I just had a conversation with my almost eight-year-old daughter that I feared and hoped we wouldn’t need to have. Yet here we are.
She’s amazing and we have a trusting, open dialogue, constant communication style family. She felt no guilt, shame, or fear for sharing her enjoyment of pulling her hair. We talked about it for a few minutes. I kept it about being curious about her experience and only slightly touched on it being unhealthy for our hair. I didn’t go into explaining the risks for baldness and social repercussions. Right now I’m just trying to absorb what she’s dealing with and how I’m going to help her.
I missed the signs in my oldest daughter until she was a young teenager and already had a huge bald patch she’d been hiding. It was terrible and I didn’t handle it well at all. I want to do better this time.
A quick internet search led me to these two sites.
I’ll be researching more this weekend and in the coming weeks. If you or someone you love struggles with Trichotillomania, please share your story.
Excoriation disorder
Skin-picking disorder
Neurotic excoriation
Acne excoriee
Pathologic skin picking (PSP)
Compulsive skin picking (CSP)
Psychogenic excoriation
Sharing a picture of myself is hard and scary and as real as it gets. This is what a part of my body looks like. It’s one of the most damaged areas, but there are similar markings on my shoulders, lower back, arms, and face. It’s shocking for me to see it.
For as long as I can remember, the need to pick has been part of who I am. It began when I was a kid, not sure exactly when but probably around puberty. That’s when the abuse at home got really bad. I’ve been picking my skin ever since. The severity comes and goes, but the action never ceases.
It’s much worse when I’m stressed. I’ve been very stressed for a few years now and it shows. The scars and wounds are horrible. I’ve attacked so much of my body that I can’t hide it all with clothes anymore.
I notice it the most during summer. Everyone’s wearing light clothes and showing lots of skin. I’m jealous. More than anything, I’m in awe that most others don’t suffer like I do.
I wish I could stop. I can force myself to slow down, but even that’s been futile for a long time now.
It’s so disgusting. As if I needed more reasons to hate the way I look. I can’t even get a haircut because I’ve trashed my scalp so badly. WTF?!
Alright, I’m in a self-loathing mood right now and that’s not helpful. Stress leads to picking. Time to shift gears and do my best to focus on something better.
Can you relate? If you want, share your story below. Your struggles. Your success. Encouragement. Advice. We help each other the most when we allow ourselves to connect.
I’m having an anxiety attack. I know what it feels like now. My chest is tight. It’s hard to breathe. My stomach is in knots. My face is all crinkled up. My shoulders are tense and high. My mind is racing. I know this. I understand it. That doesn’t make it easy to go through. Not knowing what was happening for so many months was terrifying. Now I know. It makes them less intense, but still unavoidable. I believe the stress of my life has cause me irreparable physical damage. What a fucking waste.
