Still grief

So. Apparently losing my hair is taking longer to "get over" than I thought. A psychiatrist (not one I'm seeing for treatment) recently told me that losing my hair was a traumatic experience that I have probably not dealt with enough in order to get full emotional healing. I thought "Come on, it's been years now. I don't love it, but I've accepted it."

Except that it occupies my thoughts a good 90% of the day. Even when I'm thinking of or doing other things, I'm keenly aware that I am bald.

Also, I have noticed an increase in nasty thoughts when I see women with long hair. Thoughts like "Do they have to flaunt it?" or "Come on, you're not being original." I hate the long hair trend these days. Long and straight. Boring. Unfair. "How dare you think you're so beautiful just because you can grow this long mop of hair?" "I hope all that hair falls out."

See? Nasty thoughts. So clearly I'm not "over" my hair loss. When I sit back and take stock, I believe it to be responsible for a major discontent that has pervaded and touched so many aspects of my life. Sure, I have always struggled with discontent and depression. But alopecia has added an extra dose of bitterness. I think this has affected my goals for my future, my relationship with my kids, and my marriage. No--I know it has.

So, what to do? Pray on it? Return to weekly counseling? I'm not sure. This blog helps, but it hasn't been the journey I had expected when I started.

For now, I think all I am ready to do is recognize my hair loss as a major, life-changing event that has had a profound effect on my development and identity. I need to honor that somehow. I wish photos of myself with hair had been digital. Alas, they are all on film. But I've tried to get some of those pictures in the best light I could with my phone.

This is a step in my grief process I guess. Going back, looking at myself with hair, and realizing that I really miss it. Grieve with me.


My hair used to bounce and sway to music. I could feel it on my back and I felt like a dancing princess.

My hair was adventurous, doing its own thing while being faithful to who I was. 

My hair was part of my allure, something he could touch and get lost in. A softness to complement his tough exterior.

 

 



 My hair was sophisticated. Changes in my hairstyle brought me into new stages of womanhood.

 

My hair went places and made great pictures.

 



 

 

My hair was my crowning glory on my wedding day. I had never felt so beautiful, so angelic.

 

 

 

To go from that to this

 

 

was jarring, to say the least. And it continues to be jarring every time I look in the mirror. After six years I still can't believe this happened to me. I had cut my hair short just before I lost it all, and I had been going through two years of bad hair days...but it was better than this.

 

I grieve.