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Writer's pictureLindsay

What Do You Ache For?

“Marketing companies know what you ache for.” That comment has been scrolling through my mind on repeat since I heard it the other day. Maybe because the word “ache” is so infrequently used, or maybe because it’s so terribly apt. When’s the last time you asked, “what do I ache for?”  

 

I know at my core I ache to be seen, known, accepted, and approved. To be fully known and fully loved, just as I am. How about you?

I’m thinking of the many ways companies cater to that desire, usually by offering products to make us more “acceptable.” This foundation will fix your complexion. This toothpaste will whiten your teeth and improve your smile.  Posting on social media in this way will make you more likeable and get you more attention. And on and on. They see the aching desire for approval and answer with “you are right that something is wrong here. I can help you. I can fix you. With my help, it will be safer for you to be seen, making you acceptable so you might get approval. Without me, you don’t stand a chance.”

 

I imagine this is the experience of so many people, but I have to wonder if the experience is heightened for those of us playing the concealment game. Those whose core aches might also include “restoration,” “normalcy,” and even “freedom.”

 

So much of alopecia seems to be about concealment and the effort to fit in or to hold on to projections of what once was. Hair, makeup, tattoos, microblading, false lashes…we are looking for solutions and to the best marketer go the spoils. Here’s my money…help make me worthy.

 

And yet… in a qualitative study on the psychosocial burden of alopecia areata, researchers found that “concealment of [alopecia areata] did not fully alleviate patients’ insecurities or distress. Indeed, our study found that wearing a wig or cosmetics (e.g. to conceal eyebrow or eyelash loss) is associated with other unique psychosocial impacts and can instigate considerable anxiety due to fears of displacement. This anxiety, just as the anxiety caused by unconcealed differences in appearance, led to social avoidance that could impair relationships, limit lifestyles, and further increase feelings of isolation and depression.” [1]

 

All the planning, all the preparing, all the products… and still there is anxiety, still distress. Our core aches are still…aching.

 

Our family went to see the movie Inside Out 2 in the theater the other day, and I was again blown away by how well this series portrays emotions. Even so, I did not expect to feel it so deeply when the overall impact of Anxiety’s well-intentioned efforts to prepare and protect was the resounding message, “I’m not good enough.”

 

Ouch. And...Accurate.

For the record, I love a good product. I absolutely budget for and invest in products that make me feel good about myself and that help me to feel more confident. I don’t think products themselves are the real problem so much as the hope and faith put into them to “fix” us. Products may genuinely alleviate some distress but they can't address a core wound which springs at least in part from a base premise that something about us is now bad, wrong, or unworthy. Something we cannot control about our bodies has been given power to deem us “broken,” and we cast about for something to dampen the voice of accusation and divert its attention elsewhere.

 

I have to tell you, when I experience these thoughts and feelings myself, I can be disheartened and sometimes even feel slightly depressed. It's a lot to process, day in and day out, year after year. When I imagine others experiencing this, particularly children and teens, my immediate, visceral responses are anger, indignation and an overwhelming sense of protectiveness. Who is this voice to tell people they aren’t good enough? Why does it get a say?


Truth cries out, “that voice is a jerk and a liar. You are already acceptable. You are already worthy. You deserve to be seen, known, accepted, approved for the beautiful and unique creation that you are.”

 

What if freedom and restoration simply can't be bought or achieved through external or physical means? What if freedom and restoration come through the slow and incremental steps of regularly looking something in the face, accepting its unwanted presence, grieving the road not taken, and choosing to fully engage life regardless?


If that's the case, it means I need to actively choose which voice I'm going to listen to. It means I need to be willing to obey the call I feel to be visible and to stand up for myself and for others. To choose to be seen and known, accepting that there are no guarantees of the acceptance and approval I long for. My freedom and restoration are worth it to me - and so are yours.

 

My friend, I am thinking of you right now. I don't know what you're going through, but I know we are all fighting battles of some nature. I want you to know today that someone is cheering for you, praying for you, hoping with every fiber that you choose to listen to the voice of truth and to see how beautiful, unique, and wonderful you really are. Believe it.

 

All my love,

Lindsay

 


 

[1] Aldhouse, Natalie & Kitchen, Helen & Knight, Sarah & Macey, Jake & Nunes, Fabio & Dutronc, Yves & Mesinkovska, Natasha & Ko, Justin & King, Brett & Wyrwich, Kathleen. (2020). "'You lose your hair, what's the big deal?' I was so embarrassed, I was so self-conscious, I was so depressed:" a qualitative interview study to understand the psychosocial burden of alopecia areata. Journal of patient-reported outcomes. 4. 76. 10.1186/s41687-020-00240-7.

 

 

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