Goldi-No-Locks

January 6th

I suppose the time has come for me to explain everything. I've been putting this off for as long as possible. It's not that I have trouble talking about it (I've even memorised my own easy-to-understand spiel about it), although I do have trouble putting my deepest feelings into words. I want to be as sincere and open as possible, although how can I be completely honest about something even I don't fully understand? Ahh, I'm off topic again. Right. I'll write out a summary of my disorder, then I'll go into more detail as we go along.

I have an impulse-control disorder called Trichotillomania (Trich, for short), which causes me to pull out my hair, resulting in noticeable bald patches. It's a very complex mental disorder, and it not only has negative physical effects, but many emotional repercussions as well (a lot of people with Trich develop severe depression and anxiety).

People with Trich don't only pull out the hair on their head; some pull out their eyebrows, eyelashes, etc. For me, I only attack the hair on my head; unless I shave my head, then I will move onto other areas.

A lot of people say, "Stop complaining about your hair. You're the one pulling it out, just stop pulling." But it's not that easy. It's an irresistible urge and you feel like you can't stop. Sometimes, you don't even know you're doing it. Let me give a few examples. Have you ever had a pimple that you want to pop? No, you NEED to pop? It's inflamed and prominent on your face, and you feel the need to remove it? That's similar to what Trich is like. The urge- the feeling- of pulling out the hair is so strong, you feel like you can't resist it. And, sometimes you start unintentionally. Using the same example: even if you resist the urge to pop that pimple, do you ever start doing else, and your hand involuntarily starts picking at it? And you don't realize it until the damage is already done? Or, do you ever casually twirl or pull your hair while absorbed in something else, not realizing you're doing it? Those are similar feelings to having Trich, although occasional pulling of your hair is not Trichotillomania, and occasional skin-picking is not Dermatillomania (obsessive skin-picking disorder).

Pheww! It's all out in the open. Now, I'm going to talk about my personal experience with Trich.

I started showing signs of hair-pulling when I was 7, although it was nothing of concern. We had just moved; I was starting a new school and I was really scared. I started twisting my hair when I was nervous, and got so used to it, I continued all the time. My hair was long and gorgeous back then. It felt so nice to run my hands over my scalp and down my golden hair. I started pulling strands out; first only one of two at a time, then five or six. Soon, I was pulling out every strand that was longer than the rest or darker than the rest, or any that were out of place. I didn't just want every strand to be identical to the rest, I also craved the feeling of pulling it out.

Around the age of 10, I began to realize it wasn't normal for me to be pulling out so much hair. Nobody else seemed to, and my mom scolded me several times for always having my hands in my hair. She told me not to pull my hair, but didn't assume it was anything to be worried about; after all, I was young and always messing with something. It wasn't until one day- one terrible, awful, horrible day- that I realized there was something wrong with me.

"Eww, what's wrong with your head?"

I frowned in uncertainty at my school mate's loud remark. Everyone in my 5th grade classroom turned to look at me.

"What?" I asked him.

"What's wrong with the back of your head? It looks gross."

I reached up and felt the back of my head. To my horror, I realized there was a bald patch there. Only around an inch long, which isn't much in comparison to what I do now, although it was startling and humiliating at the time.

When I got home, I locked myself in the bathroom and examined my head closely. The bald patch was even worse than I had pictured. I spent hours analyzing every bit of my head, and found two more small patches. Although the other patches were mostly covered by the rest of my hair, I freaked out. I put two-and-two together, and realized it was my pulling that had caused the patches. I resolved not to pull anymore, no matter how much I wanted to mess with my hair.

Several days later, I found another patch. And the patch my school mate had pointed out had grown by about half an inch. I was shocked and afraid. I can't stop.

The damage was getting harder to hide from my parents. I could only wear hats so often, and they began to wonder why I was secluding myself in my room.

I thought about it for days, then had an inspiration. In my 10-year-old mind, it was the perfect plan. I waited until my mom was busy with dinner, and my dad was at work, and I retreated to the bathroom once again, with a pair of scissors.

It wasn't until I had chopped off mobs of my hair, that I realized it was a terrible mistake. The floor was covered with long golden locks, and my new "haircut" was short and uneven. My idea that it would hide the bald patches failed; they looked even worse next to the choppy hair that still remained. I pulled out handfuls of hair in frustration while trying to think of a way to hid it from my parents, but with no avail. I finally ran downstairs- tears streaming down my face as I ran into my mom's arms.

At first my mom appeared mad, but once she saw my distress, she comforted me. I managed to choke out the whole story for her; how I started pulling, when I found bald patches, and that I couldn't stop. She tried to console me, although I could tell she didn't believe that I couldn't stop myself.

To make a long story short, after visiting many doctors and therapists, we learned that my uncommon disorder had a name: Trichotillomania. I could finally explain to people what was wrong with me, instead of just saying "I pull out my hair, that's why I have bald patches." Everyone would understand and accept it. Right?

"You want me to believe that you can't stop pulling out your hair?"

"Is your disease catching?"

"I think you're trying to get attention."

"That's not even a real thing. They're making up 'disorders' for everything nowadays."

"Just stop pulling."

Apparently, it doesn't matter whether or not your illness has a name of not; people don't always accept it. A lot of times, people judge me when they first see my hair, and won't listen when I try to explain.

Phew... That's a lot to take in for now. I hope you don't judge too harshly. I feel so tired after writing about all that; I've been pulling out loads of hair while thinking of how to word all this. I'll try to write more over the next few days... I'm glad I got all that out of the way, so now I can explain my day-to-day life while I deal with Trich.

~Chrysta