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Posts tagged ‘hair loss’

Grace Period

On a journey of transformation, there are many stages along the way.  Yesterday I entered a stage I’m thinking of as my ‘Grace Period‘.  In the 2 days before yesterday, so many things came to an end, had been completed enough for now, or just let go of.  The build up to that time was so very stressful — not knowing how to do things, deadlines looming, hair falling out, and feeling held in the balance of so many unknowns.

It seemed like it happened all at once.  I figured out how to do things ‘enough’ that I could meet some critical deadlines.  I cut my hair off and had it both confirmed that it was indeed falling out at a rapid pace, AND that there was a half-inch of new growth coming in.  (Yay!) I sent my blood off to a lab for analysis to see if anything besides the trauma of March’s illness was causing the hair loss.  With all these ends tied enough, I hopped on my bike and felt completely liberated!  As I rode along Lake Superior I thought ‘this is my grace period’.  This is that time in between yesterday and tomorrow where everything feels exactly right and perfect as it is. (more…)

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Prisoner of my hairdo

It turns out that when one becomes seriously ill for a spell (or has a baby) one of the after effects can be having your hair fall out.  (Bummer, I say!)  For a few weeks now, I’ve been shedding worse than our old Norwegian Elkhound used to shed in springtime.  When the weather warmed up, and she could no longer find a little patch of snow to lie upon, we would go out and pluck the dog.  My daughter has become a ‘mother plucker’ as she keeps my hair from landing in our dinners night after night.  Birds nests around my mother’s condo are being woven by the bread bags full of hair I bring to put near her feeders.  All this while I become closer and closer to being bald.  Turns out, I’ve been a prisoner of my hairdo all these years.

Back in the ’80s, I chopped off my long hair and got short mullet-ish thing with hair shaved close on the sides, spiky on top, and a bit shaggy in back.  Hideous, really.  After being sheared and styled, my glass blowing partner (whom I had worked with day after day in the studio) stopped me to ask if he could help me, as if I were a stranger.  When I told him who I was he had to look carefully to recognize me.  Apparently, Christine Lavin was right about us prisoners – if we cut our hair, no one will recognize us anywhere.

Today, being a prisoner of my hairdo is much less about fearing I won’t be recognized.  As my hair falls out strand-by-strand, my ego… my vanity… my Leo the lion’s mane… (more…)

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