Relapse

Progress, then relapse. It’s something we know all too well. Regrowth, only to pull it all out. Relapse is months or years of growing back. It’s a tough road. I was doing so well, too. Things got crazy in my life (not bad, just overwhelming) and I pulled. I went to pick up a pencil under my desk at work and I was horrified how much hair I had under there. It was embarrassing, it was gross. But it was sad. I sat on the floor with a wad of hair in my hand, knowing this is another long road to recovery and regrowth. Who knows how long until it grows back? I’m so tired. It’s been almost 14 years of this. It takes a toll on your mental health and body image. I’m shocked when I hear that 2 to 4 % of the population goes through the same thing I do. It’s shocking really to think that when you are in a crowded room of 100 people, there could possibly 4 other people that know what I’m going through. My mother pulled and my cousin pulls, I also had a neighbor friend growing up who pulled. It’s not uncommon, but it still doesn’t help when I feel (and look) like a freak. Never feeling pretty. Never feeling completely confident. I think back to when I first pulled. I was in school and my chair grabbed hold of my hair. I turned around to find a big chunk stuck to the screw in my chair. I saw a follicle. I was amazed. I was intrigued. And that was it. What would have happened if my hair has been in a pony tail that day? Would things have been the same? Would I have eventually found myself pulling sometime down the road? Or would I have perfectly long and healthy blonde hair and not ever dare think about pulling it?