I haven’t wanted to write.
I haven’t wanted to delve into BFRBs and Trichotillomania.
I haven’t wanted to do much honestly.
I feel as if you need to realize something is missing from life to truly bring it back into perspective.
To realize it’s importance.
Writing used to be a large component of my day, of my week. We’ve taken a break recently writing and I. It’s been good…or at least I thought.
But now, I’m back.
Things haven’t been good, but they also haven’t been bad? They’re just happening.
I still pull my hair.
I still pick at my scalp.
I’m still a trichster.
I’m still living with mental illness.
Many people still don’t know what it is, or understand it.
I still blush and shy my eyes when I tell people.
I still feel embarrassment.
Lack of awareness still bothers me. Yet I’ve watch BFRB Awareness Week come and go. I’ve turned down opportunities to help. I’ve avoided a lot.
I’m not so sure. Of course fear plays a part. No one wants to be defined by an illness, or provide help they’re unsure they’re qualified to give. Becoming a voice is hard, but it’s important.
I haven’t looked at this site in three months. Haven’t checked stats. I’ve automatically deleted emails. I’ve avoided the topic entirely. What I thought was wise hasn’t been.
My hair pulling hasn’t gotten better, my mental well being, my physical well being haven’t benefited from this. Those around me, those who care, haven’t benefited by this.
So now what?
Now we write. Now we talk. If it makes but one day better, gives but one person hope. Makes me or someone feel like there’s community out there.