anxiety, depression, health, personal, trich

Another Episode

I pulled out a lot of hair today.  I haven’t washed it in a while because I hate getting it wet.  It makes me feel terrible about myself.  I still have piles of hair on the bathroom counter, but if I go in there I know I’ll start pulling again.  I think this blog may be helping me.  It’s keeping my hands busy typing rather than pulling.  I like how fast I am at typing, it gives me some sort of satisfaction.  Maybe it’s similar to hair pulling, it’s not as relaxing though.

Anyway, I feel kind of useless with this blog.  Nobody really seems to be benefitting but me, and it seems like a waste of time. But maybe it could help my trich.

I don’t know.  I gave myself another bald spot.  When I went to see my mom she started to cry because of how thin my hair has gotten.  She has never done that before.  It must be really bad this time.

I still try to keep my therapist in the loop, but it’s hard when my hands are always busy.  Everything is hard to do with my hands always busy.

anxiety, depression, diet, fitness, health, trich, weight

Why am I this way?

 

Why am I like this? Why can’t I stop yanking and pulling my hair out of my scalp?

Sometimes I do better. There was a week long period that I didn’t pull a single hair. Every time I document if I pull my hair I don’t do it! Then, if that works, why can’t I keep doing that? Why do I have to torture myself?

I feel like a complete idiot when I do it, because I think I can force myself to stop, but I don’t.  Is that the way it is for anyone else? Or am I just doing this to myself.  I doubt that I have trichotillomania sometimes.  I think that I must enjoy doing it.  However, it makes me hate myself.

It’s the same thing with food. I gained 30 lbs during this school year, and I know how to stop it.  I know the science of it. I just don’t do it.  Is it because I’m just a lazy son of a gun?  Is it because I want to be bigger? I just eat junk. I have a gym membership, but I never go. I have a thousand ways that I could help myself, and yet, I don’t.

My fat goes to my stomach, and I don’t fit into my old clothes anymore.

The way I look makes me hate myself.

I have about one hundred stretch marks on my thighs that are bright pink.  My stomach goes out farther than my breasts which are already large.  My face makes a double chin unless I jut out my chin. Tank tops show folds around my arms and underarms. My hair is a fourth of it’s original thickness.  I have bald spots no matter how I style my hair.  I don’t know why I don’t just fix it.

I don’t take care of myself half the time.  I rarely wash my hair because I hate the way it looks when it’s wet, and I avoid it at all costs.  I eat crap because I stop caring, but when I get on the scale I cry.

Why can’t I stop this?

Why am I this way?