I have trichotillomania, and it has significantly impacted my life as I’ve constantly grappled with the desire to “stop pulling.” It all began when I was around eight years old. I vividly recall showing a friend a small white box where I kept the eyelashes I had pulled out. Her reaction was telling: “That’s not normal,” she exclaimed, wide-eyed. At that moment, I sensed something was off, but I didn’t fully understand the implications until many years later when I learned about trichotillomania—a hair-pulling disorder marked by compulsive hair removal.
Understanding Trichotillomania
While often grouped with obsessive-compulsive disorders, trichotillomania is categorized as an impulse control disorder. The areas from which those with this condition pull hair can vary; for me, it began with my eyelashes at seven or eight, and later, my eyebrows around eleven or twelve. According to the TLC Foundation for Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviors, about 1 to 2 in 50 people will experience trichotillomania at some point in their lives.
A Long Journey
Having dealt with this condition for 24 years, I struggle to recall a time when it wasn’t part of my life. Acceptance has come with age, but living with trichotillomania has been a challenging journey. From an early age, I became acutely aware of how unkind and judgmental people can be towards what they don’t understand. I faced name-calling, bullying, and even disapproval from family and friends.
The Weight of Expectations
For as long as I can remember, the goal of “stopping pulling” has been at the top of my list of aspirations. I anchored my self-worth to this goal, believing I couldn’t be whole or successful until I achieved it. Comments like, “Why don’t you just stop?” and “You just need more willpower,” flooded my thoughts, adding to my feelings of inadequacy and shame.
Motherhood and New Challenges
When my partner and I decided to start a family, I resolved to eliminate my hair-pulling habits for what felt like the thousandth time. I believed that my condition would impede my ability to be a good mother. Hair pulling consumed vast amounts of my energy and time, and I couldn’t fathom balancing motherhood with this struggle. The shame that accompanied my condition led me to believe my future children deserved a “normal” mother—whatever that meant. I even feared passing on undesirable traits to them, which could lead them down the same path of hair pulling.
During my pregnancy with my son, Charlie, I managed to grow back some of my eyelashes and eyebrows, though I was still pulling. I aimed to be completely pull-free by the time Charlie arrived, but the stress of pregnancy made that goal elusive. After he was born, I had made some progress with my hair growth, but stress quickly led me back to full-time pulling.
It began innocently enough—my hands would wander to my face during lengthy and often overwhelming breastfeeding sessions. Before long, I found myself back to having no eyebrows or eyelashes, resorting to drawing them on each day. One night, I broke down in tears to my partner about how my pulling spiraled out of control again, and I felt ashamed that I couldn’t overcome it for Charlie’s sake. I had foolishly thought that my love for him would be enough to make me stop.
A Shift in Perspective
In a moment of clarity, my partner asked me, “What motivates you to stop pulling now that you’re a mom?” I began to list my reasons: I didn’t want my kids to witness my pulling, fearing they might develop the habit. I worried they would perceive me as weak or be embarrassed by my appearance. His question prompted me to reflect deeply, and I realized I wasn’t concerned about Charlie facing ridicule from peers due to my appearance. We live in a time where makeup artistry is celebrated, and perhaps my experience could serve as a teaching opportunity for my children.
A light bulb went off in my mind, shifting my perspective from wanting to simply stop pulling to embracing my disorder as a means to teach acceptance and compassion. It’s crucial to me that I model inclusivity and empathy for my children, and I want them to understand that everyone has unique traits that make them who they are.
Teaching Acceptance
As Charlie grows older, I hope to explain that differences in appearance—like not having eyebrows or eyelashes—are part of what makes us unique. I want him to know that it’s okay to have imperfections and that self-love is essential, even when we aspire to improve ourselves. Above all, I want him to know he will always be loved just as he is.
Conclusion
In summary, living with trichotillomania has shaped my journey, and while I still struggle with the urge to pull, I see it as an opportunity for growth and teaching my children about acceptance and love. For more insights into parenting during challenging times, check out this article on home insemination. If you want to learn more about feeding safety during pregnancy, this resource can provide valuable information. Additionally, the CDC’s pregnancy page is an excellent resource for expectant parents.