Thursday, December 20, 2012
The last time I posted about my trichotillomania, I mentioned that it had gotten a lot better.
I wasn't pulling as often, and my urges weren't as crazy.
I got a lot of comments and emails congratulating me on being cured, on making it through, on beating it.
But here's the thing... I didn't do any of that.
My trich isn't gone. I'm not convinced it will ever be 100% gone.
Even at the time I wrote that post, I mentioned that it was something I still struggled with.
It's just not as bad as it used to be.
My pulling is heightened and seems to be triggered around times of high-stress and change.
Lately, as you can imagine, there's been lots of stress (good and bad), and a lot of change.
To tell you I made it through the wedding without pulling a single eyebrow would be a lie.
But I was able to control the pulling, and didn't do anything that created any noticeable changes.
Until this last weekend.
Without getting into everything (or anything, for that matter), that's stressing me out...
it can just be said that I was having a hard day and that evening I found myself in front of the television.
That's always when I pull the most.
I ended up pulling out a good chunk of eyebrow hairs, creating a big, ugly gap in my left eyebrow.
It's not anything that you'd walk right up to me and scoff at—I've had years of practice of covering these things up—but it's something that I notice.
I went to the bathroom to see the damage I had done, and immediately began crying. Sobbing.
I was really upset.
I had just gotten an email the day before from a mother who said I was someone her 9-year-old daughter looked up to.
They were encouraged by the progress I had made.
And then the very next day, I did that.
I was incredibly frustrated, embarrassed, and discouraged.
How am I supposed to be a "role model" when I mess up so badly?
After a couple of moments of desperation on the floor of the bathroom,
I went and found Daniel.
He knew I was upset.
He cuddled and rocked me in bed until I fell asleep.
Daniel helps to cease my pulling more than he could ever know.
By holding my hands, keeping me distracted, and tapping my hands away when I reach for my eyebrows, he is preventing these pulling meltdowns.
I'm so thankful for him and his support.
I wouldn't be able to do it without him.
Or the prayer that I mentioned before.
Prayer has truly made a huge difference. It helps the healing.
Since that last pulling episode this past weekend,
I've realized how conscious I need to be about my pulling.
While I don't struggle with it like I used to, I'm still vulnerable.
I'm still fragile.
But I won't let trich break me.
I am bigger than it.
I am better than it.
I am stronger than it.
And I'm telling you all this not to look for a shower of sympathy.
I'm telling you because some of you have asked for an update.
And I wanted to be as honest as possible: trichotillomania is still something that I deal with.
I'm also telling you because I know that some of you also have trich, or something that you struggle with day after day.
And even though it may get you down once in a while, you are strong, beautiful, and you are a fighter.
If—for even one moment—you feel yourself falter, let it remind you that you are human—you make mistakes—but you won't be defined by those mistakes.
If you're struggling with something—anything—reach out for help.
A hand to hold, an ear to listen, a shoulder to cry on, a friend—because it can make all the difference.
--Thank you, Daniel. YOU are my best friend, my shoulder, and the one I couldn't do any of this without. I love you.
// MORE SAUCE