All Entries Tagged With: "urge"
Trichotillomania Research
I was doing some trichotillomania research and came across this article and video featured on 20/20 last year.
The article discusses the mystery of trichotillomania in that the psychiatric community has a hard time classifying the disease. The article states:
“It’s called trichotillomania, or “trich” for short. Although trich is treated as a psychiatric illness, the latest evidence suggests that it’s not a “bad habit” like biting your nails or cracking your knuckles, or even an obsessive compulsive disorder.
Trich may have more in common with Tourette’s syndrome, a neurological disorder characterized by repetitive, involuntary movements or vocalizations called “tics.”
“Trichotillomania is such a medical mystery because we still know very little about the genetics and biology of it,” says Dr. Nancy Keuthen, who heads a trichotillomania clinic in Boston.
According to the Trichotillomania Learning Center (TLC), up to 11 million people in the U.S. suffer from the uncontrollable urge to pull out their own hair, eyebrows, even their eyelashes.
“They may spend hours in front of a mirror in these very odd postures trying to locate that one hair that they know is there that they feel doesn’t belong,” Keuthen said.
While researching this disease, or gene mutation, or whatever it is- I felt very lucky to only have a mild condition. While it is embarrassing to usually not have any eyelashes I feel fortunate that I am able to control the impulses enough that I don’t need to wear wigs or go to other extreme measures.
I have however started to wear headbands on occasion to hold down the newly grown hairs that were recently pulled out. Instead of focusing on why I am wearing the headband, Tareak is always quick to comment how cute he thinks my new hair style is. I am very lucky to have a supportive and optimistic husband. 
The video is about 9 minutes long, but shows clearly the pain and embarrasment usually associated with this disorder. Click Here to watch the video.
It’s That Time Of Year Again
The birds and singing and the flowers are blooming and Leslie is walking around the house with toilet paper stuffed up her nose. Every year from around March-September I suffer from severe allergies. You might wonder what this has to do with depression, but it actually plays a bigger role than you might think.
I need this invention most of the year.
Allergies make me tired. My body is working overtime trying to fight off all the things that make me sneeze and this hard work drains my energy. Unfortunately the allergy medication doesn’t help me out in the energy department. While it might help my itchy eyes and sniffles the number one side effect is drowsiness. I have tried allergy shots, a neti pot, nasal spray and prescription drugs. Each of these remedies provide some relief, but I can still feel the drowsiness weighing on me and pulling me down.
The number one thing I want to do when I’m feeling especially depressed is to sleep. Some days I just feel so tired that it requires all my energy to just breathe in and out. Sleeping provides an escape. Excessive sleeping is a symptom of depression and one that becomes even harder to fight when I am being weighed down with the drowsiness allergies inflict. This past week I have felt extreme temptation to just crawl back into bed after I’ve only been up for a couple of hours, not because my allergies have been horrible, but because the combination of the allergies, medication and depression just make my bed look so desirable. While it would be easy to just climb back into bed and get a few more hours I have resisted. I know that in order to combat my depression effectively I can’t give into all my urges to just crawl into bed and escape life, no matter how tired my body is.
Outside Looking In
In an earlier post I mentioned a “Breakthrough” my husband had in accepting my depression. I have been pleased to see he no longer blames himself for my depression or other conditions. As he has learned more about these conditions he talks to others about them frequently. For the most part I am okay with him discussing depression with others as I feel people are generally uneducated on the topic.
Even though my conditions are no fault of my own, I still feel embarrassed talking about them. Last night at a family dinner my sister said, “Leslie, I didn’t know you eat dirt! I feel so out of the loop, why didn’t anyone tell me.” I asked her where she heard that I eat dirt, and she pointed to her husband. I immediately knew that Tareak had been discussing my conditions again. For the most part my family is completely unaware of my conditions, and I just accept that they think I’m the “weird one.” It is easier to be the “weird one” than it is for me to openly discuss my issues. Tareak and I were engaged before I told him about my Trichotillomania. Another condition I told him about at that time was Pica. I have random cravings on occasion to eat paper and also dirt. In my extended family I am known as the “cousin who eats cardboard.” While I haven’t had a craving to eat dirt for many years, I guess this is something Tareak had the urge to tell my brother-in-law.
This dinner conversation made me feel very uncomfortable. It took me almost 2 years to be able to talk to Tareak about these conditions. Like I mentioned before, even though the conditions aren’t my fault I still feel a level of embarrassment and shame. Tareak has always been a very private person. He gets mad at me when I tell my sisters that he likes to watch Japanese cartoons. I am a big believer in being as open as possible with others because it leads to more understanding and less drawing of inaccuarate conclusions. That said, there are certain things like Trichotillomania and Pica that bring an increased level of discomfort and I try to avoid these topics at all costs. This blog is a tool to help me overcome this discomfort and accept myself and help others to accept me as well. I was surprised when Tareak was eager about the idea of me starting a blog. I asked him what topics were off-limits for discussion, and he was very supportive of me being free to blog about whatever I wanted. Again, this was very surprising.
As I’ve thought about why Tareak is so open with my conditions, I finally came to a conclusion. It is much easier to discuss sensitive topics when you aren’t the focus. I would have no problem blogging or discussing Tareak’s less than perfect past or all of his issues, but I am not allowed to discuss them on this blog. These things bring a level of discomfort to him. He doesn’t like the idea of people knowing that he isn’t perfect. I think we all want people to view us in the best light possible, but when we hide the things we are ashamed of it doesn’t allow us the opportunity to grow from our trials and it doesn’t give others the opportunity to get to know our true selves.
It is much easier to be on the outside looking in to someone elses life. How many of us spend hours each week looking at other people social networking pages, or reading blogs? But how many of us are willing to open up on our own blogs or social networking pages and show our true self, flaws and all? While it scares me to death to be so open and honest with the world, it also brings a deep level of peace and a sense of liberation. I’m not a slave to hiding my true self, I can just be me.
Ashamed of the Unobvious
When I was about 10 years old, I discovered that when some hairs are pulled out there is a clear membrane around the root. I was fascinated by this discovery and would pull out hairs for long periods of time trying to find “the cool ones”. This was the trigger that started my battle with Trichotillomania. Sometimes I can go for weeks at a time without feeling the urge to pull out hairs. But all it takes is one lapse and there is a bald patch that can take weeks to months to look normal again.
All through Middle School and High School my goal in life was to not ruin my Senior Pictures by having a huge bald spot somewhere obvious. Here is one of the pictures:
Most people looking at this picture wouldn’t see anything too out of the ordinary. All I notice when I look at any of these pictures is that my eyebrows are too thin as a result of too much uncontrolled plucking, and there is a thin spot of hair on my hairline from pulling out the hairs, but catching myself before it got too bad.
Showing people your Senior Pictures is always a big deal and event. I was so nervous to have anyone see the pictures because I was sure they were going to see what I was seeing and think I was some kind of freak (I didn’t take into account that these people saw me in the flesh on a regular basis and if they did notice anything different about my hair they would have thought something strange was going on long before seeing the pictures). I was genuinely surprised when no one made any comments. I felt like my secret might still be safe.
After having these pictures taken, I then decided I needed to focus of having good wedding pictures. Eight years later it was time to take these pictures. I had been doing good about not pulling too many hairs, but the hairs where my “widows peak” should be were still growing back from an episode about six months prior to the wedding. I wanted to wear my hair up for the wedding in hopes the spiky hairs would blend in to the mass on top of my head. My husband loves my long wavy hair and that it goes past my waist. He wanted me to wear it down for the wedding because he loves it so much. I obliged him.
Since most of the wedding pictures were taken face on, you don’t really notice anything strange about my hair, but my favorite wedding picture was taken from the side:
Like my Senior Pictures, most people wouldn’t notice anything different about this picture. I won’t enlarge this picture or hang it up because all I see when I look at this picture is this:
Again, even if anyone did notice this the last thing they would think is, “Oh, she must have plucked those hairs out one by one and they are just now growing back. Too bad it ruined her wedding pictures.” The point is that I notice. I know the real story behind the stray hairs that almost blend into the marble background, and I feel ashamed.