I think the most difficult thing for a teenager to carry with them is shame. The discomfort that comes from utter humiliation from your peers. The sense that you are being judged or whispered about. Or worst of all, the overwhelming disappointment in yourself for being the bearer of this guilt. Facing shame is a constant battle that every teenager experiences in their own unique form. My shame comes from compulsively pulling out my hair.

I have a rare anxiety disorder known as trichotillomania – the hair pulling disorder. When I was 12 and struggling with the stress and social anxiety of middle school, I began pulling out my hair to help cope with my overpowering emotions. I found relief in this and did it often, which became noticeable as my hair became visibly thin and brittle.

I was a loud-spoken and fearless kid before I grew shy and insecure about my trich. I would hide in hats and hair extensions, yet everyone knew there was something strange about my hair. I was constantly running my fingers through it and yanking out individual hairs. When people asked what I was doing, I would curl into a bright red ball of mortification and discomfort.

Before I knew it, I was pulling more often than not. I wouldn’t even notice I was pulling until the waves of disappointment and frustration hit me as I snapped out of a 10-minute trance and realized how I was digging myself into a deep and interminable hole of anxiety.

For me the toughest part about having trich is how rare it is. Statistically, only 2 to 4 percent of people are affected. Having to deal with any mental disorder is a battle, but facing one that lacks research and a cure is extremely frustrating. The alienation that comes from thinking that I must be the only person who can’t stop doing this freakishly abnormal thing left me hating myself and my inability to simply just stop pulling. I felt weak, defeated, and virtually hopeless.

I struggled for four years, but I do not struggle anymore. There was no burst of insight or climactic moment where my pulling magically disappeared. In fact, I still pull my hair today. The difference is that I learned through the process of self-acceptance that anxiety disorders like mine are both common and treatable. I have tried many approaches to curing my trich, and I am incredibly grateful to have benefited from some of them. What helped me most was realizing that I wasn’t the only one suffering. When I joined support groups, found Facebook pages, and read others’ autobiographies, I felt like I had gained a friend in each person who truly understood my situation. I don’t consider myself to be struggling anymore because I’m no longer ashamed. I don’t go shouting about trichotillomania from the rooftops, but I’m also no longer afraid to open up about it to friends and family.

I am still a trichotillomaniac, but I am getting better. I’ve come a long way from the insecure 12-year-old who secretly pulled her hair. I have learned to love myself for all that I am and to appreciate my struggle for making me stronger. I have trichotillomania, but trichotillomania does not have me.