“Mommy, please don’t pull your hair out!”
My heart sank when I heard those words. Having a self-destructive habit is one thing, but when your children are watching your every move, it takes on a whole new level of gravity. My son might just be 3 years old, yet he’s aware of my actions and their implications.
I’ve been grappling with trichotillomania since childhood. I vividly recall plucking my eyebrows and eyelashes as a little girl. There was a time when I completely removed all the eyebrow hairs from one side of my face. In a futile attempt to conceal it, I used makeup, but the result was nothing short of absurd. My cousin quickly pointed it out, exclaiming, “Did you draw your eyebrow?” That moment marked the first time I realized that others might notice my peculiar, secretive habit.
I emphasize the word “secret” because even though I would pull my hair in plain sight, no one ever addressed it. My family never discussed it. Friends, romantic partners, and coworkers remained silent about it, letting it loom like an unwelcome guest throughout my life. I distinctly remember being on a bus in Madrid during college, mindlessly yanking hairs from my scalp when an elderly woman approached me, hurling insults in Spanish. “Freak, crazy, witch…” are the words that stood out from her angry outburst. More than the harshness of her words, I was taken aback that a stranger would confront me about my disorder. It remains the only instance where someone has ever called me out on this issue.
The term “disorder” feels harsh, doesn’t it? I’m not in crisis here; I’m just pulling out hair one strand at a time. It doesn’t cause me pain; in fact, it offers a strange sense of relief. It may sound odd, but I promise you, I’m not alone in this struggle. According to the American Journal of Psychiatry, around 2% of the population is affected by trichotillomania. Even celebrities like my favorite, Olivia Munn, have publicly shared their experiences with it.
Unfortunately, there’s no quick solution for this condition. In fact, there’s no definitive solution at all. I’ve consulted psychiatrists, psychologists, and therapists who’ve tried to aid me in overcoming this habit. I’ve experimented with countless medications, donned wigs, hats, and gloves, and even applied essential oils, Rogaine, and castor oil to my scalp. I’ve explored hypnotherapy and engaged in fervent prayer. Yet, nothing seems to provide relief. I feel trapped in this cycle.
Fortunately, I’m able to hide my bald patches from most people. They assume my hair is naturally fine and that I prefer my hair short, tied back, or covered. The truth? I long for long, thick, beautiful hair. I yearn for the day I can let it flow freely without the constant urge to tug and tear. Yet, I’m aware it could be much worse. Many individuals face far more severe consequences. I’ve read accounts of others who’ve had to shave their heads, and I’ve seen images of women with completely bare scalps, unable to disguise their condition.
When someone says, “It makes me want to tear my hair out,” I flinch. I understand that sentiment all too well. Anxiety, boredom, and stress can trigger this compulsion. Whether I’m watching TV, sitting at my computer, or driving, I find myself plucking hairs one by one until there’s a small pile on the floor. I often gather these remnants, hoping to dispose of the evidence and start fresh.
Many of the professionals I consulted eventually dismissed my problem. They acknowledged it as an issue but suggested that since it wasn’t harming anyone else, perhaps I should just accept it. Leaving their offices, I felt a sense of hopelessness, as if a “Case Closed” sign hovered above me. I’ve often wondered whether this is a lifelong struggle for me. This morning, as I heard my son plead for me to stop pulling my hair while we were in the car, I questioned whether my actions truly have no impact on him.
Today marks the first time I’ve openly discussed my trichotillomania. Until now, I’ve kept this disorder confined to myself and a select few family members. Like many genetic conditions, there’s no cure and minimal research available on the subject. I may battle this for the rest of my life or perhaps overcome it someday. However, as a mother, a new layer of concern has emerged.
Will my children inherit this struggle? Will they observe my actions and feel compelled to mimic them? Or even worse, will they see me as “weird” or “crazy”?
I tend to be an optimist and recognize that in the grand scheme of things, this is a relatively manageable issue compared to others one might face on a survey. I count my blessings, but I still pray. I pray for healing and recovery. I pray for an end to the shame and self-loathing. And I pray that my behavior has no adverse effects on my kids and their perception of me. After all, right now, I’m a superhero in their eyes, and the thought of becoming just “human” breaks my heart.
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Summary:
In this candid reflection, Sarah Thompson shares her lifelong battle with trichotillomania, a disorder characterized by the compulsive urge to pull out hair. As a mother, she grapples with the impact of her habit on her children while seeking understanding and healing. Though she recognizes the challenges she faces, she remains hopeful for recovery and is determined to shield her kids from the potential repercussions of her actions.