I Shaved my beard off

Right, so as you might have noticed, this blog is not a chronological story of my life, you would definitely stop reading pretty quickly if it was. Instead it’s meant to be an insight into how my mind works on my good days and bad days.

Last night I shaved my beard off. So what? Well….

I have been growing my beard for just under a year now. It started last November when I finally gave up on exercising and realised that the easiest way to hide my double chin was with a beard.

Basically, I moved from down south (I’m a Londoner originally) with my wife and two lovely boys to the North of Wales for a fresh start (so I told myself and everyone else) and for a while had tried very hard to lose the weight I had put on over the previous 18 months. Something particularly frustrating for someone who used to be a personal trainer and with some pretty serious body image issues.

The training was actually going pretty well and I had lost about a stone when one day in November, I had a bad day at work and the clouds rolled in. I went for one of my PT sessions but gave up half way through and never went back despite still having several session left.

This coincided with a potential new client coming into the office (we didn’t win it) that was pitching a new men’s grooming show. I had already to decided I wasn’t going back to the gym, so I thought I would grow a beard.

Now you won’t know this, but I have blond hair….ON MY HEAD. But on my face it’s more of a strawberry blond. THAT’S A LIE, IT’S GINGER. Having ginger hair on my face opened me up to a fair amount of abuse from co-workers and friends. They don’t know this as they don’t know about my depression but those comments hurt, ALOT.

I actually managed to ignore the comments for 9 months. But then a couple of weeks ago, the barber I go to made a harmless joke about not having my colour hair dye for my beard. Obviously I laughed it off when I was there but when I left I sat in my car and cried, for no reason.

And that’s the point of this tale, depression makes you like that. You can be fine and take the banter for weeks, months, even years, but then one day you can be feeling particularly low and something will trigger you.

And that’s it.

You cry, or you shout or do whatever it is that this horrible disease causes you to do.

That was two weeks ago and ever since then I have been really low. In fact, i have been at one of my lowest points for at least a year, if not longer. I get angry very quickly, I am detached from every day life, I am comfort eating (ALOT) and to be brutally honest have had some pretty negative feelings about whether or not I matter on this earth.

Now don’t worry, I’m not going to do anything about it but it’s important I talk about it somewhere as I don’t talk out loud about it. Something I will address in another post soon.

So here I sit, at work, beardless and ready for the comments about how weird I look without a beard, if anyone notices that is.

Have a good day



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