Floundering (how many times did I use the word “just”?)

I’ve tried to shrug it off or joke about it for a while now, but today has just been killing me.

It just keeps falling out. I can’t stop it. Like all the goddamn little follicles on my head have just given up trying. By the strand, by the handful, it just– it won’t stop. I’m terrified of the shower. I’m terrified of my bed and its pillows because math works and numbers don’t lie and I know how to subtract and one of these mornings, one of these days, it’s just going to be *gone* at this rate, and– oh my god-

I don’t have the proper face for short hair, which tells you how infinitely far away I am from being an attractive candidate for BALD. But my nerves are so wracked, my frustration and helplessness and desperation so high that it’s been all I could do these last couple of hours to not run screaming into the bathroom and take a razor to the scalp.

Because what else is there? My blood tests two weeks ago came out fine (that’s how upset I’ve been over this– I was driven to go to a doctor). I’m not saying that whatever’s causing this can’t be treated, can’t be resolved and reversed, but the issue of time— likely it’ll be weeks before I can get an appointment with a specialist (I’ll find out tomorrow), then another week for testing and results and evaluations, then who only knows how long before treatment starts to take effect. And that’s just to get this to *stop.* The hair regrowth will take six to 12 months all on its own. I’ve become increasingly reclusive because I don’t know what to do with this– it looks terrible left down, but pulling it back only speeds up this nightmare.

Three years ago, I had 4-5 times as much hair; in the spring of ’04, I had my first massive (and massively frightening) shed, but it hit a sort of equilibrium after a few months. Even one year ago, I had about three times this– and I was panicked about it *then.*

You have to understand: people used to come up to me on the street to gush about my hair. It was one of the few things that made me feel okay about being seen. *That’s* what I’m losing.

*That’s* what I’ve already lost.

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