Insight into a Relapse.

So for those of you just now joining us from home: I pull my own hair out. It's pretty much my biggest problem in life. Which, really, doesn't sound too bad. I mean, I'm well aware of how blessed I am, that I could have things so much worse.

But I am human. I am narcissistic, and although I love that my life is unique and extraordinary in many ways, I still want some things to just be normal.

That's why it endlessly frustrates me that after I graduated, I fell into a several month long relapse. It's bad. It's not been this bad since jr. high. I thought after I graduated, I'd be okay. Maybe I'd get as close to completely better as I possibly can. Fate tends to troll me whenever I have absolute hope like that, though. LOLOLOLOL NO! Turns out wasting away with nothing to do while feeling like my life and my youth are passing before my eyes is a major stressor. Who knew, right?

Now, before I continue, I'm not trying to throw myself a pity party here. I just need to get this out, write it down, and maybe, if anyone reads this, get them to understand a little bit more about me. Even if I do get into pity territory, it's my blog and SHUT UP THOR! I DO WHAT I WANT!

The odd thing about relapsing is how EVERYTHING changes. Not just in me - people treat me differently. I used to wonder if it was because I wasn't appearing as confident as before, but no, there's definitely a change in other people's actions towards me. People are colder, more offput than usual (I believe I have a pretty offputting personality as it is), close me out more. Small talk is already hard for me, and it's even harder to make when I look and feel like a weirdo Sometimes it feels like "maybe if we just ignore the patchy bald girl, she'll go away". It hurts. When my hair looks cute, people interact with me more. They try to get to know me, and their first impressions are usually more positive. Human behavioral evolution sure is strange. Hair has been, in many cultures for thousands of years, a sign of healthiness, after all.

The worst is when you know people are staring, or wondering, but they just don't out and out ask the question. Really, you think I would prefer you wondering (and not hiding it well) and imagine you thinking horrible things rather than just asking me? I've always worn my heart, and my brain, on my sleeves. I'll tell you exactly what I'm thinking - if you ask the right questions.

The sad thing about hair, and trichotillomania, is that supposedly once you rip out the roots too many times, the hair follicle will never grow back. That's been a constant fear of mine for over a decade, and ironically also another stressor. This time I'm afraid it's happened. After my relapse let up, I did my usual damage control routine - lots of green tea, lots of water, lots of exercise, lots of soy, lots of biotin and multivitamins. It doesn't seem to be working, My hair just isn't growing.

I don't understand.