I was at the skin doctor today who examined my scalp and gave me good news: There is no sign of any terminal hair loss disease or condition and my hair is regrowing, my hair follicles are recovered and looking great, and now it’s just a matter of patience waiting for my hair to regrow. Considering that hair grows at approximately the rate of snail speed, it’s gonna be awhile. But obviously, the universe has a pressing need to teach me patience and since Karin is grown up and now longer holding that position, hair regrowth it is! After not having cried much for 2 weeks I, of course, burst into tears in front of the doctor, who was very sympathetic and grabbed a huge roll of tissues for me.
Yesterday afternoon, at my third psychologist appointment, I told her that I hadn’t cried at all during the past week which felt like a miracle and major progress, considering I’ve spent most of the past 2 months crying at least once daily, and then, OF COURSE; promptly started leaking, and continued through the entire hour. That’s what it feels like when I’m sitting there talking to her: like I’m leaking, not like I’m crying. I can’t seem to control it, and it never busts out into genuine sobbing or anything, but my eyes just spill over quietly the entire time. Discomforting and disconcerting. We talked about grief and strength and control and the loss of it, and at one point when she said that maybe I needed to admit that I wasn’t always strong, that I could be weak and a victim without shame, I could feel myself bristling. Weak? Me? Fuck that. I can admit that I’m not always strong nor do I have to be, but I couldn’t think of the right word to fight back with (Ha! See what I did there?). Just now, googling, I rejected all of the following synonyms for weak, because they don’t apply to me:
anemic, feeble, fragile, frail, hesitant, shaky, sickly, delicate, infirm, debilitated, decrepit, rickety, sapless, weakly, wobbly, sluggish, unsteady, uncertain, flimsy, flaccid, forceless, limp, spindly, insubstantial, puny, torpid, spent, impotent, palsied…(damn, that’s a lot of synonyms, and that’s not even all of them)
Then I found the right one: POWERLESS
That is exactly how I have felt for most of this past year. Powerless to get the right help (even though I tried) when I knew something was wrong. Powerless to stop what was happening to me, both in regards to the colitis and the hair loss afterwards. Powerless to figure out WHY.
I don’t really feel powerless now, though I’m far from being the level of strong that I’m used to in my life (even though I put on a good front). I guess regrowing strength might take a while, too, even though it’s probably faster than hair.
Yesterday I started my third really good book in a row. Mary Roach’s latest book Replaceable You. I’m only 2.5 chapters in and it’s excellent, though maybe not the best book to read while eating a meal. She is laugh out loud funny, super interesting, and so incredibly good at providing information that is educational and entertaining at the same time. Last night, I stayed up until well after 1 am because I could not put my previous book down until I was done. I haven’t had that happen in ages. I was so tired, but I was so hooked. It was The Last Murder at the End of the World by Stuart Turton and after I finish Replaceable You, I will check out his other books. Before that, I read Natasha Pulley’s latest: The Hymn to Dionysus, which was also extremely hard to put down, and which I did not want to reach the end of.
Three great books in a row and a good hair day. Reason to celebrate!
Mood: happy
Music: MICHELLE—Glow
GOOD HAIR DAYS FTW!
YAY!