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Pulling Myself Apart: A Personal Essay

TW: Dermatillomania, trichotillomania

Healing isn’t a binary measure of “already overcome” or “still suffering”. It’s a journey or a spectrum, and I still enjoy my life on that journey. -Ezekiel-Bethany (Zeke)

I was 12 years old, smushed between 2 bookshelves at the back of my seventh-grade Advanced English class, the cool metal pressed against my skin. It was social time, and the movement and sounds from the other students were an overwhelming blur. I was autistic, but I didn’t know it yet. I also had trichotillomania. In distress, I grabbed a chunk of my hair and pulled it out, dropping it to the ground. And another. And another. No one paid me any attention, and I assume I stopped once social time ended and the students went to sit quietly at their desks.

Trichotillomania is an impulse control disorder. It causes me to pull out the hair on my head and other parts of my body and be unable to stop, even when I want to.

My trichotillomania started when I was a pre-teen, and it made me worry about my appearance. It also made me feel ashamed, as when teachers asked about me, they didn’t ask about my accomplishments, but rather, “Does xe still pull xyr hair out?” Some teachers took me under their wings to help me navigate my mental health and autism journey, and that was helpful. But I needed help putting words to what was happening with me, and that didn’t come until much later, as an adult, when I was able to advocate for myself. Even if I had been diagnosed as a preteen, I probably couldn’t have gotten the help I needed under the existing support systems and structures in the schools.

Now, as an adult, I don’t struggle as much with trichotillomania unless I am very stressed (possibly because I keep my hair very short), but I struggle excessively with the skin picking disorder, dermatillomania. I pick the skin on my body, mostly where it can be hidden by clothes, when I am uncomfortable or stressed. The picking usually precedes the realization that I am stressed and is the first indication that I might be in a situation that is making me uncomfortable. Skin picking is a negative coping mechanism, and although it can help me get through taxing situations, I would rather find another way to cope. I sometimes skin pick when I am bored as well, and no matter how hard I try, I cannot stop for long. It leaves scars, and it makes me feel like other people think I look gross. I wear clothes to cover where I have picked my skin. I have found that I have not gotten much support in trying to stop this, as it is not a “serious” form of injury.

I have found small toys that I can pick at and my support dog, who I can pet, the most helpful in avoiding compulsive behaviors, but honestly, I still struggle.

I’m not gross, or out of control, or shameful because I have an impulse control disorder. It does not negatively reflect on my value as a person, it does not mean that my life is less fulfilling, and it does not make my friends like me less. Healing isn’t a binary measure of “already overcome” or “still suffering”. It’s a journey or a spectrum, and I still enjoy my life on that journey.

 

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