Time to move

I don’t know what to write about today. Some days the words or stories just flow out of me, but others I sit here in front of a blank screen and just wait. I’m not sure the point of this exercise is finding something brilliant, insightful or memorable to say every time I sit down to do this. I think the point is faithfulness. Maybe part of coming to grips with my reality is the willingness to sit down regularly and acknowledge it, following through on the commitment to look at it full in the face and see it for what it is. Hopefully, eventually, I will truly accept it – and myself – as well.

I do not spend a lot of time looking in mirrors. Don’t get me wrong, I like to look and feel pretty as much as the next girl. Over the years though I have trained myself to look in the mirror just long enough to do what needs to be done – put on makeup, fix “hair,” check that clothes look okay, and move on. I do not spend a lot of time closely examining my face or my head in the mirror. Of course, this means not seeing most of the rest of myself as well. I know this is a defense mechanism…of course it is. It is a form of denial. I know alopecia is there and it is real, but “if I don’t look at it, I don’t have to think about it.” I don’t have to be sad about it.

I have been finding this daily writing to be a form of looking in the mirror – one that I have avoided even more than looking in a physical one. I have allowed denial to be a driving force in managing this condition, but I don’t think I have recognized how much power I was giving it by doing that. The problem is that over time alopecia has changed me, whether or not I have had the power to change it. I have yielded right of way to this condition. I have allowed alopecia to be a controlling factor in what activities I engage in, how connected I choose to be with other people, and apparently, how connected I am with myself.

This deference to alopecia bleeds onto so many aspects of my life. It impacts my family and what we can do for fun. It impacts whether loved ones are allowed to take pictures of me if I’m only wearing a hat or haven’t drawn on eyebrows. It serves as a barrier to true and authentic conversation and relationship with others, because I am withholding such a significant part of myself and my story. It has also trained me that the way to handle bad things is to do what’s necessary to cope, then ignore them and move on.

I have wondered a great deal lately why I feel this welling up inside of me to suddenly talk about and process alopecia. Of all of the things in my life, why this? Alopecia isn’t the only difficult thing to ever happen to me. Like everyone, I have experienced a variety of challenges, complications, and heartaches. Why is this the story I need to tell? Why is this the one that takes precedence?

It is because it came first. For me, alopecia is the “one ring to rule them all.” My choices in managing this, my coping methods formed so many years ago and then reinforced over time, have impacted how I have managed every other major issue. I realize as I write this, that part of this is an unwillingness to accept the grieving process. There is finality in grieving, even though it is such an important and necessary step toward healing.

This season for me is about examining, acknowledging, and grieving alopecia, but I think it is also more than that. It is about seeing and appreciating the lessons, the meaning, and the opportunity in it. Alopecia is neither friend nor foe… it just is. It is part of my story and the path that I will walk in this life. I want it to mean something. I want to learn to live and walk and dance with it instead of spending my life as a wallflower. It is time to move.