<a target="_blank" href="My father was never in the picture, and my mother was very neglectful in many ways. She very much so neglected my hygiene and hair care specifically. I have extremely thick wavy/curly hair and my mother forced me to keep it very long as a kid for some reason. She did not ever take me to get my hair cut until I absolutely begged her once when I was about 14 (and instead of taking me to a salon, she hacked it bluntly with kitchen scissors.) So for most of my childhood, it was down past my butt, matted, extremely greasy, heavy, hot, and painful. It was constantly getting stuck in chairs and getting ripped out, kids made fun of me, kids would put things in my hair and I wouldn’t even notice it. I would be absolutely swelteringly hot in the summer and did not know how to brush it or put it up appropriately to relieve the heat. Sometimes food would be stuck in it for days. It was never done for picture day. I started hiding it in big messy buns when I got to middle school age. The constant weight of my hair being in a bun and pulling at my scalp eventually caused some permanent hair loss also known as traction alopecia. (That has never fully recovered even now at 32 years old unfortunately but it’s not super noticeable anymore thankfully.) I finally learned how to wash and brush it as a teenager but still didn’t really know how to care for my curly hair so while it was at least clean, I still just kept wearing it up in a bun every single day of my life until I was in my mid 20s. When I started learning about my hair type and realized I had beautiful curly hair, I was honestly shocked that I even had curly hair….like, I had always just brushed it out into a poofy mess and threw it up on top of my head and that was it. I had always hated my hair. I haaaated it. It was the bane of my existence for so many years. I felt so disgusting every day of my life. It was horrifyingly embarrassing for me. It’s hard to look back at my childhood photos and see that hair….a reminder of how invisible I was to my parent. I remember only one time she noticed how bad it had gotten and asked how long it had been since I washed it. I told her it had been many weeks or possibly months. She did not follow up on that at all and still did not take me to get my hair cut. Maybe she knew she would get comments from the hairdressers about the state of my hair….I love my hair now. It is beautiful and I wear it like Stevie Nicks in the 70s. I am so mad I was robbed of my confidence as a child and well into my adulthood because of her neglect. I still am very shy about my hair sometimes. I get so many compliments on it now, almost every time I go in public. And sometimes it still brings back a weird feeling of shame because I used to only get negative comments about it. It’s like I am bracing myself for the mean comments but that doesn’t happen anymore. For a woman, our hair is such an important part of our identity and how we express ourselves. I’m so sorry for the little me that did not get a chance to wear her hair the way she wanted to. Does anyone else relate? There are many other ways she neglected me and my hygiene unfortunately but my hair was some of the worst of it. Every time I want to forgive her, I think back on the pain I endured as a kid because of my hair and I just can’t do it. " title="Does anyone else have trauma specifically related to neglected hair hygiene as a child?">full image</a>
<strong> - Repost: Does anyone else have trauma specifically related to neglected hair hygiene as a child?</strong> (<i>from Reddit.com, Does anyone else have trauma specifically related to neglected hair hygiene as a child?</i>)
<br><blockquote> My father was never in the picture, and my mother was very neglectful in many ways. She very much so neglected my hygiene and hair care specifically. I have extremely thick wavy/curly hair and my mother forced me to keep it very long as a kid for some reason. She did not ever take me to get my hair cut until I absolutely begged her once when I was about 14 (and instead of taking me to a salon, she hacked it bluntly with kitchen scissors.) So for most of my childhood, it was down past my butt, matted, extremely greasy, heavy, hot, and painful. It was constantly getting stuck in chairs and getting ripped out, kids made fun of me, kids would put things in my hair and I wouldn’t even notice it. I would be absolutely swelteringly hot in the summer and did not know how to brush it or put it up appropriately to relieve the heat. Sometimes food would be stuck in it for days. It was never done for picture day. I started hiding it in big messy buns when I got to middle school age. The constant weight of my hair being in a bun and pulling at my scalp eventually caused some permanent hair loss also known as traction alopecia. (That has never fully recovered even now at 32 years old unfortunately but it’s not super noticeable anymore thankfully.) I finally learned how to wash and brush it as a teenager but still didn’t really know how to care for my curly hair so while it was at least clean, I still just kept wearing it up in a bun every single day of my life until I was in my mid 20s. When I started learning about my hair type and realized I had beautiful curly hair, I was honestly shocked that I even had curly hair….like, I had always just brushed it out into a poofy mess and threw it up on top of my head and that was it. I had always hated my hair. I haaaated it. It was the bane of my existence for so many years. I felt so disgusting every day of my life. It was horrifyingly embarrassing for me. It’s hard to look back at my childhood photos and see that hair….a reminder of how invisible I was to my parent. I remember only one time she noticed how bad it had gotten and asked how long it had been since I washed it. I told her it had been many weeks or possibly months. She did not follow up on that at all and still did not take me to get my hair cut. Maybe she knew she would get comments from the hairdressers about the state of my hair….I love my hair now. It is beautiful and I wear it like Stevie Nicks in the 70s. I am so mad I was robbed of my confidence as a child and well into my adulthood because of her neglect. I still am very shy about my hair sometimes. I get so many compliments on it now, almost every time I go in public. And sometimes it still brings back a weird feeling of shame because I used to only get negative comments about it. It’s like I am bracing myself for the mean comments but that doesn’t happen anymore. For a woman, our hair is such an important part of our identity and how we express ourselves. I’m so sorry for the little me that did not get a chance to wear her hair the way she wanted to. Does anyone else relate? There are many other ways she neglected me and my hygiene unfortunately but my hair was some of the worst of it. Every time I want to forgive her, I think back on the pain I endured as a kid because of my hair and I just can’t do it. </blockquote>
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