
Trichotillomania (Hair Pulling) Support Group
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I'm not intending to bore anyone with this, but I thought in light of so many new members, this may be helpful again. I'm noticing how hard it is for us to share our hair-pulling with others, yet I really feel that this is the path to healing. I pray that God will use me to touch others and that this pain will be used for his glory.
Love,
Jenn
When I began pulling as a little girl, I found I could no longer make eye contact with people. I didn't want them to see I had no eyebrows or lashes. Later on, I switched to pulling the hair on top of my scalp. I had a bald spot the size of a softball with scabs and sores. I felt like the ugliest, most worthless person alive. I didn't want my picture taken and I was scared to death of being video-taped, especially from behind. This was such a prison, especially at extended family Christmases. I had lied about how I got the bald spot, and thought that if anyone ever knew the truth, they would think I was disgusting and would label me a freak. I couldn't tell my parents either... my biggest fear was that they would lock me up in a mental institution. I was sure they were ashamed of me and that I was an embarrassment to them. My Dad was a pastor, and my folks were loving, caring people who made a good home for my sister and I. How could I do this to them?
So, from age 9 until age 15 I locked myself away in a prison of lies and fears to keep me safe from pain and rejection. The thing I didn't realize was that my thick walls also prevented anyone from helping me, and created the rejection I wanted so desperately to avoid. What was the answer? The only thing I knew to do was add more stones, making the wall thicker and higher.
When I was baptized at age 13, a day that should have been wonderful as I vowed to follow my Savior, all I could think of as Dad poured the water over my handkercheif-covered bald spot was how disappointed he must be in me, and how ugly I must be in his eyes. I just could not believe that there was a loving heavenly Father who accepted me as I was, no matter how many hairs I pulled or how many scabs covered my head. I had to pay. I was bad. I was weak. I wasn't good enough. All lies... and I believed every word.
The amazing thing about God is that no matter where you are when you begin with Him, He gently takes you from that point and begins to move you forward. He slowly began taking the stones down. The first step was taking a job as a horse wrangler and kitchen help at a christian camp. I made friends there on a level I never had before. My faltering, feeble trust grew to a point that I was able to tell my 2 closest friends the truth. And... they didn't reject me. They now knew my horrible secret, and it didn't matter to them. They loved me anyway. This was the first glimmer of light into my dark and lonely fortress.
Oh, that light felt good! I began dismantling my stones, and more light came in. As more light came in, the less the power of my dark secret. The rules of hiding hair-pulling slowly lost their hold on me. No, I didn't (and don't) walk around with my bald spot exposed for the world to see, but I could talk about it with people. I saw that what Satan was using to lock me up, Jesus was using to help others. Because I know pain, I can understand others who are in pain. Because I am willing to allow Jesus to touch my raw head, to see my shame, He does not waste my pain. It is a precious tool to touch the lives of others. He has made me a wounded healer (this is someone else's phrase). That doesn't mean that I don't struggle. It doesn't mean that I like myself all the time. I still have bad days. I still pull and pick and fight the internal battles of bitter self worth. The difference? With each passing moment, my "secret" has less and less power over me. It does not define me anymore. I am not aware of my bald spot 24/7 as I used to be, spending all my waking moments figuring out how I can hide it from others.
I would challenge you to find a safe person to tell. I understand that not everyone is as fortunate as I am... sometimes people ridicule instead of being compassionate. But if you ask the Lord to show you that person, He will do it. And the more you can be honest about your struggles, the less power they will have over you.
Love,
Jenn
When I began pulling as a little girl, I found I could no longer make eye contact with people. I didn't want them to see I had no eyebrows or lashes. Later on, I switched to pulling the hair on top of my scalp. I had a bald spot the size of a softball with scabs and sores. I felt like the ugliest, most worthless person alive. I didn't want my picture taken and I was scared to death of being video-taped, especially from behind. This was such a prison, especially at extended family Christmases. I had lied about how I got the bald spot, and thought that if anyone ever knew the truth, they would think I was disgusting and would label me a freak. I couldn't tell my parents either... my biggest fear was that they would lock me up in a mental institution. I was sure they were ashamed of me and that I was an embarrassment to them. My Dad was a pastor, and my folks were loving, caring people who made a good home for my sister and I. How could I do this to them?
So, from age 9 until age 15 I locked myself away in a prison of lies and fears to keep me safe from pain and rejection. The thing I didn't realize was that my thick walls also prevented anyone from helping me, and created the rejection I wanted so desperately to avoid. What was the answer? The only thing I knew to do was add more stones, making the wall thicker and higher.
When I was baptized at age 13, a day that should have been wonderful as I vowed to follow my Savior, all I could think of as Dad poured the water over my handkercheif-covered bald spot was how disappointed he must be in me, and how ugly I must be in his eyes. I just could not believe that there was a loving heavenly Father who accepted me as I was, no matter how many hairs I pulled or how many scabs covered my head. I had to pay. I was bad. I was weak. I wasn't good enough. All lies... and I believed every word.
The amazing thing about God is that no matter where you are when you begin with Him, He gently takes you from that point and begins to move you forward. He slowly began taking the stones down. The first step was taking a job as a horse wrangler and kitchen help at a christian camp. I made friends there on a level I never had before. My faltering, feeble trust grew to a point that I was able to tell my 2 closest friends the truth. And... they didn't reject me. They now knew my horrible secret, and it didn't matter to them. They loved me anyway. This was the first glimmer of light into my dark and lonely fortress.
Oh, that light felt good! I began dismantling my stones, and more light came in. As more light came in, the less the power of my dark secret. The rules of hiding hair-pulling slowly lost their hold on me. No, I didn't (and don't) walk around with my bald spot exposed for the world to see, but I could talk about it with people. I saw that what Satan was using to lock me up, Jesus was using to help others. Because I know pain, I can understand others who are in pain. Because I am willing to allow Jesus to touch my raw head, to see my shame, He does not waste my pain. It is a precious tool to touch the lives of others. He has made me a wounded healer (this is someone else's phrase). That doesn't mean that I don't struggle. It doesn't mean that I like myself all the time. I still have bad days. I still pull and pick and fight the internal battles of bitter self worth. The difference? With each passing moment, my "secret" has less and less power over me. It does not define me anymore. I am not aware of my bald spot 24/7 as I used to be, spending all my waking moments figuring out how I can hide it from others.
I would challenge you to find a safe person to tell. I understand that not everyone is as fortunate as I am... sometimes people ridicule instead of being compassionate. But if you ask the Lord to show you that person, He will do it. And the more you can be honest about your struggles, the less power they will have over you.
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I know that it is the enemy telling us to be ashamed. I feel it in my own walk with my own issues as well as for my son.
Thank you for sharing. As a believer its is a shameful feeling sometimes and it can really separate us from the love of Christ. I know however, that its not right and to hear other believers who still believe and still struggle is a HUGE testimony for me!
Thank you again, I will continue to lift you in prayer.
Thank you for your inspiring words. GOD Bless!!!
thank you for the reminder that He is with us even in our lowest times.