Hello, Phenelzine, My Old Friend (Well…)

TW: Discussions of depression, suicidal thoughts, self harm, dermatillomania, trichotillomania, negative thoughts about food, and mention of a school shooting.

So, after months and months of resisting, I’ve started taking Phenelzine again. I was deeply reluctant for a number of reasons; after all, just deciding to take it again (and it didn’t really feel like my choice but one imposed on me by external forces) was an excruciating process and took a lot of therapy, a lot of talking, and a lot of misery.

I really didn’t want to take it. I knew that I would objectively feel better but I also felt like it would change a lot of really important things about how I felt about the world and about myself and that scared me. There were also things that I knew it wouldn’t change so there seemed little point in trying to feel better. So my feelings about it were a mess and sorting through them felt like an impossible task. But I wanted to go to Nashville and Phenelzine felt like the only way that that was going to be even remotely possible (which I still believe to be true, having now done that trip to Nashville). Ultimately it felt like a choice between two miserable outcomes and a choice I didn’t know how to make. And even though I did take it – and am feeling objectively better – I still feel angry about it, about feeling like I had to take it.

For the sake of clarity, I started taking Phenelzine on 10th March 2023 and this post covers the first two months approximately, documenting the side effects and the benefits. I thought about cutting it in half, given how long it became, but ultimately, I think it’s more useful to keep all of this information in the same place. And, as always when talking about medication, this is just my experience. Please don’t start, change, or stop taking any medications without the advice and support of a medical professional.


WEEK 1 (15mg once a day)

Nothing changed in that first week. I was desperately depressed (most days I was too depressed to get out of bed) and consistently, deeply suicidal; I just felt completely hopeless. I self harmed that first week, driven largely by my complicated feeling about taking Phenelzine again.

I had no energy and was physically exhausted but somehow still made myself get up and go to both my hydrotherapy and therapy sessions (I think that that, more than anything, was a lack of will to fight what I was being told to do), although they did, of course, make me even more tired. I had no appetite but I didn’t have any interest in food anyway. I would’ve ignored it altogether but my Mum pushed me to eat something everyday; even that was a struggle though.

The plan was always to increase to twice a day after a week or so but given that I wasn’t feeling any change and time was running out (plus the very important factor that I’ve taken this medication multiple times before and so I have a lot of experience with it), when I asked my psychiatrist if I could move to the higher dose slightly earlier than planned, he agreed. So I started taking 15mg twice a day after only five days.

WEEK 2 (15mg twice a day)

Physically, I felt pretty awful. My sleep continued to be erratic and terrible; I had pretty much every form of bad sleep that you can have. I was constantly exhausted during the day and so drowsy that I struggled to do anything; there were days where I managed to get out of bed only to lie on the sofa.

At the beginning of the week, I was still feeling deeply suicidal. I felt overwhelmed and hopeless and was deliberately self sabotaging: I was desperately avoiding food wherever possible (and then constantly feeling like I wasn’t trying hard enough); continuing to isolate myself; pushing myself too hard in hydrotherapy; and so on. Over the course of the week, the nature of the suicidal thoughts and feelings changed a bit. At first, I wasn’t sure if I was still suicidal but then, when I thought about it for more than thirty seconds, I realised that I was: the fears that ultimately drive my suicidal thoughts and feelings were still there and still really, really big, leaving me so completely overwhelmed that living felt unbearable. I was also incredibly anxious (if I had to put a number on it, I’d say I was consistently in the top 5% of my – very wide – spectrum of anxiety). I was practically living on Diazepam (not a good idea, I know, but I was just trying to survive) and even with the help of that, I was suffering from significant physical symptoms, something that isn’t usually part of the anxiety experience for me: I was nauseous; I consistently felt like I couldn’t breathe and deep breaths felt physically impossible, like the air wasn’t going into my lungs but elsewhere somehow; I also had periods where I felt frighteningly short of breath; my throat felt so tight that swallowing felt like it took ten times the usual amount of effort, like I had to concentrate all of my energy just to get food down; I cried a lot, something I hadn’t done much of during what I’ve been describing as ‘my depression coma.’ The looming Nashville trip was a particularly intense source of anxiety; just thinking about it made me want to curl up so tightly that every bone broke or scream until I disappeared from existence. These sound like poetic ways of saying I was anxious but they are literal descriptions for the deeply visceral emotions I was trying to cope with.

I could most definitely feel the Phenelzine starting to work though: I managed to write some bits of songs on a few occasions, which was more than I’d been able to do for a long time up to that point; I started engaging with social media again, although it was in a limited capacity and I really struggled with it; I went back to bullet journalling and to do lists, having abandoned those months earlier; and so on. Having said that, all of those things also increased my anxiety about life and about bad things happening, making my suicidal thoughts even worse. Alongside those literal examples, I also felt like my brain was moving faster, having felt so sluggish for so long, but that didn’t necessarily mean that that activity was… desirable. My thoughts weren’t more organised, weren’t making me more productive. Everything was moving so fast that it often made me feel sick; my thoughts were chaotic, making them hard to keep track of and making it even harder to concentrate than it already was. It was exhausting. But I felt like the lights were slowly starting to come back on. It wasn’t bad exactly but it was more than a bit unsettling because I hadn’t really realised that the lights had gone off – figuratively speaking – despite how bad things were.

I wasn’t sure if I was experiencing any physical side effects, especially since I was already struggling with exhaustion, drowsiness, depression, and anxiety. But there were a few things that could’ve been side effects: a few moments of nausea so overwhelming that I had to lie down until they passed; I also kept finding that my mouth was really dry, that I was drinking a lot more than usual, but it wasn’t consistent enough to be sure it was a side effect. The first time I took Phenelzine, I struggled with something akin to manic episodes and although I didn’t experience that this time, there were definitely moments where some of those recognisable feelings and behaviours arose; one of those was talking compulsively, unable to shut up as hard as I tried. It was frustrating but it was at least familiar and so I knew it would pass; I just had to wait it out.

WEEK 3 (15mg twice a day)

The last few days before Nashville were brutal on both my brain and my body. I was unbearably anxious: I felt completely overwhelmed, to the point where I couldn’t concentrate on anything; I felt like I could barely breathe or swallow; I was near tears for days. I tried really hard in therapy, ending up in tears, but I still felt like the anxiety was tearing me apart. I think that was part of the reason my chronic pain flared up again, from my neck down to my hips, and the pain was constant, regardless of any medication I took. It was awful. Other than that, I continued having moments of intense nausea, sleeping erratically (and feeling deeply tired during the day), and feeling generally unwell. I was also desperately frustrated by what, at that point, was most certainly the side effect of a consistently dry mouth; I was so thirsty, I went from barely drinking anything to the equivalent of multiple bottles of water in a day.

During those few days though, I had a conversation with a close friend, one of the few I’d managed to stay in vaguely regular contact with (for the previous few months at least). We were talking about music and I found myself enthusing about it, to a point that took me by complete surprise. It was disconcerting to feel that passionate about anything after so long without feeling anything like that, anything that strong. The sudden emergence of this feeling really threw me: my identity suddenly felt incredibly unstable and I didn’t know who the real me was, the depressed person who was wrapped in layers of cotton wool misery or the person on Phenelzine who loves music more than anything. It was scary and confusing and made me feel very unsure of myself, of everything.

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Halfway through that week, I flew out to Nashville, the trip my main motivation for going back to Phenelzine. The flight was about as straightforward as they can be and my first few days there were pretty quiet, physically at least. It gave me some time to recover, which was both much needed and much appreciated; I was exhausted and the jet lag was really rough. The chronic pain was ongoing and I struggled against a migraine-like headache. The dry mouth was persisting and I was drinking water like it was going out of style. My anxiety was at an all time high. Between the flight, arriving in Nashville, anticipating the ten (ish) days ahead, thinking about all of the things that could potentially go wrong… I was so anxious that I honestly felt like I was going to be sick. It was excruciating.

It also feels important to mention that it was in those first few days in Nashville that The Covenant School shooting occurred. I wrote more about this and my feelings about it in my Nashville post and it doesn’t feel like this is a suitable post to rehash those emotions but it was very distressing and I found myself hit with a sudden flood of feeling hopeless and upset and even more anxious.

WEEK 4 (15mg twice a day)

That week in Nashville was A LOT, on so many levels.

I never really got over the jet lag so I struggled with fatigue and exhaustion throughout the whole trip. I started out at tired and within a few days, I’d reached exhausted and I fought against that constant physical exhaustion from then on (until long after I got home). I tried to be strategic – avoiding and minimising the walking and standing where I could – but there was still more time on my feet, especially in queues than I could really handle (but we’ll come back to that). Because of the jet lag, I slept erratically at best and terribly at worst and I was so tired that there were multiple occasions where I just crashed on the sofa and slept for several hours during the day. By the end of the trip, I was struggling not to fall asleep in public places.

The walking around, queuing for shows, and the hours spent in uncomfortable chairs was an absolute nightmare on my body, leaving me stiff and sore for the whole trip. My chronic pain hadn’t been great before we left but this was a whole new level of pain, from my neck to the soles of my feet (but particularly my back and legs). I could barely move by the time I got into bed each night, my muscles screaming, and I spent a lot of time stretching out my back and warming the muscles with my portable electric blanket, trying to ease the pain a bit but my back was wrecked by the end of the trip. I was also hit by one of the excruciating, spasming pain attacks in my back that had me unable to move and screaming until it passed. I don’t experience them as often as I used to but they’re horrendous when they do happen. So, pain wise, it was a pretty miserable experience.

In regards to Phenelzine side effects, there was still only the one that I was sure of: I was still constantly thirsty. All I had to do was breathe through my mouth for ten seconds or so before my mouth was so dry that I could barely breathe, my breath catching in my throat. I was drinking so much water, bottles and bottles a day and I could’ve happily drunk more.

My anxiety was, for the most part, terrible, especially at the beginning. I was so anxious – there were times that I honestly felt like it was going to make me sick – and there was just so much uncertainty, plans constantly changing and unfooting me; it was almost impossible to feel settled (a feeling that I always have in Nashville). There were days where it wasn’t quite as bad though: the good managed to balance it out, I got settled in various ways that helped me cope better, and then there were times where I was just so overwhelmed that I couldn’t tell what I was feeling, whether I was feeling anything at all. With so much to feel, sometimes my mind just seemed to go blank, like a defence mechanism, like feeling it all would just be too much.

That’s not to say that there weren’t good moments and good feelings. I spent time with lovely people, went to amazing shows, caught up with old friends and made new ones… It was good, if a lot to process: it was more than I’d been doing for months crammed into a single week. I mean, I had my first ‘glowy’ moment – a moment where I feel like I’m glowing with pure joy – in longer than I can remember, which was very special; they’ve been hard fought for over the last eighteen months. I was giddy for the rest of the night. I also went to a party despite a tornado warning (the first of some potentially questionable decisions, but I hung out with lovely people and had a good time) so it may be that I was more impulsive than usual, something I’ve noticed before when starting Phenelzine (on both occasions); it’s kind of fun but also feels like my world is tilting back and forth wildly. I did enjoy myself but there were also moments where I felt like those feelings weren’t really landing, maybe because they felt so weird and disconcerting after being so deeply depressed for so long.

Emotionally, I was completely all of the place. As I said, it was just so much to process. And by the end of the trip, I was a complete mess. In some ways, I was desperate to go home but I was also really reluctant, both to leave and to return to normal life. I was confused and conflicted and anxious, which I can’t imagine was made clearer by the pain, exhaustion, and mess of feelings that the early stages of Phenelzine creates.

WEEK 5 (15mg twice a day)

The flight home was okay and I managed to sleep for most of it, although it wasn’t particularly restful. And sleeping with my legs bent the way I did meant that when I woke up and I tried to walk, the pain my knees was awful; it made me extra grateful for the Meet and Assist. I felt okay for a while but then the jet lag crept in and, no matter how hard I tried, I could not stay awake. I ended up sleeping on and off all day; I was just so tired and sleepy and overwhelmed by everything.

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Getting back to normal was hard. The jet lag was just as brutal travelling this way and I was completely exhausted; I kept falling asleep during the day, which only made my sleep schedule worse and it wasn’t great to start with. I made myself go to therapy and hydrotherapy, both of which were good to do in their own right given the previous ten days but also helped to physically tire me out. The pain in my back was almost unbearable, making it impossible to do much (although, arguably, taking the time to rest wasn’t the worst thing I could’ve been doing). And I was still so, so thirsty.

After two weeks of chaotic busyness, I suddenly didn’t have anywhere to be or much to do and that left me feeling weirdly untethered and lost and anxious (although it was probably good for my physical recovery to have that quiet time). With Nashville over after thinking about it for so long, I felt low and depressed and empty; it was a combination, I think, of the adrenaline and what I call the ‘Nashville effect’ (I always find myself feeling lighter and more open and joyful, even with all of the anxiety and mental health stuff – it’s been there on every trip) wearing off and readjusting to normal life and all of the things that I had to engage with and get done. It all felt very hard. Having said that, I did manage a very complicated journey to and from London to spend a lovely evening with friends, which was really nice, if exhausting. But even with the good moments, I was feeling so anxious and depressed with the consistent background noise of suicidal thoughts. With all of that clawing at the inside of my head, I found myself reopening the recent cut on my face and ended up making it worse.

WEEK 6 (15mg twice a day)

I spent most of that week struggling with some kind of virus or something. What started out as a sore throat and a cough turned into sore ears, tender glands, and a painful cheek and jawbone. It was pretty miserable – I felt overwhelmed and sad and kept bursting into tears – but I took a test (and several more throughout the week) and at least it wasn’t COVID. On the worst day, I was suddenly overwhelmed by nausea, breaking out in a hot sweat, and I had to lie down until it passed because my ears rang whenever I stood up. I felt so rough and exhausted by it that I fell asleep and slept for most of the day. After that, I slowly got better although that still involved days of general unwellness.

Sleep was still a struggle, including one night where I only got two hours of sleep. Even when I slept reasonably, I was so tired and sleepy during the day, which made concentrating even harder than it is normally. The pain in my back continued, although the severity of it slowly dropped to a low level ache by the end of the week. The desperate thirst remained too; I was still drinking so much water, which I’m sure is good for me even if the cause is annoying.

By the end of the week, I was starting to do things again – not at a Nashville level or even a pre-depression coma level – but more so than I had felt able to over the previous eighteen months. I saw family, hung out with friends, worked on music projects, exhausted myself in therapy, and pushed myself hard at hydrotherapy, upping the intensity; my legs cramped and shook but it felt good, like I’d done something really productive. I’d found hydro getting easier over the previous couple of weeks and I wondered if it was the Phenelzine, whether it was somehow allowing me to feel stronger in my body and able to push it harder. It wouldn’t surprise me but it isn’t something I’ve felt when taking Phenelzine before.

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An added complication was the cut on my face. Having opened it up at the end of the previous week, I suddenly couldn’t leave it alone, tearing at it with my fingernails and making it worse and worse; every time it started to heal, I opened it up again. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop, couldn’t rid myself of that anxious energy. After several days, I managed to divert it but I only ended up doing a different kind of damage, chewing away the callouses on my fingers from playing guitar; I was almost down to the next layer of skin, which really hurt. The urge to tear at my face, to chew my fingertips, to pull my hair was just relentless and however I tried to repress or redirect it, it remained just as strong and trying to resist it just felt like it took more energy than I had (I mean, it’s always felt like that but it felt like it had gotten worse). I’ve struggled with the urge to pull my hair or to self harm for years but for some reason unknown to me, it had suddenly gotten much worse and much more damaging. It could’ve been Phenelzine related (my hair pulling started around the time I first started taking Phenelzine, given the timing, but I don’t know if there’s a connection – there was a lot going on) but I don’t know.

WEEK 7 (15mg twice a day)

My sleep started to level out: I still had nights where I only got a couple of hours of sleep but I also started to have a few nights where I slept deeply and heavily, which I was grateful for. But despite those better nights, I was still always, always tired and so often sleepy during the day. There were days where I was too tired to do anything and my struggle with concentration only continued. The back pain was still present but at a much lower level than it had been during and immediately post Nashville. And whatever illness I’d had seemed to have passed; all that was left was what felt like a mild cold. The sniffing was boring but perfectly manageable. And the endless thirst was becoming more normal, if still annoying. So even though none of it was wonderful, I guess there were improvements on all fronts.

My anxiety and depression hadn’t been resolved as much as I would’ve hoped, as I remember from previous experiences with Phenelzine (although that could be me remembering it wrong). There was more in my brain than there had been previously: I was having good moments and good emotions, as well as just more emotions in general, so the depression wasn’t so aggressively front and centre anymore but it was still there, still heavy and miserable. I was still having suicidal thoughts pretty consistently too, like uncomfortable static in the background of everything; all of the huge, awful, terrifying things that happen in life just felt completely overwhelming and I don’t want to live through them. That’s really hard to not feel. I felt fragile and overwhelmed a lot of the time. I was just so anxious about all the things I had to do; I felt incapable of concentrating enough for any of them, which just made my procrastinating even worse. I worked hard in therapy, trying to figure out some really hard questions, and I just ended up feeling really overwhelmed by everything; being more engaged with the world, being ‘better,’ just felt really scary.

Having said all of that though, I did manage to do things. I had a very long, very social day; I had a long work meeting on Zoom (which I absolutely would not have been able to do pre-Phenelzine); I hung out with a friend; I worked on music stuff; I pushed myself really hard at hydrotherapy. Plus, I released my new single, ‘House on Fire,’ which was a big deal considering that, during my depression coma, I wasn’t able to engage with music at all. The day went well although it was stressful and exhausting too.

The whole hair pulling, chewing my fingers, tearing at my face situation was not good though. I just couldn’t stop; my face and fingers never allowed to heal. The cut on my face was only getting bigger and typing on my laptop or playing guitar was super painful. It was a mess and I had no idea how to fix it.

WEEK 8 (15mg twice a day)

My sleep wasn’t great but it wasn’t terrible. I had bad nights, broken sleep and waking up exhausted, but I also had decent nights too where I slept long and deep. But, regardless of how I slept, I was tired and sleepy throughout the day, often struggling to concentrate on whatever I was doing; the intensity fluctuated but they were constant. I also found going to bed difficult, so anxious that I procrastinated into the early hours of the morning. This seems to be my new normal, or at least on the spectrum that is my new normal.

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I was having more and more productive days but I was still really struggling with my anxiety. I felt fragile and overwhelmed, anxious about everything that I needed to do and everything that was happening; it made concentrating extra hard and I ended up procrastinating quite a bit, especially with the harder things. All of the hard stuff was persistently on the peripheral too. I worked hard in therapy and hydrotherapy too, exhausting myself; I was getting out of the pool, breathing hard and legs shaking. The chronic pain hadn’t faded entirely but it was down to an almost ignorable level, which was probably the best it had been for a long time.

The damage I was doing to my hair and fingers and face was ongoing, although I discovered that covering the broken skin with plasters or gauze and creating a barrier between them and my fingernails did help, slowing the damage and actually allowing them to heal a bit. That did mean my hair bore the brunt of that panicky energy, which painful for my scalp, shoulder, and elbow. Every time I try to redirect that energy, it just seems to find another destructive form, never one that doesn’t do any damage. It’s a real struggle.


I didn’t intend for this post to get so very long but between Nashville and getting sick, I wasn’t sure if I was accurately representing my experience with Phenelzine. I’m never sure how interesting these posts are to read but I feel like the experiences of taking these medications are important to share, to document. I’ve never seen anyone talk about taking Phenelzine and I’ve had multiple people reach out to me to ask about it; all of the information out there seems to be purely factual. So I wanted to make this first hand account of it available for people to get a sense of it, even if it’s only my experience and only this time, my third time taking it. On the two occasions I’ve taken it previously, I didn’t write about it because, the first time, I didn’t have this blog and, the second time, I was so depressed that I couldn’t write. Long story short, here is my experience of taking Phenelzine (for the third time) and I hope that, for anyone about to take it or already taking it, this account is helpful and informative.

Over two months in and I still don’t feel great about Phenelzine (for all of the reasons that I didn’t want to start taking it originally), as much as I can recognise the objective benefits. And with those benefits in mind, with my anxiety and depression still very present, I think that I need to try a higher dose in order to get the most out of it. It was too much last time but I wasn’t trying to come back from such a bad place so maybe I just need a bit more help this time. I’m waiting to hear from my psychiatrist and then I guess we’ll see.

Mass Observation Day 2023 (A Day in My Life)

So yesterday was the 12th of May, also known in the UK as Mass Observation Day! Every year, the Mass Observation Archive asks people to keep a diary for the day in order to record the everyday lives of the UK population. I’ve been keeping diaries for most of my life and I think that the idea of pulling together all of these accounts in order to get a picture of an ordinary day in the life, whatever that might look like, for a big group of people is really, really cool so I always try to participate. Here is my contribution for this year.

Some important things to know before reading: I’m neurodivergent, autistic and ADHD, and struggle with multiple mental health issues (Depression, Generalised Anxiety Disorder, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and Borderline Personality Disorder) and physical health problems (Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome). Having spent eighteen months in the worst depressive episode of my life, I’m recently back on medication and trying to get my feet under me again, working hard at both therapy and hydrotherapy. I’ve also recently released my latest single as a singersongwriter, ‘House on Fire,’ and am working towards several other projects.


I slept through two alarms, completely exhausted. I’d had a really late night in London seeing Ingrid Andress in concert (supported by Nick Wilson), which was absolutely amazing but between the energy expended and how late I got home, I was beyond tired.

When I finally managed to force myself awake around eleven, I lay in bed for a little while: I did a quick check in with social media (I’m trying really hard to find a healthy balance around time on my phone), did some Duolingo practice, and read a little bit of my book (both of these things are habits that I’m trying to practice daily). Then I got up and got ready for the rest of the day.

At one, I had a Zoom date with one of my best friends. We had a good catch up about what’s being going on for each of us, with many a tangent on kind of bizarre topics like alternate universes or the different sounds that insects make. And then we continued watching the TV series we’ve been watching together for the last few months, a series we both enjoyed when we were younger; we love it but we also love making fun of it so we always have a blast. We managed to watch two episodes and had a great time before I had to go. I didn’t have long before my therapy appointment so I got my bag ready and then fiddled around on my guitar until I had to leave (I haven’t been able to play for long stretches of time recently since I hurt a couple of my fingers so I’m trying to build it up again).

I was so tired and really sleepy (one of the ongoing symptoms of my health struggles and quite likely a side effect of my medication), plus my chronic pain was pretty bad (my shoulder and knee have been particularly painful for several days now), but I tried my best to push through and engage the best I could with therapy. In some ways, it was a fairly chilled session (as they go): my therapist had asked me to send her the poetry I’ve been working on over the last month or so, which I did. But it was also hard and I felt really vulnerable because most of the poems are so honest and so revealing. There were some that I said, before we even started, that I couldn’t talk about; just writing about those topics and sharing them (my anxiety about them was so high that I was really tempted to leave them out) was a big step forward. Obviously I want my therapist to know about these struggles but talking about them is beyond difficult (just the thought of it makes me want to scream or run or both); this is the best I can do for now. So we went through the poems, talking about what inspired them and my feelings about those people or experiences or struggles, which inevitably turned into bigger discussions. That meant that we didn’t get through all of them but we did cover some important stuff. I’ve been back at therapy for a while now – several months – but my new therapist is still getting to know me and I’m still getting comfortable with her; there are many things that I can talk about but there are still things that I can’t, things that I’ve never been able to. It’s a process, as I often have to remind myself.

Back home, I talked with my Mum about some of the stuff that had come up in the session but I’m always completely exhausted after therapy – I have been known to fall asleep on the sofa afterwards, hence the late afternoon appointments – so I checked in with the cats, put on The Good Place (my current rewatch), and lay on the sofa for a bit. I called one of my parents for a catch up, had some dinner, and then spent the rest of the evening working on some different things for this blog.

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What should’ve been a fairly pleasant evening was complicated a bit by how bad my hair pulling has gotten. That restless, anxious energy that drives me to keep doing it is so hard to resist, especially when I’m tired, and the longer I do it, the more it hurts: my scalp, my neck, my shoulder, my elbow, my hand. But I can’t stop. There have been periods of time where different coping mechanisms have at least reduced the amount of hair pulling but I don’t have one that’s working right now. It’s frustrating and it’s exhausting and painful but I just can’t stop, regardless of how much I want to. I did look into Hypnotherapy briefly a long time ago but didn’t get very far with that endeavour, maybe because it always felt like there were bigger things going on, but maybe I’ll try again because it’s been ten years and it would be really nice not to do this anymore.

Given how tired I was, I tried to go to bed earlier – I’ve been going to bed far too late – and while I did go to bed a bit earlier, I still ended up staying up too late, catching up with my diary. I had multiple cats curled up with me, which was very sweet, so it could’ve been worse and, after all of my problems with sleep, I did at least go to sleep quickly and easily; I’m always grateful for that now, having struggled so much over the last couple of years.

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So it wasn’t the most fascinating day of my life but it’s pretty accurate to my life right now and I guess that’s the point of the exercise. It’s a normal day in my life and this is what normal looks like right now, for the most part.

If you keep a diary or want to note down some thoughts about what your 12th of May looked like, the website is here, where you can learn more about this project (and their other work) and submit your entry if you would like to.

Ideas To Help With Hair Pulling

Trigger warning for Trichotillomania/hair pulling. Please don’t read this if this is something that will upset or trigger you. I only want this to be helpful, never harmful.

Having just written about some of the things that can trigger episodes of Trichotillomania, I wanted to post a list of ideas that have the potential to help someone struggling with hair pulling. There are lists all over the internet with various collections of ideas but I felt that it would be irresponsible to post about the triggers of Trich without offering some kind of help, especially the kind of help that you can practice yourself without having to wait to see a specialist (although I would encourage you to seek out professional support as well). These aren’t cures obviously – there are currently no proven cures for Trichotillomania – but numerous accounts have shown that many of these strategies have helped people manage and reduce their urge to pull, which is obviously a big deal. I also wanted to share which strategies have helped me – if you relate to other things that I’ve posted maybe they’re a good place to start.

There are a number of things I want to mention before getting into this list:

  • You have to remember to forgive yourself for not being perfect. Trying to stop pulling is an incredibly difficult (although incredibly rewarding) task. Your progress isn’t always linear. Sometimes you’ll manage an amazing streak and then not even manage a day. But just as you can struggle, you can succeed. However, beating yourself up for ‘going backwards’ won’t help you move forward; it’s a waste of precious energy that you could be dedicating to your attempts to stop pulling.
  • One strategy won’t necessarily work forever. It may work for a time and things may improve. But then, if you start pulling again, it may not be helpful the second time around. For example, I wore a hat consistently for months and that slowly stopped me pulling my hair out. I didn’t pull for a year but when I started again, wearing a hat just made me feel anxious and claustrophobic. So I had to try different methods.
  • If you’ve ever tried to stop pulling before, you’ll know that you have to be committed. Seriously committed. As dramatic as it sounds, you have to be thinking about it all the time. And if you’ve been doing it long enough, there will be a degree of habit so you don’t even notice yourself doing it and yet you still have to have an awareness of it. It’s really hard. Really, really hard. But it is possible to reduce the pulling to some degree at least.

Now, onto the list…


* = I’ve tried this.

** = I’ve tried this and it helped.

  • Wear a hat or bandana**

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(I wore a hat for months, possibly more, consistently – to the extent that it’s become part of my look as a singersongwriter and I have been recognised because of it – and that helped me stop pulling for over a year. However, as I said earlier in the post, when I started pulling again, it didn’t help because I started pulling from a different area of my scalp.)

  • Wet down your hair**
  • Cut your hair short (or if necessary, shave your head)
  • Wear a wig
  • Sit on your hands until the urge passes or you’re distracted
  • Snap a hair band or rubber band against your wrist
  • If you use tweezers to pull, put them out of the way of your daily routines or throw them out if necessary**
  • Squeeze a stress ball or something similar*
  • Use a fidget toy (you may need to try several different ones to find one that works for you)**

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(These fidget toys are my personal favourites. I have more that I’m slowly donating to family and friends and acquaintances who have expressed interest in them. Personally I prefer plastic over metal because the metal toys make my hands smell. I also prefer the ones with buttons etc, rather than ones that you squeeze, like stress balls. But different fidgets appeal to different people).

  • Put vaseline on your fingers or the hair you would be pulling
  • Put plasters on your fingertips
  • Wear gloves
  • Journal about your experiences*
  • If you feel comfortable doing so, ask your friends or family to point out when you start pulling*
  • If there’s a room or environment you normally pull in, try changing your environment
  • Play an instrument**
  • Stroke or play with an animal*
  • Exercise
  • Start with small goals (periods of time where you don’t pull, for example) and increase as you can**
  • Use a chart or app to track the amount of time between pulling ‘sessions,’ inspiring/motivating  yourself not to break your streak**

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(There are multiple phone apps that count days; it mostly comes down to whether there are any extra features that might help you, what kind of aesthetic you prefer, and whether you feel you need one that you’d have to pay for.)

  • Try a hobby that occupies your hands, like origami or knitting*
  • Brush your hair instead of pulling
  • Come up with a saying that you repeat out loud until the urge to pull passes or say “No” out loud
  • Form a ball with your fist and tighten the muscles in that arm
  • If your pulling is triggered by texture or colour, try dyeing  or care for your hair to minimise pulling**

(Hairs with a coarse texture is a really trigger for my pulling so I’ve been searching for a good product that at least reduces that problem for years. I love Aussie’s Miracle Moist Collection – the shampoo, conditioner, conditioner spray, and the 3 minute deep conditioner – because it makes my hair really sleek. It’s the best product I’ve found. I am trying to find a vegan, cruelty-free replacement but I do have to balance that search with how bad my Trich is and the state of my finances. I’m determined to keep looking though.)

  • Fiddle with dental floss or thread
  • Wear jewellery you can fiddle with/wear specially designed fidget jewellery**

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(I had a spinner ring for several years that I adored. It was silver with elephants on it and I was constantly wearing it and spinning the outer band. But recently it broke and the replacement isn’t quite the same: it isn’t as comfortable and so I don’t wear it as much.)

  • Use positive reinforcement (reward yourself even in the smallest way, like treating yourself to your favourite snack or having an extra indulgent bath or shower, when you achieve a certain period of time without pulling)
  • Weed the garden
  • Cut your nails short or wear acrylic nails, making it difficult to get ahold of strands
  • Style your hair in a way that prevents access to the area you pull from*
  • Try meditation or mindfulness*
  • Pull from or fiddle with the hairs of paintbrushes
  • Use a hand grip strengthener*
  • Make yourself aware of the action (putting essential oil or perfume on your hands, for example)
  • Attach a weight to your pulling hand

My latest strategy has been to use a strip of elastic (like the kind used in clothing or sewing) and attach one end to my portable desk, the other loosely around my wrist. Technically I can still reach my hair if I really try but it’s awkward and uncomfortable and so far, just the sensation of the elastic pulling against my wrist has stopped me trying to pull. It hasn’t been long so I don’t know how successful it will be long term but it seems to be working so far.

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It’s also worth mentioning that there are therapies, and then issue specific therapies within those therapies, such as Habit-Reversal Therapy (several studies from 1980 concluded that it had a 90% symptom reduction rate), which was born out of CBT. Hypnotherapy has also shown results for some people. However, access to CBT can take a long time via the NHS and these therapies can become incredibly expensive if you venture into the world of private healthcare.

There are also support groups, both online and in person (although not currently due to the COVID-19 pandemic). Search out Trichotillomania organisations and charities for general online support groups. You can also search for Facebook groups for both general and location specific support groups. I can’t speak to the effectiveness of these as I’ve never personally used them – I didn’t personally feel that that sort of support was one that would be helpful – but I know they make many people feel less alone and allow people to share tips and strategies.


I hope this list has been informative. Hopefully some of these tips have been or will be helpful. At the very least, it’s a varied collection of things to try. If you’re struggling with Trichotillomania, I’m thinking of you and I hope that something on this list will help.