In 2010, I found three bald spots on my scalp. I didn’t think much of them at first—maybe just some temporary hair loss, something that would resolve on its own. But the spots grew. And with them, so did my realization that something much deeper was happening beneath the surface.
Looking back, I can see it now—how stress had quietly crept into my body, manifesting in ways I didn’t expect. My dad was dying. My marriage was crumbling. And the only friend who truly understood what I was going through was diagnosed with a brain tumor. It was a relentless series of losses, each one leaving a mark.
What Is Alopecia?
Alopecia is an autoimmune condition where the body attacks its own hair follicles, causing hair loss. There are different types, but mine—alopecia areata—created small, round patches of baldness. Some people lose just a few patches of hair, while others experience widespread loss. It isn’t painful, but it can feel deeply personal, like your body is betraying you.
And in a way, it was. But really, my body wasn’t fighting me—it was trying to tell me something.
The Silent Impact of Stress on the Body
Stress doesn’t always announce itself loudly. It doesn’t always come with panic attacks or breakdowns. Sometimes, it moves quietly beneath the surface, affecting your body in ways you don’t notice until one day, you do.
At the time, I was carrying more than I could hold. My dad’s illness was a slow, heartbreaking decline. The father who had been strong and present in my childhood was slipping away. Meanwhile, my marriage was unravelling, and I had no safe space to land. The only friend who truly knew my pain—who understood the weight of anticipatory grief and the loneliness in a dying relationship—was battling for her own life.
By the time my father passed in September 2010, I was already in survival mode. When my friend passed in April 2011, I barely had time to breathe before my marriage ended in November. Three major losses in just over a year. And through it all, my body carried the weight of my grief, my helplessness, my exhaustion.
For me, stress showed up as hair loss. But for others, it can look different. Stress has a way of speaking through the body in ways we don’t always recognize:
Digestive issues – Bloating, stomach pain, nausea, constipation, or diarrhea
Headaches and migraines – A constant dull ache or sharp pain
Muscle tension and pain – Aching shoulders, a stiff neck, or a tight jaw from clenching
Fatigue – Feeling drained even after a full night’s sleep
Skin problems – Acne, rashes, or eczema flare-ups
Weakened immune system – Getting sick more often
Irregular periods – Hormonal imbalances leading to skipped or painful cycles
Unexplained body aches – Feeling sore without any physical reason
Grief and stress don’t just sit in the mind—they settle into the body. And we carry them, often without realizing it, until they demand to be seen.
The Shame of Feeling "Defective"
I didn’t talk about my alopecia much. I felt ashamed, as though something about me was broken. I had steroid injections in my scalp—painful, humiliating little jabs that were meant to stimulate hair growth. But what I really needed was healing, not just for my hair but for everything I had lost.
Finding a Way Through the Chaos
If you’re going through something similar—if stress or grief is showing up in your body in ways you don’t understand—please know this: you are not broken. Your body is speaking to you. It is asking for care, for rest, for healing.
Here’s what helped me, and what might help you too:
Acknowledge what’s happening. Your body is trying to protect you, even when it feels like it’s failing you.
Find a way to process your stress. Whether it’s therapy, journaling, movement, or deep rest, find something that helps you release what you’re holding inside.
Talk to someone. A therapist can help you navigate the grief, the stress, the self-blame. You don’t have to hold it all alone.
Nurture your body. Eat nourishing food, hydrate, move in ways that feel good, and give yourself the care you deserve.
Lean into spirituality. Whether through prayer, meditation, connecting with nature, or simply pausing in stillness, tending to the spiritual self can bring grounding and perspective. In my darkest moments, I found solace in prayer and reflection—it reminded me that I wasn’t completely alone.
Be patient with your healing. The losses may not disappear, but with time, you will learn how to carry them differently.
I often wonder what would have happened if I had sought therapy earlier. If I had given myself the space to grieve, to process, to breathe. If I had let someone in to hold that space for me.
If you’re in that place now—carrying more than you think you can hold—I hope you reach out. To a therapist, to a trusted friend, to something greater than yourself. Your healing matters. And you deserve the space to find it.
Commenti