My Nurturing Husband

We all have our ups and downs when it comes to the struggles of being an Alopecian, and in my life, at the deepest core, there still is the deep root of being identified according to my hair. Although I came out of the “Alopecian Closet”, there are still parts of me hiding in there. It has taken five years for me to get where I am, and it will probably take another five before I have finally cleaned out the last remaining bits still left in that closet.

I didn’t come out of that place on my own though. It was my husband who knocked on the door five years ago, and asked me how long I would be in there. Full of gentleness and compassion, with conviction and concern, he didn’t push the issue…always staying close to that door, hoping that I would open it to him and share what I was doing inside. I would crack the door open just a little, and I could see his concern and love for me; but then I would close it again.

He wanted to nurture me. His desire was to care for me and love me through and through. During those times I opened up to him, he would lavish me with the uttmost respect and kindness, wanting to help heal the wounds of self-inflicted self hatred and loathing. He wanted to bathe me in his love and committment to me…but I had come willingly. I’m glad I did.

His favorite thing to do is to “bic my dome.” He finds it as enjoyable to bic me just the same as when he used to wash my long thick locs of hair. He loves taking his time, setting everything up, slathering me in shaving cream, and bic’n me with pride. I love feeling his warm hands full of shaving cream, his soft deep voice telling me his longings and secrets and his full heart ready to burst wide open because I “let him in.”