I Dream of Quiet Hands

Source: A/M

A few nights ago, I leaned forward toward the bathroom mirror and plucked a white hair from the top of my head and then stood paralyzed, examining it. I ran it through my finger tips, feeling its wiry texture and its sticky white root. I lay it down by the sink, where it disappeared against the creamy caesarstone. I reached up and felt for another. And another. And another. I pulled out five white hairs, each about three inches long and lined them up carefully on the vanity. Then, as I leaned forward again, a burst of adrenaline, of fear, welled up from my center. I stood up straight and pulled away from the mirror. I forced myself to gather the hairs and reluctantly throw them in the trash can. “I am enjoying this way too much,” I said firmly and I turned out the light and left the bathroom.

I am not a person who can casually groom her grays. I have trichotillomania.

It is perfectly normal, in fact universal, to pluck the odd hair, pop a pimple, pick a scab, or chew a hangnail. But for some of us, these behaviors don’t seem to have the proper off-switch. We pull, pick or bite repetitively, for minutes or even hours at a time, and in the process do major damage to our appearance – and our self-esteem.

Fifteen years ago, Psychology Today published an essay I wrote about my nine-year-old self as I pulled out my eyelashes. Then, as now, I leaned forward til I was inches from the bathroom mirror and felt a surge of fear. I had plucked my eyelids bare. Why couldn’t I stop doing this? What would happen if anyone found out?

Throughout my childhood, hair pulling was my biggest secret. I wore long bangs to cover my eyebrows and thick eyeliner to mask my bald eyelids.

My childhood self would never have dreamed that that I would spend my adult life talking about hair pulling and skin picking disorders with everyone who would listen. The little girl who felt like a freak would have been shocked to learn that anyone else shared these strange behaviors – let alone millions of people all over the world.

Since that time, a lot has changed for me, and for all people with body-focused repetitive behaviors.

Today we know that hair pulling and skin picking, and a wide range of behaviors like nail biting, lip biting, cheek chewing, and nose picking, are biologically based problems – and remarkably common. About 3 percent of people live with a “BFRB.” They run in families, like mine. They usually start in childhood and seem to affect women more often than men. There are treatments that help and treatment providers who specialize in treating BFRBs (though far too few of them!)

My teenage-self believed that I could never reveal this secret to a boyfriend – never have an honest connection with a romantic partner because of my shameful behavior. Well, guess what, Teenage-Me? You grew up to marry one of your high school classmates – and your first date together was an awards ceremony for a film you directed about pulling out your hair!

In my twenties, I got involved with the remarkable non-profit organization that has helped drive this progress – and that I now have the privilege to lead – The TLC Foundation for Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviors (formerly the Trichotillomania Learning Center.) I have been lucky to experience more or less full recovery from trichotillomania for the past twenty years. Trichotillomania, my greatest enemy, became the source of many of my closest friendships, my cause, my life’s work.

Yet, despite all this progress, when I stood in the bathroom the other day, staring at those gray hairs, and feeling a tingle on my scalp, it was as if decades had vanished. The urge to pull crouched just below the surface, hoping to catch me off guard.