Iiana
I looked down onto my pillow. There were so many tiny hairs sprawled across it’s landscape. My minds eye relived the events of last night. The memories danced on my mind as fairies fluttering. I brushed the hairs away as hurriedly as my newly forming memories, and climbed off the bed.
I didn’t want to meet the mirrors gaze, but I forced myself too. As my eyes met my own, my reflection scared my, a huge gap on my top eyelid greeted me, and my hands flew up to check if the mirror was lying. It wasn’t. As always the stone truth would hit me, like a slap round the face with ice. I hated it, what I did to myself, but I couldn’t stop, and that terrified me...
...Hi. My name’s Iliana, and I have Trichotillomania. When people find out about my ‘dirty little secret’, they often exclaim that they have never heard of it, so I thought I would tell my story. But I thought it best perhaps to start at the beginning, or as close as I can guess, you see, it kind of creeps up on you, you don’t know how it starts, or don’t realise it has, until your half way through it! Let me take you back to when I was ten...
“Mum, when’s Dad going to be home?” My whole body jiggled, excitement at Dad returning was getting too much to bear. You see, he travelled a lot, to other countries, on business, and so when he was coming home it was always so special. We gathered round the dinner table as we heard the key turn in the lock... I hope you’re happy to see me Dad, two months of not seeing you, please be happy with me Dad...
THUD! I had been snapped out of my thoughts by a heavy body dropping to the floor. It was Dad. We all rushed round to see if he was ok. He was stone cold and drunk, his head was bleeding. I vaguely remember standing there, just staring at him, while pandemonium was happening. Mum, I think it was mum was rushing to grab the phone and call an ambulance, my sister was holding dad’s head, ‘just like I learnt in St John’s Ambulance’ she probably said, and me, I just stood there, thinking of how wonderful it was all going to have been.
"He’ll be alright," my mother spoke soothingly, as though to a small child, and in way, more to herself than to reassure any of us. All I could think about was how it was Dad’s fault, his fault he got drunk, his fault he hit his head on the shelf that’s been there longer than he has, his fault...then a new thought entered my mind. What if it was my fault. Maybe he got drunk so he wouldn’t have to talk to me that night, I guess he’d have known how much I would have wanted to smother him, smother him in hugs, tell him all my news, and all he’d have want to do would have been gone to bed. It’s his fault, his fault the dinner was wasted, all the balloons we blew up, gone to waste, it won’t be the first time we see you when we get back home, so there’s no point saving them. With all this going on, my angry little thoughts, I hadn’t realised at the time that my fingers had gone up to my eyes, and grabbed my lashes, and pulled. It didn’t hurt. And at the time, had I known what I was doing, I would never have thought that this would become of me. What has become of me? I can’t even answer that myself. I guess looking back and trying to answer these questions, is a good way of trying to find the path forward through this mess...
“He really is going to be ok. We can go and see him now, if you like.”
“Of course I want to mum.” My eyes were still itching, so I rubbed them, that was the most soothing thing in the world. You rub, block out all light, and enjoy the relief flooding to you. Ok, maybe I think about it all too much, but it really is, especially after pulling.
We were led into a side room, where my dad was staying. The drab ‘hospital green’ walls gave the room a gloomy glow, which was only brightened by some yellow daisy covered curtains at the window. I mused if a nurse was the decorator, and why they’d chosen the horrible pattern! I didn’t have time to ponder for long, because I heard a familiar, if husky, voice addressing me.
“hey princess, hop up”
I obliged and was greeted with a firm, yet gentle hug from my father. His arms slid around me, enveloping me in a bear hug. I hadn’t had a hug like that since I got lost in a supermarket the year before, and had been lost for an hour. When I was finally found, I'd received a similar welcome. It felt cosy, and safe, ever so safe. I wish that I could still get those kind of hugs, how I long for them, even now, as a ‘grown up’, all I want to do, is be able to curl up on my fathers lap again and be secure, know that he will never let me go, and will always love me. If only.
Knock! Knock!
A faint voice ushered me in, as I carried a tray dutifully to my father sitting his bed in his own room. As I set it down on his lap, I queried him with my eyes, I must have looked strange, just staring at him like that. "C'mon, what's the problem, you look like you swallowed a wasp" Typical Dad comment, when he was sober. "How long are you going to be poorly daddy?" I had said. "Only a couple of days, until the headaches wear off." "Good" No, 'I'm glad your going to be ok', or 'thank goodness for that', nothing, just 'good.' I've always been quite to the point I guess. Not one to say it gently.
Dad did recover quickly, though we never did get to have our celebrations for his return.
The next time I remember pulling, was at school. I have since been told by my mother that she had seen me a couple of times in-between, but it must have been subconsciously, as I don't recall it, so I can't tell you about it.
A girl called Bethany had called me some horrible names at lunch time, but when she called my dad an alcoholic, my world stopped, then in slow motion started to spin, my thoughts tumbled along with it. When it finally stopped, I looked at her, she'd got bored of my standing there not reacting to her comment, and was walking away. I looked at her back, and my eyes bore into it. To think, I shared so many secrets with her. I was the one who told her about dads drinking, and how he got mad sometimes when he was drunk, but I never thought she'd turn on me like that. I don't even remember what the argument was about, something stupid though I bet, it normally is with me, but it all becomes so heated, so passionate, that you lose track of the argument, till someone takes it too far.
I went to the toilet, trying to hold my tears, with my face screwed up tightly like a screwed up sock. As soon as the doors squeaked closed, the floodgates opened. Everything had become too much. 'An alcoholic. Does that mean there’s something wrong with my dad', I mused, 'or maybe its my fault, i must drive him to the drink, to escape my constant wants. I’m too selfish sometimes.'
As these thoughts were invading my mind, i looked up at the mirror, my tearstained face was a mess. My eyes were red and puffy, and my fingers again reached up and closed themselves round some more lashes. It didn't hurt, but some of the pain seemed to be pulled out along with them. By the time I had finished, I’d become so transfixed by the little black hairs, that I had forgotten totally about my dad, Bethany, and everything, except those hairs. What made them all the more fascinating, was the variety, some were crinkly, others long and smooth with tiny white roots, some had large black bulbs at the end, I was so amazed, that I didn’t notice the door open.
"what are you doing?" she said Luckily at that point, I was only looking at the hairs id lined up on my thumb for inspection, and not actually pulling.
"urm, nothing, I’ve just got a little cut" I lied, I hoped it would get rid of her, as i wanted to carry on looking, fortunately it worked, and i was soon inspecting them again...
...I will not bore you and go into detail on every time I’ve pulled and why, it would bore even myself. But what I am attempting to do is to give you an understanding of my disease, and also try and find some understanding for myself, some healing maybe. So I'm skipping roughly a year to where my pulling had become so intense that I have virtually no lashes on my top eyelids, and very thin eyebrows...
..."What is it you want to tell me?" Amy had taken me to the corner of the school grounds at lunch time, and as we sat under the shade of the grand oak, my heart fluttered with anticipation of what she was to tell me.
"Can you keep a secret?" Her face was full of pain and fear. "I don't want you to tell anyone, if you do, I'll be in so much trouble with my parents and they might..." She started crying. I was always awkward around people showing emotion, so I simply placed a shaky hand on her shoulder and gently told her;
"Please, tell me. I swear I won't tell anyone anything. You can trust me. Honestly."
Her crying subsided and she wiped her face. "you remember me telling you that my dad left don't you?"
"Yes" Her father had walked out on her and her brother a few months ago, and had withdrawn all financial support. My usually lively friend had become so withdrawn and fragile. I could only imagine what was eating her up.
"It's all gotten too much for me, and the other day, i took one of my dads old razors to my arm, after accidentally cutting my leg."
My mouth dropped open, but I didn't let Amy see, as I silently urged her to continue.
"It made me feel so much better, and you know what, it didn't even hurt." She drew a deep breath, and looked towards the ground, her head drooping. "I bet you think I'm an idiot now don't you?"
I knew I shouldn't, but my mouth ran away with me, as usual, saying the first thing that came into my head. "It was clean wasn't it? It wasn't your wrist was it?" I stopped myself.
She looked at me in horror. "Illie! I'm not stupid!" She got abruptly, brushing herself off, and held her head defiantly and proud, as though daring me to question her again.
"I'm sorry Amy. I was just worried. and please, if you want to tell me, or not tell me, it's fine, I understand. Please, I was only concerned for your health. Can I see them? Please?"
She gave in. "I'm sorry. It's just, I dunno. I guess I'm really defensive about it all. Here you go." She rolled up her right sleeve, and underneath were fresh cuts, with scabs newly formed. I wanted to hug her, cry with her, help her, all in the same breath, but I knew all I could do was be with her, and support her, encourage her. They were criss-crossed down her arm, five of them. I wondered if there were any on her other arm, or anywhere else on her, but I decided not to ask, not yet.
Saved by the bell. It's hollow ringing called us to another lesson. As we walked to the building, she reminded me, "remember, not a soul."
Over the coming weeks, I became Amy's sole confidant. She told me everything bout her cutting herself, the emotions she described were so similar to the ones I felt about pulling. So many times I wanted to tell her, have someone to confide in, the way I was trusted, but something held me back. If i'd have listened to that something, so much hurt would have been spared. Then one day, I received an email from Amy. With intrigue, I read on.
Dearest Iliana,
I wanted to thank you so much for all of your support recently. You were the one I turned to when my world was in a mess. Without your friendship, I don't know what would have become of me.
When Dad left, I thought everything I knew and loved would leave to, there was no stability, Mum had to get a full time job, I miss her, I miss her even when she's in the same room. It's like she's left us too in spirit. I wanted to cry and scream, but I can't, I have to hold everything together, for Jared. He;s too young to fully appreciate the situation as you know, but I think he's fully aware of the atmosphere.
With all this going on, and no way to receive comfort, I was breaking up, my emotions were twisting up inside my mind, and I had no way of releasing them, until my blade helped. The first time was an accident. I was so angry and in a rush to shave, that I slipped and slit open my leg, to my shock it didn't hurt, but I felt relief, like someone had opened the gates, and released the pressure. So I did it again, and again, and then moved onto my arms. It was like all my pin was gushing out, blocking the pain, and giving me a way to cope. you know the rest, but I just wanted to explain, and say thank you.
Your probably wandering why I didn't just tell you in person when I blabbed everything else, but that's because I wanted to ask you something, and I didn't want any interruptions, which I knew would come. he he
I know your hurting. I bet you didn't think I'd noticed, that I was so involved in my own pain that I hadn't seen yours. But I have, and it pains me that you couldn't trust me to tell me. Whatever it is, please let me repay your kindness, by letting you vent.
please
Amy
I sat back, gob smacked. Should I tell her? I decided against it. Maybe one day. I thought. What I really wanted to do, was to beat this, but i hoped to do it on my own. I went over to the mirror and looked at my eyes, I hated it. I wanted to smash the mirror, get rid of the reflection. But deep down, I knew that whatever I did to my reflection, my reality would be the same, I would still have bald upper eyelids. I would still be a freak.
I had to wait till my tears subsided to apply my obligatory mascara. I didn't use it as most people do, to cover their eyelashes, I had to use it as eyeliner, to cover the fact I had no eyelashes. Heavy heartedly, I pulled my bag onto my shoulders and headed to school. I had no idea what I was going to tell Amy, but I knew I couldn't tell her the truth, not yet. I didn't even know what it was myself yet.
School looked about as dull as I'd ever seen it. Even the weather was gloomy. Or perhaps it was my mindset that made everything reflect my feelings. I didn't concentrate in any of my lessons, and avoided all social contact. I was closing in on myself, and it was suffocating.
Amy caught me at lunch. "hey! Did you get my email?"
"Urm, nope." I lied. "When did you send it?" I felt even worse now for lying to my only and best friend, but I didn't know if she could understand the truth. Or perhaps I was just a feeble excuse for a person. Yeah, that sounds closer.
"Oh." She looked disappointed. "I sent it yesterday, just please read it next time you check your mail. It's an important one."
I tried to keep the tone light. "Ah, what's it about? Which guy you should go out with?" I nervously laughed in spite of myself.
"Urm, no, it's no, you'll see when you read it. Fancy going to IT club now? You can get online there, if you want"
Think quick Iliana. My mind was racing. "I can't, I promised Miss Flictcher that I'd go in and work on my project. She said I'd never get it done on time if I didn't. You can come too if you want" I kind of knew she wouldn't, but I hoped she wouldn't call my bluff.
"It's ok, I'll go type up some work in IT" See you later, yeah?"
As soon as she was out of side, I walked to the toilets, my heart heavy. I hated lying to her. But I hadn't worked out what to do yet. I sat in a cubicle, the walls crowded round me, and pulled all that I had left on my top lid, and as I cried, some were forced out of the bottom too. The more I did it, the more I hated myself, but in turn, the more addictive it became. It's like a kind of craziness took over, as though a trance possessed me for a short while, I could think of nothing but pulling, do nothing but pull, and as Amy said in her email, it relieves the pressure that your emotions put you under, its like release valve, and an addictive release valve at that. I couldn't stop. When I'd finally subsided in my pulling, I had to re-apply my mascara. my mask on, I left to face the rest of my lessons, and for now, my beast laid to rest. But for how long?...
...I was now almost twelve, my disorder was slowly taking over my life. I avoided Amy's concern, for as long as possible, until it could be avoided no longer...
Dear Iliana,
You are cordially invited to attend Melissa's 12th birthday party and sleep over at the attached time and place.
R.S.V.P.
Sincerely,
Melissa
The invitation read. Oh great, i thought. But I knew I had to go. I had no reasonable excuse not to. But I also knew that I didn't want any of the girls to see me in the morning in case my mascara had rubber off and they could see my baldness. I replied and told her I could go. Amy was going, I hoped she wouldn't get on at me again. She'd not been to bad since her original email, but I hoped she had forgotten it. In vain was my hope as it transpired.
"I'm sleeping here!" With that, Melissa promptly plonked her sleeping bag and quilt onto the area she'd claimed. Other girls quickly followed suit and soon all the space on the floor was a swamp, and cushioned mass of bags, quilts, and pillows. I went to my 'area' and quietly settled down for the endurance test to follow.
Melissa's house was quite ordinary, as rich people's houses go. I'd expected a butler, and servants. Instead, we were greeted with a tray of biscuits, and a very friendly family. The evening started with a video, I don't recall what it was, I was too nervous about falling asleep and being discovered, that i was keeping my mind as active as possible flitting around her room. you could tell it was owned by a rich family, but at the same time, a family with traditional values. There was a lovely, happy picture on the fireplace. As I mused on it, memories of my own family flooded to mind. Specifically, I can recall thinking about the previous week when my father had noticed my eyelash loss. I cringed openly as my mind replayed the scene where my father had first caught my eye close range, then looked longer and harder at them.
"What's happened to your eyelashes?" He'd said.
I'd looked first at him, the scanned the horizon for an escape room out of his way, but he'd been too quick. "Don't look away from me. I asked you a question Iliana." "They must've fallen out" I'd said feebly.
"He'd grabbed my head in his hands, pulling it forwards and down, so he could see from the top, the lack of lashes. "Don't lie to me, I can see they're not there, if they'd just 'fallen out' then why are the bottom set still there? You've pulled them out haven’t you?" I'd nodded. He'd threw my head back to its original position and with a voice as venomous as I’d ever heard it said, "That's sick! Why on earth would you do that?! Get out of my sight before I do something I regret!" As I'd backed away from him, I'd glanced at his eyes, they were filled with disgust, hate maybe, but dad, I agree with you. Don't you think I hate it too? I hate me too. If I hate me, can you please not dad? I'd thought, please...
An arm came from seemingly nowhere, pulling me closer, "Why are you crying?" The voice whispered. I snapped back into reality, and realised my body was shaking. I hadn't meant to let my mind wander like it had.
I turned to see who it was who was talking to me. "I'm ok Amy, just an, urm, emotional film."
"It's dumb and dumber." Her face held scepticism. I looked at the screen, and my heart sunk, it was. I scanned the rest of the room, luckily no one had witness my facade.
"So what's really wrong."
"Nothing" She gave my that look again. "Honestly" It was like i didn't even know what that word meant any more. I so desperately wanted her to drop it, leave me to my tears. My salvation for the time being came from Melissa, who asked for Amy's assistance in the kitchen with doing the candles, she left, but as she did, she flashed me a look. The same look she gave me when I fobbed her off. I felt like I cheated her really. She'd given totally. I knew everything about her, her problems, her cutting, and yet, I couldn’t even tell her about my being bald. I have to, now, before I chicken out.
'Happy Birthday to you...' As we sung wholeheartedly to Melissa, I caught Amy's eye, with a meaningful look, which I hoped she'd understand. She did, and while the others were high in their celebrating antics, we retired to the garden. Her eyes were filled with an anticipation, I wish I'd known, and I would have stopped right there, said something about how lovely the stars were or something, anything but what I did.
"You know, when you, you know, hurt yourself, do you feel better? you know, about whatever was upsetting you?"
"Yeah, but you know that already, what’s this about?"
I took a huge breath, and leapt in with both feet, as it were. "I have my own kind of release. I pull out my eyelashes. It makes me feel better, sometimes, then worse, just like you."
She laughed.
"Yeah" She chuckled, "I'm suicidal, so I’ll pull out my eyelashes!" I was gob smacked. I felt as thought she'd just plunged a knife into my heart and soul, not only that, she was about to twist the knife.
"Forget it. Forget I said anything, ok? Promise?"
Still laughing she replied, "sure"
We returned to the party. It was in full swing, and as always with young almost teen parties, there was a makeover. I tried to look indifferent, like I could have been joking. Melissa was having a makeover, which was coming to an end, Amy whispered something to Melissa, who promptly got out of her seat, and came over to me, the other girls in tow.
They were all standing around me as Melissa spoke, I could see Amy in the back ground, still chuckling. "fancy a makeover? Amy tells me you don't normally get a go, c'mon, it'll be fun!"
The colour drained entirely from my face. Amy didn't believe me, this must be her way of trying to find out! I thought. They were all looking at me, so ready, so expectant.
"Never did fancy them much, I'm fine without one, thanks anyway." I smiled, it was weak and forced, but I didn't care.
"No, really, I want to do you! please!"
A brainwave struck me. "Urm, sure, if you insist, but not for my eyes, I’m allergic to make up." That answer seemed to pacify. They led me over to the seat, Amy was watching, a smirk on her face. It was blatant that she had not only not believed me, she was going to humiliate me for what she must have thought was a joke.
I sat up on the chair, and they started brushing my hair, and doing blusher, my fingernails became a horrid shade of green, but I didn't care, as long as no one went near my eyes. I looked up briefly and met Amy's eyes, I managed a half smile, and I saw a look on her face, that i did not like.
"What about her mascara?" It was Amy.
"She's allergic"
"That’s makeup she’s wearing now isn’t it, or is that my mistake?"
Before I could say anything, I had a group of girls looking intently at my face, I couldn’t protect myself, because the girls who'd been doing my fingernails, still had them clasped in their hands.
"She's got no eyelashes!" One girl exclaimed. "Eurgh!" Ive never known so many people move away from a person at such speed, while still maintaining their interest.
There were several exclaims of how gross it was, how I was a freak, and sheer horror on their part. I felt like someone had grabbed my heart in their hands, and had squeezed the life out it. I tried to gather my senses quickly. "I was allergic to some mascara, and it made my eyelashes fall out." Most looked at me with less horror on my saying that, as thought that was perfectly reasonable, but then Amy had to have the last stab.
"That's not what she told me. She told me she pulled them out herself." Again, all eyes were on me and I had no idea what to do. I felt like crying, screaming, and hurting Amy, all at the same time, but I did none of them, I just stood there, doing nothing, there was nothing I could do, the damage had been done.
"We're going to bed now, so...What's the matter? Are you playing musical statues or something?"
Melissa snapped out of it the quickest, urm, yeah mum we were, who do you think won?" Her parents had come in to wish us good night, and had found the group still frozen, no one had known what to do, say. One by one they all started to move again, and tried to find something to do to distract themselves, while Melissa talked with her parents, no one wanted to draw attention to themselves. She spoke briefly with her parents, and in doing so, the previous tension was listed from the room...
...Hindsight is a wonderful thing, if I had my time again, I would never had trusted Amy with my secret, but at the same time, it taught me a valuable lesson. People are dangerous. You can never trust them one hundred percent. I don't think I ever will again. What Amy did to me was not the worst I have experienced, or expect to experience, but I learnt a painful lesson, I hope I never forget it...
The girls avoided me mostly that evening, and I them. Amy looked stunned on the whole, interacting only when interacted with. It was all so false, eggshells were being trodden down, and we all eventually drifted off into a restless sleep.
The next morning, I was awakened by sunlight filtering through the patio doors and sluggishly prized my eyes open. As i rubbed my eyes, I scanned the room. They were all still asleep, I decided to go to the bathroom first and sort my eyes out. I peered into the mirror and saw a groggy reflection on the other side. My eyes were puffy and red, sore from the puling I had done last night to soothe myself to sleep. I quickly applied my mascara, I knew that they already knew, but I hoped that if it wasn't too obvious, then they might forget. I hurriedly got washed and dressed, then left the bathroom for its next occupier, sneaking back into the main living room, to see if anyone else was up yet.
I was wryly greeted by Melissa and Rebecca, who were both up, and preparing for breakfast. Their voices were clipped and they kept their communication with me to an uncomfortable minimum. I just wished the floor would take me, something would happen so I wouldn't be there anymore, so I could hide from it all. I couldn't take their wary looks anymore. They looked at me, not as their friend and peer, but as someone to be avoided, a freak of nature perhaps, not worthy of their time.
Amy made several attempts that morning to interact with me, she did seem genuinely sorry for the previous night. But I was not ready to interact with her yet. There was no way someone could betray me so horribly and then expect to come back with their tail between their legs, and get instant friendship back.
After a strained breakfast, and a painful session of games, I made my excuses and got my mum to pick me up. Upon her querying why I'd wanted to leave early, I'd fobbed her off saying I had homework to get done. I kept our conversation light, yet trivial. It eventually transpired that dad was coming home again that night, he'd been away on work since the day after he'd found out about my loss. My stomach quivered to know he was coming back again so soon. I'd hope to have at least another week to think of what to do, and I hoped he hadn’t told mum. Why was everything falling apart, all in one solid chunk.
As dad arrived, I kept to the back of the family, hoping to be outside of his vision, so as not to draw attention to myself. I remember keeping my fingers crossed as tight as I dared, hoping and praying he was going to be in a good mood. He didn't. He came in chuntering and cursing, muttering about some problems he'd had with the flight, barely acknowledging us, not even mum, not even to thank her for the effort she'd gone to with a meal for his arrival. She'd not let us start without him, and because he'd arrived late as usual, it had all but gone to waste. He mumbled something to her and us about how he'd had a bit much to drink, and would be going to bed straight away. We all departed awkwardly, with mum apologising for our fathers behaviour. We all went our separate ways, grabbing whatever food was still edible to take with us. I went to my bedroom, my sanctuary, and flopped on my head, looking blankly at the ceiling.
I used to wish that at least once when dad came home from work, he'd be happy to see us, he'd be grateful for the effort, he'd on time, he'd be sober. I now know how unrealistic that was.
I heard mum downstairs, she said she was going for a walk, she was crying, and my sister would have been the one consoling her. She was always the 'good' one, the one who did everything right, I was the let down. As mum left, my sister went ot her room, as soon as the door slammed, I snuck across the landing to dad's room.
As I pushed open the door I couldn't help but to gasp when I saw my father sprawled across her bed. His eyes were flickering, as though not sure if they were supposed to be awake or asleep, his left hand was drooping off the side of the bed and was clasping tightly onto an empty bottle of Vodka. That image is still to this day burned onto my mind, I'd never seen him so vulnerable, so lost. It pained me greatly to see. He began to move, his body twitching, and he as he wriggled, his body fell off the bed, landing with a loud thud.
My sister was at my side within moments, and together we got him back onto the bed, and prized the bottle out of his hands, shut the windows to stop any draft, and left him to sober up. With our mission complete, we parted company, each retreating to their own solace. We never really been that close, she was several years older than me, and probably quite rightly, thought she was above associating with me too much. She'd never been particularly anything to me, nice, nasty, neither, just there.
My heart was heavy as i returned to my room, I put on some of my most depressive music, and let it take me. I lay there in a kind of trance, and instinctively, with little thought from me, my hands went to my eyes, nothing was there, last night had cleared me out, so I reached further upwards to my eyebrows, and started on them. I was oblivious to the pain I’m sure I was supposed to feel, all I could think about was mum. She didn't deserve this kind of ignorance. She was always there for him, through thick and thin, and yet, he never did anything emotionally for her, never a hug that I'd seen, never a kind word other than the occasional thank you if she was lucky. She was always making excuses for him, apologising for his behaviour, and what did he do. I don't think he ever hurt her physically that I can remember, he did get angry sometimes, but her scars were deep, on the inside. I desperately wanted to fix it all for her, give her happiness, give her everything I know she must have dreamed about having for her future, she didn't deserve any of this.
I snapped out of my trance as soon as I was fully aware what I was doing, I flung myself to the mirror to see the damage, my hand flew to my mouth, as if to stop myself screaming, most of my eyebrows were gone! What was worse, that one was worse than the other, so I knew what I had to do. I found my old tweezers, and cleaned up the difference to make them at least even. This was therapeutic in itself, and the more symmetrical they became, the happier i was wit them. when each one that was out of place, a kind of relief washed over me. Like it was ok to do what I was doing, as long as I was 'neat'. It amazed me how much of a difference eyebrows frame your face, I looked very strange, my face didn't look like my own anymore, I wasn't sure if I liked it or not.
I didn't have time to decide, I heard the downstairs door open, and mum return. She called both of us down, and obediently we went. She then took us out to dinner to make up for ours being wasted, and we left dad where he was.
The weekend went as quickly as it had came with the party, I dreaded going back to school. I heard a few people sniggering as I passed, it was made more painful and hurtful, that no one had the courage to say anything to me directly, only behind my back, of with sniggers, dirty looks, and generally being avoided. Amy was the only person who tried to make proper contact with me, but I wasn't going to give into her yet. The more I ignored her, the more desperate she seemed to be to want to talk to me. To be honest, and I've since thought about this a lot, to me, it seemed like she didn’t want to talk to me because she actually liked me, and wanted to apologise, but she seemed to want to apologise only to ensure I don't spread her secret. It was tempting, believe me, and at times I remember seriously considering telling everyone, but I resisted. One of my mums best saying she ingrained into us as children was, 'two wrongs don't make a right', and I agreed...
...There were many times over the coming months where I wished I could just die. I still hadn't made up with Amy, I just couldn't. I had no friends to my name, it seems that the rumour about my eyelashes had found its way around school, people avoided about it, even in PE, no one picked me, the teacher had to assign me. My family was falling apart at the seams, and then there was me, stuck in the middle, like the child on the merry-go-round who really wants to get off, but no one will press the stop button to end the nightmare. No one cares. My twelfth birthday came and went, my dad was away on business for months at a time, I was existing, not living. I had severe and extreme pulling cycles, I didn’t know what caused them at the time, but looking back, I can see that sometimes, I could not pull for days, even a week or two if dad wasn't there, but then, something would trigger it, and all my eyelashes and eyebrows would go. Id then spend ages in the morning masking myself, everyone at school knew anyway, but I still had to hide it the best I could. Where we join the story next, I was almost fifteen, and the next twist in my trich tale was about to occur, which took me to the next limit of my disorder...
My lesson had just finished and I headed up to IT for another lunchtime of solace. I enjoyed searching the internet, emailing people, people would I would never have to meet. People who would never have to know. I had just logged onto my email, and a new message flashed up. I hoped it was Brian, a guy I'd been emailing for a little while, who seemed ok. It was Amy. I hadn't heard from her in a long time, we'd successfully avoided each other, she'd stopped trying to make contact, and now, out of the blue, there was an email from her, at first I'd wanted to delete it, but something, maybe my thread of humanity, decided to give it a try. I read on with interest.
Iliana,
I know I am probably the last person you want to be hearing from. But it's been a couple of years now, I've grown up somewhat, and I know what I did was awful to you, and I'm truly sorry. I would have emailed sooner, but I knew the longer I left it, hopefully the less chance of still being mad at me there would be.
You don't know how much I wish that night as Melissa's hadn't happened. I didn't believe you when you told me about your problem, I'm sorry. I thought it was all a joke, so I got them to look at your eyes, and then when I found out it wasn't a joke, I was angry, both at myself, and at you, for not joking, but I took it too far. I can't say I'm sorry enough, I have no right to expect you to forgive me, but I hope you can after all this time.
It's made all the worse by how good you were to me when I told you my secret, even after what I didn’t, you never told anyone, and I thank you and respect you greatly for that. My problem has got worse, and coupled with what I’d done to you, plus many other things, it all escalated to the point where I tried to take my own life. When it was all happening, I had no friends there to help, none of those were real friends, I only wish we could have still been friends.
Obviously, my parents found out, but they were surprisingly good about it, and I'm now getting help for it. I'm going twice a week, and coming along well. I wanted to apologise, so that I have no loose ends, but also to explain.
If you have read this, thank you for taking the time out to red it, and I hope that you can forgive me, or at least speak to me, tell me you hate me face to face, anything, so long as the silence can stop!
sincerely
Amy
I sat back, tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back. In some ways, I felt guilty for not making it up with her sooner, so I could have been there during her suicide attempt. No! She has no right to try and make me feel guilty! Not now! It was her fault all this happened! Her fault!
I logged out, determined to leave as quickly as possible, I needed air, somewhere to breathe. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed someone leaving right behind me, I turned and saw Amy following me out. As she picked up her bag, her sleeve slipped up slightly and I recall seeing a bandage on her wrists. I gasped, and my stomach tightened as I realised that she hadn't been exaggerating, and felt awful all over again. How is it everyone else seemed to have control over what I thought and felt, and I had none?
For a moment I froze, undecided between going to her, or carrying on with my resolution of it being her fault. Instead, I simply stood there, rooted to the spot, like a manikin. I watched dumbfounded as Amy walked straight past me, flashed a small, tight-lipped smile and continued on. She didn't try and speak to me, do anything. Perhaps she's just trying to give me space to come to my own decisions, I thought. Or is this a double bluff? Is she trying to make me feel bad so she is in control again. She knew me well enough, and if only I had gone with my gut feeling instead of falling for the facade all over again.
But it's too late to make myself follow the right path now. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, and in truth, I probably wouldn't change much of what’s happened to me, even having my disorder, because it has taught me so much, I have grown because of it, and I dread to think what kind of weak person I would have become without; without the betrayal, without the abuse, without the shame of it all.
I held my bag tightly to my side as I braved the cold outside. But outside was good, I felt the breeze on my face, stinging it, and knowing it meant I was alive. I may be a freak, but I'm alive. I decided that I needed to do something, to talk to Amy, whether we could resolve our issues or not, I don't know, but there were things that needed airing.
I saw her walking solemnly towards the big tree where I'd first heard her secrets those years ago. We were now at the opposite end of the age scale in our education at that school, but the tree still held some comfort some stability for us. I followed her, my head tracing my feet on the floor so as to avoid eye contact until I could bring myself to face her.
Ours eyes met, and I noticed hers, sincere, warm, and seeking. I also noticed rows of beautiful eyelashes, perfect, not one out of place, and beautifully made up.
"hi." Our voices were pained and kept to a respectful low.
"I got your email"
"I know. I'm sorry, you know that now right?" Her voice became higher as she implored for an answer.
I swallowed hard. "Yes, I know." I took in a deep sharp breath before continuing. "Look, it was a long time ago when 'it' happened. I am willing to give our friendship another go, but don't expect too much. I think I am ready to forgive you know, but forgetting will take longer. Is that okay?"
She beamed, her whole face lit up and she went to hug me. "Please. Don't. Can we just shake and start all over again? It will take time for us to be how we were, so please don't rush it."
She refrained, and stepped back. "Sure" She offered her hand, and we shook. I felt as though a huge weight had been lifted. A fresh start had been made, and I felt like I could finally move forward...
...Looking back on it, I should have forgiven her much earlier, but it was so hard to do. To be honest, I still don't trust her, but we're friends again, she has returned fully to how she was with me, but I can't even now, I can't ever give like I want to. I listen to her, and have helped her through her rough patches in and out of cutting, and here I am, years later, knowing I have missed out on so many fulfilling relationships I could have had, because of that first betrayal. But me being me, had to give people a second go, as is often the case, looking back, I realise just how much that turned out in helping me resolve never to trust people that much again. I finished school, both Amy and myself passed our respective exams, and both went to the same college, on different courses.
First day of college. A time to get to know the class your going to be with for the next two years of your life. I entered the room, reserved and with a timid posture. I didn't want to draw attention to myself. I hurriedly found a seat at the back of the class, and while unpacking my things, took my time, and focused entirely on it, so that no one would even have a chance of making eye contact with me. I hoped to come off as aloof, someone you don't want to approach.
People settled down, and when the tutor entered, we all turned our attention to him. He was tall, and fairly broad, with a friendly yet quietly authoritative expression on his chiselled face. He took a few moments to outline the course, what literature we would need to purchase, the residential we would possibly be going on, and the fun we would have. He also spoke briefly of the rules; no chewing gum in class, no hats in class, no swearing or handing in work late. Sounds fir enough, but little did I know then how one of the rules would isolate me and would be the means of making me a target.
He then announced that to start off the day, we would be doing a small selection of getting to know you activities, to break the ice he said. But this only filled me with terror. I didn't want to get to know any of them, that would be too dangerous.
He asked us all to stand on the tables in a row. There were stifled giggles as we did this, but oblige we did. When we were all there, he then asked us to line up with the oldest person at one end, ranging to the youngest at the other. We had to get very close to each other to do this, and ask questions. In etiquette, its polite to look people in the eyes when speaking to them, but I couldn’t bring myself to do this, in case they saw, and I didn't want to see that look on their face when they did see.
We did a series of similar tasks, and throughout, I spoke quietly to them all, and completely avoided their eyes. I noticed how some of the other girls were using this as an excuse to get as close as possible to some of they guys, I on the other hand, almost fell off the table trying to maintain a respectable distance.
I almost died when he said get into groups, one on each table, according to eye colour. When people came to look at mine, I abruptly said grey, and got them to move on. I also declined to look in their eyes, asking them in an abrupt tone what theirs were.
Eventually, when they were all over, I could relax. I had hated every second of it. We sat back down in our seats, and for the most part, people had broken the ice with each other. While he was writing something on the board, about our first assignment, I overheard a couple of them talking in muffled whispers:
"Who’s that girl at the back?"
"I dunno"
"She's really quiet isn’t she. Dead shy, she wouldn’t even look me in the eye"
"What’s' her problem?"
They continued, but I stopped listening. My problem? My problem is that I don't have any eyelashes and no eye brows. I live every day in fear that someone will see that. So you will excuse me if I don’t look you in the eye, and seem shy. If only you knew. But I'm glad you don't. I so wish I could have said that to them, but if I had, I would have started off the year as a freak, a label hard to shake off.
My eyes were misty, and I had been staring so hard at my book that the lines were merging together. As I looked up and snapped back to reality, I saw they had finished their conversation and were now writing down the assignment from the board, as my eyes went back down to follow suit, I saw a pair of eyes trying to meet mine. I peered over at the face that owned them. He had bright blue, intense eyes. They seemed to be searching mine, but I hurriedly looked away, concentrated on my writing, but I could still feel them, boring into my existence.
That first introductory lesson finished all so slowly, and I rushed out as quickly as I could. I could feel their eyes on me, so much for remaining anonymous.
I was so glad to be outside. I remember thinking how cold it was for September. The leaves were already being tossed around wildly on the currents of the wind, my hair flailed along with it, riding the up rush.
"Hello?" I called to the abandoned house. I searched but found nobody, and decided to take advantage of my solitude. I went upstairs to have a scalding hot shower. I wanted to burn away the days events, but knew I would back away as soon as the heat touched my skin, parching it of moisture. I turned away from the bathroom and went to my bedroom. I put on my music, and turned it up as loud as I deemed appropriate with having people next door, but I needed it loud enough to push everything else out, to take me, own me, protect me from outside.
Knock! Knock! Without waiting for an answer, my mother came in. "How was college darling?" I know she meant well, but all I could give her were stock answers. "fine" I'd said. She had enough problems with Dad. His drinking had gotten worse over the years, and had started hitting mum. Lashing out both at her and us. So I had never told her about my Trich. She didn't need it, not on top of everything else. Dad hadn't told her, even from when he'd found out that night years before, but I think it had been lost in the bottom of a glass, or he just didn't care. I don't care to decide which. Also though, thinking about it now, it was probably also because I didn't want to seem less of a perfect daughter than my sister, and he probably didn't want to feel like a failure as a father, too late though Dad, you've failed me for as long as I can remember. It's said that people marry people like their father, if that's the case, I'm never getting married.
The next few weeks at college, I continued keeping myself to myself, having our tutor for virtually all of our lessons, was odd, because it meant he tried to get to know us more than any of my teachers at school. He was quite young to boot, so he was more on our level as well. I shied away form both him and my class mates. The only person who really paid any attention to me in return was Joshua. They boy who'd looked at me on the first day. He often made the effort to make trivial conversation. I obliged, but kept them as short as I felt polite. Then one day after lesson, as I was rushing out as always, my teacher pulled my quietly aside, and asked to speak to me.
"What is it? Did I fail my last assignment?" But really, I thought I knew what it was about before he even spoke.
"No. On the contrary, your work is excellent, you really know how to apply yourself to your work. But I have noticed something that is concerning me." Oh no! I thought, I was then sure he'd noticed my lack of lashes and prepared myself for the worst.
"I've been a tutor for a few years now, and I'm used to the first few weeks having students who find it difficult to intricate at first, but normally, by now, everyone at least is friends with someone. Especially on a course like this where you are with the same students day after day. But you, you seem to be purposely distancing yourself from the rest of the class. You aren’t even looking me in the eye now as I'm talking to you. You don't look to me like a person who is typically shy. To me, it looks like you want to interact, to be involved, but are holding yourself away. But why?"
I had to think quickly. I remember toying briefly with several possible explanations, but none seemed fitting, and the truth? That was certainly out of the question. "I just don't want friendships to get in the way of my studies. I don't want the distraction. I am taking this course seriously and want to pass. The others may not." That was a complete lie. I was desperate to make friends, I wanted to belong, and I found Joshua intriguing. But I knew it was far too dangerous. The only person I saw at college, was Amy. We met most lunchtimes and sometimes walked home together. But I needed a network in my class.
My teacher looked at me sceptically. But he seemed to believe my answer. Though I don't think it was what he expected. "Can I go now? I have an assignment to finish."
He sighed and let me leave. As I reached the door, he spoke up. "It's very commendable that your taking your studies so seriously, but don't forget, one of the things we cover is team work, a team is more than one person. I don't want to have to fail you on that one section after how well your doing in everything else." He smiled a warm and encouraging smile, I couldn’t help but smile back. Then smartly exited before anything else was discussed.
I practically ran home, and surrendered myself to my pulling. I became frantic. Normally, by the time I had pulled all of the lashes from my eyes and eyebrows, the frenzy had passed, but I was so wound up, my hands found themselves on my scalp. First I twisted it around my finger, and then jerked, the tension being yanked out, one strand at a time. By the time I was capable of overriding my pulling and stop, I was calm. The frustration was gone. But then I thought of the damage. My hands felt my head without pulling further, to see if there was a gap, I couldn’t feel skin, which meant I hadn't pulled enough to cause significant hair loss in that area, yet. It was the first time I had pulled from my crown, or my head at all. If I could have stopped back then, I would have. But as you know by now, that is not the nature of the beast. We cannot choose what disorders we are given, or their severity, we can choose how we react to them, we can fall to pieces and let them take us for the rest of our lives, or we can slowly learn how to handle them, ourselves and those who share our lives with us.
For a while, my pulling stayed how it used to be, but sparatically it journeyed back to my scalp when I ran out of lashes to pull elsewhere. For unexplainable reasons, it was more soothing, and becoming more addictive. In the coming weeks from when I first remember pulling from there, it transformed from a snowflake, into a snowball, and was growing bigger each and every time...
...The sunlight was pouring through my open window, flickers of sun catching my hair as I studied it in the mirror. Each strand seemed to glisten, then I'd spot one that didn't quite look right, it was curlier then the rest, or shorter, each time I found one like that, it had to go. If it stayed, it risked me reaching perfection with the rest. I leaned closer to the mirror to apply my mask, taking great care to make sure it was as symmetrical as possible. Satisfied, I stood back, and did a damage check, my hand reached up to the back of my head, my fingers rummaging around for a hole, a gap in the sea of hairs. My fingers froze in their tracks as they found a small round hole, no bigger than a penny, but I flew to the bathroom, mirror in hand, to see if it was true. Time seemed to stop as I saw skin on the back of my head. At this point in time however, I had to lift up some hair to see it, so no one else would know, but I felt terrible, I'd lost the control I thought I had, and that frightened me.
"Iliana! Your going to be late! Hurry up please!" My mothers urgent beckoning gave my no time to gather my thoughts about what I was going to do. I grabbed my things together and practically ran out of the house. I wanted to get away, away from the place I'd done the damage, to somewhere I could lose myself in books, in studying, away from people, mirrors and tweezers.
I listened to the familiar drone of the lessons. We had one after the other, I listened, and remembered all I needed to, but I didn't pay attention. I was still at the back of the class, sometimes the teacher tried to include me, but on the whole, I remained anonymous.
Tutorial. A chance for our him to tell us what he expected, what we were and weren't doing. It wasn't like it said on the leaflet, where we get to say what we think needs changing. I listened numbly, and even when it did come to the time of giving opinions, we were expected to give opinions matching the tutors own. My ears pricked however when he asked if anyone had any problems with the rules, as some of my classmates had started swearing and chewing gum. I heard several lame protests and arguments forged on the subject several of the rules, then a though came to me. What if my pulling on my head became so bad that I couldn’t cover it up with how I wore my hair, and I needed to ware a hat or something. Maybe he'd change the rules.
Almost against my will, my hand rose. A pained and shocked silence fell on the class. It was as though they were waiting for me to speak for the first time, this wasn’t far from the truth, in fact, I had only ever spoken when directly spoken to, but something in me was willing me to go on, to confront this rule, I was not allowed to back down.
"Yes Iliana?" He voice was even, but I could hear the surprise in their, mixed in, an attempt to mask it.
"I have a problem with one of the rules." Even hearing my own voice in that room, with those people, sounded alien. But encouraged by the lack of people cutting me down, I continued.
"I don't think it's fair that we have been asked to not wear hats."
"Why?" He sounded puzzled, as though that rule had been the most natural in the world.
"Because I think it will affect performance in assignments." Sniggers started, the first sounds I had heard apart from our voice since I'd started. I was thinking on my feet, I couldn't say because I want to cover up any bald patches I thought might come.
Even he was smiling now. I think they all must have thought I was mad. "And why is that?"
"If say, Jared over there, was having a bad hair day, if he was able to cover it up with a cap, he would be on time, but if he knew that he wasn't allowed, he would have to then spend time making his hair visually acceptable to his peers, and would be late, possibly missing vital information for an assignment." I kept a completely straight face, not daring to look at anyone else. A few seconds of silence, then the room erupted with laughter. I felt deflated, the one time I speak out of turn, and this is what happens. I wasn't sure whether to laugh with them, or remain aloof, I chose the latter, and waited for them to stop so I could hear what he thought, though I already really knew how successful I'd been.
When it had subsided, he composed himself, before giving his verdict. "If the situation you described were true, then it would be Jared's responsibility to prioritise between his hair, and his studies. If he chose hair, then he would deserve to miss out on information’s, it would therefore also be his responsibility to catch up if this were the case. Isn’t that right Jared?" Jared nodded, it seemed everyone else was in agreement. He took this as a finish to the discussion, and the class resumed its previous chatter about other rules, and I sunk back into my recluse.
I kept my head down for the rest of the session, not wanting to draw attention to myself, if only that was as embarrassing as it got. If only I'd known what was shortly to come, I don't think I would have stepped foot in college again. I saw his eyes catch mine, I think maybe even though I'd made a fool of myself, he was secretly pleased I'd spoken. I'm sure he would have put the credit to himself, and his 'talk' with me, but that was weeks ago, but if it made him feel better, who was I to tell him otherwise.
At break I could hear the sniggers, the whispers and I could see the looks I was getting. Then a voice came from behind me, disturbing my solace. "If it's any consolation, I agree with what you said back in class." I spun round to find myself standing face to shoulder with Joshua. There was no teasing in his face, no taunts ready to spill from his mouth, I decided he meant it. A smile was coming, I could feel it tugging at the corners of my lips, my cheeks rising and my eyes narrowed in anticipation of it coming. It came, and with it, he smiled right back. No words were needed, we walked in unison to a table and te lunch. Nothing dramatic, but at the time, I felt like a huge step had been made. I wasn't panicking, I wasn't fighting friendship, and it felt good, although in the back of my mind, I knew it was only going to be temporary.
I had gone upstairs after college to do homework, but the scene in tutorial and then after with Joshua replayed over and over in my minds eye. They were so contrasting, and yet, I was transfixed not by either thought, but by the strands of hair twirled around my fingers. I had laid down on my bed, thinking, and as often happens when I'm thinking, my hands wander where they shouldn't, this time was no exception. I felt the familiar tugging as each one slid free from my scalp, but felt nothing, numb, void of any emotion. Yet sometimes when I pull, I'm angry, sad, hurt, any emotion, and at other times there’s nothing, like the hole in the middle of a polo, everything’s happening on the outside, with nothing left for the centre.
I was inside my own little world, where no one could hurt me but me. Not only hadn't I noticed the long hairs discarded on the bed, I didn't notice my mum knock, and then walk in. A loud gasp shook my mind back into the reality of the moment. "What are you doing?" I leapt off the bed as though I had only just realised I was lying on glass, and stood to face my mother.
"I, urm, I..." I stammered, hoping some spark of inspiration would fall neatly into the clutches of my mind, and onto my lips, but alas, I stood there, stumbling over words that would neither betray nor save me.
She walked over to my bed, her eyes constantly questioning, her body moving in jirky patterns, nothing flowing. She peered onto my bed where I had been lying, and gasped. "Are these yours?" She accuse, pointing to the offending evidence, plain as day for all to see on my duvet.
"Yes" I was still in too much shock to find the capacity to lie. She flipped. My mum had always been the calm one, dad was the one you were scared of, but as the saying goes, it's the quiet ones you look out for.
"I saw you!" The anger in her voice was rising, ready to completely take her over, "You were, you were pulling out your own hair! Why would you do that?"
"I, urm, I don't know." My sister had arrived on the scene, hearing raised voices and not being the centre of attention didn't sit well with her.
"What's going on mum?"
"Go on, tell her Iliana." She stood their, with her hands on her hips, daring me to defy her.
I couldn't. For the first time in my life though, it was my mum who filled me with fear. I tried to put myself in her shoes, what would do if the child I gave birth to, was lying there pulling out her beautiful hair? Scream? Shout? I hoped I would not do either, but could I be calm, talk about it objectively? I didn't know. "I can't mum. I'm sorry. Excuse me" Before giving her a chance to counteract me, I ran past them both, down the stairs and locked myself in the bathroom. I could hear muffled voices floating down the stairs, like dirty secrets being betrayed to the wind.
"She was doing what?...No!...How gross!...Wh..." I stopped listening. I curled myself into a tight foetal ball, and pulled until my fingers along with my body fell into an exhausted sleep on the cold, unforgiving floor.
Tap! Tap! My mothers gentle tapping stirred my from my restless slumber. It took a few moments to remember where I was and why. I stretched my stiff, aching body, and shakily went to the door. "hello?" I called through the door.
"It's me, mum, please open up." It wasn't the same raged voice I remembered from earlier.
"Are you still mad at me?"
"No"
Slowly I unlocked the door and slid through the opening to face her again. I struggled to meet her eyes, last time they met, they were full of so much anger and surprise, hurt even. Now though, they were red and swollen. She'd been crying. Great. After all these years of mum crying because of dad (my sister and I had become more than accustomed to her quietly sobbing at night when she thought no one could hear, we heard, and it hunted us then and now) and here she was, her eyes puffy from crying over me. I'd always vowed that I never wanted to be the cause of any of her tears.
"I'm sorry for getting so angry. I had only come up to put some clothes away, and when you didn't answer, I assumed you were still at college. So I went in. but when I saw you lying on the bed, attacking your beautiful mane of hair, I was so shocked that I acted before evaluating the situation. I'm sorry. Tell you what, lets for get the whole thing, you stop whatever it was you were doing, and we'll say no more about it. Dad need never know. Okay? Sorted? good, that’s my girl." She smiled, a silent resolution that she had 'fixed' her daughter, and felt better about herself as a mother. Sorry mum, I thought, too late, dad knows, or knew.
"Sure mum." I knew though it was a lie. I wanted to ask her for help, but she seemed to willing to forget it all, the 'mistake' and carry on as normal, I didn't want to let her down, so I agreed to something I knew was then impossible. But as long as she thought it was over, then she'd be happy with me, and I'd never have to see that look again. How naive I was...
...The next few weeks were painful. Every time my hand even went to my head, even if it was just to smooth down ruffled hair, my mother shot me a warning look. Dad came home again from some far off place he loved to abandon us to go to. His drinking wasn't improving. We were having to tread on eggshells in our own home. The strain of all this, plus trying desperately to appease my mother, meant my pulling went from bad and fairly occasional, to severe and every day. Whenever a few eyelashes or eyebrows grew in, they'd be gone instantly, because hey ruined the perfect lines, they itched too. My hair was thinning, I'd always had long thick hair, now it was frail and getting scarily thin in places. I'd had to take to wearing a headscarf, even at home. I fobbed mum off telling her it was the latest fashion, not that I actually cared about fashion, or that it was, but it was my necessity to keep my secret.
I'd been keeping myself even more to myself at college since speaking out, they had started to notice me after it, but I shrunk under their inspections. The only one I spoke to was Joshua, and even then it was sporadically. It too dangerous to get too close to anyone, even someone I so desperately wanted to. During these latest developments, it had been a holiday form college, so I hadn't had to face anyone. But now, I was facing going back to college, knowing that I was going to have to break the rule I had greeted raucous questioning. I toyed with the idea of not going, but chided myself, that wasn't going to help anything, by running away, I would jeopardise my education, and my chance at being accepted. As I pulled the bandanna over my hair, making sure no gaps were showing, butterflies were forming deep in my stomach, I guess I already knew it wasn't going to be pretty...
I held my bag customarily close to me as I entered, hoping it would offer some protection, yet I knew it would not. I heard whoops of delights, and chorus's of 'You're for it now!....your gonna get it!...who thinks she's above the rules?!' I didn't look up to see who spoke, it was obvious it was a reaction to my covered up head.
"Good morning cla...Rob, spit that out please, Beccy, you too, and Iliana. Please take that from you head at once. You know the rules." He started writing on the board, assuming that I, like the rest who he had mentioned would instantly comply. After he had finished, he turned round to address the class, and stopped mid turn. "Iliana. I've asked you once, please take that off."
I looked up from what I was doing, and shook my head numbly. "no" my whisper was barely audible.
"Pardon?"
The whole classes focus was on the unwinding scene playing before them. Mouths dropped, they waited, watching to see what would become of my new-found rebellion. "I'm not taking it off." I kept my voice defiant, but I was trembling inside. I wanted something, anything to happen to take the heat off me, to save me from what was to come. But no salvation came.
"And why is that?"
"I'm just not" My rock hard resolve was crumbling, like a fort around my castle. The protection it now offered was minimal, hardly sufficient for the up coming storm.
"Then if you feel that the rules no longer apply to you, then can you please remove yourself from the room, and come to speak to me at the end of the lesson. You can work in the Library." His words sounded so final, like a prisoner sentenced to death, and having no chance of a pardon.
Without saying anything further I gathered my things, and stalked out of the room, only glancing back as the door opened, and saw Joshua's confused eyes. It was only on the walk to the Library that my defences fell, I blubbered my way through the long and winding corridors, but no matter how many people saw me, not one asked if I was okay, they clung to the opposite walls it seemed, to escape me, the freak. Don't want to get too close, I imagine them thinking, might catch her disease.
I fled to the sanctuary of the Library, no one was allowed to talk. There could be no snide comments, no whispers. Blessed silence hung in the air and I welcomed it.
Back outside of the room I shuddered. I had to tell him the truth, there is no other way. He will have to respect my privacy, it would be breaking student tutor confidentiality. I just hoped such a thing existed.
I kept my head low as the class was dismissed, especially avoiding Joshua's eyes. I looked up as they left, a big group of them laughing and joking together. A unit. Each one seemed to belong, to have their place. A group I had no place in, my heart wrenched, wishing I could find some place in some group. But I knew that until I could lay my demons to rest it would never be so.
The door swung open, and I was ushered in. He motioned for me to be seated on the seat opposite his across the table. "Please look at me."
Almost against my own will, my head rose. "I know when we had that last talk, I was hoping you would find your voice, but I didn't expect it to make such a dramatic and rebellious appearance. Now, I'm going to ask again why you refused to take it off, and we are not leaving here until you answer." He sat back in his chair, relaxed and looking like he expected to be seated for the long haul. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"If I took it off, then I would have been a laughing stock. I am not prepared to let that happen."
"Why would you be a laughing stock. I see nothing funny. Are you having a bad hair day or something?" His voice was concerned, and I knew he was going to keep going till he got the whole truth.
"Underneath this..." I said pointing to my headwear "not as much hair as there was before."
"I don't understand, your hair looked fine before the holidays."
In response, after quickly checking that no one was walking past the room, I lifted off my bandanna for him to see. I wanted to close my eyes, shut his reaction out, but I knew I had to see, so I could react accordingly. He squinted his eyes as he focused, then shot back in shock. "What happened?"
"I pulled it out." I said it matter-of-factly, I remembered all to well what happens if you beat around the bush and they aren't sure if your serious.
He looked closely, not even trying to hide his open curiosity. He then looked me in the eyes and the same shocked look reappeared. "You've, you've got not lashes or brows either do you?"
"No."
"Is that why you never made eye contact with anyone in the class?"
Deep swelling sobs arose in my throat and broke free. I nodded, unable to speak. My whole body shook as it rid itself of long the forgotten tears I'd kept there for so long.
He waited patiently until all water had stopped flowing. I'm not sure even now what he was expecting my excuse to be, but I don't think he expected what he got. "I'm sorry Iliana. I honestly had no idea. But I will do my best to make sure no one makes an issue of you wearing the bandanna.
I looked up. "How?"
"I'm going to have to get rid of that rule, but I'll have to do it so no attention is drawn to you."
"Your not going to tell anyone are you?" Panic swelled, he wouldn't, he couldn't!
"Of course I'm not going to, that's what I mean, I'm going to change the rule, but I'm not going to say, because of you. Don't worry, you have nothing to worry about." Despite his reassurances, I knew I did, a lot, and it was coming.
I left the room unsettled, I hoped I hadn't made a mistake by telling him the truth. I could have said anything, said I had cancer, or alopecia, but no, I had to be dumb and give it all away. Now he's going to let everyone in class know, whether he means to or not. I could feel the panic rising again, but I had to suppress it, if I gave way to it, I'd lose control, and that, I couldn't let happen. I made a U-turn and headed for the toilets, I had to re-straighten my bandanna before going home.
The mirror, as always, greeted me harshly. I took of my headwear so that I could re-do it completely, and even then, I gasped on seeing my reflection. If I was still shocked, then how could I be so judgmental of the people who were surprised on seeing it for the first time. I leant in closer to examine the foray. I was now quite accustomed to having none or few brows and lashes, but I was still horrified by my head. At that moment in time, it looked like ones head does while having highlights done. Where there was now no hair, it looked like the highlighting cap, with irregular clumps laid out on the bare floor of my head, as though people sporadically sleeping. I could easily have been mistaken as someone with cancer, who was losing their hair through chemotherapy, and that only made me feel worse, because they couldn't help losing their hair, it was a side effect of something deadly, whereas what I did, was a symptom of something much less acceptable. How horrible, how selfish, I had no right to do this to myself, when all around were people with real problems, and here I was drowning in my own self pity. With my thoughts sinking deeper and deeper into despair, my hands went higher, to my head.
The bandanna no longer gave sufficient refuge, I could clearly see the lack of hair beneath it. Before, I had been able to comb it so it was spread, albeit sparsely, over the gaps, but now, after my pulling spree in the toilets, now matter how I arranged it, I could see. I had walked home as quickly as possible, my head starting to really feel the upcoming winters chill, so I had made a slight detour to buy a woolly hat, as I pulled it one, warmth cushioned my head, soothing it temporarily from the soreness it was prone too after pulling.
I pushed to door closed as quietly as I could hoping I wouldn't alert anyone to my presence. I was not ready to face anyone yet, I had to find my cap first, I knew I wouldn’t defiantly not be allowed to wear my woolly one to the dinner table.
Where is it? I thought as I was frantically searching my room, I was sure I'd left it there on the table that morning. "Looking for this?" I whipped round to see my sister, holding my cap, twirling it playfully around her index finger, as though some trophy to be won.
"That’s mine! Give it back!" As I lunged for it she moved eloquently out of the way. I was never going to win this way. "Please" I implored and stretched my hand out to receive it back into my clutches.
"Why do you want it so desperately?" Her voice held a sceptical tone I did not like.
"Because it's mine, and you have it"
"But you didn't know I had it, until then you been searching like a mad women for it. Now, lets think, why would you want a cap, and why would you still be wearing a woolly hat in a fully heated house?" She walked closer and closed the door, then perched on the edge of my bed.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Let me tell you what I think" She began, and I stood there knowing I was in trouble shifting my weight nervously from one foot to the other.
She then lowered the volume of her voice respectfully to a near whisper, though there was no sleeping baby. "I think that you haven’t stopped."
"Stopped what?" I tried and failed to sound naive, like I had no idea what she was talking about.
"That day, when mum found you pulling out your hair, you haven't stopped like you promised have you?" I expected it to sound like an accusation, but it didn't. She didn't sound angry, bitter, accusing, just tired, and I had no idea why. I was so surprised at this that the truth spilled out of my mouth before I had chance to grab it and keep it locked up in my throat where it couldn't betray me.
"No. I haven't"
Even though I think she knew that already, there was still a degree of misbelieve cross her face. "Oh. But why? You promised mum, she'd be gutted, totally devastated if she found out."
"You mean, your not going to tell her?" I would have thought she would take great pleasure in getting me into trouble. As children she always did, but then I once again looked at her face, it was pensive, as though thinking of a strategy to get us out of this. Us? That was a first. Emma had never been that willing to share with her gawky younger sister, and here she was, fighting for a way to not hurt mum, with me. I guess she cared more than she let on.
"Of course not!" She sounded hurt at the very thought. "That is ultimately the last thing mum needs to know right now. Things aren't exactly so good at the moment are they?" She paused briefly. "But what I still don't understand is why? Why do this to yourself? For attention?"
"If I wanted attention, then why would I try so hard to cover it up?" That got her. Her face held more expression then I'd ever seen it hold. She was normally so smooth, everything played right to the chest, after all, you can't manipulate others if you can't control your own face, right? But here she was, willing to stick something out with me. However much I hated my problem right then, I was glad it had brought us together for that time, even alcoholism and abuse hadn't achieved that much. We'd come together in the past when it had been desperate, like when we had to get our dad back on the bed that time, or to defend mum or dad to the other, but not to this extent, ever. I wanted to savour this, for however long it would last.
"Ok, if you won't tell me why, then at lest tell me how long?"
"My head hair, or the others?"
"Others?"
I wanted to hit myself right then, how was I to have known she didn’t know about my eyes and brows? I'd assumed she'd known about it all, not just my head hair. Now I really did have to tell her everything...
...Tell her I did. The whole thing. About that first time in the Ambulance, about Amy, about my first time pulling from each new place, about college, and the rule, everything. Throughout the whole explanation, I remember her sitting there, listening with curiosity laced with mild horror at the thought of what I did to myself. She didn't interrupt, a minor miracle where Emma was concerned. I felt relief like I hadn't in a long time, I felt cleansed, no longer dirty. I knew at the time it wouldn’t last long, so I enjoyed it while it did. When I'd finished I felt liberated, like no one could corner me, I was not to be caged anymore, and that night, for the first time in a I don't know how long, I did not pull myself to sleep. I needed no soothing other than the comforting knowledge that I was no longer alone in this battle, my sister, after years of virtual isolation from me, had joined me, to fight with me, side by side...
I slammed my book shut, it was almost the end of another hard lesson's slog of copying everything off the board to help compile our research for the next assignment.
"Now, don't forget that it has to be in next week, no excuses, hear that Dale?" He nodded silently, we all knew he had not yet handed in one assignment on time, but he still tried, poor guy.
"Also, I have decided to get you all involved more with the rules. So it's time for a change. I would like you to pipe up with suggestions for both rules, and punishments. We then vote as a class, and if a majority presides, then it is passed, and is written on the board. Sound fair?" We nodded.
So this is how he's doing it? I pondered. Clever. I just hoped that the same rule wasn’t passed again. "Right, so let's go then. This is also practise for your politics assignment coming up, so pay attention."
It took a little while for people to start throwing ideas about, probably from fear of their idea being rejected. Casey was first up, and suggested that we should be made to get all our info off the net, and nowhere else. Needless to say, it was thrown out on moral grounds. Even though we had some freedom on this, we could not break higher rules.
It did eventually become a civilised discussion, and with ideas bouncing around, I found my hand going up with the rhythm of everyone else, it all became so monotonous that I found my mind wandering to the start of lesson, before the rule change. I had come in with not a bandanna like the day before, but a cap. People started ooooohing, as though expecting a repeat of yesterdays performance.
A particularly spiteful member of the class, Carl, had first alerted the teacher to the fact that something was on my head. The colour drained from my face, in anticipation of him either forgetting yesterdays talk, or betraying my trust. Either one was fully possible.
"Very good observation Carl. Did you want a gold star?" People laughed, and embarrassed, he sat down, mumbling a feeble protest about the rules or something.
"Yes, that was one of the rules, but you see, something happened yesterday to get me thinking. Sufficed to say, that it is no longer a rule. But enough of that, at the end of the lesson, I will explain further, right now though...."I completely stopped listening, I remember every possible scenario running through my mind, and none of them were good. I had then spent the rest of the lesson with only a small part of my mind focusing on the writing at hand, and most was concentrating on how to react to each of the situations I had created.
I was snapped back from the clutches of my thoughts to the present as it then was. Everyone was leaving. I glanced quickly up at the board, to see what the rules were, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when hats weren't on there at all, I could live with all of the others. I flashed a quick, thankful smile to our teacher as I left. Someone who hadn't betrayed my secret. To be honest, I was surprised. That's the saddest part.
For the first time since I'd started there, I was not the first person out. It was odd to be walking behind people in a doorway, I started thinking of how close they were to my cap, to the truth. I suddenly felt claustrophobia grab me, suffocating me. I had to remove myself from the throng. I became blinded by it, pushing people out of the way, ignoring the 'hey's' and 'watch it's'. Out of the midst of the bodies, and arm grabbed mine, and gently guided it to the outside. I turned and saw Joshua, looking at me puzzled. "Are you alright?" He probed.
"Yeah, I urm, I don't know what came over me." I looked at the floor, my eyes tracing the lines and patterns formed there. Still too dangerous to look them in the eye. Can't become cocky just become some people haven't betrayed me, one too many might tip the boat, I firmly told myself. Even now, I still find it hard sometimes to decipher who is trustworthy and who isn't. But you know, occasionally, we have to throw caution to the wind, take the risk, we can be pleasantly surprised, which will outweigh the times our reservations would have paid off. 'Life is a risk, full of exciting twists, and chances missed', a wise philosophy, something I wish I could have written, but a poet I'm not. Isn't it strange how sometimes we read things, or hear things that seem to have been written for us and no one else? That is mine. Something that could hve been written about my life...
"Are you sure. You don't look to good"
"Thanks, but I'm fine now, really." He was suffocating me, closing in, I had to leave, to escape, from him and his concern, from everyone and their curiosity. I panicked, and without saying anything further to him, broke free and fled. I could hear him calling my name, but I couldn't turn back, if I did, I would be trapped again...
...Over the coming days, a pattern began to emerge. I couldn't see it at the time, but that is always the case. Trich had become not just 'my' dirty secret, but Emma shared it with me. She helped cover for me, and used her charms to pursuade mum and dad to let us keep our caps on while in the house, I couldn't have done that alone. She made it clear however that she did not understand why I didn’t what I did, but she told me that it didn't men she wanted to see the uproar that would take place if they ever found out, especially if mum and dad were in the same room. I had failed to mention that dad knew to her, which perhaps I should have done, it would have saved a lot of trouble later on. At college, the pressure was relieve somewhat, others started wearing caps, and the new rules didn't infringe my freedom too much, as I was a student who kept their head down as it was, but a few were beginning to regret agreeing to some of them. Joshua continued being friendly, everyone else in the class had given up I think even trying to make contact. So for little while, my life seemed to have settled, I should have taken heed to the saying 'the calm before the storm' but I was enjoying living, if only it could have lasted longer before the happiness was shattered...
...Excitement was spreading through the class like wildfire, it had just been announced that we were to be going to Cornwall for an adventure week, with 'educational purposes' of course. I was dreading it, I hadn't slept away from home with peers since the sleepover from hell, but I knew I had no way of getting out of it, it was mandatory. I listened half-heartedly as the itinerary was explained. It did sound good, I had to admit, but I couldn't get my fears to leave.
I walked briskly into the refectory. I was late meeting with Amy for lunch. She had also been having problems making friends, fitting in, her cutting was much better, but people still backed off when they caught a glimpse of the scars. But then I spotted her, sitting with a group for the first time, they were male too, so I decided to back off. She looked so happy, who was I to intrude? "Waiting for me?" Joshua appeared as if from nowhere. "Wanna have lunch? C'mon. What’s the worst that could happen?" I found myself involuntarily following him, through the queue, and to a table, filled with people from our group. I froze. "they don't bite, honestly." He gently encouraged.
One by one they stopped talking as they saw who was joining them. A girl who'd never completely shunned me, slid over on the bench to make room for us. I found myself thrust into the group I'd been so long avoiding. I think Joshua could see I was uncomfortable, but he said nothing. Instead the girl spoke up. "hey!" she said, as though to a small child. I ignored the tone, and replied without looking up. "hi" in the smallest voice I had. No point drawing too much attention to myself, I thought. It was so painful. On the whole, they soon ignored me as they did in class, with Joshua sometimes interjecting and trying to include me, I replied with minimal one syllable answers that kept me from appearing too rude.
After what seemed like an eternity, Joshua made our excuses for us, and he led me away. "That was painful wasn't it?"
"yes."
"I thought perhaps forcing you into that kind of situation, you would talk more, or do something, but you just sat there. This is going to be hard work." He spoke more to himself than to me.
"Why bother then? If I'm that much hard work to be around." I spoke with venom I hadn't realised I'd possessed. It shocked us both.
"I didn't mean it like that..."
"Why Joshua. You've been nice to me since day one, and I've hardly spoken to you. Why do you keep trying?"
"Come with me."
He took my hand and led me to a quiet part of the college, where no one really went, the farthest side of the football field, and ushered me to sit down."
My curiosity was aroused, and my heart thumping, what on earth could he be about to tell me?
"Ive been trying to be your friend for these last few months. I've wanted to get to know you, your not like those other girls who flirt with everyone, but I know your not shy. I know why you don't get close to any of us. I know why you wear caps all the time."
I swear my heart actually stopped for a moment. I prepared myself for his analysis, whether the truth or not, for the ridicule that would no doubt follow. "What are you talking about?" I tried to keep my voice even, flat, non caring. But inside I was sweating buckets, I prepared my self for the worst. "Go on, why do I wear a cap then?"
"Because you pull your hair out."
There was no poison in his voice, no spite or pity. I was completely speechless. "I, urm, I, heh..."
"It's okay. I know it's not your fault, and I know how much you hate to do it."
"You don't know anything about it!" I yelled. It was very good planning on his part, I must admit, no one could have heard me yelling blue murder. I stood up, angered and outraged that with all my careful planning, people could still tell.
"Please. Sit down. Can't I at least explain?"
I wanted to leave, to run from the whole situation, but something kept me there, curiosity probably, I did want to know how he knew, even if at first only to know how better to cover it in future. But I am eternally grateful to him for what he next said.
"My little sister does the same thing you do." That one sentence changed my world forever. Someone else?
"Pardon?"
"At one time, my sister, had no eyebrows, like you, no eyelashes, like you, and literally no head hair, which I imagine your also close to. But now, she has a full set of each, shes been having treatment, and is doing well."
Part of me really didn't want to ask the next question, but I knew I had too, so I dived right in. "What is it then?"
"It's called Trichotillomania."
"Tricho...what?" My tongue refused to pay it homage.
"Is it my fault?"
His hand reached for mine, soothing it, and for the first time, our eyes actually met, properly. No holds barred eye contact, it felt strange, but liberating at the same time. "No. It's not your fault."
It was all too much. With a muffled cry, the dam of tears broke, letting tears of shame and secrecy free after all that time. I just wanted them out. My whole body shook as the sobs deepened, he simply moved closer and held me until they subsided. It felt so safe and warm in his arms, no one could touch me, because it wasn't my fault! I wanted to scream it from the rooftops, sing, shout and dance, but I did none, just let him hold me. I felt like a little girl again, curled up with dad, the wind could be howling, thunderstorm raging, but I was untouchable.
I sat back slowly, suddenly embarrassed and feeling excruciatingly exposed. "I'm sorry" I mumbled, cursing myself inwardly for losing control.
"It's okay, honestly. Rachel did pretty much the same thing when we found out."
"How did you find out?"
"We had noticed her hair was getting thin on top, and that she had no hair on her face anymore, we asked her what happened, she lied, understandably, and told us they must've fallen out. We took her to the doctor to see what could have caused it. It was fortunate that this doctor knew what it ws, or else she could have been wrongly diagnosed as having alopecia. She was referred to a specialist, and therapist, and she’s doing really well now."
"That's excellent. How old is she? How did you know I had that and not alopecia or cancer or something?"
"She’s 13 now. She was 11 when we first discovered it. I knew because, well, I first noticed something different when you refused to make eye contact with anyone, and still didn't weeks on, when everyone had overcome their initial reservations. Also, when I looked at you, I could see you had no lashes or brows, and then I was sure when you started wearing a cap, and got really upset when told to take it off, and how you hated people being near you. I just added it all up. But that wasn't the only reason I wanted to get to know you..." His voice broke off, and he looked away. I decided not to press for the other reason.
"Thank you. Thank you for telling me. You know what I'm going to ask you now don't you?"
"Don't worry," He intercepted, "I won't tell anyone."
We parted company as we were summoned to our next lesson. I sat in a stunned silence during the afternoon, as apposed to my normal sullen silence. My mind was ticking over, Tricho...the name kept on forsaking me, I was unable to keep hold of it, to claim it as something I owned, or owned me, as it then was. I couldn't wait to go home, to tell Emma, she'd be so pleased to know that its not my fault, and so I wasn't just 'freakish.'
I practically skipped home, and on arrival, virtually lunged at her. Giving her no alternative but to listen.
I spilled the whole story, in rapid, poorly constructed sentences, barely finishing one before leaping into another set of facts for her. I swear I even saw her smile when I told her about it being no ones fault! She listened intently, patiently, (two words I would never have previously used to describe her, before trich that is) and told me how great it was that I finally knew what it was, and how it was the first step to stopping it. "But..." She hastened to add, "...we still can't tell mum"
I stopped in my tracks. "Why?"
"Don't you think she still has a lot on her plate? It would be unfair, we can't tell her, not yet. We need to help her, not the other way round." I reluctantly agreed, and even though I couldn't share it with mum, the excitement was still there.
It's so hard to describe to you what Joshua gave me that day. Confidence? Hope? The truth? All are part of it, but I couldn't then, nor can I now think of one word that sums up the gift he bestowed upon me. I guess knowing that I was not alone, a freak, and I was revelling in it. When your on such an 'up' as that, you never consider the fact that a 'down' is going to swiftly follow. I sometimes wish I could have had foresight in my earlier years, but on the whole, even though it would have spared me so much pain, it would have also stopped me from appreciating the good times. Like when my dad was in a good mood, sober and happy. Rare as that was, I guess I wouldn't have appreciated it as much if he was one of those loving, always smiling dads you see on the television...
..."You completely packed?"
"Yes mum."
"You sure you have everything, Cornwall is a long way to have to bring something to you."
I laughed. "Yes mum. Don't worry, if I have forgotten anything, then I will be sure to do without it." I loved mum, truly I did. She was so brave, she never let on how bad things were for her. I am certain it was no picnic for her, and no bundle of laughs being married to dad. But through it all, she smiled, she grin and bore it, so to speak. She wanted the best for Emma and I, and sacrificed her own happiness to give us a 'stable' home. If only she could have seen that it would have been better for us all if we'd left, we may have been minus a parent, but at least we'd all have been safe, happy, free. But she did what she thought was best, and stuck by it, for that I love, respect and admire her greatly...
..."Move!"
"No, you move!"
"Your on my foot you oaf!"
The angry voices of my classmates boarding the minibus broke my trance, my hands dropped back down to my sides, and I checked around nervously to see if anyone had noticed. A huge sigh of relief escaped my chest as I realised everyone was too involved in making sure their luggage had pride of place in the boot, to notice me nervously pulling at my hair. Before then, I had gone two whole days without consciously pulling. But as I was standing there, my hands had subconsciously crept upwards.
I hauled my bags over the boot, and accepted whichever place they were granted. The whole class were there, all nervously excited for the coming week. A whole five days in Cornwall, with absailing, canoeing in the sea, rock climbing and hikes. I couldn't wait, I loved those kind of things, but I was apprehensive of being with them for the mornings, when my makeup would have rubbed off, and my hair would be dishevelled. I was going to be able to overcome the latter, as I had vowed to keep my trusty cap on, but the makeup, I figured I would just have to be the first up everyday to re-apply, and wear waterproof for the water activities.
The class had been divided into two separate groups, one in each minibus. I was both relieved and disappointed to be in Joshua's group. In truth, I had pretty much avoided him as before, after he'd told me all he had. I had avoided them all, I guess in the vain hope that they wouldn't notice.
He slid into the seat next to me, which no one else would have wanted to fill, everyone else would want to sit with someone with whom they could expect lively conversation, not the social misfit of the class who wouldn’t even look you in the eyes.
"I hear its five hours ‘til we get there, you ready for the long haul?" His voice even seemed to smile. He was full of surprises, like a Christmas present you were only allowed to unwrap one layer at a time.
I chuntered in apparent agreement, but didn't look at him for fear of drowning in his eyes. He carried on oblivious. "Hey Shaz, isn't that right?"
"Yeah, whatever. I just wanna get there."
Our teacher joined us, and gave us a brief lecture on wearing our seatbelts, no rowdy behaviour, all the rest of it. I tuned out, scenarios of what could become of this week. If I had of been able to foretell what was to unravel, I could have leapt out of the van right there and then, and saved myself the trouble of doing it later.
The drive started out fairly predictably, with high spirits from my fellow students, and occasional spurts of conversation starting and killing from Joshua. It eventually all fizzled out, as we prepared ourselves for the long journey, and one by one, they succumbed to sleep. I, on the other hand, was unable to let my guard down. Joshua was still awake also, and together, we sat in virtual silence, broken only by our teacher making random comments about the views on either side of the motorway, or general polite conversation, and trying to hype us up for the coming week.
My body jerked back into consciousness, and I realised I must have slept. I took a few moments to clock my surroundings, luckily everyone else seemed to be asleep still, except Joshua and the teacher. It was then I came to an awareness that my head had come to its resting place on Joshua's shoulder, I snapped up off it, and fumbled an apology. "Urm, sorry, I, uh..."
Shrugging it off, he replied "No sweat. Sorry if my shoulder was too bony." Smiling, he left me to my confusion and started view spotting.
The colour of my cheeks began to return slowly to normal. I tried to concentrate on the scenery surrounding me. Rolling hills, farmland stretching as far as the eye could behold, and the clouds, the clouds covered the sky like a fluffy blanket with the occasional rift to let the sunlight pour through. It was beautiful. I think too often we are in such a hurry to live life at the fast pace set by others, that we forget to notice the little things...
...The journey went quickly after that, I drifted in and out of a light, painful sleep. We pulled up to the farm where our accommodation would be. It was a converted barn hidden at the back of the premises. We delayed unpacking until we had explored the place. I hung back, letting the others run excitedly through. It was old, crumbling, but in fairly good condition for what it was. There were two bedrooms, each with six to eight sets of bunk beds. In theory the boys were to be having one room, the girls the other, in practise things worked out quite differently. People ended up mixing and matching room mates to suit their taste and preferences, regardless of the rules.
The first night was to be a trip to the local tow, to grab some chips, and do the shopping for the weeks food. The buses drove off with high spirits.
The centre was busier than I though would be normally for a seemingly sleepy town. I kept my eyes glued to the sites, so as not to inadvertently meet someone else’s.
The chips were hot, and after burning my tongue, I refrained form re-indulging. I hung back, mainly with Joshua, and to be honest, I enjoyed the company. I lightened up a little with him as the evening wore on, but I refused to let the conversation drift to my disorder, I wanted to keep it light, I would talk with him about it on home turf, so I thought.
We stood at the window, watching some of the other classmates enjoying the arcade, whoops of delight came when they won some money, no matter how minute, and sighs of disbelief soon followed when the lost it all again, the 'joys' of gambling.
Our teacher all too soon returned and rounded us up to return to the smelly farm. The chatter was lively and on occasion I couldn't help but let my normally locked away bubble personality come through, and joined in with some of the streams of conversation, much to the surprise of some of the class, and it felt good, almost like how I imagined being accepted would feel.
My sleeping bag was warm as I slipped into it as far as it would allow, pulling the zip to contain my hands by my side, so no unknown pulling could happen, giving me away. The other girls spoke in hushed voices among each other, I heard the occasional word, something to do with a hat, a few stifled giggles, and then sleep took me.
I started awake. My senses into overdrive, it was early morning, and the other girls were sleeping, some intertwined with some of the guys. I crept out of the room, so as not to disturb any of them, and rushed quietly to the bathroom. I took a hurried shower, then went about the unenviable task of re-applying my mask.
I placed all my things hurriedly back into their places, then left to find some food, my stomachs growling was leading the way.
Finding nothing and no one inside, and seeing a figure flash across a window outside, I left the relative warmth to find out if it was the teacher and if he had food. It was neither. It was Joshua, who grabbed my hand and ushered my to the gate farthest from where anyone would be able to hear.
"What's...?"
"Shh, it's okay, I'm not here to deliver anymore revelations, I had something to give you."
My mind raced, what could it be? His hand reached into his pocket and out came a small white plastic box. I gasped, not the food I was expecting.
"What is it?" I queried as he started to unravel it.
"False eyelashes."
"What? How do you...I don't understand"
"They're for you. You know models? They don’t rely on their own beautiful lashes now do they? They wear these, and I thought it would help you, you know, to look people in the eyes, might help you enjoy this week more. Sorry if it was presumptuous to assume you'd want them, but I just thought..."
I didn't let him finish before flinging my arms around him and possibly suffocating him with a bear hug, enveloping him in gratitude.
He seemed taken a back, but soon recomposed himself, and briefly explained how to use them, and what to do, upon thanking him several times, I rushed to the bathroom once more. This time, after scrubbing my eyeliner off, I shakily applied the glue and eyelashes. Once they were on to my satisfaction, I stepped back from the mirror to fully take in my reflection. Not only did it look strange to me to see myself with eyelashes again after so long, it felt so odd to have something there after so long, weighing down my lids. I smiled.
As I left the bathroom to return to the rest, I passed several of them shuffling their feet groggily to join up for breakfast. The aroma captured my attentions, and I followed, even daring to smile at some of the figures surrounding the table.
"Right guys" Our teacher tried to rouse our attention, clapping his hands and standing shakily on a chair. "Please all, after I've finished, go and as quickly as possible pack your day bags with everything on the lists you were given. But now, onto the schedule for today, excuse me Paul, I'm still speaking, thank you, onto today, we will leave shortly and drive to the beach, where we will be doing our sea canoeing and wave jumping. After we're finished there, onto the bus again, and driving about fifteen to twenty minutes away for lunch a wander around the town. Okay? Off you go."
The beach greeted us with a salty smell that we could taste. We were instructed to pair up and carry down the heavy canoes to the sea line. Our instructor for the day was way ahead of us, nearing the shore. He had a smaller, lighter canoe of his own, his silhouette broke the horizon, sunlight shimmering and bouncing off him either side. We followed him pensively like new-born ducklings, venturing onto the water for the first time.
After a quick lecture on the theory for what we were about to do, we were helped into our canoes, and pushed into the shallows of the sea. I was nervously excited, I'd waited for quite a while to have the chance to do this, but there I was, unable to swim, in a canoe that I had to control, I was so grateful to have a life jacket!
The tide ws quite calm, and the sea gently lapped at the shore, but the wind was picking up, I braced myself and started paddling, while replaying his account of what to do if we capsized over and over in my head, assuring myself I would know what to do.
I paddled as close to our instructor as possible, while trying to maintain my position in the shallower water. I peered out to the wider ocean, some of the others were quite away out, obviously not passing the bobbing reminders of the distance they had to keep to. They were enjoying themselves, laughing and joking together. I let my boat float for a brief moment, securing the paddle in one hand and letting the other creep up to my eyes, checking the lashes were still in place, I had forgotten to take them off before coming to the water, and now was hoping that they wouldn't come off if they got wet. They seemed fine at the moment, my hand jerked back down as Joshua floated up along side me. "Not going for the deep blue then?"
"No, I'd rather see my next birthday thanks" I smiled, not wanting him to think I was being rude.
"Ha! I'm sure you'd be fine, come on, race you to the bobbing balls!"
I declined. "No thanks, I don't think I should, I'm fine just paddling"
"Fine. Have it your way" He started paddling off to join the rest. I paddled around in large circles, trying to avoid danger, but it found me anyway.
As I was cutting the water with my paddle, it slipped, and I overcompensate trying to catch it, overbalancing the boat. It all happened in slow motion, and yet, not giving me time to think, my mind going blank. As the canoe tipped over, I went to scream, taking in a mouthful of salty water along with it. The cold water met my face and I was dragged along with current. My arms were flailing around, I had totally forgotten it seemed the procedure of pulling off the tab and letting myself out. I was petrified, but incapable of saving myself.
I remember hearing muffled, watery voices above me, and strong hands pulled the boat back over, my body being yanked with it, water spluttering from my mouth in an effort to rid myself of all liquid trying to drown me.
"Are you okay?" The instructors voice laden with concern. "Why didn't you pull the rope to free yourself?" I shook my head numbly. "It was a good job I was looking this way, do you want to go back to shore?"
"I'm sorry, I just, I must've panicked, I'm fine to carry on" I looked over to the rest of the group, who all were looking back. They'd seen it all. My heart sank. Another thing to be reminded about, another topic of conversation for them. Great.
The thought hadn't even previously crossed my mind that I could have died, but there I was, suddenly aware of my mortality, and my body shook uncontrollably, but surprisingly, no tears came.
"You look cold and like you could be going into shock, come on, lets get you back to the shore." He jumped gracefully out of his canoe and started gently nudging mine back to the sand.
I wanted the ground to swallow me right there and then, or perhaps that should be water, I didn't care, but the fact was, yet again, I had embarrassed myself, not even purposely for humour, but shamefully. I sat there on the cold, wet sand, with a towel wrapped round me, hugging me, my only warmth, and rocking my body back and forth, a snivelling wreck, forced to watch everyone having fun, as usual. I had gone with high hopes that this would be different, I would be able to enjoy myself, free of barriers, I looked down to the floor, my eyes wanting to trace and life down there. As I did so, a black sodden line of eyelashes landed promptly in my lap. My hand instinctively flew up to see which one it was, my left, I hurriedly checked my right, they were still there. I knew however, that it would be more obvious that I had none if one did and one didn't. I braced myself, and ripped off the others which had been slightly loosened by the salt water. It hurt, a lot, the pain surged through my eyelid, and coursed through my eye, bringing instant tears. I blinked hard, trying to numb the pain, and realised that now I had no make-up on me, and my bag was locked away in the van.
I paced the sand, watching them enjoy themselves and waiting to be allowed back in the water, at least when I was in there, no one would notice.
The instructor came up to me, asking, "Are you feeling better now? We're packing way the canoes now, but would you like to join in the wave jumping?" I nodded, having neglected to tell anyone that I couldn't swim. I didn't want the fuss of it all, the questions, the sympathy, and having someone being assigned to wait for me, and make sure I stayed afloat.
I gathered my courage, and stepped delicately into the lapping water, it cool welcome was sharp contrast to the relative warmth of the blanket before, and made me shiver. I followed the instructor further into the water, working my way closer to the rest of the group.
The waves were gradually becoming larger and more aggressive, great news I'm sure for the others, but for me, I was wishing I'd learnt to swim before my life could have depended on it.
The water was up to our waists, gently surrounding us, but the calm of it was periodically broken as waves lifted us off our feet, and carried us shoreward. It was fun, to a point, I was coping with it, so long as my head was not covered with water, and I could stay close.
As time went on however, the undercurrents were sneakily dragging me sideways, away from the group, but the water was deeper there, up to my chest. The water surrounding me became heavy, pulling me under with every fresh wave. Panic swept over me as a large wave completely submerging me, and forcing water down my throat, choking me.
When my head broke the surface, I gathered my bearings and my eyes scanned the water for the others. On seeing them, I was brought to a harsh awareness of how far away they now were, and not surpassingly, they didn't seem to have noticed. I attempted wading towards them, fighting the undercurrents that wanted me, and using my arms like paddles, forcing the water out of my way. I didn't want to call the instructor or teacher, I didn't want everyone to see that yet again, I'd endangered myself stupidly in the water.
My heart lifted when as I was near approaching, I saw the instructor look around, he'd finally noticed that he'd lost one of his charges. On seeing me, he started making his way over, neither of us seeing the angry wave forming on the horizon before it engulfed us.
My knee banged violently on the floor as I was dragged along by its force. By now though, I had learned to stop panicking and hold my breath, my head came uup again, and my life jacket was grasped by him. "Are you okay?"
I spluttered in response, and he kept hold of my jacket, bringing me back to the shallower, safer water. "Why did you go so far out?" He queried
"I tried to keep here, but the currents carried me away, and I was too deep to do anything by the time I realised, I'm sorry"
"Could you not swim back?"
We were almost back now, so I kept it brief so no one could have heard. "No. I can't swim."
"Why didn't you tell me before entering the water? I'm supposed to keep a better eye on those who can't, I could have kept you and Sam together then."
Sam? So he couldn't swim either? That sentence alone brought comfort, he was one of the better respected in the class, so if it was alright for him to not be able to swim, then maybe it could be for me too.
The remainder of the session thankfully passed quickly. I stuck by him as close as possible. Any time I started to float away, he grabbed my lifejacket, bringing me closer again. I felt like a fool, not able to go and swim with the others, for fear of the water taking me, owning me, I evaded their eyes, more than usual, assuring that they didn't notice me.
We dried off and changed out our wetsuits into our day clothes, packed away the equipment and headed off to our next destination, the van buzzing with their enthusiasm for the previous activity. I kept my eyes on the scenery, especially as I didn’t have any makeup on, and couldn't put any replacement on until getting to a toilet, without drawing too much attention to myself in the process.
Joshua nudged me affectionately, leaning over and spoke in a hushed tone "Having fun? Keep staring any longer and your gonna be able to hypnotise yourself from your reflection!" He chuckled, and I couldn't help but giggle in spite of myself at his attempt to lighten the mood.
We pulled up at a quiet picnic area for lunch. People bursting from the van as soon as the doors opened, as though it held them captive all too long.
After the shuffling for seats had simmered down, I resigned myself to the furthest bench away, and scanned the scenery for a toilet.
On spotting one, I snuck away, not that anyone would have noticed anyway, and reapplied my mask. I didn't want to put on any more lashes that day, the rim of my eye was still sore after having to pull them off. You are in theory only supposed to apply them onto lashes, to exaggerate ones you've already got, because of the glue, but people like me, who don't have any, have to make do with the possiblity of sore eyes, for the sake of keeping up appearances. People like me? I never enjoy putting it like that, grouping myself off with some amount of people I didn't really comprehend back then. But sometimes, it's the only way forward, to accept what you have, before dealing with it.
Lunch was rushed, we were behind schedule as it was, and needed to be on the afternoon's hike back to the barn. We were graced with maps, a compass each group, and a were divided into groups and then they drove off.
I turned round to face my group. My heart sank when I saw that not only was Joshua not in my group, no one who I had even spoken to were. It was going to be a long walk.
I had brought a large hiking bag and looking around, no one else seemed to have one half as big. "Hey, Iliana, you'll carry my stuff won't you? You've got plenty of room. Cheers." Without waiting for a response, he laid at my feet his bag. Speechless, I took my bag off my already aching shoulders, and put his little bag in with my things. Before it got back on my back, a girl from the group also gave me her things, by the time hers were in, I had no room left, and the bag had virtually doubled in weight. Thankfully no one else decided to grace me with their things, and the walk began. I immediately found it hard to keep up, having to ignore the calls to hurry it up, accompanied with sniggers.
It had rained the previous night, and so the ground on those hills was slippery to say the least. We dutifully followed the map, whatever the terrain. I put all my efforts into keeping pace, but at times it was near impossible, but I hated letting the group down, no matter how much I disliked them.
Louise hung back and decided to speak to me. I smiled at her in anticipation of an actual conversation. "Hey, sorry about those guys, you know what they can be like" I nodded in agreement, allowing my eyes to meet hers, admittedly, it felt strange at first, but good. "But you do bring it on yourself really." She continued.
"Pardon?" I thought perhaps my mind was playing cruel tricks on me.
"By thinking your too good to involve yourself with the group." My jaw dropped. "From the beginning you've hardly spoken to anyone except Joshua. Well, Sarah's gonna be with him soon, so then who will you have left?" She smiled with tight lips, and turned on her heel and caught up with the rest of our group.
Tears stung my eyes as I watched her leave, watched her laughing, some of them turning around, trying to gage my reaction. It wasn't like I kept away from them because I didn't want to belong, and definitely not because I thought I was better! The accusation in her voice sent shivers through me.
I turned my attention to the scenery. A fine mist hung in the air on the crest of the hills, coating them like a smouldering blanket. It all looked so peaceful, there was no unrest, not bitterness, only tranquil harmony.
Many times I used to think how wonderful it would be if my life was like that, tranquil, then I stamped on that thought, knowing that I needed the bad times mixed in with the good, the cocktail of life, often bitter sweet, but full of goodness, mostly...
The mist turned to gently rain, urging us on at a faster pace than previously maintained. I was at that point walking almost parallel with the group, listening sporadically to their conversations, trying to look inconspicuous, like a fly on the wall that defies being squashed, no matter how much it is hated.
After the longest trek of my life, I saw our destination come into view, and with it, a huge sigh of relief. I had survived. I could get dry, warm and flee from Louise and her criticism.
The people who had laden their things on me came to collect them before being seen not holding them. We were all reunited, and preparations were hurriedly made for dinner. I helped out where I could, avoiding the sneering looks from Louise and those who were in my group, who witnessed our exchange.
Even though the heating was on, I felt chills going up and down my spine as over dinner, I saw Sarah outrageously flirting with Joshua, and just for good measure, her and Louise kept on checking that I hadn't missed a moment of the display. Joshua looked very uncomfortable with her advances. He hadn’t seen me in the corner, so from that I concluded that his response was genuine. Not that I expected anything else from him, he'd been nothing but honest with me from the beginning of our friendship. Something I greatly admired.
They eventually tired of tormenting me, I had tried to ignore it, but I couldn't help but be drawn to watching what they were doing. It didn't go unnoticed with the rest of the class too, sniggers and comments were strewn about carelessly like litter.
I excused myself from the room as quickly as I could deem polite, though they didn't deserve my etiquette.
I stalked upstairs and threw myself heavily on my bed. Not in the way a child sulking would, but it was that I could do nothing else except scream. I pressed my face firmly against the pillow and sobbed into it, the noise of my tears absorbed by it.
They eventually subsided, as they always do, and I sat shakily up, temporarily drained. As I did so, several hairs fell off my shoulders. I cursed silently at myself and brushed all the hairs together hurriedly to dispose of the evidence of subconscious pulling.
It was bad enough pulling at the 'best' of times, but when I wasn't even aware of it, I could never be sure of not being seen. I cast my eyes languidly around the room, creating a memory in my minds eye. The beds were made of heavy oak, dark and old, but sturdy enough to still hold the weight of the many visitors who would pass through. The curtains flailed about in the gentle draft escaping through the cracks on either side of the window, hanging heavily from their holdings.
I was jerked out of my thoughts by the appearance of Joshua. He's slipped into the room while I lay dazed in my trance, and as my eyes were tracing the room, he came into focus. I flew off the bed and stood up, straightening up my appearance as quickly and inconspicuously as possible.
"You alright?" He queried me with his eyes. As if not caring if words came or not, he was going to capture and answer from my silence.
I couldn't meet his eyes, and shifted nervously on alternate feet. I couldn't say anything to him, any words would simply betray, I couldn’t ask him about those other girls, he'd then want to know why I cared. I chose no sensible option, and left. I escaped down the stairs, had to find somewhere.
In those days, hiding from my problems seemed to be my number one strategy for dealing with things. out of sight, out of mind was my motto. It worked, mostly. But that week's holiday forced me to wake up to a few home truths. Not everyone was going to be a good person. Not everyone would be lenient towards others imperfections, including disorders such as mine. They judge before owning the facts.
I won't bore you with every event of that week. I worked hard at staying out of even Joshua's way, I couldn’t face them. Sarah made more moves on him, and I could see he was getting more and more flattered as the week wore on. But I couldn't give him a reason not to, so it was my own fault for not moving in on him. Some of the activities we did over the following days were more of the life risking kind.
We did a stream walk. May sound odd, but it was a team building exercises. We had to wade through a rocky, freezing cold stream, uphill, and help each other in climbing over the rocks. Every time I offered my hand, it was refused, and every time I asked for one, again was shunned. So I had to struggle the whole course on my own. Looked like I was going to fail in the teamwork department after all.
We also went rock climbing, and absailing. I never enjoyed being at great heights, but I didn't want to draw attention to myself again, so I'd climbed. I knew I was attached, but on reaching the top, I froze. Couldn't move, my limbs refused to work. The instructor had to send someone up to prise me off the rock face. So much for not wanting to fit in. A similar performance occurred during absailing. I just didn't trust the ropes to hold me. I was terrified for the whole ordeal. But I hated sticking out, and my world stopped when I lost my footing while lowering myself down. Even the instructor lost some if his professional cool while trying to get to me follow his instructions. It really wasn't my week. I somehow did get down the ground, my whole body quivering.
