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Intimate worlds. His hair was down to his waist. It was my treasure. But I felt that I had to give to receive and donated it to people with cancer

2020-10-31T12:17:32.095Z


A sick baby was the key. He met her in a journalistic interview, she was an oncology patient and had lost her hair. She told him how happy it had made her to receive a wig. And there the author decided to collaborate.


Eugenia Victoria Trubbo Faugas

10/30/2020 22:00

  • Clarín.com

  • Society

Updated 10/30/2020 10:00 PM

What is love to you?

Love, for me, is to entertain the other.

Ask him if he is okay, accompany him, support him, pamper him.

Give him gifts.

Give him that rich thing that he likes or that which makes him smile.

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I was always about giving love.

I love to see the reaction of the other, how they enjoy it.

But when is it my turn?

I do not mean that others give me something, because they always filled me with love.

My family, my boyfriend, Nicolás, and friends.

The point is, do I give myself love?

I take care of myself?

I value myself?

Or even… hug me?

Little bit.

Perhaps, because I always put the other first, before myself.

And today, I am here.

Writing these words.

I feel like 2008, at 12 or 13 years old with the typical intimate childhood diary.

Opening my heart to people I don't know, but it's okay.

Because this is one of many ways to tell a story.

Long hair.

This is how Eugenia Trubbo found out.

And this is my story.

How in such a chaotic year I began to love myself as I deserved it.

And in that transition I realized that I had to give again.

And this "giving" was to "receive."

They may call me a materialist, but they would be prejudging me by getting ahead of the story.

Because obviously I received something, but something that filled my soul.

And it is not what they imagine.

It was not something material.

It was much more than that.

Join me in time.

To put this story in context, we must go to November 2019. At that time, I was doing a job for the Institute where I study.

A very inspiring note.

At least for me.

It was called “Princess Wigs for Oncology Babes.

Chemotherapy weakens everything in its path, including hair.

What is it like to go through this disease as a child, when one of the most important belongings they have is their hair ”.

When I wrote it, I contacted an NGO in the city of Baradero, “Doná Cabello Argentina”.

It is made up of

a group of women who work to make wigs for patients undergoing cancer treatment

.

But, to carry out their work, they need the anonymous collaboration of men and women who dare to give their hair away.

Yes, the hair.

In the barber shop.

Eugenia Trubbo with her hair in her hand.

I always loved my hair, you can't imagine how much I have cared for it throughout my life.

In these 25 years, I gave him a lot of love.

My parents and sister always helped me by buying creams, oils, nutrition ampoules, conditioners, everything so that I could use them.

They are quite expensive products and I appreciate that they have always bought them for me.

Also, I always liked to iron it.

By nature my hair is quite straight but with some waves.

And it was a matter of every day to bathe, blow-dry my hair and iron it.

During the time I spent putting together the note, several times I considered the idea of ​​cutting my hair.

You don't know, it came up to my waist.

I even had

the blonde highlights that my parents had given me for Christmas

.

That hair was a dream.

The day came to deliver the note from the university.

The teacher corrected her.

He loved it.

I was so happy because issues of this nature, "solidarity" to call them in some way, do me good.

That same week, when it was still possible to study in the classrooms since COVID-19 did not exist, a colleague, nicknamed the "Colo", whom I appreciate very much, entered the door with a carré-style cut.

It was spectacular.

The day before, she still wore her hair past her waist.

It was a kind of red Rapunzel.

Obviously, we all praised him and he told us that now his hair was in an envelope bound for Baradero.

To the same NGO where I had contacted for the note.

I don't forget anymore, that day I felt so much guilt ... I felt bad.

The compliments of the teacher had now been taken into the background by the bad thoughts that invaded my head.

"You made the note and you didn't cut your hair", "the others do it and you don't", "what did it cost you to be supportive for a moment?"

Self prejudice.

Self boycott.

My head only remarked how bad a person I was for not having cut my hair.

If I was the one who had made the note about the wigs.

And of course, to get a little guilt off I started to say, always to myself of course, that "I didn't have to donate my hair."

That "it was mine and nobody else's."

And that "my hair wasn't going to make a big difference."

Of course, when the head goes against oneself, there is no way to stop it.

To donate.

This hair is the one that Eugenia Trubbo sent to the NGO.

In time, that guilt faded.

2020 started and we already know what happened.

But this year, I did something very worthwhile.

I began to love myself, to listen to me, to speak to me.

I hugged myself.

I started the journey of what I always did with others, but now I do it for myself.

And I try, watch out, I have a long way to go, but I'm on my way.

And what did I decide?

Well, I became an environmentally conscious person.

I recycle, I compost, I don't eat animals ...

Until here they will say, "you do something for the planet but not for yourself."

Well, let me get you back

.

Everything I did and do this year, yes, it is for "something" or "someone" else, but the background of that ends up being for me.

All these acts affect my state of mind.

In how I want to feel and by giving, I receive gratitude.

I receive self-love because I do things that make me happy.

That move the floor and ignite my soul.

I give to receive peace.

And between that "constant giving", I found myself again with an old dilemma from the past.

My hair.

And yes, that issue was back on the "agenda."

And, perhaps, I was the one who challenged herself again because this year, I wrote a note about Children's Day.

The theme was proposed by me: "Those who choose to donate hair and give love."

And in this way, I again contacted “Doná Cabello Argentina”.

The turns of life, right?

I chatted with Dani, one of the volunteers, and she connected me with Eugenia, a six-year-old girl who, in September 2019, was diagnosed with leukemia.

I'm not sure what happened there, but somehow the universe spoke to me.

Yes, I believe in "it", in the causalities of life.

I don't know what chances in the world there could be that that beautiful girl had the same name as me, and that she would tell me how happy she was when they gave her two hairpieces.

There I was again.

And this time, I didn't self-boycott.

Not at all, I didn't prejudge myself either

.

I saw myself as the Euge of last year, with a mentality that today, several months later, had changed.

I apologized for having judged myself and promised myself that once the note was published, I would go to the hairdresser to get my hair cut.

That hair that, let's remember, I loved.

Blonde, long at the waist.

Soft and well cared for.

But it's only guys hair and I'm lucky that tomorrow I'm going to grow back.

To think otherwise today, for me, is selfish.

I am no longer the Euge of 2019, the one who feels that her hair is “hers alone and nobody else's”.

Today I take a step to the side.

And forward.

I open myself to those bad thoughts that once flooded my mind and I predispose myself to continue pampering myself once more.

I return to "give", with the purpose of "receiving".

What do I get?

More love.

For my own universe.

They don't know how beautiful it is to love oneself.

You have to practice it, it costs horrors, yes, but you have to do it.

Because we are the love of our own lives.

Nothing and no one else.

And it is beautiful to do things to bring out that inner love.

And what happened next?

On August 14th my note came out, hooray!

And do you know what it meant?

Keep my promise.

I had to take turns with Juan, the hairdresser, with the "crack" who takes care of my hair since I can remember.

The one who even combed my hair at my communion and at my high school graduation.

A few, quite a few, years ago.

On Friday, September 4, I woke up super early.

Around 7:30 AM.

I bathed, washed my long hair for the last time.

I dried it and ironed it a little bit to make it neat.

I was super excited because I was getting him ready for a very special event.

At around 9:30 AM, I set out for the hairdresser.

I took a bus because I was a bit late.

He had a turn at 10 AM.

I arrived, nervous.

I gave my hair a little kiss, very cheesy right? And I sat down in one of the chairs in the salon.

While Juan combed my hair and measured my hair with a centimeter of sewing kit that I brought from home, I told him that this change in look meant a lot to me.

It was difficult for me to describe it in words without shedding any tears.

Even now, I find it difficult to write these words without my eyes not expressing themselves.

Juan tied my hair in two strands, with some colored gummies that I had brought him, and in one, two, three… He ran the scissors through my hair.

I was super nervous.

He laughed, he cried, he could hardly speak.

There were a thousand emotions back then.

But never, never did I regret it.

Maybe I blurted out something unintentionally because I was in shock.

I had cut 35 centimeters of hair.

I went from having it by the waist, to not even touching my shoulders.

It barely passed the back of my neck.

My first impression was to be silent.

Quiet.

I couldn't touch my head,

it made an impression on me.

I knew that my hair was no longer there but resting on the furniture of the premises.

When I turned my neck, my "new hair" peeked out.

Hidden behind my head, it appeared in the outline of my face.

And there I was.

With swollen eyes but with a happy heart, overflowing with love.

Because once again, I loved myself again.

Doing things that do me good.

Two weeks later, Friday, September 18, my mother accompanied me to the Correo Argentino in my neighborhood.

We went, we lined up to get in and when it was my turn, I asked the girl who was serving if she could sell me a plastic envelope.

Of those specials.

I wanted my hair to arrive well, just as I had prepared it for this great super special day.

I completed my details, and those of the Baradero NGO, and I kept my locks inside, along with a little letter that I wrote them with a lot of love.

I said goodbye, "goodbye", we sent it and we left.

Five days later, on the 23rd, he reached his destination.

I found out at night, on Facebook.

Because they uploaded the photo of my hair.

I was taking a subject at the Institute via zoom but I had to turn off the camera for a moment to cry in silence.

They were tears of happiness.

I did the right thing, my dream had come true.

I don't know who that hair will be destined for.

Sure they add it with that of other donors.

But hey, I don't need to know anything else.

Only my contribution is going to make someone very happy.

How this experience did for me.

There are no secrets or "tips" for living life.

Each one does it as they want, and can.

There are thousands, millions of paths to undertake.

But how gratifying it is to follow that path that is good for us.

The one that frees us and allows us to go further.

Venture to live, enjoy.

Today we are here, you reading me.

Me writing them.

But tomorrow?

I don't know and what does it matter, right?

Total, what better to enjoy in life than to leave without having done anything to be happy.

I am still in a long process of practicing "self love" but while I live, I make mistakes, I learn, I continue.

Love.

To others but, mainly, to myself.

And giving away my hair, which is not really mine anymore, I practiced detachment.

I realized that in order to pamper myself I had to go back to the beginning of this story.

Giving away that "something special" that made me so happy at the time, to make not only someone else happy.

Also, to the protagonist of this story.

To my own being.

To Eugenia Victoria.


----------------

Eugenia Victoria Trubbo Faugas was

born in the Federal Capital in 1995. But she lived all her life in the southern area of ​​Greater Buenos Aires.

She is a producer and director of radio and television, a graduate of the Instituto Superior de Enseñanza Radiophónica (ISER), and a student in the last year of the journalism technician.

Her first job in the media was in 2016. Before, she was animating children's parties.

She started as a radio producer and continued as a community manager, air coordinator, radio operator and entertainment columnist.

Later, he produced and attended several TV programs, was a teaching assistant at ISER and currently works as a journalist for the TN website "Con Bienestar".



Source: clarin

All life articles on 2020-10-31

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