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.