Although I didn't write about this in my journal, Jordan had been complaining for months that her scalp was dry and flaky. No big deal. So I did what most mothers would do; I went out and got her dandruff shampoo. After a week or two I asked her if it was getting any better. It wasn't. She continued to complain, so I eventually made a doctor's appointment to try to get some answers.
We didn't get any. There may have been a few dry spots, but not enough for it to be classified as true dandruff. So it was Nothing, right?
Wrong. Because she eventually told me she had been picking at her scalp for a long time, and she "couldn't stop."
This was Something.
All the time spent in her bedroom "doing homework", the extra time needed getting ready for school and bed, the endless showers... Damn. Is that what she had been doing? Is that all she had been doing? This kind of freaked me out. As her mother, I began to feel inescapably out of control. I sensed a slight twinge of panic creep in. What do you mean you can't stop?
Imagine how she must have felt...
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