The moment I knew I was Type 3:
The day after my makeover, I panicked. I felt like Cinderella at the stroke of midnight. Even before the Great Type 4 Purge of December, I had had very little clothes in Type 3 colors. I had to scramble to find something to wear. I needed a shower, which meant I needed to wash my hair, which meant that I was going to ruin my fancy hair do and I’d never be able to replicate it again.
Worse, I had no idea how to be a Type 3. I had spent my entire life squelching all Type 3 tendencies. Was it even possible to change all of that now? If so, how?
I posted to my Type 4 Facebook group.
“And…cue the meltdown. I feel fantastic, but I don’t have any type 3 clothes! And I don’t know how to live as a type 3. And I don’t want to leave you ladies.”
Their outpouring of caring and support literally brought me to tears.
You see, chronic illness makes people uncomfortable, especially if they think “chronic illness” is code for “mental breakdown.” They just don’t want to be around that. As my health deteriorated and I was less and less able to leave my home, my friendships faded away. By the time I was homebound, I was alone.
So, when I found Dressing Your Truth (DYT), of course I chose Type 4. I convinced myself that I “needed” my solitude. It was much better than admitting that I didn’t have friends.
However, when all those wonderful ladies in the group reached out to me, I realized that I did have friends. Those women were my friends.
And friends are very, very important to me.
I really am a Type 3.
I’m rebuilding my wardrobe. I’m figuring out what to do with my hair. I’m letting loose and letting myself DO stuff. Because of my friends, I got this.
Cinderella was the same person whether she wore rich gowns or dirty rags, after all. Likewise, no matter how you dress me up, I’m still ME. Type 3 Me.