Finding my fidget cube

Posted: March 1, 2017 in Recovery, Uncategorized

My fidget cube arrived (finally), and I love it! I will take a photo of it, and maybe a video too, so you can see how it works in case you’ve been thinking of getting one. I let my 7-year-old son play with it, and it has since dissappeared, but I am 99% sure that it got scooped up and put in the toy box. That was Sunday night and I just have not had the motivation to dig through the toy box to find it yet.

I have not been updating this blog as much as I thought I would, and that is mostly because I am not sure what to write about most times. When I created this blog I had this idea that I was going to start figuring out how to stop pulling and I would share my successes with you all. But, I really have not had very much success. It is like I take one step forward and two steps back. I’ll do good for awhile and then one night I will just go nuts and erase all of my progress.

A few days ago one of my coworkers asked me if I cut my hair. I get asked that a lot in the days following one of my pulling binges. I was not quite sure how to answer her, it caught me off guard, so I just sort of shook my head “no” and smiled. She gave me a confused look and I told her that it was a long story for another day.

When I am not caught off guard I think of all these brilliant responses for the different questions . . .
“Why don’t you grow your hair out? You’d look so nice with long hair.”
“Why do you always wear a hat?”
“Why is your hair so short?”

Well, you see, I have an impulse control disorder that has similarities to Obsessive Compulsive Disorder but is not the same thing. No one really quite knows what it is, but it is a medically documented disorder that makes me pull out my hair. I don’t know why I do it, but I take medication for it and am constantly looking for ways to “cure” myself of it but as of now there is no “cure.”

That is what I wish I could say, because when I put it that way it sounds like I have my shit together and therefor I must know what I am talking about.
But instead when I am asked one of the above questions or a variation of one of them, I feel an instant squeeze of panic rise up in my throat and I am pretty sure my heart stops beating for a minute. It is like looking both ways before you cross the street and it is clear so you start walking only to narrowly miss being struck by a bus that manifested out of nowhere.

I want to tell people the truth. I want people to know the real me, and I want to help erase the stigma that comes with this, but I still can’t bring myself to answer someone’s questions like an educated individual. I will get there, I know.

Side thought.. . .a lot of the women in my office are the “gotta get my hair and nails done every week” type, and there is nothing wrong with that, but there are so many times when I hear one of them complaining about how they don’t like their new style or color, or how they are thinking about cutting it. They act like it is the worst thing in the world to have your hair cut an inch shorter than you wanted. I really would like to say “I’d love to have that problem.” But I am smart so I keep my mouth shut. That would just raise more questions, right?

Sigh. We all want what we don’t have, don’t we?

I am going to go look for my fidget cube.


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