When I was around six months old, my mom put me in a baby beauty pageant. I got first place. She said it was because I had a full head of thick, black hair—that it gave me an edge.

“Those bald babies just weren't as cute.”

***

Secondary succession is a type of ecological succession that occurs when plants and animals recolonize an area that was significantly damaged after a major disturbance, such as flood, fire, or human activity.

***

I must have been in third grade when I saw that episode of Full House; laying on the greenish-brown couch in my living room on a weekend morning. My dad was probably making waffles, like he did at least once a week. My mom was probably upstairs reading in bed. My brother was probably still asleep (if he was even home at all), and my sister was probably playing with dolls in her room. The Tanners were all in the kitchen, having breakfast and getting ready to go about their respective days. I think it was Aunt Becky who noticed it; a gray strand hidden in Jesse’s famous hair.

He freaked out.

Joey made old man jokes.

Danny said something like, “You know, Jess, getting older isn’t something to be ashamed of.”

Jesse rushed to the mirror to locate it, and then plucked the hair from his head.

“Pulling it out will just make two more grow back in its place,” Aunt Becky laughed.

For some reason, I tucked that knowledge away.

***

Secondary succession can only occur when the disturbance did not eradicate all life and nutrients from the environment.

***

I went to the YMCA after-school program during the year, and did camp there

every day during summer break. It was usually the same group of us.

This one girl, Alyssa, was a couple years older than me. She was tall, pretty, and

wore makeup. She talked about boys, and was mean to the counselors. She was cool. We were in the locker room one day, changing after a trip to the pool. I was trying

to dry my hair with the hand dryers, because it always took forever. One of the counselors, Pam, or maybe Monique, was helping Alyssa put her hair in a ponytail. “It’s too much for me to do on my own,” she explained when she had asked.

“Wow!” the counselor said (maybe it was Sarah?), “Your hair is so thick! I can barely get the ponytail around it twice.”

Other girls gathered to swoon at the thickness of it.

I was always told I had thick hair. I prided myself deeply on it. I could easily wrap a ponytail twice. For the first time in my life, I was truly jealous of another girl’s appearance.

***

The first plants to recolonize the barren environment are known as pioneer species. They’re normally fast growing and hardy.

***

That summer, the one after third grade, my Yiayia came to stay with us for a month. The two of us never really meshed well. She refused to call me “Ally,” insisting on “Alexandra.” She ate pizza and burgers with a fork and knife. She would never let me spend a minute without her and my sister. I was stressed. There was a night where I didn’t fall asleep until the sun came up. I had pulled my first all nighter, because for some reason, I kept hearing one of those horns that clowns like to honk in people’s faces. I still don’t know what that was about. But that night, it scared the shit out of me, so I didn’t sleep.

At one point, I had combed my fingers through my hair, and when they snagged on a knot, a few hairs came with them. I absentmindedly played with a strand, and realized that if I pulled it tightly through my nails, like how I had seen my mom curl ribbons with scissors at Christmas, it would coil like a spring. I pulled another hair to try it again—same result. As I was pulling the sixth or seventh hair, Alyssa’s ponytail came to mind, and my jealousy boiled back up. That’s when I remembered Aunt Becky’s words. I wanted that ponytail. I slowly started pulling hair from the back of my head.

It only went on for a couple of weeks that summer. Yiayia went back home, and I honestly just forgot about the whole thing.

***

Some species actually require these ecological disturbances to grow. The jack pine (Pinus banksiana), common in the northeast US and Canada, has cones that need the heat emitted by wildfires to open, allowing seeds to be spread for new growth.

***

Fall of fifth grade, we started learning about cells for the first time. We went through the different types, plant and animal, and their differing anatomies. I was fascinated. I remember very clearly that my teacher, Mrs. Lindsey, told us about cells that are easy to see.

“Onion’s are good, under a microscope. Those ones are cool. Cheek cells too, if you swab the insides.”

My dad had an old microscope in his closet that I could use, but I didn’t want to wait for that.

“Mrs. Lindsey,” I asked, “are there any cells you can see without a microscope?” She thought for a moment.

“Hair follicles,” she said, finally. “They’re not technically cells, but they’re a good

example of a membrane and a nucleus. Here, everyone, pull out a hair. The white thing on the end is the follicle. The black dot is the root. It’s a membrane and a nucleus.”

I did what she told me. That was the real beginning.

***

The first official stage of secondary succession is marked by the appearance of these pioneer species. I would disagree, though; it’s the second. The destruction is the first stage. You have to burn it down to rebuild.

***

I was obsessed with the follicle. I went home and pressed one between two glass slides, and looked at it closer under my dad’s microscope. That night I sat up in bed and pulled some more from the top back of my head, right where my ponytail would sit. Eventually, I just liked the way it felt. I figured I would forget about it, just like I had the first time.

***

There’s a small-scale form of secondary succession that occurs in densely wooded areas. It’s referred to as “gap dynamics,” which happens when some sort of ecological disturbance causes a gap in a forest canopy, allowing sunlight to reach places it otherwise wouldn't.

***

A few weeks later, it must have been late November or early December, we were

at a play. My mom tried to take me to stuff like that a lot around that time. My dream was to be an actress. We were sitting there, waiting for the show to begin, and my mom started playing with my hair.

“Is this a bald spot?” she asked when her fingers inevitably found it. She looked over, and brushed my hair to the side. “It is!” She gave my father a concerned look. “Ally, where did this come from?”

“I don’t know,” I lied. “That’s where my head touches my headboard when I lean against it while I read. Maybe it’s rubbing?”

To this day I have no clue how I pulled that one out of my ass.

For the next few weeks my parents would pop into my room while I was reading in bed and tell me to lie down so my hair didn’t rub. It was becoming an issue for me.

***

In a 2013 study conducted by the Salk Institute, it was found that dying plant

species will secrete a chemical called karrakins, which signals dormant seeds to begin growing. In the case of areas destroyed by wildfire, it was found the chemical could break through ashes to get to the seed.

***

Over Christmas break I was watching TV in the living room and pulling. My dad came in and told me he made lunch. I pushed off the blanket I was using, and it fell to the floor. I didn’t bother to pick it up, which irritated my dad, so he went to pick it up for me. When he did, all the hair I had just yanked from my head fell out of it and onto the couch. He noticed.

“Ally,” he asked quietly, “are you pulling out your hair on purpose?”

“Don’t tell Mom.”

***

In many indigenous cultures around the world, secondary succession is purposely evoked through the use of slash and burn agriculture. It’s a practice used to deplete the weed, parasite, and pest population in the area, as well as increase nutrients in the soil.

***

He told Mom. Traitor.

***

If any established vegetation survived the ecological disturbance, pioneer species are able to outcompete them easily by maintaining very high juvenile growth rates. For example, there’s a type of balsa tree, known as Ochroma pyramidale, that can grow from a seedling to an adult with a trunk diameter of over 30 centimeters in less than ten years.

***

I was forced to see a therapist.

“Her grandma was just diagnosed with cancer. They’re very close, and I think she’s feeling anxious about that,” my mom told her.

Everyone had said Grandma would be fine. I wasn’t worried.

The therapist for some reason wanted to know about what my parents were like. She kept asking me if they fought a lot. She would make me play weird board games I had never seen before, sometimes just us, sometimes with my mom and dad, and ask questions about them.

She didn’t talk about the hair pulling, which pissed my mom off. All my mom wanted to do was talk about the hair pulling.

She wouldn’t let me forget. So, I didn’t forget.

***

The second stage of secondary succession is the introduction of intermediate species, which are typically fast-growing, short-lived, annual plants. They replace the pioneer species slowly.

***

I became obsessive.

I peeled off the follicles and collected them in a ball. I would pull my hair so hard my head would bleed. Scabs formed, and I would pick at those too. One day, during the spring, Mrs. Lindsey sent me to the nurse because I was picking at my head so often she thought I had lice. The nurse wanted to check it. I was terrified. I didn’t want anyone to see it. I didn’t even know what it looked like. I was scared to look at it in the mirror. I couldn’t keep my hair down anymore. I had to wear it in a horribly awkward ponytail to hide it. I shakily took the hair tie out though, and the nurse combed through it.

“Oh, honey! What happened?”

“I fell,” I lied again. “I, uh, I hit my head on one of those concrete parking bumps in the lot at Walmart and I started bleeding. The doctors shaved it so they could see the cut.”

I would have made such a good actress.

The parking lot lie was the one I stuck with. Why create alternate stories when the one you already have tricked an actual nurse? Obviously, people asked questions, so that’s what I told them. A year later, when I actually told my two best friends what it was, they didn’t believe me.

“No it’s not,” one of them said. “You’re lying. You fell.”

“No, that was the lie,” I tried to explain. “When I get picked up early during science every Tuesday, it’s because my mom takes me to a therapist.”

“So that’s why it still hasn’t grown back,” the other one said.

***

In 1988, a severe drought hit North America which led to an intense and unabated wildfire in Yellowstone National Park. Almost 792,880 acres of land were burned off. There were many attempts made to put out the fire, all of them futile. Nobody expected the forests to survive the disaster. However, in the consecutive years, the combination of ashes, nutrient influx, and heavy precipitation allowed the forests to quickly bounce back into green abundance.

***

Somewhere in that first year, my mom took me to my pediatrician who diagnosed me with depression and anxiety induced OCD. At 10 years old, I was the youngest person the pharmacist had ever filled a Zoloft prescription for—a fact he felt comfortable cheerily telling my mom.

I think I was in seventh grade though, when I learned the word for the first time. Trichotillomania. It had a name. I did some research, and it affects 1 in 100 people. I cried. I wasn’t alone. I told my dad, and he exclaimed, “You’re probably not even the only one at your school who has it!”

***

The third stage of secondary succession is characterized by the introduction of slow-growing, heliophilic trees that help to enrich biomass.

***

I only went to my first therapist for a few months. I hadn’t made any progress, and my mom didn’t like her. The new therapist, Dr. Brill, was cool. She was young, and had a real hippy-ish vibe that I appreciated. She didn’t make me play games for little kids. I drew a lot, and played with small fidget toys and brain teaser games. She spent three sessions teaching me how to solve a Rubix cube. I needed something to keep my hands busy while we talked about the heavy stuff. She tried to teach me healthier coping mechanisms, and would bring in different things for me to try every week to prevent me from pulling—mittens, rubber thimbles, those kinds of things. If they helped at all, I got to keep them. My old therapist would ask to see the bald spot every session. Dr. Brill never asked that. In the two years I saw her, I don’t think she ever saw it. It was a relief. It made it easy to lie.

The year I started seeing Dr. Brill was also the one where I found my dad’s secret cigarettes. My parents were talking in my dad’s office while I waited for my mom to drive me somewhere. I was just opening and closing random drawers on his desk. I didn’t even realize what they were when I held them up. My mom told me to go wait in the car. Later that night my dad came and sat with me in my room.

“I know I told you girls I quit smoking before you were born, but every now and then I’ve had a cigarette. I’m going to quit though, and I want you to quit pulling your hair too. We can do it together.”

He vapes now. My sister and I find it hilarious.

***

The stages of primary succession and secondary succession are actually quite similar. In both cases, pioneer species give way to a community of intermediate species over a number of years, until eventually a climax community can be established.

***

I stopped being embarrassed of it around sophomore year of high school. I really didn’t care who knew. It was just something I lived with. I had perfected my comb-over anyway. You really would never know that anything was wrong with my hair to begin with. It’s honestly kind of funny. Taking down my hair to show people has basically become my party trick.

***

In some cases, unfortunately, the destruction is too catastrophic for the environment—like with a massive volcanic eruption or an advancing glacier. In these events, any surviving seeds are covered with massive amounts of ash, rock, or ice, isolating them from future development. In these cases, the only way to restore the ecosystem would be through primary succession.

***

After I stopped being forced to go, I took a break from therapy for about six years. It was the end of my sophomore year of college when I finally went back. I was dealing with a lot, so my hair pulling wasn’t high up on the list of reasons I was there. Still, I brought it up to my new therapist during our first appointment, if only to give her my history. Over the course of a few months, we worked through processing all of my recent traumas, and I was in an exponentially better place than I was when we started. All of my big issues had been healthily dealt with,and I thought that would be that.I thought wrong, apparently.

“Let’s talk about your hair.”

“I don’t know if we need to. I’m pretty okay with it.”

“You are?”

“I mean, I don’t love having a six inch wide bald spot, but I’ve come to terms with

the fact that this is just something I’m gonna have to live with.”

“This isn’t something you should ‘just have to live with.’”

The spot has waxed and waned over the years. It definitely gets a lot worse

when I’m stressed about something, and it grows back a little more when I just don’t have time in my day to sit down and zone out. I don’t think about it anymore when I’m alone—it happens absentmindedly. I try to stop myself when I realize. I never pull when I’m around people though; I'm self conscious about that.

I want to stop. I truly do. I want to be able to wear my hair down. I want to stop explaining that, “No, it’s not cancer. I’m just mentally ill.”

My biggest fear now is that I’ve pulled it so much it’ll just stop growing. I can already feel the hair thinning and getting finer. I’m trying to stop.

***

Secondary succession can take anywhere from 50 to 200 years to complete.

***

Last week I was driving, and my hand crept up to the top of my head. I yanked one out and looked at it out of habit to see the follicle. I was shocked to see that it was gray. I hope to God that two more grow back in its place.

Ally Kapasakis is a senior at the University of North Carolina Wilmington studying creative writing and publishing. She hopes to pursue a career in book design, but for now she makes a living hanging out with elementary schoolers.

@allywritesshit on Instagram @allyisasleep on Twitter