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Oct 22, 2024ππ¨π¦ππ§ π°π’ππ‘ π‘ππ’π« ππ«π π¦π¨π«π πππ¬π’π«πππ₯π π’π§ ππ―ππ«π² π°ππ²//
This is a belief I’ve had for years now.
My journey with alopecia (that I’ve recently found out is linked to Hashimoto’s) has been an arduous one.
Historically, I’ll get into a place of acceptance with it, and then something will shift and I’ll feel mortified about anyone finding out I’m bald.
(Except all they’d have to do is take a short scroll on social media to realize and I ain’t fooling anyone )
Not to mention that I see myself reflected in others, and see how painfully sad it is to feel so embarrassed and unaccepting about my appearance. Ugh. The whole thing sucks, to be quite frank.
This week it is dawning that me not accepting this part of myself is one of the biggest blocks in my authentic expression.
Because I “have” to go get a hat or put a wig on or worse, wait until I am fully done up to feel “ready” for social.
It doesn’t matter how much my friends or partners tell me how beautiful they think I am, or how much they prefer me without hair, or how trendy it is for women to shave their hair to make a statement about being so attached to their appearance.
This belief always lurked in my unconscious, undermining my freedom of self-expression.
And then the judgement around my vanity is usually close behind it, and I start internally whipping myself for my lack of self-acceptance.
Until, this afternoon, I cleared it. Something I’ve been resisting. And now I know why.
It turns out that being bald to be deliberately unattractive (especially to men) has been a protective mechanism for me for many lifetimes now.
It started centuries ago in a women’s prison when my mother shaved my hair right before I was admitted, and the guards wouldn’t touch me because they were repulsed by me. And let’s just say, the other women - although they received perks I didn’t - weren’t so lucky as I.
Which totally makes sense why my hair fell out after my third sexual assault this lifetime.
In showing the first version of me who adopted this protective mechanism that not only are there now consequences for assault, but I’m extremely good at protecting myself now, she was finally ready to let this go.
Centuries of bedrock crumbled beneath my feet as the belief dissolved through my timeline, leaving only light behind.
I can’t say if this is the last thing I need to clear before I accept myself fully. I rather suspect it isn’t, given my past experiences.
But I know one thing: I won’t stop until I do
And I invite you to do the same. We all have a version of this story. Let’s tackle it once and for all.
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