One hair, two hairs, three hairs, more.. 50 hairs, I lost count, but my sink is full of what used to be attached to my head. “Hurry up we have to leave” My mom yells from the other side of the door, what am I doing? I turn on the faucet and let all my hair go down the drain.
I was 12 years when I started pulling my own hair off, consciously. Knowing exactly what I was doing, but helpless to stop. When I started my head was in a cute little bob, abundant of hair, thick beautiful black hair. 5 years later here I am, long black hair, thin now, bald patches on the sides and the back of my head. Beautiful girl, what have you done to your hair?
When I was in seventh grade I went to various Psychiatrist, all asking me the now most typical question of my life “Why do you do it?” Now, let me get started on the “why” of my disorder. I DON’T KNOW. I really, don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. It just started, one day in the restroom, as I caressed my hair I had the sudden urge to pull one strand, one strand of hair turned to 5, to many, to being all over the sink every trip I make to the bathroom, to covering the left side of my carpet next to my bed, to.. everywhere.
Everywhere I stay for more than 10 minutes you will find my hair, everywhere. I don’t do it in front of people, I don’t do it unconsciously, I don’t do it at a specific time, I just do. I do it, and I touch every single strand of the desired place where I want to pull, I touch it three times before deciding which one is the thicker one, the one that will come with the follicle, when I pull it, I know how it sounds when it comes with the follicle or not. If it does come with the follicle I’ll simply take it off and throw it somewhere. I do not eat it, I do not chew it nor put it anywhere near my mouth. I just pull it.
Now, going back to your question of why I do this to myself.. I simply cannot answer that. I think if I knew I would stop, don’t you think if I knew why I did it I would stop? Or tell you why I do it so you could fix me? But that’s the problem, I don’t fuckin’ know.
The simplicity of this girl became a complex mechanism at age 12. At 17, I’m a twisted maze in the inside, yet ever so simple on the outside. You’re probably wondering if you can tell about my bald patches, well no, you can’t. I seem fairly normal and average, just like any teenage girl. My hair is so long it covers it.
You might be thinking I’m crazy as well. And dear heart I’m not. Through all those trips to the mental Hospitals they never came to a consensus of why I did it, not even a hypothesis of what was inciting this odd behavior of mine, but they were sure of one thing, I am not crazy my mom had me tested. Purum tss.
I don’t only pull my hair for “funsies” I have an anxiety disorder which was primarily why the doctors thought I did it, but it turns out it has nothing to do with it. I too, have an eating disorder, but I honestly say it has no correlation to my case since I’ve been struggling with weight back in the 2000s thanks to my dear old step dad who called me “Fat” in my ballerina outfit at age 7. On the summer of 2012 I became anemic, but that neither increased my pulling of hair nor stopped it, so that’s out the list.
I sound so insane, don’t I? Or a child with serious problems who should probably seek help, NOW. But, what can you do when your mother suffers from a terminal heart condition? Can I just be like “Hey mom, so remember when I used to pull my hair in seventh grade? Yeah well that never stopped.” I can’t do that to her, I remember every time she would discover a new bald patch she would fill with wrath, beat me repeatedly, cry and ask me “Why”. Luckily, after a few years, I’ve mastered the art to cover those bald spots of mine. I tried telling her a few months ago that I think I should go to the psychiatrist, but she refuses to accept that her A-student, band geek, going into medical school daughter has a mental disorder. Sucks for you, crazy girl.
My disorder is called Trichollitmania by the way, it’s the mental disorder of pulling ones hair. Voluntarily that is. There is no know cause, nor treatment. I’m sick and tired of my bullshit, to doing this to my own body, it’s disgusting, not appealing to the male eye.
Recently I told someone for the first time ever, a friend; I’ve never told anyone of this, the only people that know are my parents. It was the hardest mother fucking thing I’ve ever done in my life. Okay maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration but still.. I had been wanting to tell someone for a while, but I hadn’t found the right person to tell it to; Way to go girl, you told the one guy you have feelings for about your nonsense.
He was terribly understanding, non-judgmental and all together too good. He turned out to have a mental disorder too, or something of that sort. Sweet baby Jesus, we’re both psycho.
After what has been almost a life long struggle, I’ve decided I am going to shave my head. No hair, no pulling. How did I not think of that before? But I don’t want to pull a Britney spears, I want it to be done professionally, and I want to look classy. Always stay classy.