Physically, I’m feeling pretty good this week. Why am I letting my emotions get the best of me?
The “name my wig” contest was supposed to snap me out of this funk. Everyone has been so kind and supportive. Their suggestions have been incredibly thoughtful. My family and friends care. It’s still not enough. I’m ashamed. This is a short term thing. It will grow back. Grow up Linda.
Nothing could prepare me for how difficult losing my hair is. My hair has always been a thing I could count on. Thick hair. Never particularly well styled, but always strong and a lot of it. Sure, I always wanted it straighter or curlier. Less frizzy. But really, it was always normal enough within the realm of normal. I was okay with it. Normal was confidence.
Nothing else is normal right now. Can’t I just have normal hair? How will I be confident wondering if my wig will slip? How will I look at myself in the mirror with no hair? What will I see?
Will it be easier once it’s gone? I can hope. I tell myself that will be true. It’s just hair, right? I’ve got the wig. Baseball caps. Chemo caps. Arty scarfs. No big deal, right?
When I slick my hair back after my shower and ring the excess water out, there’s less hair to hold in my hand. Having the hairbrush full of hair each time I pull it through is a feeling I’m struggling to describe. It’s scary. It’s gross. How much will the brush hold tomorrow? How much hair will I clean off the floor? How much hair will be clinging to my robe?
At what point should I shave it off? How will I know when the time is right? Right now, my hair probably looks normal to most people. My hair was so thick two weeks ago that it doesn’t look thin now. It’s just thinner to me. When will my scalp start showing? Will I be me in another day or two with even thinner hair? Will I be more me wearing a wig? Am I not me without hair?
Why do I feel this way?!