Chunk after chunk ...

I am slowly going bald ... I am sure of it ... There is no way that I can continue to loose the amount of hair that I am and not end up with a shiny white scalp.
This may not make sense, but loosing chunks of hair everytime I blink is calming. It makes me feel like it is okay that I have been having a hard time finding my dance lately. Like my hair falling out in chunks is confirmation that yes I did go through something very stressful. Why is it that I trust the physical signs more than the emotional ones?
I feel like I don't have the right to be sad. I feel expectations from my friends and family that I should be happy. I have tried to tell my friends that I am worried about the condition of my heart... But they don't seem to hear me. I do not feel like myself.
My sister is home and we are at the point in her visit where she has been here more days than she has left. It is usually at this point that I begin to feel sad knowing that she will be gone again ... Back so far away.
We were hiking the other day, my brother Kevin, Kylie, and I, and I decided that I would go up the shale face with Kevin. I had no problem going up the steep exposed incline until I looked down. Moments before as we left my sister I had joked about my hoodoo moments (Picture a young sweet chubby Heather laying flat on her face, knuckles purple from grasping the grass with such intensity, on what was probably a 30% incline. I was with my siblings climbing up to see the hoodoos and for some reason freaked out. I can remember the sheer panic like it was yesterday and yelling at the top of my lungs for someone to get my daddy. I don't remember if it was looking down, or if the looking up at the hoodoos disoriented me but I was paralyzed with fear. I have a tough time recalling many other moments in my life where I have been that scared. Well except when I tackled the same accent the following day (stubborn to the core ... You can give me that) with identical results ... However, even more terrified because my father had warned me that he was not going to rescue me again ... But he did). There I was again, 28 years old, frozen on the top of a mountain with my heart screaming for someone to save me. But this time it had to be me. I had to find the strength to get myself down. As I was sitting there talking myself up ... I thought about how it is always harder to come down. I began thinking about how maybe that is what I have been battling ... Coming down from the high I was on. We can not stay that high ... That is not the way life works ... We have to come down because there are other mountains for us to climb. My brother finally came down to where I was and talked me down. "Just take it slow ... Switchback ... Hold on to those rocks". With each step I became more confident. My heart slowed and I began to relax into trusting my steps. I made it on my own ... Without any crying or screaming.
I learned on this hike that my muscles are not back fully yet ... I fell a couple of times ... Have some beautiful bruises. I made it though ... And I will find my dance again soon. In the mean time it is just such a disheartening feeling to not be able to move your life with the music that you love ... To just wish that you could find the beat and follow it.
I think that I have not wanted to write about this because I don't feel like I am allowed to. So I was not writing. The thing is ... And the truth is ... That this is my blog, a blog that I promised myself would be as true to my heart and my life as I could make it. I will not allow myself to feel bad for feeling sad. What I went through sucked ... You can spin it positively all you want and I know the benefits of it ... But please don't try and take away my right to say that it sucked. My hair says it sucked and my hair never lies.