Trichy Stuff...

Trichotillomania is defined as the compulsive pulling of one's own hair. Some would categorize it as impulse control disorder, others as obsessive compulsive disorder. Either way, it's a real pain in the rear...well, in the head to be more literal. Trich, as some sufferers call it, is something of an enigma. It's considered rare and difficult to treat, not to mention it results in social stigmas that can destroy even the strongest of personalities.

Here it is from my perspective...

When I was about thirteen I started pulling in my sleep. I would awaken in the morning with strands of hair on my pillow and even clutched in my hands. There would be moments (usually bouts of teen angst or boredom) when I would "zone out", plucking away, only to find hours later that I'd removed large portions of hair from my head. What have I done?

How embarrassing! Everyone was going to think I was crazy... maybe I am crazy. I'd better come up with a lie... and a good one at that. Thus, the story of an allergic reaction to some random shampoo. This, of course, wasn't going to work with my mother, who marched me to several doctors, none of which had any idea of what they were looking at.

Over the years I continued to pull. Sometimes just a few... sometimes a lot... a lot. People pointed, called me names, snickered behind my back... kids are cruel. Adults are worse. I understand that children are curious, and often forget manners when something strikes them as odd and out of place. It was the pity factor from grown ups that really rubbed me the wrong way. "That poor girl" "How awful" "Does she have cancer"? No. I don't. Let's change the subject, please.

By age twenty-three I had a name for my affliction (thanks to an article in a fashion/beauty magazine). It's amazing how psychiatrists get all excited when I tell them I have Trich. It's akin to pulling the Loch Ness monster out of my purse ... they've never seen one before! Now, I get to be the Guinea pig ... We'll try this medication, and that medication at suchnsuch a dosage accompanied by behavior modification followed up by a judo chop and Mo poking Curly in the eye, Nyuk Nyuk Nyuk. The worst part? ... the following questions...

"Why don't you just stop?"

Don't you think I would have if I could? Sure!...and, while I'm at it, I'll just drop sixty pounds by tomorrow morning and pull a million dollars out of my back pocket.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

After doing it for a while, it becomes a lot like, say, someone playing the violin. At first, those violin strings make your fingers very sore, but with practice, they become a little callused making way for some beautiful music. With Trich, you become numb to it, physically. Mentally, however, I'd much rather give birth to an elephant than endure the emotional upset caused by this disease.

"What about a wig?"

The good ones are too expensive, and the cheap ones, well, are cheap. They're hot, sweaty, uncomfortable, and I have better things on which to spend my money... like food, and shelter, and books.

So, in a nutshell, at this point, the only thing that really works is keeping my hands busy, trying to reduce stress (which is quite difficult for anyone, much less me) and the love, support and understanding of people close to me. If you know of someone who suffers from Trich, just be there for them. The last thing they need is pity, or questions, or suggestions from non-sufferers. For everyone who is a sufferer, like me, know that you're not alone. There are times when you may go long periods of time without pulling, then relapse. It's O.K. It happens to the best of us.