My hormonal hair journey and its grace from the IUD

The first time I saw a bald spot, I was 10,000 feet in the air. Parachi jump should have been on Longong, Australia, cheerful. But when the pictures regained, the eyes of the amazing scene did not record. Instead, they were held on the Crown Crown, as the wind revealed a pale and empty scalp. Black spot, screaming against brown hair tangle. The panic was set in.

For several months, I noticed the signs: blocks in a bleeding shower, a ponytail, a shrinkage, strands that are broken at the slightest touch. My curly hair has always been high maintenance, which requires heavy air -conditioning treatments. I temporarily changed these treatments, but this was different: the shed was unabated. However, I convinced myself that I was imagining things. I was very busy enjoying my middle school abroad for housing. But deep down, I knew there was something wrong.

A year ago, I got the IUD. Initially, nothing has changed, but now, the hair was everywhere – clogging of the sink, flooding my pillow, intertwined in my fingers. My father and my doctors rejected my fears. The hair loss associated with the hormonal state was rare – a Clena clinical study I found only 1 percent of users saw it. No, they said, this was tension.

But I was not tense. You are prosperous. In Australia, I woke up to the sea salt in the air and spent the afternoon on the sand. I felt freedom – even I did not. Every shower reminded me, every storm of wind, and everything that is absent from my fingers through my hair. Then, I closed the world.

One moment, I was watching sunset over Bondi beach. Next, I was on board a plane to New York, and I was wasolated. The loss of my independence and routine – in addition to the chaos of a global pandemic – just inflated the only thing that I still control: my hair.

I became obsessed with tracking its repercussions, and wrapped my phone with impossible angles to pick up every thinning correction. I examined the photos, and the search for evidence that it did not get worse, as if its documentation might make it stop in one way or another.

I have installed a hairdresser, desperate for reassurance. She challenged the screen, did not lean, and did not pass the words: “This looks like alopecia.”

My stomach decreased. I photographed my future reflection: no eyelashes, no eyebrows, and no hair. One afternoon, I sat six feet away from my best friend in a social meeting, and tears slipped on my cheeks. “I no longer get to know myself anymore,” I admitted.

“If everything falls, it will collect a wig,” she said. I was forced to laugh, but inside, I was opening.

I tried everything under the sun – every serum, supplement, desperate online treatment. Speronolactone has made two different sizes. Nutrafol and Wellbel drained my bank account (and I haven’t seen results). I massaged rosemary oil in my scalp to restore my herbs. She grew in hair masks. I used the scalp stimulation brushes. I was desperate to control the body of a hair that he was cheating on me.

Nothing helped. I was convinced that the hairdresser was right. But after months, after countless visits of skin diseases and blood tests, it has proven wrong. The fear I planted inside me was unnecessary. Worse than that, it made me wonder about my own strangeness. because I was right.

You suspected the IUD all the time. This was the only main change in a routine, but no one listened. After the sufficient separation, I also started doubting myself. But after six months of frustration, a dermatologist recently conducted a hormone test. The results confirmed this: IUD has reduced estrogen levels. It has been removed immediately.

Almost immediately, something changed. My hair was stronger, firmly rooted in my scalp. Slowly, inch inch, grown again. Today, my hair is thick as it was always, and the spot of baldness is completely gone. But even as my hair returned, the fear did not fade overnight. I am still thinking about it all the time.

Hair is very important for women not only for vanity, but for identity. When I had thick and long, I felt confident. As it disappeared, this confidence also faded. Regardless of what she did, it never seemed true, and this was the most frustrated part – the loss of control of something deeply related to my sense.

Through all of this, you learned something more important: the best thing you can do for your body is listening. To its references, to your instincts, to this calm voice that says Something is not true. Deep, I knew that he was not in my head. I just needed to invite myself, even when I was refused.

A few months ago, I re -discovered the image of jumping with old umbrellas. My eyes are still dry on the crown of my head, but this time, I did not see hair loss. Instead, I saw a person who was floundering freely in more than one way-but I landed on a solid ground.

Olivia Top, an independent writer based in New York, is passionate about formulating original stories through personal articles and personal files. Her career began to advertise companies in Shootim and Parmont, followed by the production of “The Pivot”, a series that nominated Amy.