This was the first thing that came to mind.

Fellow Trichsters, I am so sorry.

(Source: froggyphevoli)

insincerelyours:

pulling-myself-apart:

I am so excited to see this documentary.  It is going to really help the Trich community!

THIS LOOKS SO GOOD OHMYGOD

Sorry for doing a poor job of abstaining from personal posts, but I don’t know where else I would upload this.

As per my friend’s suggestion, I finally purchased a pair of hipster frames a few days ago. I got them from Rue 21, and they had a lot to choose from, but only a couple that I liked. In the end, it was a pretty easy decision.

I’ve been giving them a try, even though summer has been pretty kind to my trichotillomania, and I think they might actually help quite a bit. I don’t want to get too optimistic too quickly, because God knows what sort of condition my eyelashes will be in once school-related stress starts to kick in, but these glasses have made a pretty great first impression.

Oh yeah, I guess I’d better tell my two new housemates about my trich before they wander into my room while I’m wearing these…

I had the most incredible breakthrough with my trichotillomania earlier today.

I had just finished my laundry, and I was putting the clothes/towels away, when I noticed that one of my towels had a lot of loose threads hanging from it. This kinda bothered me, so I started pulling them out.

There were an awful lot of loose threads.

So I did an awful lot of pulling.

But everything I pulled came from the towel. I had a pulling episode and didn’t lose a single eyelash!

I must remember this for the future.

When my brother was a baby, he used to pull my hair. When I say that he used to do this, I don’t mean it was an occasional thing— I could not be near him without him reaching for my curls. This was the reason that, after a certain point, I never wanted to hold him again. This was the first in a long line of behaviors that would gradually deteriorate our relationship.

God, how I used to scream. Even though I was only three or four years old at the time, I can remember that part vividly: He would pull, I would scream in pain, and then my parents would get angry at me for screaming, because they thought I was going to scare the baby. Except he never did get scared— a normal baby would have; a normal baby would cry upon hearing someone scream. Not my brother. My screams were great fun to him. Causing Sissy pain was hilarious.

Another childhood hair memory of mine that was extremely painful went on for even longer than my baby brother’s hair-pulling phase. Every single morning, before school, I would grit my teeth and hold back tears while my mom combed my hair with a pick. I was in late middle school or early high school before we finally found the one brand of brush that could not only successfully comb through my thick, thick hair, but could also do so without hurting me. Before then, my morning routine quite literally included me pleading for mercy. “Stop, stop, please… It’s good enough, Mom… It’s good enough… You don’t need to get all of the tangles, do you?”

I used to look back on these memories with bitterness. Yes, my brother was only a baby, and yes, there was nothing my mom could really do, unless I had consented to getting all of my hair chopped off. But even so, one can’t help but look back on the things that hurt you with a resentful eye… Until today.

A thought occurred to me today. What if these seemingly horrific events from my past are actually part of the reason— if not the reason— that my trichotillomania is so mild?

Hear me out. Trich doesn’t hurt. It just doesn’t. People who don’t have it probably think that it would, but we never experience anything worse than a bit of soreness or irritation, and even that doesn’t occur super often. Eyelash pullers like me sometimes get styes, but again, not super often.

What my mom and my brother did to me, however, did hurt. In fact, they hurt a lot. They made me scream. They made me cry. They made me beg and beg and beg for it to just stop already.

I have never pulled from my scalp. Not once. My eyelashes are the worst by a longshot, but I’ve strayed to a few other areas as well. Yet I’ve never had a single urge to pull hair from my head. It seems to be one of the few spots that’s immune from this manic desire of mine.

So, if trich doesn’t hurt, and my subconscious associates hair pulling from the scalp with excruciating pain… Is it not logical that those events are what has prevented me from becoming a scalp puller?

Maybe not. My logic could be flawed. But I think it’s an extremely intriguing idea. And hell, it would be great if it was true. Wouldn’t you like to think that you got some benefit out of something that hurt you for years and years? I mean, otherwise you suffered for nothing. I can accept suffering, but I cannot accept suffering for nothing.

What do you guys think? Dumb conclusion? Or could I be onto something?

Registered for classes today. Didn’t get enough units.

Talked to my mother on the phone recently. Always a downer. Have to pretend I’m happy so she doesn’t worry.

Need to finish my journalism project. My group is counting on me.

Need to start my psychology paper.

Working too late. It’s extra credit, but it might as well be required, considering how badly I need it.

Wondering how I did on that last midterm. Surely failed it.

My story’s getting workshopped on Wednesday. I don’t know how to feel about this.

Just pulled about 4 or 5 hairs from my left eyebrow. All of my eyelashes are either gone or too short to pull. I really, really don’t want to start with my eyebrows.

There is a TARDIS on my desk. Hello, TARDIS. Feel free to take me away from all of this.

A couple nights ago, one of my apartment-mates was stalking my Tumblr for the first time. She came in my room and said that she wanted to talk to me about something, but wasn’t sure if she should bring it up, because it was a sensitive topic.

Instantly, even before she confirmed it, I knew that she’d discovered the fact that I have trichotillomania. I started to fill with dread, but then, to my complete surprise, it turned out that she understood. I won’t give details, but basically there was no need to explain myself, and she didn’t think it was weird or that I was a freak.

The next morning (yesterday), I found this doodle on my whiteboard. (I’m primarily an eyelash puller.) I felt like I had to post it, because waking up to that doodle really made me smile. I’m still not really out of the trich closet, but I’m always grateful for the few friends I have told because they’ve been incredibly supportive.

God dammit. Did I really just do that? My eyelashes were actually looking pretty good…

Can I blame this on Reichenbach?

Just something I’ve noticed around Tumblr, in the trich tag…

Read More

So I just got off the phone with my mom a few minutes ago. Apparently my grandma and two of my aunts have noticed my lack of eyelashes, and decided to ask my mom about it.

Honestly? I don’t even care that one of my aunts knows. She works at a hospital, so she probably knows exactly what it is.

Everyone else, on the other hand… Well, you can imagine. That’s always the part you fear most: Someone else noticing your bald spots.

I think my mom handled it as best she could. She didn’t go into detail; just told them that it was “an OCD thing.” Which is all fine and dandy, except it makes me sound crazy. Granted, explaining what trich is would probably also make me sound crazy, but I’d rather sound crazy and have them know that it’s a legitimate disorder that other people also suffer from than just a stupid habit that’s unique to me.

And WHY THE HELL DO MY RELATIVES KEEP GOING TO MY MOTHER EVERY TIME THEY THINK SOMETHING IS WRONG WITH ME INSTEAD OF TREATING ME LIKE AN ADULT (I’M TWENTY GOD DAMN YEARS OLD) AND ADDRESSING IT TO MY FACE?! …But I suppose that’s a whole other issue.

Yesterday was declared “Family Game Night” in my parents’ household. I did not consent to this. I did not wish to participate.

Mom got a little more upset about my refusal than I anticipated. She and my brother seemed willing to let it go at first, but then my dad agreed to take part, leaving me the only human in the vicinity who was not cooperating. So she came into my room and sat on my bed, begging me and begging me.

Again and again I insisted that I was not in the mood, until finally she blurted out “It’s not like I’m asking you to do anything horrible. It’s not like I’m asking you to rip out all your hair one by one.”

There was a very long pause after this.

“…That’s kind of an insensitive example, don’t you think?” I eventually replied through gritted teeth.

A look of remorse crossed her face. A look of someone who’d forgotten that they were speaking to a trichster. A look of someone who knew that there was certainly no convincing me now.

I gave her a Reese’s peanut butter cup from my Christmas stash. Even she didn’t dare stay with both guilt and a bribe on her hands. I felt nothing but relief as she walked out and shut my door behind her.

I am homesick for SLO and my eyelashes are in terrible condition. It’s the tiniest moments that are tearing me apart now.

Wizard’s duel is good for me. Good for my trich, I mean. If my hands are on the keyboard slaughtering badgers, that means they aren’t on my eyelashes pulling. Right? Yeah.

That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

So far, I have encountered 3 different people who I believe might have had trich.

The first was a girl I met at a party. Her hair was very thin, and her eyebrows were drawn on. I couldn’t tell whether or not she had eyelashes because her hair was very light, but judging by the amount of eyeliner she was wearing, I’m pretty sure she didn’t.

The second was a boy sitting a few seats in front of me at an author’s reading that I attended to get extra credit in English. He looked as though he had a receding hairline, but only on one side.

The most recent was this afternoon during my sociology final. It was a girl in my class with her hair pulled up, and underneath I could see a fairly noticeable bald patch.

I did not approach any of these people, for 2 main reasons:

1. There are multiple explanations for hair loss. It’s entirely possible that they aren’t pullers, but rather, suffer from alopecia, or some other disease. Or maybe they had an accident with a vacuum cleaner, or some other unfortunate incident.

2. Even if they are trichsters, (I’m almost 100% sure that the first girl was), it’s also entirely possible that they have no idea what trichotillomania is. It’s not a very popular disorder. Hell, if you had come up to me prior to age 17 and brought it up, I would have had no clue what you were talking about, despite the fact that I’ve been showing signs of it since I was about 7— possibly younger. It’s not like I could just discretely slide up to them and whisper “Trich?”

But I suppose the first thing I should be concerned with is whether or not I should ever approach a fellow trichster. I mean, I’d love to be able to let them know that they’re not alone, and I’d be thrilled if someone who understood came up and talked to me about it, but I can understand that others might not feel the same.

So, my first question for you guys: If I were to ever be 100% sure that someone was a trichster, would it be a good idea to go strike up a conversation with them? Or should I stick with connecting with trichsters over Tumblr?

Second question: If you answered the above question affirmatively, just how exactly should I go about doing so? I mean, “Hey there, I think we have the same mental disorder!” isn’t exactly the greatest icebreaker.

I wish we had some kind of bat signal or radar or something that was only visible to other trichsters.

Right now my eyelashes are… Well, not quite 100% bald, but definitely the worst they’ve ever been. There’s just a bit at the corners, plus some stubble where they’re trying to grow back in. The gaps are big enough that I can place a finger on the edge of my eyelid and not feel any lashes.

I almost thought of this as a good thing at one point. Yes, it was the lowest I had ever sunk as far as trich is concerned, but on the bright side, they’ve finally reached the point where it’s physically difficult for me to pull. I’ve been ripping out less eyelashes recently not because the urge has gone away, but just because I’m genuinely unable to get a grip on any of them. Maybe, ironically, this will actually help me stop, I thought.

But instead I’m beginning to find my fingers creeping to my eyebrows.

I can’t even express how much this scares me. My eyelashes have always been the only hair I pulled. (Well, except for a couple other spots, but I tend to not care about them since they’re both impossible to tell, whereas eyelashes are quite visible. And even if they were noticeable, my eyelashes have always been far, far worse.) Most of the websites I’ve read about trich not only say that eyelashes and eyebrows are the most common hair pulled, but also sort of imply that the two go hand-in-hand.

Because of this, I always considered myself extremely lucky that I only pulled one and not the other. However, it also gave me a fear of migrating. After all, as obvious as eyelashes are, (or as obvious as we trichsters think they are), eyebrows are clearly far more likely to draw attention.

Becoming an eyebrow-puller has been my number one trich-related fear ever since I found out that trich exists. I don’t even pluck my eyebrows, because I don’t want to risk becoming attuned to the stimulus! (I use a razor and scissors to keep them from getting too bushy). And now that I’m having difficulty satisfying the urges with my eyelashes, I find myself toying with the next closest thing.

FOR GOD’S SAKE, AM I NOT MENTAL AND UGLY ENOUGH?!

GROW FASTER, DAMMIT!

I need to have more eyelashes before Thanksgiving break, because I’ll be seeing my parents over Thanksgiving break, and if my parents see how few eyelashes I have they’ll interrogate me about my happiness and/or stress levels, and if my parents know I’m not happy they’ll get worried, and when they’re worried they’re SUPER FREAKING ANNOYING AND MAKE ME FORGET THAT I’M TWENTY YEARS OLD AND CAN HANDLE MY OWN PROBLEMS.

And yes, that is my actual thought process whenever I look in the mirror lately.