What Worked for Kali
- Kali, TLC Member
- © Trichotillomania Learning Center, Inc. 2011. All Rights Reserved
About 5 ½ years ago, at the age of 42, I decided to return to graduate school to get my Ph.D. in family studies and human development, with a major in adolescent sexuality development and sexual health. Throughout my life, everything about who I am, including my natural abilities and the skills I acquired over the years, indicated that I would make a great researcher. But the idea of fulfilling the demands of a doctorate degree as a lifelong hair-puller seemed beyond absurd. I pretty much determined that, if I went back to graduate school, it would be an act of masochism that would probably put me over the edge. I’d survived this long and was doing fine, even if it meant that I had to compromise on my dreams.
What enabled me to take the leap and finally pursue a research career? Like many hair-pullers, for me the answer is multifaceted.
I can pinpoint the beginning of the Ph.D. journey to when I first learned the name of the impulse control disorder I have. I had started pulling out my eyelashes in 1976 when I was about 13. At that time, not only did TLC not exist but almost no one even knew what trichotillomania was, let alone talked about it. All I knew and was led to believe was that there was something wrong with me and I had to hide it. At about 22, I started to pull the hair out of my head. I soon developed bald spots and began the humiliating process of wearing wigs, hats, or scarves. A few years after TLC was founded in 1991, trichotillomania started to get enough public attention so that someone who knew about my “problem” told me about it. That was a life-changing moment for me, because I finally learned the name of the disorder and its possible treatments. Soon I found out about the TLC organization and signed up to go to my first retreat. Interestingly, at the retreat, even though I met wonderful, kind people, and learned excellent techniques to address hair-pulling, I was also freaked out. There were some people walking around without anything on their heads! They were bald and they were showing it! I had so internalized the stigma of hair-pulling that, even though I too had many bald spots on my head, I was repulsed by other people showing theirs in public. However, because I have engaged in self-reflection since I was young, probably as a result of the disorder, I recognized those freaked out feelings as something I needed to address, which I later did in therapy.
Another wonderful thing that happened at the retreat was that a local hair stylist had volunteered to cut people’s hair there for free. That year the retreat was very close to where I lived, so I got her contact info. Later, whenever I had achieved a long enough stretch of not pulling (about 3-6 months), I was able to use her services. It was such an advantage to work with a compassionate stylist, as people who have gone with their “weird-looking” hair to insensitive hair salons can imagine.
As I just mentioned, after the retreat I did start to have pull-free periods. I attribute these successes largely to applying information and techniques that I learned from fellow hair-pullers and the behavioral and mental health practitioners I met: for example, Christina Pearson’s experience with biofeedback, Fred Penzel’s habit reversal training tips, Claudia Miles’s addiction model, Carol Novak’s information on the neurobiological aspects of pulling, and Sherrie Vavrichek’s sensory self-regulations skills. These people, and others who have contributed to the In Touch newsletter, have been an integral part of my support system over the years, and I would like to express my deepest appreciation to all of you.
Another major support was the Buddhist practice I started about 27 years ago that has been a great resource in terms of maintaining a sense of hope, perseverance, and self-awareness, especially in the face of setbacks. And I suffered many setbacks, to the point that, for most of my adult life, I have felt the need to cover my head in public. As a result, I gave up the idea that I could ever enjoy a healthy romantic relationship. But a deep yearning inside of me kept insisting on being recognized. I felt that I wasn’t fulfilling my potential, and that fact became increasingly difficult to ignore.
At about 37, I decided to take a major step in getting help for myself. I had been having flashbacks of painful childhood memories, so I volunteered for a thorough mental health diagnosis from a local university’s research training clinic in exchange for receiving low-cost services. I expected to be told what I already knew: that I suffered from depression, anxiety, and hair-pulling. Much to my surprise, I ended up being diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Once again, the act of naming what I had was liberating. Having been accurately diagnosed for the first time in my life, I was able to find an appropriate therapist to address my needs.
For the last ten years, using cognitive-behavioral techniques for trauma, I have learned to regulate my nervous system to minimize the effects of things that activate my PTSD. These regulation skills have also been extremely helpful in dealing with hair-pulling triggers. As a result, I have greatly increased my self-esteem and gained tremendous confidence in my ability to pursue larger goals. I developed a career as a professional writer and editor, bought a house, and cultivated a network of close friends. Then at 42, I got married and started graduate school.
I am now in the fifth year of my doctoral program and currently working on my dissertation project, with a scheduled graduation date of May 2012. More importantly, since July 2010, I have stopped pulling out the hair on my head, and my hair has fully grown back.
Let me preface this victory by telling you that, within the first year of school, I had pulled out all of my hair and had accepted the fact that I would not be able to stop until I graduated. I believed that the amount of reading and researching on the computer created far too many opportunities to pull than I could resist. But as I mentioned, I have made incredible progress in my ability to regulate my emotions and neurological system. Last summer, at 47, I won an award for my research and was featured in several professional newsletters; in all of them, I was wearing my scarf. I thought, This is not going to work. I want to have hair on my head and look good in those pictures. After getting inspiration from an article in the In Touch newsletter, I decided to challenge my belief that pulling was inevitable. I actively decided to stop pulling. Doing that was unheard of for me! Up until then, each time in the last 34 years that I was able to stop pulling, it felt like “magic.” Somehow, miraculously, perhaps due to low stress periods in my life, I would stop pulling and then pray that it would last. This time, I made the decision – and I drew on all my resources to help me, including marking each day on my calendar that was pull-free, staying vigilant and putting band-aids on my fingers when I felt the impulse to pull, using a cranial-sacral neck device that I found at Relax-the-Back that relaxes the neck and shoulders, and being loving and kind to myself.
I am a realistic, and I know that I will always need to be vigilant about situations that trigger hair-pulling. I am also an optimist, and I believe that I will now be able to manage my hair-pulling successfully despite any future challenges. Without the support of the TLC community, I doubt I could have come this far. Even though I haven’t actively attended conferences and retreats in the last 15 years, I have always stayed a member of TLC and I contribute financially when I can. TLC’s work is definitely having an impact on people like me, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
~Kali