Psyche logo

A Trichy Story

My Experiences with Trichotillomania

By Dandelion FlorencePublished 6 years ago 9 min read
Like

A Trichy story.

Where do I start? Well, maybe right here because my hand keeps straying up to my head to pick at the bumpy, crusty scabs on my scalp. I better start typing something in order to occupy both hands, and make a start on this story. It is one of my stories, and one aspect of me. My name's Dandelion, and since the age of 5 I have been continually fighting an inner dance of detachment with my hair. Or more finely put, in the most part, my eyelashes and eyebrows.

I will briefly explain to what behaviour I'm referring to. Trichotillomania, (Trichy for short) is an impulse-control disorder, often, but not always, associated with anxiety and depression. Scab-picking on my head runs a close parallel with Trichotillomania, and shares similar triggers, and is something that, for me, started later, around 11 or 12 years old.

I have a very clear memory of my first Trichy encounter. I was with my mum, at my aunt’s house. I was five. I had a sty on my top left eyelid. It was big, red and about to erupt. I must have said something about it to them, because my aunty told me the best way to get rid of sties was to pull out the closest lash, which would unblock the pore and free the poison. So, I tried it. I got it between my fingers, and felt the silky strength of the thick hair and the smoothness of the lash's curve. I remember how I pulled it, I felt the round solid root tear away from the follicle, and break loose. I saw it then, and how the thin silver sack of coating wrapped around the brooding ball of the hair's essence. It hurt, a sharp glowing sting that I could feel all the way down my legs to my feet. It encompassed everything and it felt better. I knew that there were one or two more hairs around the sty that I also needed to pull out.

From that sanctioned introduction, my relationship with pulling blossomed. I have a few fleeting memories of my mum asking me to tip my head up towards the light so she could she my eyes. She had noted some gaps in the hairs. Ironically, I remember her telling me how beautiful my eyes and hair were. I remember seeing a photo of me at seven crouching on the floor with two fluffy kittens, looking up at the camera with long dark plaits, but no sign of any eyelashes at all. They were completely gone. Big, round and bare alien-looking eyes. I don't think I had any idea what was going on.

So it continued. There were frequent conversations about not picking or fiddling with my lashes, tension and helplessness with my parents not knowing what to make of my behaviour, or how to help me. Our house was filled with huge feelings of anxiety and frustration over what was happening and why I was unable to stop pulling. My thoughts of rationality were blasted into nothing with the absolute certainty that I had to neaten any lashes that broke out of the (imaginary) line, and the uncontrollable and drowning itch to feel one more pain release. I was told I had to wear gloves in bed, and then, during the evening too. I used to sneak them off my hands when no one was looking. The unmovable grip that the biggest, most embedded root had over me was intense and unrelenting, and the feelings of release from dislodging each hair could not be replicated any other way. The best prizes were the ones that hurt the most and ricocheted around my head, sending flashes of energy down to my feet. Using squashy toys, plasticine, and deep breathing as distractions were no substitute for the immediate release of pulling. They were mere mosquitos, interruptions that had nothing to compare with the overwhelming desire to zone out and pull. To go to the place where I felt calm because I was lulling myself into bliss, like a landed fish landing back in the water.

When I moved up to middle school, other children started to notice. They started bullying me, and initially I had no notion of what they were talking about. I knew that I used to have lashes. I knew that they didn't really exist any more. I didn't really associate their lack with my own actions and the feeling I got when I pulled. My disconnection between cause and effect was monumental. Through the actions of the other children, I rapidly gained a blade-sharp awareness of my hair-less aberration, which made me recoil from myself. Feelings of self-loathing which, before, had slowly been brewing, suddenly cascaded into a full onslaught of disgust, yet I still couldn't stop pulling.

At some point between eleven and thirteen I was taken to my doctor who referred me to a CBT councillor. She gave a name to this behaviour and put me on a six-week CBT course which I remember following but didn't really comprehend, and indeed felt some aversion as to why I needed to put everything into boxes. However, I do remember that it was a massive change, in fact a blast of tension-popping release, to talk about this large part of my life with someone who was familiar with this behaviour. The fact that it had a name in Trichotillomania helped in as much as I understood that there were other people who did the same things. I found a book that helped me to understand more about it, and identify some of the triggers, such as tiredness and anxiety. Some strategies had more impact than others, and the CBT helped a bit but generally my trichy self was fairly unpredictable and pull-free times never lasted very long. Throughout the years, there have been various experiences and situations which have made it worse, and some which have helped and made it better for a time. Recurrent periods of depression, anxiety and some other startling episodes were frequent players, but throughout it all, to one degree or another, there has been pulling. Like a tenacious monkey sitting on my shoulder, sometimes sleeping, sometimes awake, but never very far from the follicles. The compulsion spread from my eyes, to my eyebrows. Much less frequently, it involves my pubic hair and nose hair. Often it also includes the hairs from my upper lip and a few thicker hairs that occasionally grow on my chin. I know them all intimately. The real prized ones are the ones with the biggest roots. Eye and brow lashes, and sometimes pubic hair because they run deep. My eyelashes and eyebrows have another added element in the routine. Once I have pulled them, I am mostly compelled to prick the root onto my lips. The ones on my face have the biggest impact on my self-esteem because they are visible to the outside and I feel naked without them. They are the ones people look at when they first meet you. Even if they don't notice exactly what is wrong, they still see that something is out of place. To me, I feel like there are sirens going off, magnifying glasses hovering above my eyes, stage lights at the ready and crowds of people straining to get a look at my freak ugly eyes.

In the past I would go to any lengths to avoid being detected, including using biros to draw my lashes, before I discovered eyeliner. I had long hair and so kept it firmly over my eyes when I felt someone might be able to see through the armour. If I ever lost my eyeliner, or couldn’t find a biro, I would panic. Every day was (and still is) a struggle to not pull. I used to hate myself for not being able to stop. I would resist and resist.... sometimes by the hour, more often by the minute, and then eventually, the bubble would burst, and half an hour later I would see the effects of my pulling scattered around me on the table. This would trigger another bout of self-loathing, however, it would not stem or still my fingers searching out the odd hair that was 'out of place' or a particular sensitive root that just had to come out.

I don't hate myself anymore for pulling. Over the years I have found out more and more information which has helped me to accept this part of myself and realise how it is not an isolated factor in my being, but rather entwined with many aspects of my behaviour to be resolved with understanding, not hate. I have used several Internet resources and forums (links included below), which have been amazing, as they share other people's experiences, which helps to dissolve feelings of isolation. I remember how amazed I was when I read about someone else touching the hair to their lip to feel the sharp and sometimes wet, root. In fact, this is not uncommon with Trichy. Sometimes the hair is even eaten. I have also realised, that, if I am caught without my make-up disguise, it really isn't as obvious as I think it is. It's a heightened sense of how people perceive me and I can't read their minds. I find it helpful to remind myself of this often. I am not a mind reader. Also, I guess I am building up my 'I don't care / let it go' factor too. If somebody notices, so what? This varies of course, on days when I'm feeling confident and relaxed then it's easier to meet the eyes of the world head on. If, on the other hand, I am feeling low or anxious then there is no way I want to let my defences down. I will keep my eyeliner on, and eyebrows firmly filled in, and shades too if I want them. I accept this now, and I am happy with developed confidence. I am dealing with myself gently over this, and do not need to give myself extra pressure. If I want to wear twenty pairs of shades, it's my choice, I'm fine with it, and were I to be able to cartwheel, I would wear them cartwheeling!

Finally, there are so many different strategies and ideas to try with Trichotillomania, it varies from person to person, and there are as many different contexts as there are people. Stress management, relaxation techniques, Trich toys (things to keep your hands occupied during trigger times – squeezy balls, doodling, knitting, plasticine...writing a blog! etc.). There are also several serums and oils that you can use on lashes that encourage rapid growth and good hair condition too. Learning to talk to people about it has helped tremendously. It has taken time to do, but now I can speak about Trich to anyone. It really helps take off some of the pressure. Finally, one majorly important aspect for me personally, is the idea that if you are trying to be pull-free, and then you start pulling again, not to beat yourself up over it. You can't start your journey over again if you're busy tripping up your own feet with recriminations. Start afresh each time. If you can resist for one second, great, do it! Don't worry about the next second. This will take care of itself. I think the more you develop your self-control and practice your self-love, the stronger you will become, and so the pull-free times will increase in frequency and length, alongside the growth of your hair.

Internet link suggestions:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC61riJ9dHUNKhedeejZfXAg

http://charizmatic.com/trich/index.php

https://www.facebook.com/TrichotillomaniaSupport

coping
Like

About the Creator

Dandelion Florence

Musician, artist, noise-maker, linguist, translator, procrastinator, obsessive energiser, multi-focused activist, ludicrous antagonist and farcical pre-coffee communicator.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.