Earlier today, I cut an inch off of my hair. It doesn’t seem monumental. Just a quick snip, snip. I can hear the blades running against each other, doing what they are meant to do. I can feel the weight of the scissors in my hand. I nonchalantly tossed the ends in the garbage bag. Almost as if it wasn’t a big deal. It is a big deal. It is a MEGA HUGE thing for me. The weight of my hair left, feels different. Fresh, clean ends, lighter, yet noticeably different.
This past year has brought me to my knees. Some of the days were not pretty, not by a long shot. Just the idea of loosing all my hair, no matter how trivial it seems to some, is a big deal. Almost bigger than the actual “c” word. Vain? yes. Security Blanket? yes. Begging, pleading? Yes. So much of who I am, I have tangled up in my hair. I think I cried more and harder about loosing all my hair than any other step. I feel physically ill just typing this. I need to let it all go. I need to get better and I can only do that by letting go and moving on. I am still so effected by, what’s the word…. trauma. Yes, I admit it, this entire “loosing your hair” is sincere trauma. I only speak for myself. I am guessing there are some of you that it would not upset that much. Or you would say it is no big deal. Mr. Right was of course on board to shave his head. Heck, he was in the Army. He had already done the shaved head thing several times. In all honesty, not that poignant for him.
Once I made the monumental choice of healing instead of chemotherapy and radiation, I did not walk out of the hospital haughty and shoulders back, skipping and laughing in the face of medicine. I was sobbing and shaking and almost running for the car. It was not a pretty sight. Nothing about it was inspiring. I was broken. I had reached my lowest.
After a couple of days, I knew I had to get up, brush myself off and get moving. Big girls wear RED, kick ass cowgirl boots and know how to use the pointy ends. They put on big girl, fancy panties and push up their sleeves and tie back their hair and get to work.
Back in your elementary school, if you stepped on a crack, remember it would break your mother’s back? Or if you walked under a ladder you would most likely end up with a sack full of bad luck? If you spoke aloud ugly words about becoming the next Spelling Bee champion, it would come back to bite you and you would come in second place? I think the words I am searching for are, “don’t JINX it”.
I didn’t loose all my hair to toxic chemicals. I lost gobfuls of hair because of Hyperparathyroid issues. Day by Day, week by week, I am eating my way back to health. I am drinking in as much health & healing as I can handle. My hair is coming back to its fullness. My curl is springing out like I was 7 years old again. (Yes, I have given up the twirling with my fingers and the crying when it was time to put it into a tight pony tail.) I am trying my educated best to use as many natural ways of caring for my hair as possible. Some days, I have bad hair days like every other girl out there. I will take a bad hair day over a no hair day, period.
It was a brave thing to do this morning. Trim my locks. I needed to freshen up the ends. It was past time. I was a bit nervous. I just don’t want to JINX anything. I know it sounds foolish. Fear makes you think foolish things. If I trim my hair, the universe won’t think I am grateful and then……
Today, I am going to spend more time enjoying my “joyful” hair than I am fretting and worrying about what could have been. Each day, I will put more joy out there, be more greateful and day by day, week by week, Grace and Goodness will over shadow the scary.
Today was just a simple step forward. I am actually sick to my stomach to type this. Next time, I think about it or trim my hair, I will be less sick. Baby steps, this is what a baby step looks like. Look at me, I am doing it!