Rhymes and Red Gloves

Eyebrows: Week 3      Eyelashes Restart: Week 1

Day 8 (February 11, 2019)

   Hi God,

It is a new week and all that would come to me were a few frustrated rhymes:

The non-Trichotillomania world kindly suggests to try this and try that

but, unfortunately, my brain does not work like that.

The non-Trichotillomania world says this will help we guarantee,

but inside I’m screaming, “It won’t work. So, please, stop trying to fix me.”

The non-Trichotillomania world seems to like asking about my anxiety,

but, sometimes, it would be nice to talk about something else to help my own sanity.

The non-Trichotillomania world gives advice with love and care

 but, sometimes, all I really want is a hug and a prayer.

The non-Trichotillomania world has a hard time understanding me,

but maybe that is somewhat my fault, so I offer up an apology.

The non-Trichotillomania world might only see a girl in an isolated bubble

but, God, I know you see a woman soldiering mightily through the struggle.

            Sorry for the rhymes, Lord. It was just another hard day. I pulled, again, after having a conversation with someone who wanted to help. I never want to hurt anyone’s feelings, Lord, but sometimes peoples’ words are not very helpful. The words really chafed and, well, you know how I tend to soothe myself. So, I think you would be proud to know that I wore my red gloves while I typed. Even though I hated that I needed to wear them, I am thankful that they kept me from being able to grasp any hairs—keeping the hair pulling onslaught at bay—which then allowed me to rhyme out my frustrations to you. Thank you for listening to my venting. Love you!

Always,

Your Daughter Kaitlan

P.S.  God, please help those who struggle with hair pulling and those who do not, better understand how to approach each other. Can you help those who are not struggling with Trichotillomania, to see that sometimes we just need someone there for us with no advice given? While on the other hand, helping us—those who do deal with Trichotillomania—to see that we need to open up a bit more, so people who care about us can better understand our struggle and needs. (After all, none of us are mind readers.) Thank you, God.

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