People compliment me on my luscious head of hair... but I'm hiding a condition that's left me with bald patches and permanent damage. It affects more than a million Brits - these are all the warning signs to look out for
To a stranger, my dark chestnut hair might seem like my crowning glory. But behind the gloss, I have struggled for decades with a condition that left me with unsightly bald patches I’d hide with a baseball cap.
I suffer from trichotillomania, also known as TTM or trich, which means I compulsively pull my hair out.
The first time I deliberately tugged a hair from my scalp was just after my father died suddenly when I was nine.
The quick snap of pain brought a strange sense of release – a brief moment of escapism or control – at a time when life felt sad and overwhelming.
It quickly became a habit. I’d watch TV absent-mindedly twisting a strand of hair around my finger, then tug until it came away. I’d drop the hair on the floor, only later noticing the pile beside me. The action was quiet and repetitive, almost trance-like.
It was only after a few months that I realised there was a bald patch where I’d been pulling.
It’s estimated that more than 800,000 people in the UK suffer from trich, yet there’s still little public understanding of how all-consuming it can be.
Now 34, I want to help raise awareness and show other sufferers there is hope.
Rosie Myers suffers from trichotillomania, also known as trich or TTM, which means she compulsively pulls her hair out
Rosie began deliberately pulling her hair out shortly after her father died in 2002 – by the following summer she had to wear a cap to hide the bald spots
My father died in October 2002, and by the following summer I had to wear a baseball cap every day to hide my bald spots. But patches were still visible. Walking home from school one day, a girl behind me shouted: ‘Rosie, why have you got a bald patch?’ One cutting remark like that can stay with you for years and I became withdrawn. As my confidence plummeted, the pulling became worse.
The counselling and support Mum put in place helped me through the worst of the shock and grief, but trich is a complex issue to solve.
Finally, aged 16, I got serious about stopping after realising how thin my hair was at the sides. ‘Oh god, I look as though I’ve got a mullet,’ I thought.
I booked a session with a hypnotherapist after being inspired by my lovely stepdad – he quit his 40-a-day smoking habit after seeing one.
The therapist asked me to think of my subconscious as a control room with buttons and levers which I needed to stop pressing and pulling.
I didn’t pull my hair again for 18 months. Whenever I automatically lifted my hand to my head, I’d urge myself: ‘Stop – what are you doing?’
Convinced I’d broken the cycle, my self-confidence soared and my thick, dark hair grew back. I didn’t worry about long-term damage back then.
Sadly, it was a false sense of security and the stress of A-levels and my final exams at Bournemouth University saw me begin pulling again.
Joining the world of work simply made things worse. I’d pull my hair in meetings, and if a boss asked for a ten-minute chat, I’d panic I was in trouble.
Cognitive behavioural therapy helped Rosie to challenge her negative thoughts rather than reaching for her hair – and she stopped pulling
These days, people do compliment me on my hair, which still feels surreal. Twenty years ago, as a bullied, insecure teenager with bald patches, I’d never have imagined it, Rosie says
I became very skilled at disguising my bald patches, parting my hair strategically and using volume sprays.
E verything changed in early 2017 when I was put in touch with a wonderful therapist through my corporate health insurance. I did some more cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) with her to tackle the old beliefs and demons I’d carried around since I was a child. One was a deep sense of abandonment; a feeling that if my dad had really loved me, he would have been there.
She helped me to accept that what happened to my dad was not in my control as a child or a reflection of my worth.
CBT tools helped me to challenge the ‘I’m not good enough’ thoughts rather than reaching for my hair. Feeling freer of the past, I stopped pulling.
Many people see regrowth when they quit, but years of repeated pulling can also leave some areas finer and, in more severe cases, contribute to scarring and permanent thinning. Knowing my hair could fall out, I became deeply invested in making it as healthy as possible.
It’s been about eight years since I last pulled my hair. The urge to relapse reignites at times of stress, but a brilliant new therapist has taught me to respond to that childhood urge as an adult: take a breath, remember I’m safe and that I don’t have to pull to cope.
Although it has grown back, the hair around the hotspots where I used to pull most, such as my crown and hairline, is thinner. Later this month, I’ve got an appointment with a trichologist to establish whether I’ve done lasting damage to the hair follicles and what we can do to treat it.
These days, people do compliment me on my hair, which still feels surreal. Twenty years ago, as a bullied, insecure teenager with bald patches, I’d never have imagined being in the great place I am now.
More than anything, I want to encourage other trich sufferers to seek help and to understand, as I eventually did, that you can get on top of the condition rather than letting it consume you.
For information about Rosie’s haircare range, visit howaboutnope.com
As told to Sadie Nicholas
