To Jamie: thanks so much for getting me to dig deep down about this. And thanks for taking an interest in it some. Sorry if it is wierd I made it public.
To anyone elsewho may read this: It is long and may be boring, just me and my life and experiance with my Trich
Also there are pictures and medical records and some journal of my mom's that could also go along with this if by some random reason someone wants to know more.
- I've been doing this for 9+ years
- I pull not only from my scalp but entire body
- It feeds on depression and depression feeds on it
- I tend to eat the root and sometimes the whole hair, this is called Trichophagia.
- I also pick my skin, scabs, and bite my nails. Called Dermatillomania
I recall the first time I pulled, I honestly don't know why I did it but I just had an idea while laying in bed one night, "i wonder what it would be like to have a bald spot?" So i pulled some, until I had a little spot about the size of a dime on the top of my head that was bald. It hurt bad but it was cool because the spot was smooth unlike I had ever felt. I remember my sister looking over at me and making a funny face, I threatened her not to tell my parents, and in 9 years she never said a word about my pulling even after it came out as truth.
After that I remember very little pulling, for a 11 year old I seemed very depressed, maybe caused by the Trich, maybe it caused the trich or maybe they just fed off each other. My hair was first brought to attention while getting my hair cut, the stylist noticed a spot the size of a quarter and pointed it out to my mother, she said she thought I had some sort of fungus. I never spoke up about pulling, I was far to embarrassed. My mother being a mom stressed and ran me to a doctor as soon as I could get in, I recall the doctor being confused because I had no symptoms for a fungus besides a bald spot and sending me to another Dr. This new doctor sent me to another Dr. I ended up doing tests taking biopsies and all the sort looking for fungus, in the end it was ruled a fungus and I was put on medications and a special shampoo in March of 2001. I knew I didn't need them but I went along with it. All my doctors and my parents had asked the simple question of it I pulled though, I could have let it out then, but I didn't. If only I had admitted it then and got help early I would've never got as bad for nearly so long as I have.
From here I have very little memory of anything but embarrassment and depression. I would see myself in a mirror see my missing patches of hair and get depressed, which lead me to so sort of self injury, usually just more pulling, and more pulling lead to more patches to more depression and so on.
I stopped seeing Dr's because I was "afraid", honestly it was because I was sick of wasting so much of my parents time and money for the Dr's to draw my blood and find nothing wrong with me. Blood wouldn't show that my brain didn't work, that I was crazy. I needed to be committed or something, but I just committed myself to me.
In junior high the major issue was the depression, rarely was I asked about my hair. But I do remember once at a dance Jacob Peres did ask me what was wrong with my hair. It was the first time I remember being asked by a peer, I didn't know what to say, so I stuck with the fungus. It sounded sick but at least it didn't make me sound crazy. For the most part I wasn't self conscious at this time and people didn't seem to really care.
High School was a different story though. I was slowly starting to accept my problem with pulling, but it was still something for only me to know. I was self-conscious, but being that way still mainly only caused depression. My hair still doesn't strike high into my memory at that time in my life only sadness. At the end of junior year my mom approached me again about pulling my hair. I thought after 4 years of not even acknowledging my hair she would've forgotten the idea of me pulling it. **I only found out tonight (Jan. 31st, 2009) that one night when my mom was coming down to say goodnight in early 2005 she noticed through my cracked door that I was lightly tugging on my hair and pulling it out. She told me that it made her sick to realise it was true I had been doing it to myself, she almost passed out. She didn't say good night that night, but instead turn and ran and cried herself to sleep that night. After some harassment and fights with my mother, I admitted to pulling my hair. From there it became a fight with my mom, "Just stop pulling" "tell yourself to stop it" "Heather, don't do this to yourself" I would yell at her, I knew I couldn't just stop, maybe 5 years previous I could but now it was a horrible habit.
Senior year of High school was different than any before. I was so aware to my trich with my mom and I fighting so much that I figured if she noticed it so much then so did everyone else I'm sure. I became extremely uncomfortable in my body and with my hair. I hated myself so much for doing this to myself but I felt it was to late. So i slowly accepted it again that this is me and screw those that don't like it.
I soon got sent to a Therapist, but this therapist was much more worried about my depression that in the 3 months I went there we never once discussed Trich. After 3 months of discussing my depression (which never really made me feel any better) I began to refuse to go. And that was therapist 1 down the drain on Trich.
In January of 2006 I went to a Psychologist at BYU, upon the first visit he took me in and evaluated me and talked to me about my problems, never saying a diagnosis. After I talked to him he had my parents in to talk where he then told my mother that there was nothing wrong with me and that she worried to much and should be medicated. It is true my mother probably does worry to much about me but she didn't need meds. And there definitely is something wrong with me and I know it. There was Dr. 2 down the drain on helping with Trich.
In fall of 2006 I enrolled into college. Hoping for a new start. After a relapse at the end of High School due to a bad breakup I had had a pretty much pull free summer and was doing and feeling great for college. But it wasn't at all what I hoped for. I didn't do well with the change and new environment so I pulled and I pulled. Many times in my life while having Trich I had got to where I pulled maybe 3 or 4 inches of my hair out, but here in college i managed to pull the entire top side of my head bald. In December it got to much for me I had my parents take me wig shopping as a Christmas present. The wig didn't last though, it was itchy and I still had my "this is me and screw those that don't like it."(though I didn't accept it or like me for me) attitude so I didn't wear it. So i began wearing hats at all times, classes, work, even church.
The search ensued to find a Dr. that knew something of Trich and could actually help me. In Feb. 2007 we found a psychiatrist Eliza Wochnik in Provo that supposedly worked with people with Trich. To mine and my parents surprise in our meeting with her all that was really established were new medications, and she recommended us to another doctor, Dan Daley, that worked in her same office. In April we got in to see Daley, he seemed very nice and the meeting went well. I've been seeing him every 1-2 months since and have made a lot a progress, though I'm still pulling I know how to cope and to catch and stop myself from getting bad.
I've had one relapse in the year I've been seeing Daley, and am now in what I would consider my best stage since summer of 2006. My pulling is still and probably will always still be with me but I have some control over it.
I've put some social limits and restraints on myself though for my life and my Trich. I decided I would not date until I could admit to myself and to who ever I may date the truth, no more lies. No marriage until I had a full head of hair, which I'm getting close to having. And no more hats 24/7
I am living with Trich, not suffering from it, and I honestly am grateful for having it. I would never wish it upon anyone. It has been horrible to me but so good for me. After 9 years of lying, hiding, finding myself, accepting truth, and working to make me a better person I've became more honest, accepting of all people, loving, and caring. And I'm so very greatful I had the support I did through all of this, they kept the depression down and the hope up!
Silly boy making a sad face :(
