I was in a bookstore the other day, and I saw a cute notebook with the most poignant quote: "Life is like a photograph, we develop from the negative." If my BFRB is the most negative thing to happen to me in life, I will have been very blessed.
This week is BFRB Awareness Week. If you know somebody suffering from a BFRB, visit bfrb.org/notalone and help to stop the shame.
The funny thing about BFRBs is that more people suffer from them than you think, mostly because they're suffering in silence and shame. We all just differ in our understanding of what suffering is.
I cannot count the number of times I've been on public transit or been in front of a class and seen someone bouncing their knee, peeling split ends, biting their nails of cuticles, picking scabs, and so on. For most of these people, the behavior never gets beyond a mildly annoying bad habit that doesn't bother them enough to stop. For others, the effects spiral and create a morass of shame, guilt and self-loathing that takes years of work to recover from.
And when I say work, I mean WORK. BFRBs are so widespread and yet unique--no two people use the same behavior to soothe the same sensations. Some people are able to take an SSRI and see most of their symptoms disappear; others can take the amino acid NAC and see the same results. Some women get pregnant and see their BFRB disappear for 9 months or more, and other women (who have never had any BFRBs) get pregnant and START having one.
Basically, a decade of living with a BFRB has taught me the one thing that no one in Western society wants to admit--there is no simple way to cure this condition. You can't take a pill and magically stop pulling your hair, and you can't take a pill and magically reverse the damage.
And yet, I wouldn't change my experience with this condition at all. In the grand scheme of things, it's not a problem. It's not anything that will kill me or prevent me from working (it doesn't even prevent me from writing, even though the anxiety and the screen-time are both triggers for me). If anything, the personality type that tends to accompany a lot of BFRBS is the sort that most employers say they want to hire; they tend to be hyper-conscientious, high-achieving perfectionists who are also deeply sensitive to the needs of those around them.
I can tell you for a fact that trich got me into Princeton. I look back at my high school activities now and am shocked that I had the time to do them all. The hours of homework, piano classes, dance classes, cross-country and track practices and meets, the dance performances and hours rehearsing for plays and musicals, the math and scholar's bowl competitions...just thinking of them now makes me exhausted. Trich helped me overcome any mental and physical exertion I may have felt from participating in all those activities, and it definitely helped me combat other people's drama.
Trich does not define me, but it is a part of who I am. And I wouldn't be me without it.
This week is BFRB Awareness Week. If you know somebody suffering from a BFRB, visit bfrb.org/notalone and help to stop the shame.
The funny thing about BFRBs is that more people suffer from them than you think, mostly because they're suffering in silence and shame. We all just differ in our understanding of what suffering is.
I cannot count the number of times I've been on public transit or been in front of a class and seen someone bouncing their knee, peeling split ends, biting their nails of cuticles, picking scabs, and so on. For most of these people, the behavior never gets beyond a mildly annoying bad habit that doesn't bother them enough to stop. For others, the effects spiral and create a morass of shame, guilt and self-loathing that takes years of work to recover from.
And when I say work, I mean WORK. BFRBs are so widespread and yet unique--no two people use the same behavior to soothe the same sensations. Some people are able to take an SSRI and see most of their symptoms disappear; others can take the amino acid NAC and see the same results. Some women get pregnant and see their BFRB disappear for 9 months or more, and other women (who have never had any BFRBs) get pregnant and START having one.
Basically, a decade of living with a BFRB has taught me the one thing that no one in Western society wants to admit--there is no simple way to cure this condition. You can't take a pill and magically stop pulling your hair, and you can't take a pill and magically reverse the damage.
And yet, I wouldn't change my experience with this condition at all. In the grand scheme of things, it's not a problem. It's not anything that will kill me or prevent me from working (it doesn't even prevent me from writing, even though the anxiety and the screen-time are both triggers for me). If anything, the personality type that tends to accompany a lot of BFRBS is the sort that most employers say they want to hire; they tend to be hyper-conscientious, high-achieving perfectionists who are also deeply sensitive to the needs of those around them.
I can tell you for a fact that trich got me into Princeton. I look back at my high school activities now and am shocked that I had the time to do them all. The hours of homework, piano classes, dance classes, cross-country and track practices and meets, the dance performances and hours rehearsing for plays and musicals, the math and scholar's bowl competitions...just thinking of them now makes me exhausted. Trich helped me overcome any mental and physical exertion I may have felt from participating in all those activities, and it definitely helped me combat other people's drama.
Trich does not define me, but it is a part of who I am. And I wouldn't be me without it.
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