Suzanne's (Brat) Story

Hi Amanda. Well, I am finally getting around to sending you that picture for your site. Took me a while. I had to make sure I was comfortable with it and would have no regrets. I sent the picture to a few close friends and the responses were so positive that I am sure I will have no regrets. Anyhow, the toughest part actually is coming up with a story to go along with the pic. I am going to give it a shot. I have to go with humor because, well, it is who I am, and also, I do not want to sound pathetic, nor do I want to sound conceited, so I guess I will just be me.

My name is Suzanne M. and I am a trichaholic. I have had trich for 25 years, starting when I was, well, if I tell you when I started, you will know how old I am, so lets just say I started young, very young, okay, not very young. I can even remember the exact day I started pulling. I was in the yard with a friend, Machelle, and we both decided to pull out a hair to examine it and see what it felt like. Who would have
guessed such a simple act would leave me with a lifelong disorder. I have since crossed Machelle's name off my Christmas list for being such a willing participant and going along with pulling out the hair. No more pictures of Elvis on black velvet from me.

Actually, I believe trich to be genetic, a chemical imbalance passed on by the fact that my parents were brother and sister. Not really! There is a lot of history of neurological problems on my mother's side of the family, however, including depression, OCD, bipolar, panic attacks, essential tremors and autism. This is all on the Patterson side of the family, the Irish bootleggers who made their own alcohol and
brought it down to Chicago during prohibition. That does say a lot for my scummy gene pool. Ah, those damn Irish. But they are the best relatives at reunions, parties, weddings and funerals.

Junior high was pretty good despite the trich. I had just started pulling and there was very little damage. I was fairly popular and got along well with people. I had just moved here from Chicago at the beginning of junior high. No horror stories to report at all, well, except Mrs. Garrison, my home ec teacher who told me I would never know how to sew or cook. She was right about the sewing part.

High school stunk. The kids were so cruel. I had to wear a bandana at that point because of the bald spots and they would pull it off all the time, especially on the bus, and play keep-away from me. Never being a meek child, I was in the office on a regular basis for fighting. I had one marvelous friend in high school, KK, who accepted me for who I was, what I looked like, and was my saving grace all through high school. No one knew that I had trich. It was just this mysterious medical condition that caused my hair to fall out, probably stress or a bad diet/vitamin deficiency. My parents took me to a dermatologist shortly after I started pulling who specifically asked me if I pulled out my hair, saying it was a disorder that could be treated with medication. I remember wanting so bad to tell him, wanting so bad to be put on a medication that would make me stop doing this, wanting someone to know, anyone to know. But then I looked over at my mom and felt that if I admitted to doing this damage to myself, I was in big trouble and would also end up having to pay the bill for the dermatologist. So fear and shame made me deny pulling when I could have gotten help at an early age. That is what is the most upsetting about this disorder, that we do so much more damage to ourselves by keeping it in, by being ashamed and thinking we are crazy and no one will understand. People do understand. People do take the time to
read up on it and realize it is a disorder. Sharing about my trich has made me whole again. Now, not everyone would understand. My ex would definitely not understand. However, the people who take that attitude have far more mental problems than we do.

When I first looked up trichotillomania on the computer, which was in April or May, I actually had to turn my computer screen so no one could see what I was bringing up.   And the only person in the house was my sister. That is how ashamed and ignorant to this disorder I was. I read everything I could on Amanda's site and also Steph's site. I was in shock. My God, these people were intelligent, brilliantly intelligent, and so NORMAL! These sites were truly a Godsend. I then found the Fairlight board and
read all the posts. I immediately started feeling better about myself, stronger and more confident that I was not a total nutcase. By day two, I told my sister about trich. With her being home during the day, I figured she would eventually walk over to see what I was typing anyhow. This went well, as she also suffers from trich. That was an easy one.

The next one to tackle was my teenage daughter, with the understanding that most teenagers think their parents are crazy anyhow. About a week after finding the trich sites, while sitting in the car waiting on my sister, I told my daughter about my trich. She basically laughed it off. She had always known that I had pulled out my hair, had seen me do it on numerous occasions. She just had no idea there was a name for it or that it was an actual disorder. She has since been reading the Fairlight board and just loves it.

Next came my mom. That was tough. Of all days to decide to spill my guts, I told her on Mother's Day. We were having a great conversation on the phone and I just felt the time was right. Mom handled it great and I have never felt closer to her. Originally, she felt to blame for not seeing me pull and getting me help, but that is because I only pulled at night in bed, so I convinced her that it was not her fault. It is no ones fault, just the luck of the draw.

Finally, a few days ago, I told Stacey, who has been my best friend nearly my entire life. I really thought she had known all along, as my daughter did, but she never knew. Her response was perfect. She listened, asked questions, and then, in a whisper, said "Now, let me get this straight........" and then she screamed into the phone "You pull out your own (the f word) hair?" Now that is acceptance. It really
is. You would just have to know Stacey. We had a wonderful talk and lots of laughs.   She still swears I am the most normal person she has ever known, which tells you something about her choice of friends, and that was one of the best things she could   have said. I felt wonderful after our conversation, on top of the world. Well, she also informed me she is pregnant with twins, so that had a lot to do with it.

The condition of my hair was horrible. I was nearly bald on top, with just this Friar Tuck type of fringe on the sides and back. I have been wearing a wig for about 10 years and had nearly no hair to pull from the top, but still was seeing no regrowth. I decided, with counsel from two very dear people (you know who you are), to shave my head completely. That way, not only would I have nothing to pull, but also the roots would have a chance to get strong and maybe after a year or so, I would experience regrowth. At this point, I was ready to do anything to help control this disorder. I gave my daughter permission to shave my head, which she relished, getting me back for that haircut I gave her in third grade when she was called Sinead O'Connor for the entire year. It felt wonderful. I don't know how to explain it. It was like she was shaving off my disorder, my past, my shame, any clue that I even had trich. When you
think about it, anyone can shave their head, it is not the sign of a disorder. For the first time in 25 years, I looked in the mirror at a totally bald head and felt normal.   It was a wonderful feeling.

I have decided to have my picture on this site so that anyone contemplating shaving their head can see what it looks like. Hey, I don't look bad considering I am only 21. I have learned when it comes to battling this disorder, attitude is everything. If you accept it as part of your life, but do not let it control your life, you will be content. We are not defined by our hair. Well, okay, we are to really shallow people, but do we really care what they think? If not for the board and the special people I have met, I would not be where I am right now. I do hope everyone who reads this site is lucky enough to be supported and loved by the people with this disorder who have stepped into my life and made it so worth living. Just reach out, take that chance, and you will be rewarded in ways you never thought possible. I wish everyone who reads this the love that I have right now for myself, for my fellow trichsters, for my family
and for God, because without him, I would not have met anyone of you and would not be the person I am today, you know, the bald broad!

Suzanne McNeil