My Trich Life Story in a nutshell started when I was about 12 yrs old. I started with my eyelashes and never pulled any hair on my head until my mid forties. I grew up in a very stressful household and for some reason this activity gave me great relief as well as great shame and emotional discomfort. I felt like an outcast, that people thought I was weird and still have those feelings today. Back then my parents just told me to stop, dermatologists just told me to stop, nobody knew about this possibly being some sort of biological disorder. The shamefulness was intense and still is to this day. Until more people come out and more medical research is done it will remain a shameful hidden secret for many. I know of know one else around me who suffers from this and that is not easy because i have know one to feel like I have something in common with or can talk with about it.
What I have learned is that it is some sort of compulsion brought on by stress and it is a very difficult activity to stop.I like the feeling of doing it but I hate myself when I’m done, I feel so down and bad about myself and you would think this would make me stop but it doesn’t it actually makes it worse. I have learned that there are many people out their somewhere that suffer from this affliction. I have never met anyone yet but I read testimonials and I am a member of TLC which is a great non-profit organization out in CA, the only thing is CA is very far from CT so I am happy to learn that Charlene has started one in PA. I wish that i was comfortable enough to speak about this in public but I’m not there yet, to many people don’t know anything about it and my self esteem couldn’t take the responses that i would get from non-pullers.
My advice is for people to go on-line do research and don’t give up and let yourself be known so these organizations can see to it that this disorder doesn’t go by unrecognized. I’m sure their are women and men sufferers out there in the millions, but until this disorder becomes more recognized we won’t have the support. I have beautiful hair and I get so disgusted with myself for doing this and I feel who would like me if I do this to myself. I’m a good person with a big heart and bring joy to a lot of people but not enough for myself. This is a horrible secret I have to hide and it’s not fair if this is a real medical disorder. Do diabetics or cancer patients have to hide? They are excepted and so should we. I am so proud of the people who have come out in public. That took an enormous amount of courage and maybe one day I will be able to do the same while feeling good about myself.
May 11th, 2009
i was in the fifth grade staring into the mirror. typical day. mom did my hair because i didn’t have the technical skills to do my own hair, unlike my younger sister that had been doing intricate braids since the first grade. i had two hairs sticking out of my french braid that were probably there everyday, but for today they irritated the shit out of me. so i stared. and then i pulled them out. the fifth grade can be a stressful year, first boyfriends, fitting in, moving on to middle school. i found that pulling out those two hairs relieved all the anxiety a fragile fifth grader could feel. i went to school. the next morning i repeated the ritual, feeling perfect, not a hair out of place. and the next. and the next. the cycle continued into my next year of school. i started at a new school. a catholic school. i developed my first bald spot. people noticed it and called me “baldy”. i enjoyed recess by myself. my parents began to notice, and i had my own personal narc!
in the class that would tell my mom of my hair pulling adventures. tell her how many times my hand went to my scalp. how many hairs would fall under my desk. periodic scalp checks for the tiny red marks tattling for something i didn’t even know i had. then on day, sure as sh**, i believe on Oprah, they discussed trichotillomania. “devon, I think you have a problem” and ” i don’t know what you are talking about.” there were not enough headbands, scarves or bandanas to cover the spots i was developing. it was my dirty secret. i am 31 soon, and my urge to pull has never weakened. i have tried many things to distract me….drugs, alcohol, self mutilation, bulimia, common among people like us with this disease. i will tell you the urge has lessoned with psychotherapy, anti-depressants and stable relationships. Stress has seemed to be my trigger, be it finals, money, cheating husbands. But i have found that i can be stronger than the disease. I have learned to keep my hands busy,!
and to change up my hairstyle, so i don’t want to pull. i have my good days and my bad, but i have my daughter to look after, and i know i can beat trich for her.
April 14th, 2009
My compulsion with pulling began when I was eight years old while I was watching a movie with my cousin. I remember telling her to try it, because it felt good. When I saw the very large bald spot on the back of my head, I was horrified and didn’t understand how I could have done that to myself. Of course when our parents noticed my large spot and my cousin’s small patch of hair missing, there was a mild uproar of “Why did you do that?!” Later is was brushed off and forgotten, but every so often someone would mention it in a family crowd, “Remember when you tried to pull all of your hair out?” Which always made me want to crawl under a rock and die, because I was embarrassed and ashamed of my guilty pleasure.
I continued to pull my hair out in secret and I would do it mindlessly until I would notice a large pile of hair on the carpet, so I would try to hide it under the sofa or spread out the damage by dropping my hair in different places or flushing the evidence down the toilet. I would strategically try to brush my hair to the side or hold my hand over the spot on the top of my head so people wouldn’t notice.
In the fifth grade, I remember mindlessly pulling my hair out while I was bored in class and how horrified I was to look down at my dark hair I left on the white floor.
Frantically, I tried to push it under the desk in front of me. For the most part no one noticed, but one time someone sitting next to me saw the hair ball on the floor and made a scene squealing “EEWW, GROSS”. So to draw attention away from myself, I joined in with my own comments. I was petrified that someone might find out what I was doing and think I was a freak, because I had no idea what was wrong with me or why I was doing that to myself.
I think around the same time, my mom caught sight of my bald spot and went slightly nuts drawing attention to me and then proceeding to show other people in my family to “take a look at this”. My mom wasn’t trying to embarrass me or make me feel like a freak, but since I was a terribly shy and self-conscious child, mortification didn’t even cover how i felt at that moment.
To make matters worse, when she asked me what happened, I couldn’t bring myself to confess what I had been doing, so I said I didn’t know. Well that brought me
to see a dermatologist who took scrapings of my scalp, because he thought it might be a fungus-little did he know. So after nothing came up from his little test, I remember him whispering to my mom that he thought I was pulling my hair out. While this was an old geezer of a doctor, it was 1990 and you would think that he would be able to mention to my mom that he suspected I was suffering from Trichotillomania. Which, by the way I wasn’t able to put a name to what I had until I read
a magazine article about it.
All the while these things were taking place, I remembered dreading getting my hair cut, because it never failed that the person cutting my hair would freak out about my bald spots and either point it out to a fellow stylist to come look at or make a scene of it. So I figured out how to cut my own hair, or I would go to a different salon every time and lie to the person cutting my hair that a medication I took made it fall out.
To hide my bald spots when they would get bad, I would always wear my hair up in a bun and use a lot of barrettes. But, there were times that my hair would grown back enough to wear down or the bald spot was only small, but I would constantly run my hands through my hair to check that it was covered. Swimming was a nightmare when I was going through a pulling phase.
There were times that I would stop for a long time-even a year, but I would start up again when I was upset or stressed out.
And I would be so angry at myself, which would only make me pull more hair out. My husband still doesn’t know that I pull my hair out. I told my mom casually that pulled my hair and she was very supportive about it. I actually went 5 years without pulling my hair, because I was at a point in my life where I was very busy, but not stressed out and I felt good about myself. Stopping the pulling can be done, but it still is an ongoing battle because I unfortunately started pulling again after my grandmother passed away and I was stressed out about getting into medical school. For now I have stopped and I’m keeping it that way, because I’d like to get my hair cut soon (and I love getting my hair cut and styled-when I have hair to work with).
Finding Charlene Blacer was a lifesaver, since one of the stylists that works with her was able to cut my hair for me and I didn’t have to lie about the bald spots-it was a relief.
My motivation for not pulling my hair is to be able to get my hair cut regularly. The added consistent motivation is to keep my hair on my head so that I can go to my favorite hair stylist back in my hometown to get my hair cut-since she’s an artist with my hair and always cuts it perfectly. And I enjoy trying new hairstyles and wearing my hair down-it gives me confidence & a boost of self esteem.
Other tricks haven’t really worked for me & I’ve never been on medication for my compulsion, because sadly most medical professionals don’t have a clue, lack any empathy for the compulsion, and come off as callous or make you feel like you’re not trying hard enough to stop. Depending on what medical field I go into, I will try to change that regardless and give people the courage and the motivation to quit or to manage the hair pulling so that it doesn’t get out of control. We have to find out what causes us to pull our hair out, and try to be conscious of when we start pulling so that we can either limit our pulling to 3 hairs a day, or find a motivation to do something we really enjoy but hold ourselves back from because we don’t want people to see our bald spots or mostly bald heads. We can set goals for ourselves and reward ourselves for not pulling. Once we reach that goal and we get to a comfortable regrowth of our hair, we keep doing the things that we weren’t able to enjoy before to establish a consistent reward and reinforce not pulling our hair. There may be setbacks from time to time, but if you could stop before, then you can stop again. It is possible and it is important to understand that we can’t punish ourselves for this compulsion, but we can heal
ourselves and make positive efforts to overcome it.
I wish everyone out there that suffers from trich the absolute best and I hope that my story is one that someone can find comfort in and know that they are not alone and that is possible to start healing and stop pulling.
April 10th, 2009
my story starts when i am 9 years old.
hi. my name is kristy and i’m a trichster in recovery. i was 9 years old when i first started pulling out my hair. i’m told it wasn’t long after my grandfathers funeral.
anytime i would get stressed or teased at school for being dumb or overweight and i’d come home and silently sit and one strand at a time it would come out. my mother started to notice when i was almost 10, she took me to doctors and psychologists and they did brain scans and one of them even wanted to medicate me as a child. thankfully my parents said no as it would’ve taken away quality of life and turned me into a zombie.
i can’t remember who it was that told me the name of it. what i do remember is being eased at high school for having little bald spots in my hair. kids can be so cruel.
of course this mixed with bullying of other sorts made it much worse. there were days that i would skip classes where i knew the bullies would be and just sit in the girls toilets silently sobbing and pulling out strand by strand to make it feel better. to make the pain from everything else go away.
as fate would have it, one of my best friends found me one day and called my parents. i was at the doctor the next day getting put on anti depressants. every 2 weeks the levels would increase and every 2 weeks my hair pulling and deep depression would get worse coz i hated being on them. i got angry. some days i wouldn’t speak to anyone and other days i would just yell. on the very bad days i’d just cry. i was miserable. i didn’t understand why nothing was helping. i started seeing a psychiatrist on a regular basis for help to manage it and to learn some techniques to help me not pull a my hair… instead all she focused on was my anger and rage issues. eventually i told my GP to shove his meds that i refused to take hem anymore. my mother was horrified. i learned to cope on my own without them. all my life i had loved singing and listening to music so i found solace in those. i would sit and sing and listen to my favourite songs and bands for hours while studying or doing homework or simply reading a book. eventually the bullying got too much and solace could no longer be found. i dropped out of school 2 weeks into my final year suffering a mild nervous breakdown and with very little hair. it wasn’t long after this that i shaved my head for the first time.
it was during this time that i rebelled rather badly against my parents. i hated them for making me take those meds for all those years and not listen when i told them that they made me feel worse about myself. i never really had any real relationships at school and entered my first real one when i was 20. i married at the age of 20. during the 3 weeks we were married he strangled me twice, he claims that i drove him to it and that my bald spots were ugly so he was trying to put me out of my
misery. stupidly i did not press charges. i’ve since learned he was high on speed on both those occasions. i kicked him out after the second time.
a few weeks later my mother enrolled me in the orion self healing courses… she came with me as she wanted to learn it too… vianna theta healing is what helped me overcome my hair pulling. that worked for me. may no for everyone. i simply had faith that it would work. it did. that was in may 2004, here we are now in april 2009 and i have not removed a single hair from my head since i did that course. i survived a mentally and emotionally abusive relationship that lasted 18 months
without resorting to hair pulling. that relationship ended but something new began. i’m now a recovered trichster with a 2 year old son who is strong and confident and for the first time in my life, i’m enjoying living.
What I have learned is that no matter what anyone else thinks or says, doesn’t matter… i don’t care what people think of me anymore. the people that matter most love me for who i am. it’s those people that are worth having in your life. if you’re being bullied, the best action is ignorance, a bully responds to anger and retalliation. ignorance to them is boring and they’ll eventually move along to another target. if they start getting violent, report them. it is not tolerable!
My advice is to get to know your inner self, that is where the true beauty is. once you know and love your inner self, the outer self will follow suit. in moments where you feel weak, find something to do with your hands, i found cross stitch, scrap booking and colouring in extremely helpful cause while i was using my hands i wasn’t thinking about pulling my hair out. my story isn’t anything special, it’s just the way things happened. i’m one of those lucky few who have found a cure that works. i only hope that it can help others as well. the best years of my life were lost to something i had no control over. i can never gain them back, i can only hope to help others like me to have those years and many many more.
April 10th, 2009
Hello, My name is Meghann. I am a full time college student and work part time at Dollar General, and I am now living in MI with my boyfriend. I have had trichotillomania for close to 20 years.
My Trich Life Story started when I was probably around 7, perhaps even younger than that. I remember I was pulling my hair out when I was in elementary school.
I always just thought it was a bad habit, and my parents never tried to stop me from pulling my hair. I pull from my eyebrows and eyelashes. I always have, and I still do, especially when I am stressed and laying in bed and my hands aren’t busy.
Always thinking this was just a bad habit, I never really thought much of it. I always thought I was the only one who ever did it, and it was just something I did.
Then I got a teen magazine, I believe it was Seventeen. It was an article about Trichotillomania. I looked at my mom and told her, this is what I have. I finally knew the name of it.
I found myself on a support site with so many more people who suffer from this disorder. They even have pull-free-athons. I have never taken medication for it, never have had hair extensions in, I was never allowed. But my aunt and friends would always ask me why I didn’t have hair. They would always forget my story and I was so scared to tell them the truth. They seemed to think it was weird, but understood just fine.
What I did that has helped was I worked on my grandpa’s garden all summer before entering into the ninth grade. To be honest, I completely forgot about pulling out my hair. Then one day I looked in the mirror and realized my hair had grown back. My mom was thrilled, she has been wanting to see me wear mascara for so long. As of now though, I hardly have any eyelashes and my eyebrows and shaped funny from me messing with them.
My advice is to always keep your hands busy. People will like you for you, but this can possibly be genetic. Sleep with socks on your hands, or sit in different places of the room to help notice and stop the pulling. You can do it, just believe in yourself. Count your pull free days, you can get there!
April 10th, 2009
Hi, my name is Lauren and I suffer from trichotillomania.
I started pulling my eyelashes when I was 10-11 because I was leaving a small elementary school where I recognized everyone’s face and going to a middle school that was made up of 10 elementary schools. That was very stressful for me and so my trich began. My middle school years were brutal-I was teased often because of my size(short),my hair color(strawberry blond) and my teachers were unnecessarily harsh with me. I came home everyday in tears. By now, my eyelashes were gone so I was biting my nails and picking at my skin (usually my legs). Unfortunately for me, one of my best friends came up with the idea of tweezing my eyebrows.
Well, let’s just say that I took that to an extreme. At one point during high school, my eyebrows were pretty much gone. When I was in 7th or 8th grade, my parents forced me to see my school psychologist who then told me I had repressed emotions. While it’s true I repress(ed) my emotions, I didn’t get my official diagnosis with trich until my sophomore year!
More years of high school until my parents sent me to another psychologist. When I was in 8th grade, I went to get my hair cut for my Confirmation and while I was there, the hair stylist freaked out saying: “Oh my goodness! Come look at this girl! She has no eyelashes or eyebrows! What a freak!” Let’s just say I didn’t get my hair professionally cut again until my freshman year of college.
High school was a smoother transition, but I continuously pulled my eyelashes and tweezed my eyebrows. I did cross-country and track the first 2 years of high school and while stretching I noticed patches of hair I missed shaving, so I started on my legs. I no longer wear shorts due to my scars all over my legs. I also began dating…and let’s just say my (now ex) boyfriend wasn’t the best choice for me- very abusive. I haven’t had a boyfriend since then since then.
Although I still have trich, I never took meds and I’ve reduced my pulling dramatically. I actually wear mascara now! I have eyebrows that look somewhat like normal eyebrows. I still tweeze them and I still pull the hair on my legs, but the pulling is really good. I stopped pulling at night by wearing gloves to sleep. I’m trying to find a way to sort of cover up all of the angry looking red scars on my legs so I can wear shorts again one day. I’m almost 20 this year and it’ll be a decade of
trichotillomania.
April 10th, 2009
Trich is something that I diagnosed myself with. I had recently read a ‘letter to the editor’ in some stupid teen magazine. It said that somebody was very grateful for the magazine’s article about Trichotillomania. They thanked the magazine for bring attention to this disorder. Me, being 12 or 13 years old brushed it off, and continued reading the magazine to look at pictures of sunglasses and articles about dating.
I honestly don’t remember when I made the connection, but some point in time later, I remembered that article that I had read, after realizing the pile of hair next to the couch. I looked through all my old magazines, and eventually found the letter to the editor referring to Trich. After google-ing trich, I realized that I had it. I’ve never been diagnosed by a doctor, but it’s something I just knew.
After learning about Trich, I realized that I also had Dermatillomania, and Onychophagia- Compulsive skin and nail picking. In the past, I’ve had some OCD so severe, that I would throw up in the bathroom if I did something wrong. (But that’s another story).
I’ve gone on and off with the severity of this condition. I can go for months without pulling at all, but at other times, I can’t seem to stop. I’ve never told somebody that actually considers it an actual disorder. I’ve attempted to tell a best friend at the time, who never quite got it, and I’ve mentioned it to my mother, who seems too busy to acknowledge that there’s a problem.
I do understand why some people would dismiss this, especially for me. I was born with incredibly thick hair, and I still do have A LOT of hair, (which I’m very grateful for). I have a few bald and almost bald patches, but you can’t see unless it’s pulled up in a tight ponytail or bun.
I really, truly am grateful for all the information websites that have helped me out so much. They helped me realize that it’s not just me, that there’s other people feeling the same way that I am feeling. I’m sure that 30 years ago, there was not very much information about this condition, therefor, people couldn’t get the help they needed. I hope that someday, there will be a cure for Trichotillomania, as well as similar issues such as Dermatillomania and Onychophagia.
April 10th, 2009
I’m Mitchell, I’m an Aussie and I met Charlene and found out about her cause through Facebook. My trichotillomania started when I was 12/13, my family was ripped apart by my father’s actions (but that’s another story). I began pulling at school one day, in one particularly bad English class. At first it was something which excited me, having a bald patch on the back of my head, but it started to scare me at the same time. It became more compulsive and habitual as time went on. My mum wasn’t sure why I started, but since I was already seeing a psychologist, it became just another issue to deal with. I learnt what the disease was called when I was put into a psychological health unit for severe depression and anxiety.
The most obvious solution to hide my actions was shaving my head, i did this with electric clippers and a razor blade to remove as much of the hair as possible. This worked twofold – it hid the bald patches, and the hair wasn’t there for me to pull out. The buzz cut became a staple of my life (my hair rarely grows longer than a few centimetres before I shave it all off). Of course, since I was pulling the hair out roots and all, when my hair began to grow back, the bald patches didn’t cover. This caused me problems at school and work. School was worse, being amongst a group of idiots who didn’t understand anything beyond their own perfect world, being asked whether you’d stuck your head under a lawn mower or whether you had cancer cause I never had any hair. Work was alright because I wore a hat (I was working at McDonalds at 13), but it was something that I was conscious about, meaning that I usually wore a hat or hooded jacket when in public.
Over the years, my trichotillomania is something that I’ve come to live with. Especially during the periods of deep depression and anxiety, I pulled my hair instead of turning to self-harm, so in a way it has been a saving grace. I’ve been in more control of my trich as I’ve gotten older, but still find myself losing my eyebrows if things start getting too stressful. I’ve accepted that it is something which is a part of me, I’m not ashamed of it or ashamed to tell people that I suffer from it.
The advice that I’d give to anyone who is suffering from Trich or who is living with someone who has it, is to be patient. Help is available to you and your family, and you are certainly not alone. And I congratulate everyone who has spoken up with their story and supported Charlene in her cause.
April 10th, 2009
I’m sitting here typing this at the computer, just like any girl. Except I have no hair.
I don’t remember the first time I pulled out a hair… but I know it was at the beginning of my 8th grade 2008 summer. 8th grade was the only year I’ve felt like a normal kid for a long time. I loved 8th grade. Now, I’m in 9th grade. I never thought things could twist so sharply and quickly like this. All of the sudden I have no hair. I got pulled out of school because of anorexia and depression. It’s weird; you never think that something like that is going to happen to YOU.
I was doing summer gym during the summer so that I could get that class out of the way for high school. It was really nice because I could walk to where we did summer gym every day. But I always had to wear a headband, right above my forehead. My friends would ask “why do you always wear a headband, and why is it always in the same place?” I just laughed it off, but the real reason was because I had pulled out the hair on the top of my forehead. It wasn’t something I really wanted the whole world to know at that time. When we had to go swimming, I was a little worried. I didn’t want to take off the headband, because I was afraid people might notice. But I showed a friend and asked her if she could tell I was missing hair (although I didn’t tell her WHY I was), and she said no, and that it looked fine. .
Summer gym went pretty good, although I was depressed during the majority of it. But when people ask, I just say I’m tired.
But the pulling didn’t stop when summer gym stopped. I kept pulling out my hair- sometimes yanking a whole bunch of it at a time, but usually just one hair at a time. I was too depressed to wonder “Why am I pulling out my hair? That’s not normal…” Towards the end of the summer, I had pulled it all out and just had little regrowths. So I grabbed the tweezers, and pulled those too. But then came the hard part: School. My first year at high school, time to make an impression. And I had
no hair. My Mom somehow found a lady who really changed my life, and I think we actually changed hers, too. Her name was Melody Bowman, and she helped people get wigs and styled them. She gave us some pamphlets about trichotillomania. When we first went in, (my Mom and my older sister Emily were with me) something amazing happened. Mel (her nickname) got a box down with a random wig just so she could find the size of my head. It was a wig from Locks of Love, and she’d had it for a long time! Amazingly, it fit me perfectly- and the color was close enough to my own hair color. We all felt it was something God had done. So she trimmed bangs and fixed it up a little, and I went home. I wore it to school every day, although once again I always had to wear a headband or else it looked weird. I guess I was “the headband girl”. But sooner or later we realized it was kind of thin… I had to be real careful to make sure that it didn’t part in the back, or else you could tell it was a wig. When I had to be pulled out of school for my anorexia, we went back to Mel’s. It took a while to get the right wig again. Finally, we got one at a low price (my family can’t afford an expensive wig), from a center who gave really low prices for wigs if they were going to people with trichotillomania. It wasn’t the right color, so at Mel’s hair shop we dyed it. It turned gray! That gave us all a laugh… it still makes me giggle today when I think about it. Eventually though, we got the right color and it was trimmed. It had gone from bright yellowish-orange to gray, and then to a dirty blonde, which wasn’t quite my hair color but close enough. I still wear that hairpiece. I’m so thankful for it. Often I get comments like “Did you dye your hair?” or “Haha, at first I thought it was a wig!” It’s awkward and uncomfortable when I get those comments, but I’ve learned how to respond. I’ve also learned how to tell people I have Trich. Most of my friends know about it now, and I have been amazed each time that they don’t care- I’m still Abby, age 14, (soon to be 15!!!! WHOO HOO!!) hair or no hair. I have good friends.
Sometimes I feel so bad and I just wish that I could go back in time and that my anorexia, depression, ocd, and trichotillomania would never have happened.
But you know what? I would never go back. I’d never do that. I’ve learned so much from all this- I like who I am as a person a lot better. But most importantly, I’ve helped more people through all this than I would have helped if I didn’t have these problems. When I share my story, my friends often tell me a story of their life back- and I can help them with it. And it just feels so good. I still have no hair, but guess what! I haven’t pulled for a WEEK! That is the longest I’ve ever gone. It’s because my Mom took away the tweezers. It’s funny, because in the beginning we had like 3 pairs, but now we only have one. It’s something God did, and He added a little humor. At Mel’s, I dropped a pair I had in my pocket and lost them there. At target, the same thing happened. I know you could say “well that’s just a coincidence, not God’s doing,” but it was. I could feel it. I can still feel God. Without Him, I could never handle all this. He’s using this- I know He is, because I’ve already seen him start to use it. God is my hero. And I’m really excited, because there is hope for getting better from trich. I haven’t pulled for a week, and if I don’t pull again ever, I will have two and a half inches of hair by this August, the beginning of my 10th grade year. My whole ninth grade year I’ve been at home, because things have been going so badly I can’t go to school. I’m so behind, it’s scary. But I’m doing an online school program, and the fact that I will be working on it during the summer doesn’t bother me at all. Because I’ll get to go back to school next year, and be a 10th grader, and I think that once again someday my eyes will shine, and I’ll be stronger than I was before, stronger than I thought I could be, because of all my experiences. And I’ll get to help others.
It’s funny because I used to always draw girls with no hair as well as girls with hair, even when I didn’t know what Trichotillomania was. I drew the girls because some girls just don’t have hair- like from chemo treatment. And I thought I should include girls without hair in my drawings, too. And now… I myself don’t have hair!
I know I didn’t write my story as proper as a teacher or adult would, but I did write it from my heart. Oh, and by the way, have you ever heard the little rap song for gangster that goes like this? “I’m a gangster; I’m a straight up g, the gangster life that’s the life for me.” Well, I made up my own “Trichster” version: “I’m a Trichster, a straight up T, but the Trichster life, ain’t the life for me!” Because it is not. I’m going to get better. And even if I DO end up pulling the rest of my life, that
doesn’t define who I am. I mean, it is important to me because of all I’ve learned and seen, but the life for me and what defines me… is in my heart. <3
Oh, and a shout out to all those other trichsters (WE CAN FIGHT IT!), Charlene Blacer (Thank you!!), who cares enough to write this book for us all, whom I love even though I’ve never met her besides on Facebook, and to YOU! Yes you, you who are reading this right now. Thank you <3 you’re in my prayers, whether I know you or not- and there’s nothing you can do about it ;)
April 10th, 2009
Hello to everyone reading this, my name is Stephen. I’m 16 years old and i have Trichotillomania. I have learned a great deal of things from having this, you find out who your real friends are. And then you find out things, not so great..
Hmm, i guess i will start out with “how i got it” but the truth is, i don’t really know. My parents said some jelly got stuck in my hair when i was little, and when i tried to get it out it pulled out some of my hair with it. And then i wouldn’t stop pulling my hair from then on. My parents tell me that same story every time i ask, but i still think its nonsense.
The troubles i had before finding help are quite simple. I remember being in the car (maybe around age 3-5) and my head was itching really bad. I didn’t have pulled if i didn’t find this little block shaped like a diamond. So, i picked it up and proceeded to scratch it against my head back and forth in the same spot. And after five minutes i was digging so hard, that my head started to bleed. I know y’all are thinking thats horrible, but at the time. I totally couldn’t help it.
Another thing, i don’t know why, but i remember the day before school started, third grade to be exact. Around 10 p.m., I was crying my eyes out, my parents came in saying “whats wrong?!” and i replied, “i have no hair! Everyone’s gonna make fun of me..” and i remember going on and on about that subject for 30 minutes, they finally calmed me down a little bit but i told them i was going to wear a hat to school tomorrow. Well the next day came, and as i entered the building my heart shattered. I was by myself and very nervous. And then i realized.. I didn’t have my hat. I stood up against a wall, pressing my head against it in hopes that no one would see me. Well as the final bell rang i was still there against the wall. Then the assistant principal came by and asked why i wasn’t in class, i don’t know what i said. But i do remember her taking me to class, and everyone stared at me. The only thing i could think of was to cover my head with my hands, and i did that the WHOLE class period! Although it was really obvious i was bald. And for the rest of the year i wore that hat no matter what, no one would make me take it off, until with countless people over it, and i would hide myself in my shirt and refused to be social.
Well that year seemed fine besides that one incident, until i heard the worst comment from someone. I was coming out of the bathroom. and i went to go wash my hands when this girl confronted me and said “why don’t you just get a wig?!” it was just so sudden and in my face.. all i could do was cry. I ran off to my teacher and the teacher made her apologize to me and even with the apology, it still hurts.
Now lets fast forward a little bit to my first time meeting a psychiatrist. Everything went well, he did his observations and everything. That’s the first time we really learned it was trichotillomania. He gave me some meds, and everything sounded like it would be okay, but it wasn’t. I remember being at school, and it was a great day, until the end. He told my friend next to me, “do you see that?!” and pointed near a light in the library room. he replied “no, what is it?” and i said “its god!
you can’t see him?” and i had no idea i was hallucinating, but i was. and it got worse when i was on the bus with my cousin. i would get these thoughts in my head from the devil saying specific things aimed towards my cousin. and i told him and it was just creepy i didn’t know what to do. i told my parents and when they confronted my psychiatrist through phone call. he didn’t answer, and he never did. they also said he left his job. so i don’t know what to think about all of that.
The 2nd person i saw was a psychologist. around 6th grade, she was a nice lady, and she gave me helpful ways of preventing hair pulling; like filling out charts, wearing gloves, bandaids, stress balls, etc. but all those last for so long till i started pulling again. my bandaids would make my fingers sweat, so i took them off. then hours later i would pull again. i was never allowed to wear gloves in school. so those didn’t help. and when i lost my stress ball, it was just game over. and after many visits to my psychologist she finally gave up on me. she told my parents they were paying her for nothing and if i was really going to stop i had to do it on my own. and that was that. From then on i haven’t yet found anything to help me from pulling my hair.
My advice to anyone out there, who has this, or knows someone who does. don’t give up, meet that one person you know can challenge you. and get them to help you through it together. don’t let trichotillomania win. you have trich, trich does not have you. My motivation is my mother, Susan. She told me “son,.. i would love to see you with a full head of hair someday” and all i could tell her was “you will, mom. i swear” and i’m going to keep that promise. And i’ll let you know that was
horrible to hear at the time, but it really motivated me. Just find that one person who will challenge you, and you will win.
April 10th, 2009
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