I’m in limbo. Not a fun place to be. The large bald spot on the left side is surrounded by dark roots, giving my head the appearance of an ‘8’ ball . There are patches everywhere else; too many not to shave my head unless I want to look like the creature from the crypt. Not much in the way of choices there either. The state of my facial hair falls along similar lines. One side is nearly baby butt smooth while the other still clings to the remnants of what could be considered a beard. My eyebrows, if you can still call them that, are simply bizarre in appearance.

The AA has slowed but not stopped. I still find eyebrows and lashes on my pillow now and again while what appears to be a quarter size spot is beginning to form on my thigh. At least the shaved head keeps the shower rats at bay. Half way in between nowhere…I feel lost.

The house becomes quieter with each passing year as the kids grow. The silence gives rise to thoughts about the future, especially in regard to relationships or should I say the lack thereof. Bad idea…both the thinking part and the relationship topic. Relationships were often challenging enough before…well, before the alopecia. Now, I haven’t a clue as to what to expect. One thing is for certain…my confidence is shaky at best.

My mind plays tricks, convincing me that I must be smarter, wittier, stronger or else be relegated to the sidelines. I’m compensating, or trying to, and I know it. The hours spent over the past months toiling in physical labor as a means to sort through my feelings were pointless. The exhaustion from hauling heavy deadfall through the fields to the wood pile has a way of numbing one’s thoughts…too tired to think or care. At least the wood stove will be well stoked this winter, even if it’s only me and the cat sitting by the fire.

Hair is nothing yet in my own eyes the playing field is no longer level. I long for simpler days when a woman would gaze into my eyes to see what was in my heart instead of seeing imperfection in my aberrant appearance. The tides have shifted, relationships have changed. Even holding hands feels different. The touch no longer feels romantic. Rather, their fidgeting suggests they are ill at ease as if I were afflicted with cooties or some other imaginary, contagious malady. The pity in their eyes is the worst of all. I neither want or deserve sympathy. I hate sympathy dates. Be with me for the person I am or leave me be for in the case of the latter I‘d rather be alone…