September is Alopecia Areata Awareness Month. Don't worry, I know exactly what you're thinking: "What in the world is that?" And also, "How does it affect me?"

Alopecia areata is associated with hair loss. There are three kinds: Alopecia areata, alopecia areata totalis and alopecia areata universalis. The first kind is the most common. This form denotes small patches of hair loss. The next type, alopecia areata totalis, refers to total hair loss on the scalp, or your head. The last kind, alopecia areata universalis, is over the entire scalp and the entire body. This includes eyebrows, eyelashes, leg hair, etc. All three kinds are a form of an autoimmune disorder. In simple terms, your immune system mistakes hair follicles as dangerous to the body. Therefore, they attack the follicles. Alopecia areata worsens with increased stress and anxiety.

There is no "cure," but there are treatments. These are not always successful, though and are not necessarily pleasant. They may not work and, even if they do, they are not guarantees that you won't lose your hair again. At the age of 13, I was asked if I would like to have a series of shots in my head, or have a reaction similar to poison oak or poison ivy on my head in the hopes that I would grow hair back. I balked at the idea. Other, less intense, treatments include medicine or ointments. These treatments are also not guarantees for regrowing hair.

It was the fall of my eighth grade year when I first lost all of my hair - and you thought middle school acne was bad! I had dealt with minor hair loss since I was 4-years-old. My teachers and principals had always told me that I had permission to wear caps in school and I eventually got two wigs from Locks of Love. At this point in my life, I had dealt with this disorder with confidence and, honestly, apathy. It had never bothered me when it was noticeable and it was often hidden beneath the presence of my hair. I had never been completely bald and the thought of being completely bald had never crossed my mind, mostly because alopecia didn't bother me.

My hair started to come out in clumps. There were clumps on my pillow when I woke up. There were clumps going the drain when I took a shower. There were pieces that came out every time I ran my hand through my hair. And, for the first time, I started to think about my hair. I started to wonder if it did matter. This was mostly because of the way that people looked at me. Do you ever have that dream that you come to school in your underwear? That's how it feels to be bald; except, the situation is real, even though you are fully clothed. I started to wear hats for the first time in years. I didn't want to cover my progressively shinier head, I just wanted people to stop staring at me like something was wrong.

I knew there was nothing wrong with me, but everyone kept staring. One time, at lunch, one of my friends, ignorant to my reality, pulled off my hat. Silence fell over the table and I pulled back it back on, laughing. But the look that I saw in my friends eyes haunted me. The look that there was something wrong with me. I was already dealing with those looks from strangers. Did I have to get these looks my from my friends, too?

I kept my questions between myself and God. To be honest, my concerns were minuscule when compared to the concerns of my parents. I didn't want to add to their grief by asking them why God would do this to anyone, much less me. But each night, before I went to bed, I knelt on the ground and I asked God what to do. Looking back, I don't what I was expecting as an answer. I didn't know if there was an answer, but I kept asking.

One night, He answered. It was about a month after the hair started to fall out and almost all my hair was gone. Yes, I had lost almost a full head of hair that quickly. As I was questioning, tears in my eyes, I asked the real question that I had: Why? Why me? Why anyone? What effect could this seemingly meaningless thing have on my life? And, so clearly, I felt God say, "To show you how much I love you." To this day, I have never looked back at having hair as something to desire. Being bald is not something that I endure, it's something that I embrace. It's my blessing.

People still look at me like there is something wrong. Strangers constantly ask me if I have cancer. I still feel awkward when I see someone staring at me. But these things don't horrify me. They give me an opportunity to share. To share about myself, about God, and about alopecia areata. They give me an opportunity to comfort someone who doesn't feel confident being bald. Our culture is so focused on normality that it disallows people who are different, people who are bald like me, to feel beautiful. But this month is set aside to acknowledge alopecia. Although it is a disorder, that doesn't that I am less because I have it. Honestly, I would be less if I didn't have it. Take time this month to be thankful for what you have and how you think of yourself. Hey, if this bald girl can think of herself as beautiful, why can't you?