Words (Part 2)

A few months ago, I wrote a post about the power of words and the importance of speaking powerful words over my situation. I felt really empowered by it at the time and walked away thinking about all of the positive words that I could and should be speaking over my journey with alopecia.

Then last week, the rubber hit the road. I had a super stressful week (a lot of major decisions and issues were coming to a head all at the same time, and as a bonus it had rained for 5 days straight which it NEVER does around here), and I found myself venting to my poor brother over the phone. As I was spouting off my laundry list of woes, I found myself saying something like “And another thing! I thought that blogging about alopecia would give me freedom and make me feel good about it but instead all I am doing is regularly swimming in the SUCK. Alopecia has been a BLIGHT on my life. I feel like my life has been BLIGHTED!”

Well for starters, kudos to my brother, who generously listened and let me talk without making any judgments or sweeping pronouncements about what I should do. I walked away feeling a little better for having gotten some of this off my chest, but I also felt frankly startled by my use of the word “blighted,” which is not a word I use every day. Did I just say that? Do I really think that? Has my life been blighted by alopecia? Words ARE powerful, and I just used a big, fat, negative one to describe my experience. So, now what?

I have been sitting with that word for a week now, trying to decide how to feel about it. I know what it means but I looked up the definition for a more robust understanding:

Blight:

1) something that frustrates plans or hopes

2) something that impairs or destroys

3) a deteriorated condition

4) a disease or injury of plants marked by the formation of lesions, withering, and death of parts

Blighted:

1) in a badly damaged or deteriorated condition,

2) made ineffectual: defeated or frustrated

I want to be clear: I’m all for cheerleading and empowerment. I mean it. I’m all in when it comes to using encouraging words, focusing on forward momentum and making choices that improve our lives. I just don’t think “positive thinking” is enough on its own. Maybe part of making peace is also calling a spade a spade. Maybe it’s easier to choose positive, empowering words after you have at least acknowledged “what is.” And, alas, maybe this process has to happen more than once in a journey.

Alopecia isn’t fun. If you have it, you get that, if you don’t, take my word for it. It is super lame. But as I reflect on the definitions of words I so casually threw around, I realize that I see the two of them very differently. Alopecia is a form of blight. It does impair the normal functioning of my body. It has destroyed my hair. It is a deteriorated condition of my hair. It does cause injury to parts of my body, like the withering of a plant. It is, in short, less than spectacular. I think it’s okay to acknowledge that. To cry about it, to feel angry about it, and to fervently to wish it was not the case.

I think the problem is when I allow myself to conflate the blight of alopecia with my experience of life. Has my LIFE been blighted by alopecia? It’s an interesting question. Clearly the way I have chosen to live my daily life is impacted by alopecia, and that’s something I’m considering as I think about what kind of life I want to live from here on out. Some days, I do allow it to keep me from what I want to be doing or how I want to be living. But to be honest, I would not say that my life is in a “badly damaged or deteriorated condition” because of alopecia. I wish it were not an issue for me and it certainly has had a significant impact, but I do not want to give it the power or the precedence to blight my entire life.

I think what most struck me as I reflected on these definitions were the words “made ineffectual: defeated or frustrated.” Perhaps this has been true of me along parts of this journey. I’m not ashamed or embarrassed by that, but I also don’t want to choose that for one more second. I do not want to live a “defeated, frustrated” life. At the end of my days, I never want it to be said of me that alopecia made me “ineffectual.” No, thank you. I have so much to give.

So, the game plan for today: Step 1: Think deep thoughts about words I casually throw around and replace them with better or more purposeful words. Step 2: Get back in the game and start writing again, even if it’s uncomfortable to think about alopecia all the time. Step 3: Continue praying the prayer that came from me the day this conversation took place, and trust that the Lord who loves me hears my heart on this matter. Lord, alopecia isn’t beautiful, and it just isn’t going away. You are in charge. If it is here to stay, I need YOU to make it beautiful, somehow. God, please bring beauty from this.