Easier to Remove the Option
On ticks and the limits of self control
I have one tick. I think it’s a tick.
Commit!
It is a tick. And I actually have several, now that I’ve thought about it for a week, but I only want to talk about this one. It’s compulsive. I’ve done it since I was a kid. It’s one of those things my mom thinks is cute, but has quality of life consequences for me.
I twirl my hair.
There’s this feeling I have after writing that. I feel exposed, but more importantly I feel like some people just went, “Aaaah, yeah. I get it.” while many more people said, “What?” For those of you in the second group, I’ll try to ground the experience.
I’ve spent that last week with this tick in the forefront of my mind. It happens in idle moments and active moments. The only time it doesn’t happen is when both of my hands are occupied (or if I’m unconscious, of course).
I have favorite spots. The go-to for my right hand is up near my cow lick or my temple. The left hand always goes to the back of my neck. I swirl the hair around my forefinger using my thumb as leverage. It feels nice, I guess. The bit of pressure pulling into the center as the hair’s twisted tighter. Sometimes I’ll pinch it between two digits and flick it with my ring finger. After a time, the pattern gets more complex, contorting the strands into rolling, compressed bundles. If you roll it tight enough, you can make little sculptures.
It’s like the frog in boiling water. I’ll be reading a book and find my finger bound like Hector, or watching TV, playing a game, or flipping through socials and feel a knot of hair rolled so tight it holds its own shape (the sculpture phase). Depending on whether that shape is a ball or spiraling spout, I might flick it back and forth for a while.
There are other small, fidgety things I’ve always done: a certain way I chew my lip, rubbing my canines together in a rhythm, so many goddamn songs and sounds – but this is the only one I’ve tried to stop.
Ever wear a rubber band around your wrist and snap it whenever you do a certain habit you’re trying to break? I’ve used the trick from time to time and usually it works within a week or two. I can’t recall how long I wore it trying to break the hair twirl habit; it could have been months or over a year. I focused so hard on it, but no matter how much attention and intention I brought to it, my mind would drift. You can’t focus forever. Or – I can’t.
For a long time, I gave up.
One might wonder why it matters. Embarrassment is transient. The Alfalfa-esq hair swirl is never so bad that I can’t just run my hair under a tap to fix the ludicrous look. Unfortunately, the main consequence is terrible headaches. These things are pernicious, too. It feels like taut strings extending from the hair roots, through my brain, and probably continuing through the earth as well.
The headaches were plenty motivation. Even my expert-level pigheadedness couldn’t erase them. I tried again. Started wearing hats, went through a bandana phase, lots of very valuable negative self-talk. I have to be honest with you, I can feel a phantom headache right now.
It’s only a phantom headache because I found a solution. You’ve probably already realized it and may even be screaming it at the screen. For the last three years, I’ve kept my hair buzzed.
I know, what a tragedy.
But it kind of is, in a way. Not just because I’m vain, which I am (I’m working on it), but I feel caged. It’s like admitting defeat, bowing to a more capable foe.
I’ve gotten used to it. I don’t even think it looks weird anymore. I still reach up to my neck, temple, or cow lick. A few small strands slip out of my fingertips and there’s a part of my soul that feels like I’m missing something. When I’m able to twirl them, it’s time to pull out the clippers.
I’m growing a beard for a project (which could be reasonably categorized as a bit) and the twirling has returned. How long had I been doing it when I first noticed? There are no headaches. I seem to favor my left hand with the beard.
Each time I realize I’m twirling my beard like some strange version of a villain, I want to chop it off… but also, I don’t. It’s a mixed bag. A failure and success – just like when tiny strands slip from my fingertips.
My beard will get longer before this bit has concluded. I’ve already decided that I’ll braid it, eventually. It will look dope and with my last name there’s no danger of viking cultural appropriation, but that’s not that reason I’ll follow through.
The truth is, it’s easier to remove the option to twirl.
From the Rift,
Thanks for Reading!
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