Home Sweet Home
You want to know what is wild? I am moving in with my boyfriend in a couple weeks. I moved into my current apartment almost one year ago exactly. It was July of 2018 when I left behind an apartment that filled with hurt and tough times. My old apartment is where I simmered in pain from the aftermath of being in a terrible relationship with the wrong person for three years. It is where I sat single for 5 years feeling palpable level of loneliness combined with paralyzing fear of putting myself out there again. Fear that somehow I would end up in a relationship worse than the last. It is where I made the decision that I’d rather feel the pain of being lonely than feel the pain of another human tearing me down piece by piece. It is the place I spent days and nights overtaken by depression and anxiety. I’d stare out those windows and contemplate if today was the day that I was going to choose to end it all. I was in that apartment the day I lost my first handful of hair. I cried on those floors the day my hair left me for good. I stared in those mirrors when my eyebrows started to leave me and then my eyelashes. I laid in that bed and screamed in excruciating pain from what I later learned was a pulmonary embolism. It is where I gave my cat Jasper his final kisses and snuggles before sending him over the rainbow bridge.When I left that apartment a year ago, I wasn’t expecting things to change, but boy oh boy was I wrong. My current apartment is where I healed. I don’t look in these mirrors and shed tears over my hair loss. I stare in these mirrors and think of ways to help others who are struggling with alopecian pain. It is these floors that I sit on when I’m laughing at my new kitten Neville and all of his silly antics. It is this bedroom that I sit in when I read all the amazing messages from my fellow alopecia brothers and sisters. Messages of encouragement, messages of emotion, messages of courage. It is here where my days of being single came to an end. It is this apartment that I learned what being in a good relationship is. This apartment taught me that there are good, kind, loving, accepting, supportive men in the world, and it taught me how to found one who is the perfect match for me. These hallways are where I see a man who looks at me exactly the same no matter if I am dressed up to the nines or without hair, brows, and makeup. Here is where I raised the bar for myself. Here is where I learned to live again.Now I am about to leave this amazing apartment for a new adventure in a new place with my new little family. If you had told me a year ago that this is where my life would be now, I would have never believed it. Yet somehow, some way the pieces of my life found a way to fall back into place again. Thank you little apartment. You brought me my happiness back. You helped me find a part of me that I thought I had lost forever. You showed me how to live my best life and not settle for less. I can’t wait to take all of that with me to my wonderful new home. xoxoxo
When I saw the email confirming the travel accommodations, my stomach sank and panic set in. I sat at my desk feeling a smidge pukey with a dash of pitting, and some low-grade shakes. I decided to handle this in typical Supriya fashion and make a joke out of it. No one can sense your panic on the inside when you are all smiles and laughs on the outside. Am I right?! My email went something like this “Just a heads up, I have alopecia and look like a normal person by day, but look like a bald alien creature by night.” I then processed to use a yellow emoji face to paint the full picture. Next, I IMd my roomie to be and let her know that I would give her fair warning before the wig came off. I shouldn’t have been surprised when she was totally cool with everything. The room sharing was not a big deal at all. Yes, I was nervous, but my roommate was so chill and awesome. I couldn’t have asked for a better stranger to be bunkies with! I don’t know why I always feel so scared of people’s reaction to my alopecia when it is up close and personal. I assume they will be uncomfortable or offended by my scalp. Yet that’s all it is. Just a plain jane run of the mill scalp. It’s not like I’m hiding a tattoo of Tweetie bird and Taz making obscene gestures (throwback to every 90s baby who once rocked a Looney Tunes temporary tattoo). Also, I have no control over it. This is just part of me now and I need to find a way to accept the fact that other people are totally fine with it too. Yes, jokes and making fun of myself before someone can make fun of me will always be my self defense tactic. However, I need to convince myself that people aren’t going to stop, drop, and roll when they see my head. Hopefully, that day will come soon, but for now I remain a forever work in progress...
I've been going back and forth about posting these for some time now, but since you're reading this it means I finally grew a pair and posted 😳. Don't worry I do not have cancer. I do have an autoimmune disease called alopecia, and two years ago my body thought it would be super fun to start attacking my hair until I had none left. Pretty rude if you ask me. May of 2015 I was doing my hair and noticed a pile of hair in my hands. For the next 4 months my hair fell out by the handful. Finally I caved and shaved the last few strands off and started living the wig life. (I was doing it before Kylie Jenner made it trendy). The summer of 2016 alopecia decided to take my eyebrows. So now they are a combination of tattoos and makeup. Yes that means my first and only tattoo was a face tat. 😧 Finally this year I lost my lashes. I'm now officially hair free. Best disease ever neck down (free laser..am I right?!), not so fun lashes up.As someone who has been battling depression, anxiety, and body image issues the bulk of her adult life, alopecia was a crushing blow. It's not all that surprising to me that my biggest medical hurdle to date was caused by my own body attacking itself. Being my own worst enemy tends to be the story of my life.Losing your hair is a weird thing. Everyone tells you "at least you're not dying"...which is true and something I'm beyond thankful and grateful for. But losing my identity strand by strand was not exactly the best feeling in the world either. Maybe it sounds vain, but I've spent many many tearful days consumed with sadness, missing the person I used to be..physically at least. I was already getting myself out of a rock bottom part of my life when this disease entered my world, and it definitely slammed me right back down to rock bottom in a hot second.Im not sure why I'm making this part of my life Facebook official now. Maybe it means I'm finally making peace with things? Maybe it's because through this process I've cut out the most toxic people I've ever had in my life and replaced them with some of the most amazing humans on the planet who have accepted me, loved me (hair or no hair), and supported me every second of this nightmare. Or maybe it's just so someone else who may be going through a shitty shitty time can see that things can get better. Because it does get better. Even when it feels physically and mentally impossible. It gets better. Somehow some way.Either way that's my story. If you've read this far into my novel of a post, thank you for reading. Also I may or may not be throwing up after hitting post. Not nervous about this at all. 😰😰😰😬😬😬😱PS if you have any alopecia questions, please don't hesitate to ask!📷cred: the AMAZING Green Chair Stories