I am in a heavy space. The demons of my past weighing heavily on my present state. All I want to do is run, to hide, to wait for the danger to dissipate before letting the light shine upon my face once again. I am faced with ideals and conditioning that have been placed in my mind as a child and through traumas and as a young adult to now.
I have a disorder called trichotillomania. When I am triggered I pull my hair out. When I was younger I pulled so much that I had a bald spot. Everyone with this disorder pulls differently. In my case I pull only one hair at a time, and it has to be the right texture and only one! I then twirl that hair in my fingers for a while, feeling the textures as I pull it straight after every spin. Sometimes, I pulls the hair between my lips so the moisture adds more texture to the hair. Then I have to snap the hair with my fingers. The snap is so satisfying. If I can’t do this last step I am left with a lot of tension and anxiety in my body. I have always been so embarrassed by this part of myself. I suppose I should reword that. It isn’t really a part of me but a conditioned response when I am triggered by something. It is a coping mechanism that takes me out of my current state and puts me somewhere else. As I delve deeper and deeper into my wounds for healing and understanding I am faced with not running away. Most of the time I don’t even realize I am hiding, or trying to ‘not think about it’. I have long stints where I don’t pull at all and then moments like now where I seem to always be searching for that one specific piece.
I realized this morning, as I was watching Jess of Behatilife while taking notes, that this disorder is a key sign that I am being triggered. That I am in a space where I am feeling emotions that I would rather run away from. That I don’t want to face whatever demon is surfacing from whatever event/phrase/energy is triggering my wound. I can’t run anymore, I have to face these deep seeded wounds. I have to sit with the uncomfortability so I can heal, so I can breathe, so I can fully be who I am called to be. I don’t know if this disorder is learned or hereditary, or maybe a mix of both, I remember seeing my mother do it all through my childhood. But I cannot remember any of the instances after each of her hair pulling episodes. If it was a sign of her anxiety and triggers and she exploded afterwards, I have blocked those out.
I feel it when I let it build up, but I have enough control of myself to walk away so I don’t go down that same hole she did. So I don’t abuse the ones I love. But I feel like I abuse them anyway. I feel like a bad mother/friend/lover and nothing anyone says can change this for me. I don’t trust kind words, I don’t trust words of love, I don’t trust that I am enough. I don’t trust. I feel like my world is a rockin’ but not in a fun head boppin’ kind of way, in a world destructing way. I have my moments of rawness with others but it doesn’t take much for me to go back into my shell. It is scary to be vulnerable. No one would ever know I feel this way, I have held myself together for so long that falling apart is not an option. I don’t physically hurt others, but I can see how my words and energy can sting at times. Physically I only cause harm to myself, and most of this harm is in my mind. When I was younger I used to look at myself in the mirror and punch myself, I wanted to be/look different. I felt like a freak, a loser. At 38 I don’t do this kind of abuse to myself anymore, but the mental abuse I inflict is strong and potent and it has not aged well.
I was faced with a question from my tarot cards the other day. Who is my role model? Honestly, I was left with no response. I had to really think about what a role model meant to me. It isn’t someone I want to emulate but more of someone who challenges me to heal because they have put in the work on themselves. It is someone who is so authentically connected to themselves and the Universe that nothing can touch them. They are a force that is strong, beautiful, and connected. I came out with two people. Jessica Alexandria and Janne Robinson.
I have never been much for trying to be like someone else, lets be honest I can’t, but these two women have a tenacity that I feel in my bones. Their drive and passion are passions I also feel but push aside because I don’t feel worthy of it. These two women are helping me see my own bullshit clearly. They are helping me step out and into the light while also being brave in the dark when facing those wounds I have buried deep under vines of barbed wire. They have both helped me more than they will ever know.
I feel like I have a lifetime of healing to do. One step at time, one tear at a time, one mend at a time. One trust at at time. All within myself. I have hated myself for too long, time to love all of who I am and not just little parts.
Here is a great article on HealthLine that gives great insight on trichotillomania: