Where acceptance is all there is
As I sit here writing my first thought down on the Alopecia network, my cat trying to get me to get off the computer so she can have all the attention, I wonder , is God trying to tell me something? I still can remember the day when I was 16, my mother took me to see a endroconologist (if thats how you spell it) because I was experiencing abnormal hair growth where hair should be growing on my body, acne, and (surprise) hair loss.
"Your hair is thinning." He said. No, duh.
It was from then on I was on a constant rollercoaster of emotions trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Handfuls of hair effortlessly detaching from my scalp, leaving me in tears on the bathroom floor, in bed, anywhere that I would find them. No one knew what was happening. In fact, no one knew except my mother that there was actually a PROBLEM. My thick, curly, auburn hair was always the first thing that people noticed and complimented on.
"I love your hair" They would say. If they only knew.
Fast forward to today. Diagnoses: Androgenetic Alopecia. I got married to a wonderful man and we moved here to California. A man who accepted me despite my disabilities. A man with a kind soul and who would give the shirt off his back to help a friend. When I first found out, finally, the reason for the hairloss and the fact that there is no way in stopping it, I freaked and went into obsession mode. I spent hours, days, trying to research what this was and if there was ANY way to stop it. I went on (and still am on) medications. Medications that I know are a gamble to my health. It has been months and still no change. I try to avoid mirror so not to constantly study my scalp. I kick myself when I catch myself studying people heads out in public, envying what thick, gorgeous mop of hair they have on there heads. Sigh. Yes, I know. To many people they would even know I had a issue. Yet. But that day where I am going to have to wear a wig is quickly coming. I know I need to stop obsession. I WANT to stop. I am so tired counting every hair that falls. Brushing my hair ever so gingerly making sure not to cause a full downpour of hair. Tired of being scared. Especially, tired of people saying to me to just take my Zoloft and get over it.
I don't mean to drive my husband crazy with this stuff. I mean, even HE is bald.
Am I over reacting? Vain?
Will this demon ever leave?