It’s been a long time since I updated you on my “hair” situation.
I suppose I’ve felt like I couldn’t come back to you until I had good news to report…
Until I could tell you that I had stopped…
That I had found a way to overcome this…
To be stronger than my urges…
To win.
But unfortunately, my news for you today…
Is that I have no news.
Nothing has changed.
I still pull.
I still have hair extensions.
I still use powder to hide my bald spots.
And I still don’t have control.
Some days I’m okay with it.
Some days I’ve come to accept it as a part of who I am.
And I even tell myself that I can go on living like this forever…
Because this is me.
And then there are the other days.
The days when I am determined to not be defined by this condition.
To not let it control me.
The days that I want to ask for help.
The days that I am desperate for someone to teach me how to stop.
The problem then becomes,
that I never know which of these days it’s going to be when I get up in the morning.
Is it going to be a day where I stay strong,
or a day where I discreetly gather up all the pulled hair collecting on the floor of my car
before Ben notices what I’ve done.
Unlike most others who have TTM,
nearly every person in my life knows about it.
It’s hasn’t been a secret since I posted it for all to see nearly two years ago…
And although it’s no longer a secret,
somehow I’ve still found a way to hide behind it.
Even though all my friends and family now know,
we still never talk about it.
I can’t receive a compliment about a “good hair day”,
without wondering if they “know”.
Is she looking at my bald spots? Can she see them?
Do they know I’m faking it?
Do they know about the effort I have to put into having “normal” looking hair?
Do they know my “not so secret” secret?
Chances are they do.
And just by me posting this,
I’ll likely get a dozen phone calls and texts tomorrow asking me if everything is ok.
And I’ll answer that yes it is.
Because it’s the truth.
I promise you that I’m fine.
I’m happy even.
I just pull my hair.
And I don’t know why.
I’ve received literally hundreds of kind emails from so many of you assuring me that I’m not alone. Telling me that you experience this too. Or that your sister does. Your mother. Even your baby daughter.
Your stories have brought tears to my eyes, and comfort to my soul.
And oh, how I wish I had the ability to respond personally to each and every one of you.
To give you answers. Or hope.
But every time I go to click reply,
I never know what to say.
I have no words.
Because how can I help you,
when I haven’t yet learned how to help myself?
All I have to give is my story.
My experience.
And hope that what I’ve been battling for nearly 20 years will help shed some light.
Help you feel a little less alone in this whole thing.
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For more posts about my secret go here:
