I didn’t always wrap, and honestly, I hadn’t really ever planned to. It was something I observed with admiration—the kind of thing you appreciate but could never see yourself actually imitating. It wasn’t until early last year that I considered doing it at all.
Much like with other lifestyle changes I have made in recent months, my psoriasis has been a catalyst for many (at first uncomfortable) changes. Last year I suffered a serious flare internally and externally—internally, the effects made doctors think I was at risk for cancer (again) while externally my face, arms, legs, torso, and scalp were covered in psoriasis lesions. I could not escape it, and the worst part was that the more I tried different medications to stop the spread and ease the flare, the more I realized my hair was thinning and falling out.
To say that I cried is an understatement. I cannot count how many times I wept and bawled with my husband because I felt like I would lose all my hair. It seemed every time I looked into a mirror or took a picture from the top of my head, I could see the thinness grow. My hair had gotten so frail and weak that I felt like it was just a matter of time before I lost all of it. I felt ugly, weak, and powerless to do anything to stop it. A few friends mentioned wigs, but honestly I didn’t really like the idea. And I honestly couldn’t imagine throwing on another piece of hair on missing hair. So, after weeks of feeling hopeless, I remembered hair wrapping.
I was hesitant, but also had very few options that made me feel comfortable. And so, with lots of fear and apprehension, I dragged my husband to the nearest Burlington to buy my first two scarves.
At first, I was really nervous to wear anything out of the house. It wasn’t only that I struggled to wrestle the scarves into something presentable, I just felt like I would get questioned, stared at, judged, and I felt absolutely ill equipped to explainanything at the time.
It was a slow process that took practice, lots of love, and much, much spiritual reflection. I had to understand why I was so afraid of wrapping and what I was really holding on to (my pride included).
I realized that I was more afraid of wrapping simply because I was mortified of what others would say. I hadn’t ever wrapped before, so I didn’t feel ready for all the questions. But this was something so trivial, I later realized. After all, I was the one who had to battle with my condition, not anybody else. I alone knew the extent and the depth of how it affected me, and by that same token, I knew that wrapping was a way that I could focus more on healing and less on my appearance.
As time went on and I became braver about wearing my wraps in public, my perspective on the whole of my situation changed. Not only was I able to learn about the rich and beautiful Jewish culture, but I also found an avenue to share my healing story with others who were dealing with chronic life diseases. That too, also found a way to evolve into a spiritual reminder for me—it was a real and tangible cover over my life, a reminder that no matter where I went, God’s love would cover me. In the middle of joy, He was there. In the middle of pain and flares, he was there. In the good and the bad, it was a testament of His presence over and within me. It is a crown that reminds me to stand tall even in what I may not yet understand.
Today, as I look at my collection of scarves, I am reminded that I am just a small thread in a tapestry larger than myself. And while there are still days that are incredibly difficult, uncertain, and terrifying, I am comforted in knowing that this too, is part of the process. As I tie my scarves, the trouble, the wrestling in place, the pulling, tugging of seams, the small tears and rips, remind me that even though I may be flawed, even that is used to create something beautiful. My sickness, anxiety, depression and all the things that inevitably come with chronic diseases are still there, but every day I wrap is my unyielding act of faith, hope, humility, and healing.
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