My trichotillomania/dermatillomania Story | by Joanna Lawrence | Oct, 2025
**In order to protect the privacy of the people in this story, all names except for the names of famous people have been changed**
What is trichotillomania? Well, glad you asked. More people should. It is actually very common, but most people don’t talk about it because it is a source of embarrassment for most people. “The word trichotillomania derives from the Greek trich- (“hair”) and tillein (“to pull or pluck”), along with the suffix -mania (from mainesthai, meaning “to be mad”). People suffering from trichotillomania will routinely pluck hair from the scalp, eyebrows, eyelashes, or other parts of the body, usually impulsively but sometimes with careful deliberation (such as by using tweezers). Some researchers believe that it may be a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder. The word for this condition first appeared in English around the dawn of the 20th century (it’s generally thought to have been first coined in French by a French dermatologist).”(Merriam Webster). “Trichotillomania is considered to be a rare disorder encountered in clinical practice. Although trichotillomania was reported to occur with many psychiatric disorders, the exact prevalence rate was not reported.” (nih.gov) Many celebrities also struggle with TTM, such as Olivia Munn, Megan Fox, Charlize Theron, Katy Perry, Victoria Beckham, and Justin Timberlake.
Trichotillomania has been a huge struggle in my life for about three years, but it feels like much longer. My first memory of pulling my hair out was late at night, when I was reading, and I had this one layer that was really bothering me. I can’t really remember what led to the pulling, but I remember wrapping the hair in my fingers and the sting of my scalp that I would later become extremely and strangely accustomed to. Even right now, as I am writing this, my fingers are twisting the hair on the edge of my hairline, a mind of their own.
When I was in fifth grade, I started pulling. I’m not really sure how it started. I would pull out a piece of hair- the size slowly increasing- and roll it between my pointer finger and thumb until I was left with a nice little ball. I used to stuff them under my lamp (there was a gap between the base of the lamp and the table it sat on), and that plan worked until my collection increased so much to the point where the lamp didn’t sit right. One day, I came home from school to find my collection had been thrown out. I was angry. Like, blindingly, seeing red rage. For some context, I have ADHD. The symptom I struggle with the most is emotion management.
When I got my first bad bald spot, it was during summer break. According to this chart, it was in the 5a area of my head.
It was bad. It was about the size of a one-dollar coin and was bleeding. I don’t have any of my own pictures from this time because I didn’t want anyone to know. But I can insert a picture of what it looked like. It was not nearly this bad. This is just to show what a bleeding scalp looks like.
I sort of remember discovering it, but I remember more clearly going downstairs thinking that no one would notice. I ended up playing duck, duck, goose with my siblings and our babysitter. It was my sister’s turn to go, and I just remember her pointing it out, something along the lines of “ewww, Joanna has a bald spot and it’s bleeding!”. I distinctly remember the blood rushing to my cheeks, immediately getting to my feet. The rest is kind of blurry after that.
That night, my parents found out. I had hidden it from them up until then. Or, they hadn’t talked to me about it before. I just remember my mom’s face looking like I had just killed her puppy, then burnt her house down with her family inside. I think that the reason she reacted in this way was that, because my scalp was bleeding, she saw it as a form of self-harm. According to a website called Sequoia Behavioral Health, it is.
That’s the only important events I remember before middle school. That year, I began treatment. Well, “treatment”. I saw a therapist, but I always steered the conversation away. I started to wear wool hats to school to help keep my hands off my head. People didn’t understand why I wore a hat every day and asked me about it. My best friend would always tell me to take it off (hats are against the dress code at my school, but my mom pulled some strings to allow me to wear able to since it was a “medical need”). By this time, what I did with the hair had evolved. I either let it fall to the ground, or I would put it on the wall or on a piece of paper, let it dry, and take off the hair. It leaves the root on it.
The year after that, I started legit treatment. I started Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. My therapist was very nice and I wish she could be my best friend. Her name was Lillian. At first, I was responding very well to treatment, but over time, things changed. Eventually, I stopped wanting to give it up. Lillian and I eventually decided to stop my treatment because at that point, I was just wasting my parents’ money.
For that reason, I feel that trichotillomania is an addiction. I could not stop. I’ve never been addicted to drugs or alcohol or smoking or anything, so I don’t have any point of reference. But I knew about and hated the consequences but I could not stop, “For many, but not all, individuals with trichotillomania, their behavior shares features with the core elements of addictions: (1) repetitive or compulsive engagement in the behavior despite adverse consequences; (2) diminished control over the problematic behavior; (3) an appetitive urge or craving state”(Harvard Review of Psychiatry).