One week I had my own hair, albeit sparse in some spots, but hell, it wasn't a wig. I spent $100 on a cut and color. I was riding high. And just like that the shower drain is full. I can feel the renegade hairs slide down my body in the shower. A signal that it isn't over. A got a month respite. A month in which I laughed haughtily at the wig spray and wig "luster." (as if synthetic hair can have a "luster") I pushed them to the back of the cupboard. I mentally planned the wig burning ceremony.
And just like that I went through the same basket of emotions I went through a year ago. I picked them out one by one and tried them on again. Yep, still feels the same. Does this make me a basket case once again?
I sat on the picnic table looking at our new camper. I ran my fingers through my hair and watched as the hairs floated away in the sunlight. If I pull hard enough I might be able to take out some significant chunks. I am supposed to be present, enjoying the camper and family time and I'm hyper focused on my damn hair. Again. That sick feeling rises up from deep down inside of myself. It tastes like fear and smells like betrayal. My body has betrayed me again.
The hours, minutes, days I've lost to thinking about my god-forsaken hair. Are my thyroid levels off? Do I simply have alopecia? Do I have a hidden disease? Am I deficient in vitamin or mineral? Do I have an unknown allergy? When something is labeled "auto immune" the answers are ghost-like.
This time I just give up. I give up in the sense that it just doesn't matter. I let go. I surrender. Hair or no hair. Wig or no wig. I refuse to go down the rabbit hole again. I'm different now. I've been broken apart and the creation that rises declares WHO CARES. Is it ME you see or my HAIR? Is it ME you see or a WIG? You didn't even know I wore a wig did you?
I tried on all my old wigs and hated them all. I dared to look at my reflection in the mirror. Am I still pretty? Are my eyes still blue? Can my mouth still form a smile? Of course. I say a silent thank you to a mother who gave me a foundation of good self esteem and confidence because without it I would be sinking.
I sent a text to my girl Ashley and planned a rendezvous to the local wig shop. Thankfully it's one of the coolest shops in towns. Hats, scarves, clothes and jewelry merchandised amidst a vintage stove and a vintage Chris-craft wooden boat. The employees act like shopping for a wig is the same as asking for a different dress size.
(Join the Vintage Life: check out Ashley's shop: https://www.etsy.com/shop/SmileLulaBelle)
So here I am "OWNING IT."
Ashley pep talked me and said "Okay, now we might not walk outta here with anything so wrap your brain around that." "Okay, Okay! You are right " I said. I asked the Starbucks guy to take our picture. "Sure, but don't tell anyone. I'm not supposed to touch your phone" he said. Ashley and I went about creaming and sugaring our coffees and they proceeded to take a bunch of funny photos of themselves behind the counter. I call this WINNING AT LIFE people! I didn't see the photos until the next day and when I scrolled though them I burst out laughing. This was the perfect start to what could be considered a shitty trip.
You people, you get it. You get what life is all about!
I guess I've learned it's all about the approach. I had some of the best laughs with my mom in the midst of chemo drips and her stem cell transplant. If you show up with grace and a sense of humor I believe you can do anything. Life is too much sometimes. Ever since I was a child I could feel life in a way others didn't. I noticed things people didn't notice. Life is filled with extremes. I am merely a part of it all.
Driveway hockey and incessant talking from my boy as I write this. Sunshine and the perfect temperature. I'm sitting in my mom's lawn chair. The fancy one she got from the RV dealer when Mom and Dad bought our family camper. She always wanted another one and talked about splurging on one. The morning rain has scattered the pink rose petals all over the lawn. A scooter lies in the damp grass. I am alive to life. I am not sick. I am strong.
I traveled to the Pacific Northwest and on the ferry I saw an eagle. I met a redhead who showed me her truth. I was wearing boots and a scarf I got in Turkey. I spoke my truth out loud. I refuse to stop living and SEEING life because I wear a wig.
I attended a party on Saturday night and when I looked through the photos for the first time I saw ME and not me wearing a wig. I looked good. I felt good. I've just decided that it doesn't matter. It can't matter. I decided to decide. It's that simple. I want to cultivate joy and smell the air and hear the birdsong. I don't want this experience to harden my heart, but simply STURDY it. I get to say how this goes. Everyday I get to say.
Out of scarcity I see abundance. I SEE you seeing ME. Because I am so much more than my hair.
"God damn girl your wounds are beautiful." -Motopony
Should I go dark?!
Am I ready for gray yet?! This was the "winner" just not the color...
Sandy Blonde wins on the color wheel....
Ashley said I needed one of these for summer....
Selections abound........but it's hard to see past the "models" !
I'm gonna try this purple eye shadow thing.
If I want to feel supported, I must support myself.