In November 2012, I noticed my daughter had a swath of eyebrow hair missing. She'd been staying with her father that weekend, and when she returned there was a one-inch segment just completely gone. I talked to her about it, and she kept insisting she didn't know how it had happened. I eyed her suspiciously, thinking perhaps she'd found a safety razor and was "experimenting", or maybe she'd leaned in over a candle. I knew about the "hair pulling disorder" and it did cross my mind, but I shook off the idea, convinced it wouldn't happen to my daughter. Thinking the matter was a singular mysterious moment, I let it drop and moved on.
The next night "A" complained that her eyes were really itchy, so I brought her a washcloth to soothe them. As I laid the cloth on her eyes, I noticed she was missing a bunch of upper eyelashes from the eye opposite of the bare eyebrow. A certainty came crashing down on me. That hair-pulling disorder I'd read about seemed to start this way... and so we talked about it. She was, at first, afraid of being in trouble. She cried as I tried to assure her that I wasn't mad, I told her I just wanted to help her. She seemed to feel immensely better about it after a few minutes; I had assured her we'd do everything we could to help her. Like most seven year-old's she had the up-most faith that once Mom was on the case, it would certainly right itself up quickly. The first stop would be to the pediatrician's office.
The next day the diagnosis was pretty clear - her problem was unlikely a skin or hair condition, but most likely an issue with trichotillomania. She was pulling the hair out of her eyebrows and eyelashes; sometimes she meant to do it, and sometimes she did it while she was "spacing off." I brought her home and dove into the internet, trying to find out all the information I could on how to help her. We started a reward chart, I went out and bought prizes. I bought her silly putty and koosh balls - anything to keep her hands busy. I spoke with her teacher about helping remind her at school. So far, so good. We were going to beat this trichotillomania in record time! There were a few setbacks, even at first, but my daughter would tell me she caught herself pulling and had stopped herself. Horrah! We are making such great strides!
Then, nearing Christmas time both her and I started forgetting about the reward chart. Things were seeming so easy, it didn't seem to matter too much. I had bought a help book on trichotillomania that I really hadn't opened. Certainly we were doing so well that I'd never need to do much more than flip through it! Ah yes, my hopes were high. And then, of course, these expectations and hopes came crashing down once reality kicked back in. We couldn't just assume we'd beaten this disorder in less than a month... A week after Christmas another small patch of eyebrow hair went missing, we figured out she was pulling before bed so she happily decided to wear "fancy gloves" (dress up gloves) to bed to ward off the temptation. See! We were fixing this!
Last night, as "A" sat on my knee at the computer, I noticed that her eyelashes looked quite thin. On second look, both eyelashes looked half-plucked clean. She told me she knew she was pulling, but she didn't just stop - she liked the feeling. I was so disappointed in her. How could she pull again? Why didn't she just stop pulling when she noticed she was doing it? I showed her photos online of girls without their eyelashes, and talked to her about how she was going to want those eyelashes when she was older. "A" cried, and said she was sorry. My heart was heavy like a lump of cold clay. I thought we had this disorder under control, ready to be put behind us soon. We talked some more and "A" said she'd try harder. I hugged her and she went upstairs to play.
Sitting at my desk, a dawning realization came over me. I had handled that totally wrong. "A" didn't need to feel ashamed. She didn't need my disappointment or anger. This disorder was something bigger than my own ego and the way I had reacted could send my darling "A" into a spiral of bad self-esteem. I was so wrong. I had to fix this.
I went upstairs and sat on her bed, drawing her near. "A" laid her head in my lap, but wasn't looking at me. I told her "I came upstairs to tell you I am so sorry." I went on to tell her she was a wonderful, beautiful girl (eyelashes or no eyelashes) and that I was sorry I made her feel bad about her hair pulling. I explained to her that I was just frustrated - at myself - because I was so used to being able to fix everything, and this one issue was going to have to be mostly up to her. "A" told me she loved me. She cried and told me I was the best momma. I cried and told her I would try to be even better for her.
So... I think I'm learning. Trichotillomania is not a disorder we are going to overcome by becoming complacent or pushing aside. "A" doesn't need my disappointment, frustration, confusion, or ego in this matter. My only role here, as hard as it is for me, is to support her and try to help her help herself. This is going to be hard, for both of us. I only hope I can do right by "A", and let her know I'm here for her.
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