Memories good and bad

When I was younger I was about as awkward(as a teenager and pre-teen if I'm being honest) as you could get. I have naturally curly hair that my mother always had me keep just above my shoulders (she insisted this was for the benefit of my swimming since shorter hair drags less) which for anyone else that has curly hair you know that this can be a recipe for disaster- the longer it is, the more it weighs itself down. I refer to it as my "poodle afro" and in those days it was out of control because I was clueless about anything beauty related (and still a bit clueless).

Next was the teen acne which I thought could be covered up with make up but again, since I had no clue how to wear make up, it just made it worse. Mom was no help on this one and most of my friends were either boys or athletes, neither of whom had much need for makeup (the girls were much more blessed than me on almost all look fronts).

My wardrobe selections were atrocious. Thankfully in HS I was in Catholic School and didnt have to worry much about my day to day outfit but on the whole, if it wasnt something I could swim in or work out in, my "style" was hideous and I just didnt have a clue, even for the 80s.

To top it all off I had glasses. Not just glasses, but big glasses that took over most of my pimpled, awkward, eyelash free face. They started off as big blue glasses when I was 8 (shortly after the trich started), turned into enormous red glasses and ending with big round wire glasses. My mom had always told me that I couldnt get contacts until my eyelashes were back. Man, did I want to get rid of the glasses- I tried so hard for years to beat trich and couldnt. By the middle of my freshman year in HS my mom (and I) finally gave up and she let me get contacts (i've since had laser eye surgery which was one of the best purchases of my life).

Despite my general pre-teen/teen hideousness (seriously I am amazed that my parents left the house with me during those years) the one thing I always notice in old pictures is my lack of eyelashes. I was looking at an old picture over the weekend, one of the few I have of me with my grandmother, and the glasses and missing eyelashes makes it hard for me to look at the picture with happy memories. I know that the glasses did bring me some level of comfort, they were my barrier and, in my mind during those years, gave me some refuge from people directly and immediately noticing that my eyelashes were completely gone. It makes me sad, for all the years of anxiety I've suffered, for the photos that should be happy memories but really just make me sad for my younger, insecure self.

Fortunately when I was about 14 (and the acne was going away and the glasses were gone) someone saw me in a mall and offered me a makeover which my mom agreed to. She taught me (finally!) the art of make up application, how to use eyeliner to at least give the initial appearance of having eyelashes (which later was used with my missing eyebrows), just general tips. It took a few years to get my hair and clothing under control and, I kid you not, I had a guy i had known for most of my life approach me at a party when I was about 19 and literally stop short and say "wow, you grew up nicely, thats surprising". haha.

Now I can laugh about it. I'm pretty confident in who I am and what I look like and part of my is glad for the humility that was forced upon me since I can really relate much better to people and can help my younger cousins through their awkward teen years (mostly this consists of showing them a photo of me at 11 and telling them at least they arent that bad and letting them know what you look like then has NOTHING to do with what you will/can look like later so they will get through it).

I hate how despite the years that have passed, I still look at these old photos and the first thing I notice is whether I was having a good week or bad week with trich behind the glasses. I see a teenager uncomfortable in her own skin and a situation made even harder because of the "trich secret". I hope one day I will look back on this differently but I just hope that the memories I'm creating now arent dictated, albeit years later, by how good I'm doing with my trich. I've come to accept it as part of who I am, who I'll always be, but that doesnt mean it doesnt still hurt and make me sad for the years lost.

Here's to a better future, one where I'm in control, not trich. I wish you the same.

Anxiety

Yesterday, after 2 long years, I said goodbye to my least favorite client of all time. He was the worst and would go through periods where he would just scream at me for twenty minutes about nothing and then come into court smiling. I have completed two trials with him now, both of which he was convicted thanks to overwhelming evidence, but now I dont have to deal with him ever again. Finally.

I have a few trials coming up including one Monday where i am fully convinced my client is innocent. Between that and some social obligations, the next few weeks will certainly be crazy and exhausting, but in a good way I hope since it should all be moving me towards the end goal of leaving my job and improving my life. However, for the last few days I have been feeling really anxious. The problem is I'm not really sure why and I cant help but worry that this will have an impact on my trich.

Admittedly, this week at least, I have not been sticking to my goals of getting up early, working out, and spending an hour a day working on my business plan. I have been exercising (as much as I can with a cold I've picked up) and I have my wii to thank for that- nothing beats being able to work out a sweat in your living room with a motivational trainer on the TV. I'm not really worried about work stuff (although I need to move it along if I ever want to quit my job), money is always a little bit of a worry but nothing out of the ordinary, things are generally ok. So where is this anxiety, this weird nervousness in the pit of my stomach, coming from?

I'm on guard with trich and that's a good thing so hopefully I'll be able to get through this without slipping. The battle continues.