The Onset Of Trichotillomania

It’s 1977. I am 10 years old and everything has changed again. Daddy has married his lady friend and moved to a new house and Mother, Number 3, my sister and myself have moved into the house that Daddy has just vacated; our old house. This time round Daddy does not keep my brother and so he stays with us.
This feels really weird for me as I am now back in my old bedroom in the house that I never wanted to leave. But I am unhappy as the set up is very different with Number 3 in the house and all I want is Daddy. Mother says I have a new father now, but he is not my father he is Number 3 and he rules the house with a rod of iron and his own particular brand of terror. I often hear Number 3 telling Mother that he does not like this house, that it is in a rough area full of rough people.
I have a degree of happiness as I am now also back in my old school and am able to reunite with my best friend who I have missed. But my happiness is short lived as I only have 1 school year left until I leave to go to High School. My best friend is not going to the same High School as I am and I am very unhappy about this. I tell Mother that I want to go to the same school as my friend but I am not allowed to as the school only accepts children who attend church and Mother has never taken any of us to church.
I spend most of the summer holiday, my last from junior school with my best friend and her parents, walking the mile to their house and back again practically every day. I am always happy when I am at her house, her parents are always around and her Mother is always baking cakes and smiling. But I know we are going to be separated soon through our schooling and the holiday passes quickly.
I feel so very sad and by the time September arrives my secret has begun.

Pennies From Hell

It’ so hot and the school summer holiday is long and unsupervised. Mother and Number 3 both work in the next city. There is no one to look after my sister and me so we are just left on our own all day. I spend the days roaming the beach and the sand dunes with my sister; there is nothing else to do. We take pennies from mother’s money box, half-pence’s and one and two pence pieces and spend them at the Penny Arcade. There is nothing else to do all day long. Mother has no idea about the pennies. Then the counting day comes when she adds all the coins together and puts them in special bags for the bank. She does this every now and then. Mother is furious, my sister and I are in trouble. Mother shouts and tells me to go to my room and remove all of my clothes and when I have done so, to stand in the hall and wait to be called into her and Number 3’s bedroom.
I’m standing in the hall. I am completely naked. I’m so frightened I am crying and running on the spot
Mother calls me. I think I might wet myself .I am terrified.
I obey her and enter her room. I’m shaking and crying. Mother instructs me to lay my body across her lap. I’m screaming and crying now but I obey.
I am thrashed repeatedly on my naked body for what feels like an eternity by Mother's bare hands. It is a struggle because I am trying to escape but Mother is so much stronger than I am. I am screaming out in pain as my flesh feels as if it is burning from the impact of Mother's strong hands.Mother's breathing sounds strange and she sounds like she is panting from all the effort she is putting into my thrashing. Mother tells me to shut up she says she does not want the neighbours to hear. I think that this is because if they do hear then they will hate me too, as much as Mother does. I think that all children experience this type of punishment and so it is normal. I have no idea that Mother wants me to be silent so that she won’t be found out because what she is doing is wrong.
Finally the thrashing stops and Mother orders me to stand up straight and face her .As I do I can see that her eyes look wild and are glinting and she has a thin smile on her lips as she orders me to my bedroom, adding that I am to stay there until she tells me that I can come out. I obey and am glad to be in my bedroom away from Mother. I no longer feel the terror and pain of the thrashing; my bed sheets feel cool against my burning skin.
I tell no one.
Thirty years will pass before another person sees me naked.

Punishment.

I make lots of mistakes, all sorts of mistakes. I forget what to do and use the wrong fork or talk with my mouth full. Often I am told that I have too much food on my fork and I must cut it smaller. Sometimes I spill gravy on the tablecloth. At the table, Number 3 sees everything and there is always a punishment. The punishment is always the same. I am sent away from the table to the corner of the room where I have to face the wall whilst standing on one leg. This is hard to do because I am frightened and because I don’t know how long I have to stay like this. From time to time I wobble and Number 3 shouts at me to keep my leg off of the ground. I am crying and he shouts at me to be quiet. I can’t see him shouting as I’m not allowed to turn my head. I can feel my buttocks clenching through terror .I’m afraid he will beat me but he doesn’t, he just carries on eating but I know he’s watching because if I wobble or cry he shouts without warning. When Number 3 thinks I have had enough punishment I am ordered back to the table where I have to continue my meal as if nothing has happened. I am told to eat properly and sit up straight. I find it hard to swallow my food because it has gone cold and I’m so frightened.
Mother says nothing when I am being punished by Number 3 and when I am allowed to return to the table she remains silent towards me as she continues to enjoy herself by chatting and entertaining Number 3 as if nothing has happened.
As child I have no idea that years later, when I am an adult, people who meet me will assume that I come from a privileged background due to my manners.

Before Trichotillomania.

It’s 1976 and we are split up. I am 9 years old. My brother stays in the city with his father, the man I call Daddy, even though he’s not my father. My grandmother told me that Mother had been married before. I understand my brother is not allowed to come with my sister and I because mother’s new man, soon to be her new husband does not like boys.
The new husband, Number 3, is a lot older than mother. He has a nice house, full of very nice things that I’m told not to touch. I have nice clothes and shoes because Number 3 is wealthy. I share a room with my sister. The room has pretty wallpaper which Mother tells me is very expensive. Mother tells me that I am very lucky to be living with her and Number 3. I think Number 3 must be very important because I have to behave myself and be quiet. Number 3 thinks children should be seen and not heard. I do not feel lucky, I am very frightened of Number 3.
Everything is different now; we even have different names for things. I no longer have dinner and tea time, it’s now lunch and dinner. But dinner is in the evening and this makes me confused. At the table everything is different; it’s now covered with a cloth. There are lots of glasses, plates and different sorts of cutlery. There are pieces of cloth by the plates, they are pretty and soft. I am told they are called napkins and I’m instructed in their use. I must place the napkin on my lap and dab the corners of my mouth with it whilst I’m eating. At special times like Easter and Christmas I am given grown up drinks of wine, watered down or a Snowball. I am instructed to drink very slowly and am told that I must learn to treat alcohol with respect. I don’t like the taste and I don’t understand the word “alcohol” but I do as I am told.