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It is difficult to describe the joy I felt when I boughtgel finger gripsfrom Staples on a Monday evening.
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My coworkers, with their acute attention to detail, noticed immediately.
Did you hurt yourself?"
one of them asked.
I explained myself matter-of-factly and no one even blinked.
It was no more shocking than talking about rush-hour traffic, which is what the discussion turned to next.
Having only known this group of people for eight weeks, I’d call that a tremendous success.
It’s an inherently sensory disease.
Something about hair, maybe the texture or appearance, sets off an urge, a mental alarm bell.
I would’ve been mortified if anyone discovered what I was doing.
Things changed when I started university and decided I wanted to be an academic researcher focused on trichotillomania.
By then, after almost a decade of pulling, my self-induced impending baldness was old news.
Everyone in college was encouraging and supportive; they even pushed me to get diagnosed my senior year.
Besides, it was simply too personal for an admissions committee.
The real world might not be so accepting.
BFRBs are the elephant in the office space: impossible to hide for long.
Others pull from their lashes or brows, leaving less to improvise with.
This sentiment is echoed tenfold in an office, especially in biopharma, where I work.
Educated, powerful women seem to be unable to show weakness in the workplace.
It’s still something I want you to know about, and we can talk about it anytime."
It was a tasteful response for something so unexpected.
Later, I wondered if anyone had come forward to her about amental healthissue like that before.
I certainly had never been on the receiving end of any such thing from a coworker.
At previous jobs, I used to keep my diagnosis to myself unless someone specifically asked.
But there’s no way for someone to offer support unless they know your situation.
What flips the switch for these “automatic” pulling episodes is not boredom per se, but inactiveness.
Frankly, behaviors associated with my hair-pulling make me look like I’m bored or not paying attention.
Sometimes the sensation of someone’s gaze on me is palpable.
Believe me, nobody chooses to have a BFRB.
That relief is fleeting, and as the moment passes, it is pushed out by humiliation and disgust.
I am averse to hair, mine or anyone else’s.
When I have to clean up after a pulling episode, no one is more disgusted than me.
But when I break the ice, the reaction I most often get is surprise.
I’m happy to do it, because I’m used to being a self-appointed advocate.
When people are comfortable with you, your quirks don’t bother them so much.
Like my own boss, I want to encourage people to talk about mental health in the workplace.
I may not ever stop for good, but I’m off to a pretty good start.
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