“Mommy, please don’t pull your hair out!” My heart sank when my son said those words. It’s one thing to grapple with a personal habit, but it’s an entirely different matter when I have little eyes observing my every action. My son, though just three, is acutely aware of my behavior.
I’ve been dealing with trichotillomania since childhood. I vividly recall the days of plucking out my eyebrows and eyelashes. There was a particularly embarrassing incident when I removed all the hairs from one side of my brow. Attempting to cover it up with makeup only made things worse, and my cousin quickly noticed. “Did you draw on your eyebrow?” she exclaimed, and in that moment, I became painfully aware that my peculiar habit wasn’t as private as I thought.
I emphasize “secret” because, despite my public displays of hair pulling, no one ever addressed it. My family, friends, and colleagues all acted as if it were a taboo subject. I remember a bus ride in Madrid during my college years when, in a moment of anxiety, I started pulling strands from my scalp. An older woman confronted me, hurling insults in Spanish—words like “freak” and “crazy.” That was the only time a stranger ever acknowledged my struggle, leaving me shocked more by her boldness than by what she said.
The term “disorder” feels harsh. I’m not in dire straits; I simply engage in this habit that offers a strange sense of relief. Odd as it sounds, pulling hair can be soothing. Research suggests that around 2% of the population experiences trichotillomania, and even celebrities like my favorite actress, Lila Greene, have opened up about their battles with it.
Unfortunately, there’s no simple solution. I’ve sought help from various mental health professionals and tried countless medications. I’ve experimented with wigs, hats, and even gloves. I’ve applied essential oils, Rogaine, and castor oil to my scalp. Hypnotherapy and prayer have both been in my toolkit, yet nothing seems to work. The struggle persists.
Fortunately, most people overlook the patches in my hair. They assume my fine strands are natural or that I prefer my hair short and styled in a ponytail. The truth is, I long for a head full of thick, flowing hair. I dream of the day when I can let my hair down without the relentless urge to pull. Yet, I know it could be worse; I’ve encountered stories of individuals who had to shave their heads, unable to hide their condition.
When someone says, “It makes me want to tear my hair out,” I wince internally. I understand that feeling all too well. Anxiety, boredom, and stress—all trigger my compulsion. I pull hair one at a time, creating a small pile on the floor, which I often gather up and dispose of, trying to erase the evidence.
Many professionals I’ve seen have dismissed my issue, suggesting that since I’m not harming anyone else, it’s best to simply accept it. This left me feeling defeated, as if a “Case Closed” sign were hanging over my head. I’ve often wondered if this is a lifelong struggle. Today, when my son pleaded with me to stop, it made me question whether my actions affect him and my other children in ways I can’t see.
This is the first time I’m openly discussing my trichotillomania. Previously, I kept it hidden from all but my closest family. Like many genetic conditions, there’s little research and no cure. I may battle with this for a long time, or perhaps I’ll overcome it. But as a mother, my worries have expanded. Will my children inherit this disorder? Will they mimic my behavior? Or worse, will they label me as “crazy” or “strange”?
I try to maintain a positive outlook. In the grand scheme of life’s challenges, this is a relatively manageable issue. I recognize my blessings, yet I still pray. I pray for healing and freedom from shame. I hope my behavior doesn’t influence my children negatively. Right now, I’m their superhero, and it pains me to think of the day I might simply be viewed as “human.”
In summary, my journey through trichotillomania has been a deeply personal and often hidden struggle. As I navigate motherhood, I grapple with the fear of my children following suit while trying to maintain hope for a future where this disorder doesn’t define me.
For those interested in exploring more about family planning and fertility treatments, I recommend checking out March of Dimes, which provides excellent resources on these topics. If you’re looking for more information about at-home insemination, visit Make a Mom, a trusted source in this area. For further insights into related topics, you can view our terms and conditions.