this is a post about hair. a vain post.
once upon a time, just after jeff died, i was living in a small cabin with a tiny bathroom. the bathroom had a white linoleum floor. each day after i showered, i would clear a big wad of hair from the drain. and after drying my hair, i would use the dryer as a whiskbroom and blow all of the many shed hairs into a corner so i could gather them up and throw them away.
more hair fell out
and more
and more and more and more
until i could no longer be unconscious
i could see my scalp, developed a very bald spot in the back
and it just felt like one more thing that was falling apart
the doctor told me it was from the intense stress, and would likely grow back
and, over time, much did but far from all. one by one they'd poke through, then spend months as tiny hairs that stuck straight up.
i still had thin spots, but could mostly ignore them by not looking
or when i couldn't there was always the option for a pony tail.
i'd lost hair before-- two rounds of accutane in my youth had cut my insanely thick hair down by half
and earlier stress had caused some localized loss, and the regrowth had been so jaggedy, i would unconsciously pull them making a bad thing worse
ok
so here i am, hair falling out in alarming quantities
wads and gobs and hairs everywhere everywhere
i know it is expected, 3 months post partum, but it sucks to have it happening right now (no good time, really) when it feels like one more thing falling apart.
me, specifically.
i'm fine really
amazingly great in the obvious and miraculous ways of della and doug
but more than a wee bit stressed about the myriad transitions and potential ramifications of this,that and the other thing.
doug told me he would still love me if i go bald, but i think this is all about me
coincidental echoes from a very difficult time
that began with job issues, house issues and then all came apart.
yesterday jeff would have turned 52.
