It's hard to imagine anxiety "helping" anything. Mental illness in general is nothing but a suffocating ailment that hinders every victim it infects. This is something I strongly believe. However, there's no denying that one of the symptoms of my anxiety, called trichotillomania, played a part in how I grew to perfect my talent with eyeliner.
Trichotillomania is a hair-pulling disorder than many anxious people have. For me, I began tugging at my eyelashes five years ago in the summer of 2011. I was taking my dog for a long walk and as we were strolling through the neighborhood, I found myself pinching and pulling chunks of lashes from my eyes! I didn't recognize this action as one of the first manifestations of my anxiety. All I knew was that I couldn't go into my first day of high school with half an eye full of lashes, so I borrowed my mother's Clinique pencil liner and went to town – no YouTube tutorials, and no role model to show me the ropes (since I was too embarrassed to tell my mom or big sister).
At first, I would only line the bald spots with black eyeliner; my only concern was covering the shameful patches and making it look like I never pulled a lash – it still looked like I pulled a few lashes – plus my mother disapproved of my wearing makeup, so I had to be discreet about it.
I got better and better with the pencil over the months, though my hair-pulling disorder only got worse – more frequent, and hairier. On my 15th birthday, my big sister gave me a bottle of Wet & Wild liquid liner. This also happened to be around the era of my cursed "scene phase." Therefore, I had to step up my game. My mother did not like this. The dark makeup was sinful in her eyes, so I was forced to lay off the skillful liner art and only do simple stuff. Wingless stuff.
As I grew older, my mother became more lenient, but that wasn't the only thing that led me to pursue the perfect wing.
My mom and I frequented trips to a Dominican hair salon, beachfront, and Dunkin Donuts' right next door! The salon had two owners who did all the work, and one of the stylists was particularly hard on me. Every time I lay my head back for a shampoo-and-conditioning, she would curse me out about my hairless eyes. She'd say things like, "You'd be prettier if you didn't pull your eyelashes" – which I guess is technically true, but who says stuff like that? – "Next time you pluck your lashes I'm going trim your hair extra short!" and "You know, if you keep doing that they won't grow back, right?" I know she was only trying to motivate me to quit the hair pulling, but at the end of the day I always felt guilty and more anxious, which led to more hair pulling! Once, she asked me why I did it, why I pulled my hair. I told her I did it when I was nervous or upset. She said, "That's no excuse," before ranting to me about what boys want in pretty girls. Apparently lashes are super important in the act of being pretty.
To avoid getting chewed out by my hairdresser, I decked my eyes with gorgeous liner and acute wings. This didn't work for long. Eventually, she saw past the shadow of eyelashes and continued to harass me about my anxiety.
Once my scene phase subsided, I became less concerned with hiding my trichotillomania, and more so with growing back my lashes. I saw the girls on shows like "Teen Wolf," "Being Human," "The Vampire Diaries," "American Horror Story," "Charmed," and "The Secret Circle." They all had long, thick lashes that cast beautifully dark shadows across their almond eyes. They didn't even have to wear liner! That was my motivation. However, I also ended up feeling insecure and guilty; so the anxiety refused to go away, no matter how much I willed it to.
I pulled my eyelashes very frequently, and each time I was nervous that my hairdresser was right. I was nervous they really wouldn't grow back and I'd be stuck with bald eyes forever! They always did grow back, though. It took about seven weeks, but it happened. There was one time when it was so bad, my eyelid became sore and scabbed over. I was so sure that was the end of mascara for me!
Now I take biotin pills to help hair growth – and yes, I still pull my lashes (though a lot less frequently).
The entirety of my teen-hood, I was forced to wear eyeliner in order to cover up the mistakes of hair-pulling. I wasn't like most girls my age, who got into make up because they felt compelled by a boy they wanted to impress with cat eyes and red lipstick. I didn't have the luxury of choosing to buy Walgreen's most pricey liquid liner because I wanted to test myself as a make up artist; I had to in order to avoid teasing and explicit shame.
It kind of sucks when I think about it, but it's still nice to hear people today congratulate me on my wing-work: "Your eyeliner is giving me life," is one of my favorite things to hear!
While the anxiety continues to ravage me, the compliments people give makes me feel a whole lot better and a whole lot more confident.
