When people say the word “OCD,” what comes to mind? Someone that’s a neat freak? A closet full of color-coded clothing? Rearranging the items on a desk until everything is parallel? Having an obsessive-compulsive disorder doesn’t just mean you’re a perfectionist. There’s an entire range of different types of disorders that might not seem like OCD at first, but in reality, they are major aspects of people’s everyday lives that impact them every minute, hour and day.
Flashback to 2010. I was a mere fifth grader ready to tackle on the middle school adventures coming soon. However, one day my dad noticed that something was “off.” There was a bald patch on my right eye where my lashes are, “Where are your eyelashes?” He asked. I could’ve made up a lie but at that point, I wasn’t even aware that it was an issue. I told him I pulled them out and when he asked why I didn’t have an answer. I was struggling with other emotional issues. It had occurred at the beginning of your tween years, my anxiety had skyrocketed. Along with the anxiety, the eyelash pulling became much worse. But at the time, gaining control of my anxiety was the main priority.
A couple of years later and many therapy sessions, I finally had the confidence to go to school, hang out with friends and interact with peers without the fear of a panic attack. However, throughout all of my progress, the only thing that wasn’t stunted was the hair pulling. We initially thought it was an anxiety/stress reliever and that when my anxiety finally calmed down, so would the eyelash pulling. But it didn’t. It manifested itself into its own monster that refused to go away. And as the years went by, the monster grew. By the end of seventh grade, I had no eyelashes and barely any eyebrows. At this point, I’ve seen many different doctors and learned all the “tricks” to help me stop, but when it came down to it, I always found a way to do it.
Trichotillomania. Yeah. It’s a mouthful. This is what I had. And as I got older, I got more insecure. The people around me were growing up and changing and here I was, lacking the few things a girl has that transforms her from a cute kid to an attractive teen. I have a twin sister, and at this stage, we were basically unidentifiable as twins. We looked nothing alike. She was the “pretty” one and the more “outgoing” one. I was just seen as the introvert understudy in her play. Eighth grade rolls around and I could practically taste high school. “I can’t look like this in high school, people are going to notice and figure it out.” So miraculously, I stopped pulling out my eyelashes. This could’ve been the end of my TTM (Trichotillomania) journey, but it was just a detour. I had grown all my eyelashes back and life was great. And then it started.
I don’t remember the first time I pulled my head hair, but I went down that rabbit hole fast. And by fast, I mean within weeks I had apparent bald spots. I was forced to go through a “bang” phase that no one should have to EVER go through (bangs ain’t it chief), but I had no choice. It was bangs or being bald. Bangs grew out but now there was another problem. The patches on the back of my head grew and spread like a plague. Every week my mom would vacuum my room and find piles and piles of hair on the floor, in my sheets, near the couch and basically anywhere I could put it. Hundreds of dollars spent on wig pieces, extensions, sprays, more therapy and even more on some trial medications. Nothing worked. I would have moments every year where I would go weeks and sometimes months without doing it. I felt great and confident, but then I would slip up and all the hard work was for nothing. High school was ending and I still dealt with the same monster that bothered me when I was ten. Eight. Fucking. Years.
This isn’t a success story or a guide to help anyone struggling with Trichotillomania to stop. It’s my story. It’s my reason for not swimming. Not wearing my hair down. Not being fully confident in my appearance. Not feeling worthy enough for someone because there are so many other people that don’t have this disorder and can do so many other things that I can’t. Only about less than 2 percent of the U.S. population suffers from this form of OCD. I continue to use the word disorder. I hate it though. Just because it’s a disorder, it doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you. You could bite your nails, pick your nose or even pull your hair out. Yeah, they’re shitty habits that are hard to break, trust me, I haven’t broken mine yet and I don’t know when or if I ever will. Even though it seems like TTM makes me more insecure, more cautious and more stressed, it really doesn’t. I’ve come to terms that yes, I have TTM and it fucking sucks, but it’s not who I am. I spent more than half my life hiding it and being ashamed, but that’s not the case anymore. I may be a bald bitch when your not looking, but so is Dwayne Johnson. Like who doesn’t fucking love The Rock? Exactly. Weave snatched (literally).