" I asked. I was curious and afraid of what she wanted. What was her motive, I asked myself, and I cried.

"I would like you to come and see me on Saturdays, on the last appointment of the day, so I can help you work through the feelings as I give you a haircut. The first two Saturdays, I would like to comb your hair until you can't handle it anymore. Once you get used to the comb, I would like to use my hands to comb your hair and to stroke your hair. And the times that I cut your hair, I will only charge you $10," she said. "I also want to be your friend if you will let me. I want to be here for you sweetie. I know you have been abused severely and I want to add some positive strokes back to you. Will you allow me to be your friend?"

I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to accept this. Here was Marie wanting to help me and to be my friend. "Think about it, sweetie. Meanwhile, help me clean the mess up so we can get supper, okay?" Marie said.

I replied okay. She handed me the broom to sweep the floor while she disinfected her scissors, the combs, and her working area.

When all was done, she turned the music off and it was time to leave the shop. She locked up the door of the shop and we walked to The Keg restaurant which was a few doors down the street.

We walked into the restaurant and sat down by the windows overlooking the Caunaught Hill Park. The waitress came and asked us what we would like for dinner. Marie ordered two chicken stirfries. The waitress came back with two hot drinks for us. We went on for a small talk until i quietly told her that I would allow her to help me and be my friend. Marie was pleased. I knew I had to take a risk and I felt that she understood what was going on with me. I felt I could trust her but I knew that it was going to take some time. And I knew Marie would understand that.

After the dinner, she drove me home to my basement suite. I got out of the car, said thank you to Marie and went into my place and cried myself to sleep.

I went to work the next morning and my employer was pleased that I finally got my haircut.

The first Saturday, I didn't show up at the hairdressers. I got scared again and I didn't call Marie to cancel the appointment. A few minutes after I was due, she called me wondering why I didn't show up. I told her that I was afraid. She asked if she could come over for a little while. I relunctantly said okay.

In ten minutes my doorbell rang and there she was at my door, waiting for me to let her in. I invited her in, made some tea and sat down on the couch in the living room. She asked how the rest of the week went, and I told her it went okay. My employer was pleased that I got a haircut and he even promoted me to train new employees. I told her I was happy with the promotion but I was also scared. I asked her about her week hoping that she wouldn't bring up the subject of allowing her to comb my hair.

She told me about her week and how her son was doing. She then gently brought up the subject of allowing her to comb my hair. I started to get scared but I knew that I had to get used to the combing on my hair. So, I said okay.

She got up and grabbed the chair out of my bedroom and put it in the living room. She gently grabbed my hand and asked me to sit on this chair, which I did. She went into her purse and got out the purple comb that she used on me the last night along with a hairbrush and the bottle of the stuff that helped take the knots away. She saw that I had a ghetto blaster and asked me permission to put a tape in. I gave her permission to do so. It was the same soothing music that she played at the shop. She saw I had a teddy bear on the couch and so she grabbed it and handed it to me to hold while she was combing my hair.

My tears started to flow. I was shaking. I was crying. I was remembering the memory. She started to work on the one side of my head, gently combing my hair. She continued combing to the other side. Meanwhile she was talking to me in her soothing voice. She allowed me to cry. She wanted me to feel the awful feelings. She kept telling me that I was safe and nobody is going to hurt me. I was holding my teddy bear tightly praying that the memory would go away. It won't. I knew I had to feel those terrible feelings. It was a release for me. She continued to comb my hair for fifteen minutes. I was bawling.

She put down her comb, gently took my hand, and led me to the couch. We sat down on the couch and she gently prodded me to put my head on her shoulders to cry. She put her arms around me and allowed me to cry. She continued to talk to me in her soothing voice. After a bit I was feeling a bit better and stopped crying. She continued to hold me, letting me know that I would be okay. When I felt stronger, she told me that she was proud of me. I didn't believe her. Marie knew that I didn't believe her but she continued anyway. She stayed with me for another hour before she went home for the night. I went to bed and cried myself to sleep.

The next Saturday evening, she came over to my home without calling me. She knew I wasn't going to show up and so she decided to come over instead.

We made a deal that once a month, I had to make an effort to come in to where she worked so I could get a haircut. I said, "Okay, on the fourth Saturday evening." I had to promise her that and that was a scary commitment to make. I knew that my employer would be very upset if I didn't look neat in my appearance, so I had to make that committment. By the fourth Saturday I had gotten used to the comb and it was time for me to get another haircut. I was glad for the last appointment of the day because I didn't know how I was going to handle getting my hair cut. Marie did it the same way as she did the first time with me, and I still had troubles coping with the scissors. I cried through the whole session and then she held me till I was stronger. After she locked up the shop, we went out for dinner at another fancy restaurant.

On the fifth Saturday, she came over to my home and we went through the routine with getting to know each other and allowing her to work on my hair. This time, she used her comb and her hands. At first, she started of with the comb to make sure all the knots were out. And then when she noticed that I was doing okay, she put her hands through my hair and that scared me a lot. It felt good for her to do that for me but I was really afraid. I was afraid that she might hurt me. She talked to me in her soothing voice letting me know that I was safe and that I was in control of my own body. She let me know that she wasn't going to hurt me. I was in tears again. By then, I was getting sick and tired of crying all the time. But Marie allowed me to cry and when she was done stroking my hair, she would gently grab my hand and lead me to the couch. We would sit down and I would allow her to hold me for awhile. An hour later she would go home.

The weekly routine continued, and I was getting a little bit better trusting Marie to touch my head and allowing her to stroke my hair. On my monthly appointments, I was getting better handling the sounds of the scissors and she incorporated the techniques that she used at my home.

Eight months later, Marie decided it was time that I got used to getting my hair washed by her. We didn't know how to do it as the sink at the salon was not going to work for me. The neck part of the sink did not fit my neck. So we decided to allow Marie to wash my hair at my home at the tub with my bathing suit on.

That Saturday evening, she came over to my home with the bottle of her best shampoo and conditioner. She wanted to pamper me. She allowed me to smell the fragrance of the shampoo and it was wonderful. But I was scared. I told her that I was scared that she would burn my eyes with shampoo. I knew she would not do that but I was still afraid.

After the small talk, I went to my bedroom to change into my favourite bathing suit while Marie got the tub ready for me. I was thinking to myself, "Am I nuts to allow Marie to do that?" I didn't know the answer but I knew that it was something I had to do in order to heal. "I trusted Marie this far, I've got to trust Marie all the way through. She has never violated my trust at all and so there is no reason for me to mistrust her."

I got out of the bedroom and went to the bathroom where Marie was waiting for me to get into the tub. She had bubbles in the water, which was neat. My inner feeling was jumping for joy. (I found out later that was my littles who were happy to see bubbles.) Marie poured a jug of warm water over my head. My littles thought it was fun but I was shaking. Marie knew that.

She poured a little bit of shampoo onto her hand and then put her hands together before she shampooed it into my hair. It felt wierd. I was still shaking but she never put shampoo onto my eyes. She put more warm water into the jug and then poured the water over my head. She filled the jug up again and poured more water over my head to make sure all the shampoo was out of my hair. My littles started laughing but I was shaking.

Marie grabbed the conditioner and poured a little bit of it onto her hand. She put her hands together and worked it into my hair. She filled the jug with warm water again and then she poured over my head. She then used her hands to work through my hair to make sure the condtioner did its job. I was in tears again and Marie knew it but she continued with the usual soothing words to me.

When it was time to get out of the tub, Marie grabbed the biggest towel she could find and wrapped it around me and then she grabbed the other towel and wrapped up my head with my hair in it. When I was almost dry, she gently took my hand and led me to the couch. We sat down and she held me till I was stronger once again. This went on for two months. Of course, Marie just used the water spray whenever I got a haircut.

Next was the hairdryer. This time, Marie picked me up from my home and we would go to her home. It was time for me to be in someone's home for awhile. I trusted Marie enough that I felt safe to do that and I began to rely Marie a lot more.

Her home was beautiful. I asked her how she managed to keep her home clean and still do her job and look after her son. She basically told me that she would hire a housekeeper to come to her home once a week to do the chores that she hated. I giggled.

Her son was at the babysitters for the night. I would stay overnight and she would take me to church the next morning. It was an agreement that we made and I felt safe in doing that. She had the guest room all made up just for me with all the teddy bears that she had on the bed. It was beautiful and I felt spoiled. I told her that I didn't deserve it and she just smiled.

Marie ordered pizza from the local pizza place and we pigged out. Meanwhile, we did the usual small talk. Then she asked if I had ever been into a hottub. I said no. She asked if I would like to try it and I said okay. She found an extra bathing suit for me to get into and we both changed into them.

She gently took my hand and led me to her basement where her hottub was. The surroundings were elegant. There were wooden benches around and beautiful ceramic tiles on the four walls of the room. It was beautiful.

She took the cover off and she helped me to get into the hottub. I slowly went in. Marie was following me. She showed me a place to sit and relax which I did. We were in there for a good 20 minutes and it was wonderful. My littles came out and played in the water which got our hair drenching wet. We came out of the tub and we had to take a shower before we went upstairs to get changed. Then Marie got the hairdryer out, which freaked me out. Marie knew that. It was time for me to get used to the hairdryer.

She got me sitting on the chair in her bedroom. She started to comb through my hair with her hands, which felt good. Then she grabbed her brush and the hairdryer and said to me, "I am going to use low heat so you won't feel the heat, okay sweetie?" I said okay. She turned the hairdryer on which made me jump. Marie was taken aback but she continued brushing my hair and putting the hairdryer on my hair. I was in tears again but I had to trust Marie. She knew what she was doing and I had to trust her judgement. She continued to talk to me in her soothing words which helped me calm down. Finally, after what seemed a long time, my hair was dry and Marie turned the hairdryer off. I felt relieved. She saw the tears on my face and she gently grabbed my hand and led me to her couch. We sat down and she held me until it was time to go to bed. This time, I didn't cry myself to sleep. It was a miracle.

A month later, it was time for me to learn to get used to the curling iron. Now, Marie knew I had burns on my forehead and the back of my neck and so it was going to take some time getting used to letting her curl my hair. I fought like cats and dogs because I didn't want her to curl my hair for fear of being burned once again. I didn't know if I could trust Marie to do it. But like Marie said, I needed to learn to take a risk, to trust her with the curling iron on my head. Finally, I let her do it but with some reservations. This time, we did it at the Salon. This time she curled my hair and she did a beautiful job. And this time, I did not cry. The memories did not return and I felt very free for the first time. I made it through and Marie was very proud of me. I had now graduated! I had gottten over the fear of Marie touching my hair. And it was the first time, I saw Marie's tears pouring down her cheek. I knew they were happy tears. And it was the first time that I didn't have to keep the Saturday evenings open for her anymore.

The next five years Marie worked on my hair. I allowed her to stroke my hair, to use anything she wanted, to do anything she wanted with my hair. I had given her the freedom. I still paid the $10 everytime I got a haircut but she would always do the extra mile to help me look good. The days I struggled at work or something that happened that made it hard to deal with, she would always be there for me. Sometimes I would meet her at her work and she would gently grab my hand and lead me to the staff room until she was free to talk to me and stroke my hair. At the end of her day, she would clean up the shop and then gently take my hand and lead me to her cubicle and asked me to sit in the chair. She would put the cape over me and put the music on. She then would talk to me in her soothing voice and use her hands to massage my head and and stroke my hair. She would then make my hair look beautiful so we could go out to a fancy restaurant and enjoy ourselves. Somedays she would come over to my home and find me hiding in my bedroom curled into a ball in the corner. She would gently take my hand and lead me to the couch so she could hold me and stroke my hair. She always knew how to comfort me and that made it all better somehow. And somedays, I would come over to her home and we would have a sleeping party while her son was at the babysitters for the night. She taught me that I could trust in people. She taught me a little bit about unconditional love and she taught me how to have fun.

At the end of the sixth year, Marie died of cancer at the age of 39. I found out that she was also a survivor of sexual abuse. That was four years ago. And I miss her terribly. I miss her stroking my hair. I miss her love and friendship with me. And it took me two years to find another hairdresser but I would only allow her to cut my hair for a very brief time and that was it. Most of all, I really miss her hands stroking my head in a good way.

Copyright © 1998 by Cassandra of Stephanie's Community