First, I'll apologize now for any glaring errors. I wanted to get my thoughts down while they were fresh and am writing this post on my phone. I foresee a lot of this in the future, but it's important that I write so if the phone means I'll get it done, then so be it! I've finally come to a point in my life where I'm taking the steps toward change and stopping my worst bad habit, skin picking. Skin picking is a problem I've had for a long time and I know it's bad, but I never really had a true desire to stop.
My memory is that it all started in middle school when I started to have break outs. My picking wasn't limited to my face. I picked at my arms, shoulders, back, legs. Anywhere I felt bumps was fair game. That's right, I said felt. Sure I would look too, but I always absently felt around and went from there. Many times I've looked at my nails and seen blood because I would squeeze too hard or the bump (usually a zit, white head or black head) was close to a vein or something. Even when this happened I wouldn't stop. One time I was waiting in an exam room to talk to my doctor about something. I can't remember why I was there, but I remember picking while I waited. When the doctor came in he said, "My god, you are covered in hives." I had to explain to him that they weren't hives and I had a bad habit of picking at my skin. At this point one would think I'd realize I should stop, but I didn't.
Most people who pick do so because they're anxious. My picking doesn't seem to be limited to anxiety. Yes, I pick when I'm anxious or worried. However, I also pick when I'm bored or thinking about anything. I'd pick in classes, while watching tv, and I am really bad about picking when I'm lying in bed waiting to fall asleep. There was one point where I asked my husband to stop me if he saw me doing it. It wasn't a cure all. Sometimes I'd roll my eyes at him and stop, but mostly I'd try harder to be discreet or I'd hide like a child who hides to suck their thumb.
I accepted that I didn't want to change. Well, times have changed. Recently my sweet sister started pulling at her hair because she was anxious and it has gotten pretty bad. Her hair is visibly thinner and honestly it scared the shit out of me. She would tell us things that would help her release nervous energy like bands around her wrists, or that she can't do it if she wears her hair in a braid. But she wasn't doing these things to help herself stop. I was so frustrated. I didn't understand why she wouldn't do those things to help her stop. Not long ago she purchased some fidget toys called finger tangles and they're helping.
Today a thought struck me after Jake caught me picking. He asked if I was getting any good picking in when he saw my hand on my shoulder feeling around. I was honest and said, "No, I was looking for something to pick and couldn't find anything." He told me he wasn't going to take me in for a tattoo if I wasn't going to stop picking. "Why spend money on a tattoo if there's a chance you'll ruin it picking?" At first I was pissed. I scowled and wanted to tell him, "Fine, then don't get me a tattoo for mother's day/my birthday! Get me something else for all I care!" Then the thought hit me. How can I expect my sister to stop her bad habit if I won't budge to stop mine? How is it fair of me to feel upset when she doesn't do those things that might help her when I do the exact same thing?
I felt like a hypocrite. Right then and there I resolved to change and kick my habit. At night I'll wear gloves to discourage picking while I fall asleep. During the day if I can't keep my hands busy, I'll wear long sleeves to prevent my scouring. Right after I made the decision to stop I saw a white head on my chest. It was REALLY hard to not just pop it. The little white head looked so big and it was mocking me. But I held strong. I didn't touch it. I put on a long sleeve pullover so I could ignore it. I'm happy to report I've still not touched it.
This won't be easy though. In half a day I realized just how often I absently pick. When I'm going to the bathroom I have to clasp my hands together so I don't pick. Countless time my hands travelled to my face and I had to distract myself by twisting my earrings so I wouldn't hunt for a bump that could be a pimple. I've had to avoid mirrors so I don't look for pimples. Now I'm just exhausted. It's going to be a long 90 days, but I'm going to do it. For me and my sister.
I commend you and I can relate. I had something similar actually. I had to stop it too. I had one specific wound I kept scratching for years. This is hard to share and no human being knows. No one ever knew. I stopped. It was so difficult. The relief I felt when I scratched at it was ridiculous really. I had been doing it since my teenage years. I stopped a year or so ago. I wanted to share with you because I didn't want to feel alone in it and wanted to lend my support. Thank you so much for sharing.
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