I am 24, and I’ve been pulling my hair for at least 16 years. When I was younger, I would twirl my hair into knots and then pull the ball of knotted hair out. In middle school, I didn’t have any eyebrows. I don’t remember exactly when I discovered that trich existed, but it oddly never occurred to me to hide my hair pulling.
I spent the majority of high school trying to stop pulling. I tried medications, therapies, fidget toys, headscarves, hats, et cetera — you name it. My friends and teachers and parents had become trained to reprimand me when I was pulling. They meant well, and it was one of their many ways to try and help me. When the entire school district had a no hat policy, I still wore a hat every single day. When desks needed to be cleared for exams, I still had the set of buckyballs my teacher had given me, and whatever other object I was trying to distract myself with that day. I would try to be “pull free.” I was disappointing myself every day by not being able to stop, along with disappointing everyone else who was trying to support me. When facebook shows me the posts I made in previous years, every single day I see a minimum of one post about my hair pulling. I was obsessed with trying to stop.
My main areas have always been my scalp and brows, but I will pull from anywhere. I will pull my lashes, from my legs, from my hands, from my feet, from my armpits, from my pubic area, from my nose, and sometimes from my arms, but only the extra dark hairs that stick out.
Despite the efforts of myself and everyone around me, I gave the Valedictorian speech at graduation with no eyebrows, no eyelashes, and the cap covering my bald spots. All of the pictures lack any presence of hair on my face, as I never attempted to draw in brows or put on false lashes.
When I went off to college, my hair pulling nearly quadrupled. Within two months, my scalp was at its very worst, with over 2/3 of my scalp bald (in different places all over) and the rest of it all patchy with so many different hair lengths. The school had tried so hard to support me: I was in constant therapy, they had me start needlepoint, and it didn’t help. Right before Thanksgiving break, the nurse, whom I had become very close with, took me to a discrete hair salon of a woman she knew to cut my hair just longer than a buzz.
I ended up not returning to the school for the spring semester and chose to attend somewhere closer to home. After I cut that mess of hair that I had left, I realized that trying so hard to stop pulling was making it even worse. My friends and family quickly caught on to the fact that I didn’t appreciate them telling me to stop pulling. I think that they wanted to believe that I didn’t realize that I was doing it, but more often than not, I am very active in my hair pulling. It was much harder for my loved ones to accept it than it was for me, but I was never going to stop pulling my hair.
Trichotillomania is a disorder that I have, and it is always going to be a part of me. Without a cure, trichotillomania is chronic, and I was tired of trying to force something that just wasn’t going to happen.
That was five and a half years ago. I have not even bothered to think about if I had a ‘pull free’ day since then. Sometimes I don’t pull. Sometimes my pulling gets so bad that I have to cut all my hair off. Most of the time it’s just there. The same goes for my eyebrows and eyelashes. When my pulling gets bad, I try to find ways to block it: I pull from other areas, or put scarves on my head, or have cornrows put in over my primary pulling area. But I never feel guilty for pulling. I will get disappointed at the fact that I have a bald spot, but never disappointed in myself for pulling.
Over time, I have personally come to the conclusion that the very large majority of trichsters don’t 100% want to stop. What I mean by that is that I LIKE pulling my hair out. It soothes me. I love the feeling and the sound that happens when the hair is pulled out. I love biting or peeling off the bulb from the stands of hair. I love the coarse, crinkled hair and running it through my fingers and mouth as I admire the “imperfect” yet perfect piece of hair. For me, and many others (who I think are scared to admit it), pulling my hair out feels GOOD.
Now, even though I enjoy pulling my hair out, I don’t enjoy many of the repercussions. I don’t enjoy the piles of hair around me. I don’t enjoy the bald spots or lack of hair where it “belongs.” I don’t like feeling out of control. I don’t like when my pulling has been worse than normal and all I can think of is how I need to stop all while I am pulling. I don’t like wanting long hair or a certain style and not being able to achieve it. Most of all, I don’t like that my hair, or lack of hair, affects anyone other than myself. But, despite all this, I still like pulling out my hair, because at the moment it usually just seriously feels good.
I sometimes think that trichsters are so upset about pulling out their hair because that is how they are “supposed” to feel. Society and those around us say that it’s not right, so we believe that, too. I am not by any means saying that it’s not normal to be upset with the aftermath. Even without societal pressure, having no hair when you want it (for your own selfish reasons) is very disappointing! I just find this disorder to be so incredibly fascinating. So many of us go after coarse hair and the bulbs on the end and have so many similarities in the disorder, yet each and every case is so individualized.
Currently, I am in law school. When I started in June, my pulling intensified severely. I had to get a wig for the first time. I had to shave my head for the first time. Now, a year and a half later, I am still desperately struggling. I still have numerous bald spots. And I am frustrated! I want long hair again! But, it is what it is. And even though I get disappointed and angry and sad, I always remember that it is not my fault and that I have a disorder and that it is ok. My hair, or lack thereof, does not define me. <3
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