Gut Punch

This one hurt. This post isn’t funny. This one left me a mess.

In my line of work, relationship lines can become blurred. Doing someone’s hair is emotional enough as it is. Don’t believe me? Ask someone who’s had their hair messed up, or conversely, who’s had the best stylist ever and then had to move out of town. Emotions run deep with their hair. It can be difficult to find just the right stylist, and the first couple of visits can be a little awkward.  Then as a friendly relationship develops the client begins to rely on the stylist for hair support, and then over a length of time, emotional support. The friendly becomes friendship, and often a deep trust. Thoughts, emotions, situations are shared and stylists do an awful lot of life with their clients. Sometimes for decades.

We know almost everything there is to know about some people. We laugh, cry, fuss, grieve, hug. Our people become very special, and we tote their burdens as our own. It can be exhausting. The lines of relationship blur all the more when a tragedy befalls one of our folks. They are really no longer just a client. They aren’t just a friendly person in your life. They are a true friend.

I’d like to think that I can deduce who is a client versus someone friendly versus a friend. But sometimes I’m am brashly reminded that I need to take a step back and reassess, and that always leaves me saddened. I like my people. I’ve honed my clientele and almost no one gives me heartburn any more. I’m too old for that.

Social media has also, I believe, changed how we relate with the people in our little world. Where before we would probably take much longer to delve into one another’s lives, now it’s far more instant. Facebook and the like have sped up the get-to-know-one-another process by leaps and bounds. And I love that. Photos which help put faces to names, sight to places, and bring folks together.

But then…

Recently, with all of the swirling political mess in our world, I have attempted to be careful of how deep I dive into someone else’s social media world. I think it’s great that people can post whatever they wish, and I equally think it’s great that we can scroll on past. I choose not to post political opinions; for me, social media is fun and friendly and a place to connect with people. But I’m not mad at anybody who posts anything they feel necessary. Again, you do you, Boo. You get to. That’s what makes us great.

A week or two ago, a client/friend/FacebookFriend posted something, though, that really rocked me. I mean, it left me feeling some kind of way. I couldn’t even put words to it. I was a mess over it. I even surprised myself at how badly I was troubled, hurt, and truly verklempt. I was left wondering, in my own mind probably overanalyzing, where I stood with this person and wondering how they view me. Am I a friendly, a friend, or just a service person to them?

This is a person I greatly admire. They do amazing things in the community, have a thriving business, have raised great kids, intelligent, giving, talented, willing to share information and their time. So many traits I wish I could emulate.

But that comment. The one that hit me in the gut and heart. I think ultimately I’m just sad.

“I would never be friends in real life with someone who believes that way.”

But you’re talking about me. And I thought we were friends. Or at least very friendly. But I guess I’m just a service person to you. I suppose I need to put myself back in my place in your life, which apparently is being someone who just offers you a service and friendly conversation every few weeks. Glad to know now where I belong.

It was painful.

Perhaps I should stop going the extra mile to get this person in for an appointment, or forgiving when they no-show or cancel with very little notice. Perhaps I should be more flippant when their child needs an emergency appointment and not work late to get it done.

But No, that’s not me. I will still go above and beyond, work the extra hours, do the backwards bend to help out. Because that’s who I am, and who I am is not dependent on what someone else thinks, suggests, or expects of me. Who I am is not dependent on whether another person is my friend or not, whether another person places me in a lower position in their life, or whether another person chooses to not be my friend.

While I was left with a punch in the gut, I am so glad I did not confront that person. I’m so glad I still welcome them into my salon and into my world with open arms and heart. I’m still glad I consider them a friend, whether they consider me a friend or not. I don’t enjoy severing relationships, even when they may deserve to be, so I didn’t. And I don’t think I’ll ever regret that. I’ll get over the shock, the hurt, the perplexed thoughts, because in reality I’d like to think that they really didn’t think that thought through. We all do that; say things we haven’t thought out and don’t really mean the way it sounds. So off I go to work, one more time, making friends all along the way.