When I was 10, I was struck on the head by a cricket ball during an area sports day at school. Within three weeks, my hair started falling out. Within a couple of months, I had developed alopecia universalis.

For years, I was told my hair wouldn’t grow back. I tried multiple treatments over a long period of time, but nothing worked. Eventually, I stopped trying. Then, about a year later when I was 16, my hair started to grow back on its own. My eyebrows, eyelashes—everything returned. There was no explanation why.

Then, in August last year, 15 years later I found that first patch, at age 31, I’ve had to go through the same process again. It's now February, and I only have my eyebrows and eyelashes left.

The reason I want to share my story now is because when my hair grew back at 16 (after being told it wouldn’t) I promised myself that if this ever happened again, I would do things differently. And these were the rules I set for myself, which I am now living by:

• Own it 
• Shave and remove my shedding hair sooner 
• Understand the impact this has on my family and friends, not just me
• Understand that most of my anxiety came from other people’s opinion, not mine, and the opinions of others are out of my control.
• Speak about my alopecia openly

All of the above rules have one purpose: to protect my mental health. Going through secondary school wearing a bandana, being bullied, and not owning my alopecia shaped who I am today—but it also impacted my mental health for a long time.

This time around, it took me a couple of weeks to wrap my head around what was happening. Then my 18-year-old self and my 31-year-old self sat down (metaphorically) and went through the rules I had put in place all those years ago. And honestly? It’s helped me get through this in a way I never managed to before.

I don’t know why my hair came back. I don’t know why it’s gone again. But I do know that this time, I’m choosing to face it differently. And that’s made all the difference.

I strongly believe that it’s the fear of the unknown, the fear of something happening that is out of your control, that can be the feelings that overwhelm us. By taking back the power, understanding these fears and owning them, I’ve realised I’m still worth something, have a beautiful wife and an amazing family. Alopecia doesn't change any of that. 

I also want to talk directly to parents who have a child with alopecia. I know my own parents struggled to come to terms with it when I was a child. They worried that I wouldn’t have a “normal” school life, and there was constant anxiety — checking my head for regrowth, caring deeply, and worrying about what my future would look like. I wouldn’t have come out the other side like I did without them. 

But I believe there comes a point where parents have to let their child move on from the trauma of losing their hair. Children are much stronger and more resilient than we often realise. When parents carry a lot of anxiety and worry, children pick up on that and start to worry too.

Kids are stronger than you think. Sometimes the most helpful thing parents can do is seek support for their own feelings around alopecia, so they can process their fears and emotions — and in doing so, give their child the space and freedom to move forward.

I guess the reason for me writing this blog is because I believe the main reason people with alopecia suffer and struggle is the need to fit in to the expected norm. We're told that to be attractive women must have beautiful thick hair and long eyelashes, and men need a full head of hair with no receding hair lines. This couldn’t be more false. We all light up in different ways and it's really important that people affected by alopecia remember this, especially those just starting their journey with alopecia.