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I’ve suffered from trichotillomania for most of my life. In fact, as I’m writing this piece I’m trying–and failing–to keep it under control.

Trichotillomania is an impulse control disorder that causes people to pull their hair, leaving behind visible bald patches. Any hair is fair game: scalp, eyelashes, eyebrows, legs, pubic area…anywhere where hair grows is a potential target. Ouch, right? Well, for those of us who have trich it is usually oddly relieving. While some have enough will power to control their urges to pull, others can’t think about anything but pulling. For me, the act is often so impulsive that half the time it doesn’t fully register to me that I’m doing it at all. And then when I am aware of it, I’m too engrossed in it to stop. When I do stop, I assess the damage and feel really rotten about it: I’m left with random bald patches along my eyelashes, eyebrows, or scalp.

The causes of trich are unknown, but it can be triggered by stress and anxiety. Trich can often result in social anxiety from fear of having their disorder exposed. It can also lead to repetitive motor injuries but that often still isn’t enough to deter the urge to pull.

Treatment for trich includes cognitive behavioral therapy and/or medication. Therapy will help provide those who suffer from trich with skills and tricks to help themselves resist the urge to pull before it starts. For example, reversal training helps those who suffer from trich to acknowledge when and where they have the urge to pull, then they’re encouraged to engage in a non-harmful activity or action to replace it. On the medicinal front, antidepressants known as SSRIs have been known to help reduce the urge to pull.

My parents told me that I used to pull my hair when I was a baby, but my earliest memories of my trich started with pulling my eyelashes when I was eight years old. I’m not sure what triggered it, but when it started and it quickly became a regular activity. I’d sometimes even tug on them without even realizing it.

One day a classmate of mine noticed my lack of eyelashes and oh so matter-of-factly said, “eyelashes help keep crap and dust from getting into your eyes.” That comment made me so paranoid that I slowly started to reduce my eyelash plucking. Oddly enough the urge to pull my hair stopped for nearly a decade and light nail biting replacing it. But by the time I started college my nail biting subsided and the eyelash plucking started up again. It was a slow start but I only realized what I was doing too late; I’d rush to my dorm mirror and notice the damage: a random section of my eyelashes were no longer there. But it wasn’t anything that some eyeliner couldn’t mask.

The pulling was very on-and-off throughout most of my college career until senior year. That’s when all hell broke loose. My dormant trich was brought back to life again with the new flurry of stress and anxiety that was hurled at me from every direction. For the first time my eyelashes weren’t my only target. Nope, this time my primary target was the actual hair on my head. For a majority of my senior year I had a noticeable bald spot on the left side of my head. I had to cover it every day with colorful scarfs wrapped around my hairline. Luckily I pulled off the look, because when I finally felt comfortable enough to take it off in public, people asked if I was trying to pull a Rihanna. I awkwardly laughed, assured them that it wasn’t intentional, and quickly tried to change the subject.

March 2012

September 2012

I was determined to stop pulling the hair from my scalp a few weeks before my college graduation, because I didn’t want to worry my parents with such an embarrassing sight. With all my willpower my urges to pull from my scalp subsided, and while it was far from repaired by the time my parents came to see me graduate, it was significantly better. While I’ve relapsed a couple of times, I can safely say that I currently lack the urge to pull from my scalp. But my eyelashes, unfortunately, are another story entirely. Some days are good and some are bad in that regard, but hopefully with a little more willpower I can slowly reduce my urges.

When I told my psychiatrist about my trich earlier this year, she asked me if I wanted to go on an SSRI. I declined, not because I’m anti-medication, but because it seemed strange to seek answers in a medicine when this disorder is so ingrained in my life; literally, my entire life, since infancy. 

I’m fully aware that my trich might be a lifelong struggle that I’ll have to tackle on and off again, but I hope that when the time comes I’ll make a strong, concentrated effort to do something about it. After all, I still remember the words of my oh so wise third grade classmate: ”Eyelashes help keep crap and dust from getting into your eyes.” Hey, whatever works.

Do you suffer from trich or know somebody who does? Do you have any other impulse disorders? Any advice to share with the rest of our readers? Tell us in the comments!

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