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Trich tic trich

Trich Tic

You say,
"Oh, I have OCD too."
The words roll off your tongue with ease.
Meanwhile I try to explain that it's not OCD
that I have.

It's a compulsive disorder on the OCD spectrum
That I have been
carefully
professionally
diagnosed with.
Over a period of time
The words often trapped in my throat.

You say,
"Oh I just know I'm OCD because
sometimes I like things neat and orderly,
and I prefer things in even numbers."

In my head I want to shake you to your core.

When the Trich Tic
is bad.
When the Trich Tic
is unmedicated.

I want to strand by strand
rip each individual hair
from the depths of the root
and roll it between my fingers
satisfied.
Pull
Pull
Pull
until there is nothing left but
a shadow of where
an eyebrow should be.

An animalistic urge to start in
on the other brow.
Until I stop
and become so embarrassed.
That I cry
when I look in the mirror.

I used to sob in therapy.
Because I couldn't catch myself in the act
soon enough.
Then I would have to start
the rebirth of a new eyebrow
all over again.

I carried fidget spinners
stress *****
down the halls of my college campus.
Hid my "toys" in class
shamefully told each professor
I was sorry if my actions were
disruptive.

My moods were eruptive.
Paranoid someone would see.
The ugly monster I was underneath.
The made up eyebrows
I plastered on my face.
Put in place
of the real thing.

Please tell me again
how you can possibly understand.
How your undiagnosed
non-maddening habits
are the same.
You can't begin to imagine
The shame.

A girl who suffers from Trichotillomani

 
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