Vulnerability.
The word literally makes my skin crawl and my mouth go dry
with fear. It causes my walls to go up almost instantly, and often I turn and
run the exact opposite direction from it.
And boy do I run.
I’m not sure why I run so hard from vulnerability. It’ not
like I haven’t ever had examples of vulnerable, transparent people in my life.
Quite the opposite actually … I’ve been blessed to have family and friends who
are open and honest about their struggles in life. My family in particular is a
safe place for us to be vulnerable.
Why then do I run so much and get so terrified of being
vulnerable?
I think it’s a mixture of denial and pride. If I open up
about certain things, I actually have to face them. That’s the denial part. And
pride, well, it’s the bane of my existence. The log in my eye. The thorn in my
side. If I open up, then I can be viewed as weak or broken. And my flesh hates
that.
This past month of traveling has taught me a valuable lesson
in vulnerability. I’ve learned that I don’t need to be afraid of it because
ultimately what people think of me doesn’t matter. I am a daughter of the King,
precious in my Father’s eyes, made with a purpose. Being broken is a part of
life-and if we aren’t open and transparent about our brokenness, the wounds
won’t get healed.
I’ve also learned the power of coming together as brother
and sisters to ask Father for something. Whether or not He gives it to us
doesn’t really matter, but it’s the power of talking to Him.
I often don’t talk to Father (or anyone else really) about
my brokenness. There’s a myriad of deep psychological reasons for that, but
nevertheless, I don’t talk about it.
Never had. Thought I never would.
Until now.
So if you’ll bear with me-it’s time for me to open up about
something. Some of you already know about this, but many of you might not. My
reason for opening up about this is not because I want people to pity me. I
don’t want that at all. Rather, I’m asking for help-I’m asking you to talk to
Father about this because it’s at the point where I don’t think I can bear this
one on my own anymore.
I have alopecia areata. It’s an autoimmune disease that
causes hair to fall out in patches. My immune system for some unknown reason
sees my hair as foreign and attacks it, causing the hair to fall out. There’s
no known cause and no known cure. It’s seemingly random, silent, and confusing.
I’ve had it since I was 18 months old.
No my disease isn’t life-threatening or contagious. It
didn’t happen because of a vaccine, medication, or some chemical. It just
happened. There’s nothing I can do about it-it’s a part of me just like my eyes
or my spleen or my feet.
It’s been a life-long struggle trying to hide my alopecia.
Some years it’s been fairly easy. Others not at all. It’s why I wear headbands
all the time-they help to hide the bald spots. I’ve looked at getting a wig in
the past but had an emotional breakdown over that. And I don’t really know why
I’ve had near panic attacks at the thought of not being able to hide it.
It’s an odd place to be in-losing your hair. Sometimes I
feel isolated because I’ve never really met anyone else my age who has this.
I’ve shed a lot of tears over this, wrote a lot of journals, screamed at
Father, lashed out in anger at my family (not that it’s in anyway their fault
that I have this), freaked out internally because I’m afraid someone found out,
been angry at my Dad for telling everyone about it at his retirement ceremony
(although what he said was really sweet and I had no right to be angry).
In some ways I’ve let this disease define me, instead of
letting my relationship with Father and my identity in Him define me. It’s an
area Father has been working in for the last three years. He has healed a lot
of the scars that have built up around my heart because of this disease.
This past year in China, my alopecia has gotten much, much
worse. I think I’ve lost about 50% of my hair, maybe more. And it doesn’t show
any signs of stopping.
So I’m asking you all, as my friends and family, to lift
this up. I hope I don’t seem selfish by requesting that you ask Father to heal
me. I know there are a lot of people who are much sicker than I am who need
your thoughts. But I’ve learned this past month that as a family under Him, we
are to bear one another’ burdens and lift up those who are sick.
So yeah, there’s my vulnerable moment. Admitting I have a
disease. Admitting I'm broken. That’s where real healing happens, maybe not
physical healing, but definitely emotional. Sometimes it takes us opening up
for Father to respond and do His work, whether it’s about a sin area, a
sickness, or a wounded heart.
As a P.S. if you want to ask me questions about alopecia,
please feel free. I’m at a place now where I can talk about it, and I would
love to raise awareness about this disease.
