Check out My Depression Journey. I mention briefly my struggles of how my depression lead to Trichotillomania.
You may have come to this page either from searching Trichotillomania or just have a curiosity for all things medical (such as myself). I am not a medical expert, I am not a psychologist; what I am is a person with real struggles who finally decided to open to others. If I can provide an ounce of help to anyone, why not?
Depression has always been an unwelcomed friend. It’s isolating, it’s lonely, it’s cold. It fills your day with dread and invites you to take one too many days off from life. Depression has stolen time, money, happiness, friends and family from me.
I was 5 years old when I first felt sad all the time. I would hide in my room from my parents arguing and started to wind down the questions of “where’s Daddy?”. My room was my shelter filled with toys, crayons, and stickers. Those things couldn’t protect me from my mind. When I started being shuffled between one parent to another, that’s when I took a nose dive. I would cry and look at pictures of my mom and me together at the park, I would barricade myself into whatever room was deemed mine, and I would use toys as my amour when traveling making sure to bring as many as possible to recreate a sense of home. None of that shielded me. I was stressed, yet how does a kid know the words to tell their parents that? They didn’t understand anyways.