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Trichotillomania- My Story, Part One.
2 min read
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Okay, hi. My name is Mikaylee Rea. I'm 13. I have dirty blonde hair that I absolutely hate and hazel eyes that I love. You're probably picturing a girl with perfectly normal, long, possibly straight, dirty blonde hair, right?
Wrong.
I used to have that kind of hair. I miss it. I used to have that kind of hair before I dealt with Trichotillomania.
Before you ask, Trich is an OCD. Before you ask what that is, it's an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. So basically it's like an addiction to cigarettes or alcohol or other drugs, but multiply those urges by ten.
I had Trichotillomania for almost three years. You can tell- I basically look like a porcupine on crack. From all the regrowth lately, my hair doesn't really know what to do with itself, so it decides to stick straight up. Thank god messy buns and headbands exist. Anyway, I stopped pulling my hair about a month ago, and it was incredibly difficult. Like, it was really difficult. But this is kind of like the rainbow after the storm, so I should probably be grateful and stop rambling and get on to the real storm.
So I was about eleven. I was visiting my asshole of a father for the summer, who stressed me out a bunch. He would have fights with his girlfriends, which, by the way, were all terrible except for a few. I'm a pretty chill kid even now, so back when I was younger I was super shy and timid. So you probably already guessed my ideal Saturday night wasn't listening to my dad and one of his girlfriends screaming like three year olds downstairs. I started pulling hairs, didn't think anything of it. I usually pulled about sixty hairs a day, and it wasn't too bad then because I used to have super thick hair. That was until I created a bald spot. I went home after the summer, and my mom saw me pulling my hairs. She put two and two together and looked it up, and boom, there was the definition. So, skip about a year forward. Now my hair has receded about halfway. I have bald spots popping up everywhere, and I was really starting to get depressed. It wasn't until eighth grade, though, that things really got bad.
Wrong.
I used to have that kind of hair. I miss it. I used to have that kind of hair before I dealt with Trichotillomania.
Before you ask, Trich is an OCD. Before you ask what that is, it's an Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. So basically it's like an addiction to cigarettes or alcohol or other drugs, but multiply those urges by ten.
I had Trichotillomania for almost three years. You can tell- I basically look like a porcupine on crack. From all the regrowth lately, my hair doesn't really know what to do with itself, so it decides to stick straight up. Thank god messy buns and headbands exist. Anyway, I stopped pulling my hair about a month ago, and it was incredibly difficult. Like, it was really difficult. But this is kind of like the rainbow after the storm, so I should probably be grateful and stop rambling and get on to the real storm.
So I was about eleven. I was visiting my asshole of a father for the summer, who stressed me out a bunch. He would have fights with his girlfriends, which, by the way, were all terrible except for a few. I'm a pretty chill kid even now, so back when I was younger I was super shy and timid. So you probably already guessed my ideal Saturday night wasn't listening to my dad and one of his girlfriends screaming like three year olds downstairs. I started pulling hairs, didn't think anything of it. I usually pulled about sixty hairs a day, and it wasn't too bad then because I used to have super thick hair. That was until I created a bald spot. I went home after the summer, and my mom saw me pulling my hairs. She put two and two together and looked it up, and boom, there was the definition. So, skip about a year forward. Now my hair has receded about halfway. I have bald spots popping up everywhere, and I was really starting to get depressed. It wasn't until eighth grade, though, that things really got bad.
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