Alex, sending you so much love and I am so grateful for your transparency and vulnerability. You have no idea how it helps hold us as a community together. I am almost 51 and I’ve been doing the work since my mid twenties, and there are still areas I get trigged which I thought I had completely healed. Tonight, as I was struggling with my own setbacks, I remember something you said years ago on a video, “What if you were chosen for this?” When I was reminded of those words, I felt empowered. These setbacks can impact me, but they can no longer overtake me. Thank you for the love your pour on all of us. 💕💕
Sitting in the discomfort and the pain and feeling it, acknowledging the sources, and remembering our tools, is healing it. It feels slow sometimes. Progress, not perfection.
You used all your resources, so you have grown! Progress is not always (rarely) linear, with mental health. It’s up and down, but you are still coming out ahead in the long run. Sharing your experience with others is also a great act of bravery and kindness. ❤️
I don’t have your identical symptoms, but I am diagnosed with clinical depression, anxiety, and Adult ADHD. I ended a marriage with my husband of 12 years due to the chaos of alcoholism, raging anger and constant scream fighting. I still loved him, but he refused therapy or anything to do with recovery, so I chose my health first, and asked him to move out. We were separated a year, he had quit drinking and had his own apartment and a good job. We had an amicable divorce, but he was struggling with his own mental illness. Five days after our divorce, he lost his job, and four days later he took his life. I am in therapy, see a psychiatrist (have done both for many years) am in year 2 of Al-Anon and am going to try a Grief group tomorrow evening for the first time. I have a lot of support. I also have a stronger spiritual connection to a God of my own definition. Not the church God I was raised with exactly, more of a higher power who protects me and wants me to live and love free and at peace. I use different tools many times each day. It’s a hard journey and I am broken, but slowly healing. ❤️🩹 I ask for help. I am vulnerable, but strong. I think much like you. A wise woman told me we have to hold each other’s hand as we walk the journey of life. Here’s my hand. ❤️
Thank you for sharing the deepest part of yourself to me, a woman who at 58 is in the midst of feeling trauma that was buried for years. My behaviors have clearly manifested themselves in numerous fashions, including picking at my face since I was probably 12.
I also have a terrible shopping and hoarding problem. It’s not that I don’t use things that I buy, it’s more overspending and having no space for the things I bring into my home. Yet logic takes a back seat. My emotions won’t settle until I have that perfect piece of clothing - those shoes, that hat! I can’t go offline, or leave the store feeling so on edge that if I don’t make things right and leave something behind, my life won’t be right. I can’t even walk out of Goodwill without a treasure. It’s hard to drive buy right now and talk myself out of stopping, a habit I had recently had broken for several years.
The impulsive factor for perfection lies within so many women to be thin. That was the old “me”, before I was so transformed by a narcissist who nearly turned into a killer. I was lucky enough to walk away. I bought all new furniture when he died.
Being trapped was the start of hoarding. It was my way of having control. I hid things under my side of the bed, and in the guest room, where he never went.
I’ve never thought much about much about why I picked at my face. It was actually more about constant touching all over with my forefinger and thumb, than actual picking. I don’t recall when it stopped. I find that odd.
I suffer from several behavioral and mental illnesses, and I recently discovered that some of my behaviors are latent missed connections from childhood that I never felt able to pass through. I recently shared them with my therapist by taking Buddy, a small stuffed bear with not too many brains who asks a lot of questions that I have to answer. Lately he’s wearing a “Sheriff’s Badge,” a silver bow from a bag of cheap Christmas bows he discovered. It’s made him a little braver as of late.
Buddy isn’t the only guy in town, there’s Riley, the Rhino who’s not afraid of anything; Cuddles the bear with a soft voice who is ready for your hugs; Harrington the lop-eared rabbit who simply listens, Oddball, an elephant made of many parts, but is accepted anyway; and Tigger who bounces for resilience.
Each of these guys are protectors that I came to realize are helping me through several forms of abuse in my childhood that made me suicidal by age 12.
At that age I was foisted into puberty, and some abuse became worse. I can remember still wanting to play with toys from earlier in my childhood.
Many of those had been taken away from me and ruined when I was playing with them, and then I would be physically hurt. I still have sad memories. And I have memories of being freighted and hiding.
The ultimate betrayal was no intervention when someone was abusing me for years in the worst possible way. I’ve come to realize that it had to have been known. All the other ways I was hurt I had to endure were known. I’ve seen some of it in correspondence going back to when I was three years old. My fears and unhappiness weren’t my fault.
I’m writing this extremely personal and painful essay about myself because I am a Survivor. I am here.
I want other people to be able to feel comfortable talking about abuse and mental illness.
I want readers to understand that I am a person with severe mental illness because of what happened to me, not because it’s who I am. I am not afraid to be candid. My illness does not define me. But what happened did do permanent damage.
That I am making the best progress ever, after starting therapy in 2003, is exciting and rewarding. I feel empowered, even if some days aren’t good days.
I’m learning who I am. That’s something I’ve never before grasped in my lifetime of whirlwinds of pain and confusion. I sometimes think that I might one day be at peace. That is my prayer for myself.
Sosongo (thank you)!. Today has been rough. Today has been a day of disappointments and shifts, and feeling unworthy. You truly hit the nail with the hammer (or however that saying goes), and I am grateful for you.
Words cannot fully contain my gratitude for your unrelenting commitment to healing, your self-revelation and choice to claim your worthiness, and your profound faith in love. It's what we're each asked to muster over and over and over again. Thank you for seeing me through a rough patch. I appreciate you so very, very much.
Alex, you are a deeply lovely and beautiful soul. I understand the straddling between honoring our own selves and our children while still holding deep and profound pain around adults not showing up for us and seeing us throughout our childhood ♥️ I’m walking through some life shaking realizations in my healing work; they are rising to the surface in a way that makes me very aware of why I have tried to keep them at bay. We will do this. These moments of relapse and suffering will not stay forever. We will continue to walk through this season with our heads held high and our hearts open.
Within the wrappings of your struggles, is the most beautiful soul. Thank you for revealing its beauty, for the courage of your honesty, and for the hope you give all who battle anxiety and depression. You are healing.
I can’t thank you enough for being brave and having enough courage to speak on your struggles with trich. I’ve never really shared my experience with anyone in its entirety. I have been pulling/splitting my ends for about 20 ish years and still to this day haven’t found the “fix” or “solution”. I try to remind myself everyday to take it minute by minute especially with how tedious and shameful it can all feel. Only the closest people in my life know I struggle and I don’t think they even realize how bad. Recently I’ve noticed more and more of getting lost in this trance state that my inner dialogue will yell at me to snap out of it but it takes a few hours sometimes. I wish it wasn’t such a lonely/embarrassing feeling every time. I just really appreciate you sharing your experience. You are not alone. Sending all the love to your heart, calmness to your mind, and stillness to your urges. 🫶🏻
Trauma can feel so lonely at times. I’m thankful for your voice. Your vulnerability, I hope you are liberated as you share your experiences.
Crying as I’m reading anxiety is not my resting place. I too struggle with being upset that at my age my mental health can be so impacted. Forever healing and feeling exhausted as to climbing through the next hurdle. I’ve been doing work since my 20s as well. Continuously healing through sexual abuse and abandonment. ❤️
A fellow Rise & Writ(er) here! I'm overcome with emotions. I, too, have suffered from trich for most of my life but is was not until last year, I was diagnosed, officially, with OCD after symptoms peaked and I searched for answers. After struggling for about a decade with painful writing anxiety, finding the strength to join your writing group has been a part of my healing journey. Writing and poetry were my joys as a child. In 2021, I began experiencing some emotional lows in my personal relationships and very public highs in my social justice career. On the brink, a dear sisterfriend gifted me one of your books, putting you on my radar. I didn't pick they book up until last year, days later you announced R&W. Prior to this post, I had no idea your were an OCD warrior. Its such a lonely journey, so from one to another - I see you. You're transparency & honesty have given me so much hope and solace. So thank you! 💐
Never realized until I read your article that I have Trich too and lately have been pulling my hair out too. Trigger is concern over my son and his future.
Oh man! I thought I was alone. I’ve been in counseling consistently for last few years and things have been great. I also was diagnosed at 33 with severe depression and anxiety. Just before I turned 35 last year diagnosed with ADHD. I’ve been picking my fingers since I can remember and as I got older it got worse and worse. 2 years ago I figured out if I kept my nails done (gel and acrylic) maybe it could help me from gripping the skin. It worked for 2 years straight. I told myself and my counselor I think picking is behind me praise the Lord. January of this year my husband and I decided to focus on paying off a debt we have. Of course we went through the budget and found ways to cut expenses (y’all know the drill). I thought it’s been 2 years no picking you will fine to stop going to the nail shop for a little bit no biggy. Boy was I wrong. I was good for the first couple of days and I couldn’t even tell what triggered me but it started with one finger and then the next and before I knew all my fingers were throbbing, bleeding, and just a mess. I relapsed. How could this happen!! I’ve been so good and no when I was my hands and feel the burn from the soap. It’s just a reminder of my shame and disappointment. My counselor last week reminded me that she had heard me talk about my picking but never saw the effects this bad. It’s embarrassing having to hid my fingers or come up with excuses when the kids ask me why I have red in my fingers. I’ve dealt with sexual trauma as a teenager, abandonment issues, etc. I just wish I could figure out why I do this. It hurts honestly and wish I could stop. The only time I’m not picking is if I’m actively working, actively doing things around the house, etc. It’s the moments of stillness that it’s the worse.
Sending so much love and gratitude for sharing. As always your beautiful words resonate and make me feel seen. I struggle to do better even though I know better. Overconsumption (food) has been my Roman empire since I was a teenager. I know it doesn't serve me to eat all the things, and I'm working on it. My obsession with food is a deep one. And every time I bite into more than what is enough for my body I discover more about myself. Sometimes it's held with love and sometimes not. I'm learning to love my human meat suit and understand how to know where an episode is coming from (and maybe one day stop feeling like "if I don't eat all of this I will certainly die").
Alex, thank you so much for sharing what you are walking through in this moment in time. I'm so thankful for you transparency's and vulnerability. I'm navigating anxiety and grief. My life has drastically shifted for the good but there was great loss in my previous life and I'm am learning to sit with it and embrace that I am still worthy and still a beautiful person in the midst of choosing me. I'm learning to hold myself with grace and tenderness as I move forward. Thank you again for sharing and providing space for others to share.
Alex, sending you so much love and I am so grateful for your transparency and vulnerability. You have no idea how it helps hold us as a community together. I am almost 51 and I’ve been doing the work since my mid twenties, and there are still areas I get trigged which I thought I had completely healed. Tonight, as I was struggling with my own setbacks, I remember something you said years ago on a video, “What if you were chosen for this?” When I was reminded of those words, I felt empowered. These setbacks can impact me, but they can no longer overtake me. Thank you for the love your pour on all of us. 💕💕
Sitting in the discomfort and the pain and feeling it, acknowledging the sources, and remembering our tools, is healing it. It feels slow sometimes. Progress, not perfection.
You used all your resources, so you have grown! Progress is not always (rarely) linear, with mental health. It’s up and down, but you are still coming out ahead in the long run. Sharing your experience with others is also a great act of bravery and kindness. ❤️
I don’t have your identical symptoms, but I am diagnosed with clinical depression, anxiety, and Adult ADHD. I ended a marriage with my husband of 12 years due to the chaos of alcoholism, raging anger and constant scream fighting. I still loved him, but he refused therapy or anything to do with recovery, so I chose my health first, and asked him to move out. We were separated a year, he had quit drinking and had his own apartment and a good job. We had an amicable divorce, but he was struggling with his own mental illness. Five days after our divorce, he lost his job, and four days later he took his life. I am in therapy, see a psychiatrist (have done both for many years) am in year 2 of Al-Anon and am going to try a Grief group tomorrow evening for the first time. I have a lot of support. I also have a stronger spiritual connection to a God of my own definition. Not the church God I was raised with exactly, more of a higher power who protects me and wants me to live and love free and at peace. I use different tools many times each day. It’s a hard journey and I am broken, but slowly healing. ❤️🩹 I ask for help. I am vulnerable, but strong. I think much like you. A wise woman told me we have to hold each other’s hand as we walk the journey of life. Here’s my hand. ❤️
Healing ❤️🩹 Intentionally you have already done the work to shift generational trauma - your tiny humans will know.
Everyday is another chance to try again aware of our mistakes but better yet aware.
Thank you for your story.
Thank you for sharing the deepest part of yourself to me, a woman who at 58 is in the midst of feeling trauma that was buried for years. My behaviors have clearly manifested themselves in numerous fashions, including picking at my face since I was probably 12.
I also have a terrible shopping and hoarding problem. It’s not that I don’t use things that I buy, it’s more overspending and having no space for the things I bring into my home. Yet logic takes a back seat. My emotions won’t settle until I have that perfect piece of clothing - those shoes, that hat! I can’t go offline, or leave the store feeling so on edge that if I don’t make things right and leave something behind, my life won’t be right. I can’t even walk out of Goodwill without a treasure. It’s hard to drive buy right now and talk myself out of stopping, a habit I had recently had broken for several years.
The impulsive factor for perfection lies within so many women to be thin. That was the old “me”, before I was so transformed by a narcissist who nearly turned into a killer. I was lucky enough to walk away. I bought all new furniture when he died.
Being trapped was the start of hoarding. It was my way of having control. I hid things under my side of the bed, and in the guest room, where he never went.
I’ve never thought much about much about why I picked at my face. It was actually more about constant touching all over with my forefinger and thumb, than actual picking. I don’t recall when it stopped. I find that odd.
I suffer from several behavioral and mental illnesses, and I recently discovered that some of my behaviors are latent missed connections from childhood that I never felt able to pass through. I recently shared them with my therapist by taking Buddy, a small stuffed bear with not too many brains who asks a lot of questions that I have to answer. Lately he’s wearing a “Sheriff’s Badge,” a silver bow from a bag of cheap Christmas bows he discovered. It’s made him a little braver as of late.
Buddy isn’t the only guy in town, there’s Riley, the Rhino who’s not afraid of anything; Cuddles the bear with a soft voice who is ready for your hugs; Harrington the lop-eared rabbit who simply listens, Oddball, an elephant made of many parts, but is accepted anyway; and Tigger who bounces for resilience.
Each of these guys are protectors that I came to realize are helping me through several forms of abuse in my childhood that made me suicidal by age 12.
At that age I was foisted into puberty, and some abuse became worse. I can remember still wanting to play with toys from earlier in my childhood.
Many of those had been taken away from me and ruined when I was playing with them, and then I would be physically hurt. I still have sad memories. And I have memories of being freighted and hiding.
The ultimate betrayal was no intervention when someone was abusing me for years in the worst possible way. I’ve come to realize that it had to have been known. All the other ways I was hurt I had to endure were known. I’ve seen some of it in correspondence going back to when I was three years old. My fears and unhappiness weren’t my fault.
I’m writing this extremely personal and painful essay about myself because I am a Survivor. I am here.
I want other people to be able to feel comfortable talking about abuse and mental illness.
I want readers to understand that I am a person with severe mental illness because of what happened to me, not because it’s who I am. I am not afraid to be candid. My illness does not define me. But what happened did do permanent damage.
That I am making the best progress ever, after starting therapy in 2003, is exciting and rewarding. I feel empowered, even if some days aren’t good days.
I’m learning who I am. That’s something I’ve never before grasped in my lifetime of whirlwinds of pain and confusion. I sometimes think that I might one day be at peace. That is my prayer for myself.
Thank you so much for sharing this and inviting us into your healing journey.. sending love your way during this season!
Sosongo (thank you)!. Today has been rough. Today has been a day of disappointments and shifts, and feeling unworthy. You truly hit the nail with the hammer (or however that saying goes), and I am grateful for you.
Words cannot fully contain my gratitude for your unrelenting commitment to healing, your self-revelation and choice to claim your worthiness, and your profound faith in love. It's what we're each asked to muster over and over and over again. Thank you for seeing me through a rough patch. I appreciate you so very, very much.
Alex, you are a deeply lovely and beautiful soul. I understand the straddling between honoring our own selves and our children while still holding deep and profound pain around adults not showing up for us and seeing us throughout our childhood ♥️ I’m walking through some life shaking realizations in my healing work; they are rising to the surface in a way that makes me very aware of why I have tried to keep them at bay. We will do this. These moments of relapse and suffering will not stay forever. We will continue to walk through this season with our heads held high and our hearts open.
Within the wrappings of your struggles, is the most beautiful soul. Thank you for revealing its beauty, for the courage of your honesty, and for the hope you give all who battle anxiety and depression. You are healing.
I can’t thank you enough for being brave and having enough courage to speak on your struggles with trich. I’ve never really shared my experience with anyone in its entirety. I have been pulling/splitting my ends for about 20 ish years and still to this day haven’t found the “fix” or “solution”. I try to remind myself everyday to take it minute by minute especially with how tedious and shameful it can all feel. Only the closest people in my life know I struggle and I don’t think they even realize how bad. Recently I’ve noticed more and more of getting lost in this trance state that my inner dialogue will yell at me to snap out of it but it takes a few hours sometimes. I wish it wasn’t such a lonely/embarrassing feeling every time. I just really appreciate you sharing your experience. You are not alone. Sending all the love to your heart, calmness to your mind, and stillness to your urges. 🫶🏻
Trauma can feel so lonely at times. I’m thankful for your voice. Your vulnerability, I hope you are liberated as you share your experiences.
Crying as I’m reading anxiety is not my resting place. I too struggle with being upset that at my age my mental health can be so impacted. Forever healing and feeling exhausted as to climbing through the next hurdle. I’ve been doing work since my 20s as well. Continuously healing through sexual abuse and abandonment. ❤️
A fellow Rise & Writ(er) here! I'm overcome with emotions. I, too, have suffered from trich for most of my life but is was not until last year, I was diagnosed, officially, with OCD after symptoms peaked and I searched for answers. After struggling for about a decade with painful writing anxiety, finding the strength to join your writing group has been a part of my healing journey. Writing and poetry were my joys as a child. In 2021, I began experiencing some emotional lows in my personal relationships and very public highs in my social justice career. On the brink, a dear sisterfriend gifted me one of your books, putting you on my radar. I didn't pick they book up until last year, days later you announced R&W. Prior to this post, I had no idea your were an OCD warrior. Its such a lonely journey, so from one to another - I see you. You're transparency & honesty have given me so much hope and solace. So thank you! 💐
Never realized until I read your article that I have Trich too and lately have been pulling my hair out too. Trigger is concern over my son and his future.
Oh man! I thought I was alone. I’ve been in counseling consistently for last few years and things have been great. I also was diagnosed at 33 with severe depression and anxiety. Just before I turned 35 last year diagnosed with ADHD. I’ve been picking my fingers since I can remember and as I got older it got worse and worse. 2 years ago I figured out if I kept my nails done (gel and acrylic) maybe it could help me from gripping the skin. It worked for 2 years straight. I told myself and my counselor I think picking is behind me praise the Lord. January of this year my husband and I decided to focus on paying off a debt we have. Of course we went through the budget and found ways to cut expenses (y’all know the drill). I thought it’s been 2 years no picking you will fine to stop going to the nail shop for a little bit no biggy. Boy was I wrong. I was good for the first couple of days and I couldn’t even tell what triggered me but it started with one finger and then the next and before I knew all my fingers were throbbing, bleeding, and just a mess. I relapsed. How could this happen!! I’ve been so good and no when I was my hands and feel the burn from the soap. It’s just a reminder of my shame and disappointment. My counselor last week reminded me that she had heard me talk about my picking but never saw the effects this bad. It’s embarrassing having to hid my fingers or come up with excuses when the kids ask me why I have red in my fingers. I’ve dealt with sexual trauma as a teenager, abandonment issues, etc. I just wish I could figure out why I do this. It hurts honestly and wish I could stop. The only time I’m not picking is if I’m actively working, actively doing things around the house, etc. It’s the moments of stillness that it’s the worse.
Sending so much love and gratitude for sharing. As always your beautiful words resonate and make me feel seen. I struggle to do better even though I know better. Overconsumption (food) has been my Roman empire since I was a teenager. I know it doesn't serve me to eat all the things, and I'm working on it. My obsession with food is a deep one. And every time I bite into more than what is enough for my body I discover more about myself. Sometimes it's held with love and sometimes not. I'm learning to love my human meat suit and understand how to know where an episode is coming from (and maybe one day stop feeling like "if I don't eat all of this I will certainly die").
Thanks again for making me feel less alone. ❤️
Alex, thank you so much for sharing what you are walking through in this moment in time. I'm so thankful for you transparency's and vulnerability. I'm navigating anxiety and grief. My life has drastically shifted for the good but there was great loss in my previous life and I'm am learning to sit with it and embrace that I am still worthy and still a beautiful person in the midst of choosing me. I'm learning to hold myself with grace and tenderness as I move forward. Thank you again for sharing and providing space for others to share.