When “Trying” Is Good Enough

When I hear someone say they are “trying” to accomplish something the word speaks more softly in my ears than the official definition.

The Merriam-Webster definition of “trying” is “severely straining the powers of endurance,” and in the Oxford Dictionary “trying” is “difficult or annoying; hard to endure.” The toughness of these definitions make me think about trying to accomplish the Boston Marathon more than trying to write 500 words a day. I’m not sure the sweat and tears approach to the definition fits in every instance.

So when I heard myself tell my new dermatologist I have been “trying to grow my hair” to repair the alopecia areata damage on my scalp by eating super healthy, exercising, sleeping more, and doing less stressful activities, I didn’t feel I have been severely straining to take care of myself. What I’ve been trying to do is be gentler with my body so it can repair itself and let me get back to work and life the way it used to be.

I admit it gets harder and harder to look in the mirror and notice the lack of hair. Luckily for me my balding white head is turning a beautiful color tan like the summer wheat that turns as it ages in the sunlight. I am thankful for my Italian and French heritages that give me golden skin when the sun shines – especially this summer when I run and swim without a wig on because it is too hot.

When I appeared at a special dinner before the International All Women’s Marathon in England a couple weeks ago, I wore my wig and no one knew it was not my hair until I told them I would only have an itsy-bitsy ponytail the following day since I couldn’t run with the wig on. I wanted to be honest and bold with them and myself. I had come to run and I was not going to let being mostly bald stop me.

To be honest with you, I wear the wig for other people not for myself. As a sporty girl, I’m very comfortable wearing my bright pink baseball hat or Boston Marathon hat when I go out. I would rather appear to be myself than hide what is happening to my appearance. I’m “trying” to accept what I’ve been given knowing I’m blessed not to be diagnosed with anything that could shorten my life – only my hair.