depression, trich

My Story

I am going to do this early so that it is in the deepest parts of my bog.  This is something very personal to me, and I have not shared it with many people.  Actually, I’ve only shared it with three: my mom, my boyfriend, and my therapist.  All of them are very supportive, but it gets hard to talk to them about it all the time.  I just make them upset.

I was three years old the first time it started.  I was told that if I lost an eyelash that I could make a wish.  So, I started tearing them out.  It became a habit, and I got so scared when I got into elementary school that all of my eyelashes would be gone, but I never could stop.  Luckily, it faded as I got older.

However, something new started when I was in fifth grade.  I had just moved from Texas to South Carolina, and I was already the new kid so I just had to mess it up even more.  One day, I took a shower early in the morning but I hadn’t gotten out all of the conditioner.  My hair felt so uncomfortable on the top of my head that I started playing with it.

At first, I just started messing around with the ends and feeling some of my split ends.  I would also just pull down from my roots to the ends to feel if anything was there.  In my defense, one time I found a random bug and I still haven’t seen another like it.  Anyway, it was just simple.  It was distracting but it didn’t hurt me.

Then, I started pulling.  I have naturally very straight hair and when I noticed that on the top of my head there were pieces that felt thick and crumpled, I pulled them.  I’d even do it in class.  However, I would get pimples on the top of  my head from putting my hands through it so much.  Grossly, I would pick them constantly.  I only did this on my head.

I eventually got a therapist in the sixth grade and was diagnosed with anxiety.  My therapist worked with my pediatrician and they started me on Zoloft.  I was doing much better.  I didn’t do it much throughout my seventh, eighth, ninth, or tenth grade.  But, of course, it came back.

Junior year was a wreck.  I had just stopped my physical activity of competitive dancing.  I had very difficult classes.  I was worrying about the SAT, ACT, and college.  I didn’t have any good friends other than my boyfriend.  My mom and I weren’t close.  I started eating a lot.  I gained 30 pounds. And then, I started pulling my hair.  I hated the environment I was being put in with mean kids, just awful people.  I hated myself, I hated everything.

That was when they upped my Zoloft and diagnosed me with depression.  I also didn’t know what trichotillomania was until then.

I have definitely gotten better in regards to my depressive tendencies, but the hair just gets worse.

I see my bald spots and I hate myself even more.  I see the way I look in the mirror, and I hate myself.  I hate what I have become, and I hate what I do to keep me in these positions.  But I just can’t stop.

It’s hard, you know.

I feel like I’m in a catch 22.  I feel like I’m lost, powerless, alone.

I know that I have people that love me.  But I know there are people that are awful to me and others.  And I know that I’m awful to myself.

I have tried so many times and in different ways to stop doing these things to myself.  I try to love myself.  I try to think that I am beautiful.  I am trying. I’m just stuck.

Everyone keeps saying this is temporary.  I hope this is true.  I want to love myself again. I want to be confident walking around again.  I want to feel beautiful.

I am beautiful.

I must be, so many people keep telling me this, even when others tell me I’m ugly.  They tell everyone they’re ugly.  They’re just bad people.  I want to believe I’m beautiful.

I have to.

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2 thoughts on “My Story”

  1. Hi,
    This post really struck a chord with me because wishing on eyelashes was how my trich started for me! I look forward to learning more about how trich affects you and hopefully seeing you work towards controlling the urge soon! X

    Liked by 1 person

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