On December 3, 2022, my oncologist told me that “for all practical purposes, “[I] am in remission.” I had to be “in remission” for five years before I could safely say I was cancer free.

I left not feeling what I thought I should be feeling. I did not learn about survivor’s guilt until the following August. (That is a post for another time.) My dad was with me, and as we pulled out of the parking garage, the song Good to Be Alive by Jason Gray came on the radio. My dad commented that is was the perfect song. I was unsure if I agreed at that moment. However, it became my anniversary song every year since.

That night, my celebration plans turned sour (another story for another time), and I had convinced myself that I was not supposed to celebrate me. I was convinced that celebrating me was selfish and “unholy” and that God was somehow punishing me for thinking about myself.

It seemed like a theme in my life. Every time I wanted to celebrate a big event in my life, someone stole my spotlight. It took many years and a lot of therapy to make me realize that I was not the one being selfish during these celebratory moments, and that I was not wrong or sinful for wanting to celebrate big events.

So, I planned a big event for my 10-year anniversary. Nothing huge. No big party. I mean, I still do not like being the center of attention. But I did want to do something special.

So, I stopped cutting my hair for a year and planned to shave and donate my hair. I know how much having a wig (I called my wig, Junior) meant for me. Losing my hair the first time was traumatic. I did not have a choice, though, if I was going to go through with treatment. Even if I did not shave it, I was going to lose my hair.

This time, I had a choice. I am not nearly as attached to my hair as I used to be. For one, it grew back much thinner than it used to be. Second, after being bald the first time, I realized how freeing it can be.

Several people tried to talk me out of it, but I wanted to celebrate by giving back and standing united (and bald) with others currently going through treatment. My mind was made up and I was determined to do it.

My hair was not going to be long enough for an adult wig, but it would be long enough for a child wig.

The first time I shaved my head, I was petrified. This time, I felt free – free to celebrate a huge milestone in my life – free to give back my way – free to be a bald woman with no regrets.

This is my story – via Instagram:

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