100 Changemakers for 100 days of BFRB Awareness
My trichotillomania began when I was around age 10. I do not recall a specific life event that prompted me to pull out my hair. The only thing that comes to mind is my 5th grade teacher practically scolding me in front of the entire class for asking a math question. I never asked another one, and became very deficient in math. It has been a lifelong struggle, to the point of embarrassment. I do know that I’ve always had a lot of anxiety. Shame on that teacher for calling me out for simply asking a question, and for chastising me like that. I guess that was life in 1973. These days, parents would create an uproar and the situation would be handled. I don’t even think I ever told my parents or anyone else about the incident. All I remember, is that not long after that incident, I began pulling my hair from the crown of my head. It was a pleasure and pain combo. Yet, I just could not stop. I pulled enough to make a pretty big bald spot. I brushed my hair over it and secured a barrette to hide it. I certainly hoped and prayed I was successful in that. I don’t recall anyone asking me about it or pointing at me. Maybe they talked behind my back. All I know is that I did not see anyone else ever pull out their hair, or walk around with a bald spot. I was ashamed. I felt guilty. That’s all on top of beginning middle school in 6th grade, where all the elementary schools merged into the middle school. This was a small town in Pennsylvania, near Hershey. Overall, I have good memories of my childhood. We spent summer days at the town pool, and nights at Hershey Park.
I would continue to pull out my hair off and on all throughout my life. Sometimes I would go years and not touch it like that. I have no idea how I did that.
I was officially diagnosed with trich about 20 years ago. The psychiatrist placed me on Lithium, which did not help me. I think it also had side effects, so I had to discontinue it.
I think it was 2013 or 2014 when I Googled trich support groups. I came across the BFRB Changemakers support group - then called "Nova Trich and Pick." I emailed them and got a reply. I attended meetings in person. Back then, we met at different members’ homes and brought snacks and talked about our struggles. It was such a relief to know I was not alone in this! After a time, we had meetings at the library in Arlington, VA. I went to a few of those, and then I just kind of stopped going for awhile.
Several years ago, I started again, and the meetings were moved to Zoom because of COVID and led by Ellen and Mercy. I was so glad to find this community again! I’ve been quite regular since then. I joined the Change Collective by HabitAware in the very beginning. It helps me so much to hear stories of others and to offer support. I very much appreciate that it is a safe place and we feel like a genuine team. People get me. My shame is virtually gone. It took time and work, yet it is worth the journey.
Within the Collective, I finally feel loved, heard, seen, and not judged. It’s truly a safe space. I spent my life feeling I was alone in this. Since discovering the original support group over 10 years ago, things are now easier. I’m so appreciative of the power of support in my healing process.
Now I’m 61, and I would describe my BFRB as in the recovery stage. I say that with confidence, knowing I now have learned about tools to help me. If I catch my hand reaching to my head, I pause in the moment and ask myself what I need. Usually I’m tired, so I go to bed. Sometimes I just need water or to go into a different room or even sit in a different chair. It helps. I learned all of this by consistently attending support group meetings and hearing from the leaders and others. A few months ago I pulled out a few hairs and told Aneela, a leader and coach in the BFRB Change Collective. She said that’s a win considering how far I have come. And she was right. I’m always telling others to give themselves grace and try to be more positive. I need to remind myself to do the same every single day.