Category Archives: Picking
If I didn’t pick…
There are many things I dream about doing. Many things I want to do. There is so much of my personality that remains locked away because of how I look and because of how I feel about the way I look. Have you often wondered what you would be like if you didn’t pick? What you would do? Who you would be? I have!
If I didn’t pick I would:
– ♥ love LOVE shopping!! I could try on anything I wanted any time of the year and not have to cringe at my reflection in the mirrors or only pick items off the shelves that contained sleeves or legs! I could singlet shop and shorts shop and swimwear shop! It would be grand!
– Go out whenever I wanted. Whenever I felt like it. I would just go. No need to apply makeup. No need to search for the perfect outfit. No need to check the weather. I would just head out.
– Lay on the beach surrounded by a group of friends in a hot bikini soaking up the sun and the laughter in between dips in the ocean.
– Dance, dance and dance! I could go clubbing in a gorgeous outfit that showed off my body and I wouldn’t have to worry about overheating or sweating so much my makeup ran off because I would be dressed comfortably and it wouldn’t matter if my makeup wore off.
– Answer the door when someone knocked on it, instead of hiding in fear or hurrying to the bathroom first to cover up all my spots and scars.
– Love having friends just “drop-by” and say hi!
– Love freely and unconditionally… I wouldn’t be so afraid of putting myself out there.
– Hang out more, date more, and enjoy meeting new people and making new friends.
– Have more friends.
– Enjoy intimacy.
– Be confident!
– Smile more!
I want to be that person who can do all of the above things. I want to be the real me!! The “me” that is just dying to burst out and finally be free of this prison that is Derma. It feels like I’ve been given a life sentence, one where I’ve already served twenty years. I think I’ve done my time. I think I’ve suffered enough. I think it’s time I was set free. Don’t you?
Socially Awkward
The area of my life where my picking impacts the most is my social life. The relationships that I form with family, friends and partners are constantly impeded by my impulse control disorder – Dermatillomania. Family will comment on my spots and my scars, remarks that are hurtful but that are probably only made because they care – yet it forms a barrier between us. I become upset with them, so I take it out on myself (I pick) and then I resent them. Friends invite me out clubbing or to the beach and I have to come up with excuses as to why I can’t go. Then they stop inviting me out as much. Especially considering I don’t handle “drop-by” visits very well – I need substantial notice to cover my skin.
And partners! Where do I even begin to start with partners? Partners are usually those we are most intimate with. The ones who see us stripped naked – both internally and externally. How do you even begin to let someone into the life of a Dermatillomaniac? For me it’s usually been a slow process… friendship first, only hanging out with them when my picking is reasonably controlled and I’m covered in makeup, sex happens only in the dark, sleepovers are usually avoided. My son’s father did not see me fully naked until I had to give birth to our son – and even then I tried to stay fully clothed much to the midwives and doctor’s dismay haha!
Sometimes I have pre-warned potential partners that I have Dermatillomania by showing them old pictures of myself and telling them a little bit about the disorder; other times I have not mentioned anything until a few months into the relationship they ask me why I fidget so much with my skin and then I am forced to give an explanation. Either way the issue, whenever and however it is brought up, is a tricky one to negotiate. And that’s when I start wishing I could stop picking before I meet my next partner so I never have to cross this bridge again.
But how realistic is that wish? Yes, one day I might stop… but am I letting people slip through my fingers in the meantime? Distancing myself from others until I have this disorder under control? I like someone at the moment, he’s just a friend, but he wouldn’t even have the slightest inkling about what exists under my clothes and under my makeup. And I don’t want him to know because I am embarrassed by it and I am disappointed in myself that I still do this. So the reality of the situation is that for now, he just remains a friend, while I continue to awkwardly turn down offers to hang out.
I want to stop for him. Well, for everyone really – for my family and friends as well. But I can’t stop for them – I have to stop for myself. And I have to want to stop! And although I do, I really do, I know there’s still a part of me that holds onto the picking because it’s all I’ve ever known. It’s my safe place: a haven almost, that I can use to hide away from the world when it all gets too much.
Positive Self-Talk
So you know how sometimes your picking starts to get pretty good and you’re like “Hey I’m actually getting better!” and then all of a sudden you relapse and your self talk goes a little like this:
“Why the fuck would you do that for? Now look what you’ve done! You were going so well! Your face/arms/legs were looking so much better… now look what you’ve done to them! You’ve totally fucked them up! Oh my God you’re so fucking ugly! You look hideous! Now how are you meant to go out tomorrow? Makeup is hardly going to cover THAT up! You’re such a failure!!!! What is wrong with you?”
Sound familiar?
That’s been me the past two nights. In fact everytime I relapse that is the kind of self-talk that goes on in my head. And actually even when my spots are clearing up I still tell myself how ugly I am. Why do us pickers do this to ourselves? It’s hard enough dealing with the physical afflictions of this illness, do we really have to torment ourselves mentally as well?
One thing that seems quite common amongst skin pickers is our desire for perfection. Most of us seem to be perfectionists at heart striving to make ourselves “look better”; to “fix” ourselves. We are the same when it comes to other things in life as well, such as getting high marks in school, doing well at our jobs, etc. The other day I got a D- for one of my university assignments and suicide was the first thing that entered my mind. I immediately assumed I’d failed, not realising that a D actually stands for a Distinction in University. But even a D is not good enough and neither are all the C’s (Credit’s) I’ve been getting. I want HD’s (High Distinctions). I want to be the best! But why? Why do I need to be the best? Why am I always so hard on myself? I’m passing, shouldn’t that be enough? You only need P’s (Passes) for Degrees after all!
It just feels like I’m constantly failing in life. The narrative that continually repeats itself in my head goes something along the lines of: “You’re such a bad mum! You spend so much time studying you hardly play with your son. You’re a terrible mother. He’d be so much better off without you. And you’re spending all this time studying and you’re still sucking at University! You’re only just passing and you’re putting in so much effort, you must be really stupid! And look at how ugly you are! No wonder you’re such a failure! You spend so much time picking, how do you expect to have time for anything else? You’re wrecking your skin. Look at it. It’s covered in spots and scars! You’ll never be beautiful!”
With a narrative like that no wonder suicide constantly crosses my mind! So maybe it’s about time I adopted a more positive narrative – one of self-love. Maybe it’s about time I started noticing the achievements I make, the things I do well and focusing less on the things I don’t do so well at.
“Ok yes you’ve relapsed! But who cares, tomorrow is a new day. Don’t take it out on yourself and more importantly don’t take it out on your skin!!! You’re doing such a wonderful job, you’re so incredibly strong! This is just a tiny slip up on a very long road to recovery. The spots will be almost healed again in a couple of days. You are beautiful! You are worthy! You are strong! Keep it up!”
Simply tell the negative thoughts to GO AWAY! You don’t need them in your life any longer. All they do is bring you down!
“Ok so you didn’t get a HD. But you still passed and you passed well! That’s one step closer to getting your degree. And who cares if this one particular tutor didn’t like your style of writing? Some of the best writers amongst us today got rejected SO many times before they became the best sellers that they are today! And you’ve got a lot on your plate! You work, you study full time, you have a son, you help out at his school. You’ve got a lot to juggle and the balls haven’t dropped. You’re doing such a good job! Keep it up!”
“And you are a good mum! In fact you’re a fantastic mum! Your son gets fed, bathed, clothed, and told he’s loved each and every single day. Everything you do is for him! The reason you’re working so hard right now is so you can provide him with the best future possible! You want to succeed so he can succeed! And you’re still here. You’re still here for him. It would have been so easy to give up but your love for him keeps you going. If this doesn’t prove you’re a good mum then what does?”
How much more uplifting is it to hear positive words of encouragement instead of a constant barrage of hateful and negative comments? Don’t be so hard on yourself! People AREN’T perfect. People CAN’T be perfect. So stop striving for perfectionism… strive instead for being the best person you can be, flaws and all! Something my mum pointed out to me and it is so very true, is the beauty of nature. Nature is incredibly beautiful, breathtaking even and yet what is perfect about nature? Nature is not symetrical, leaves have bumps and holes in them, rocks are sharp and jagged, trees weep sap and peel bark, creek beds dry up, rivers overflow. Not perfect at all but so beautiful… so perfect in its own way with all its flaws. This is what makes nature unique. And this is what makes human beings unique. We are all different. And we all have a lot to offer. There is no one such thing that defines a perfect human being. Learn to love yourself and others will too. See the positives in life and the negatives won’t be able to take such a hold on you. Live your life and lead your life alongside a positive commentary. Lord knows YOU DESERVE IT!!!!!
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Picking in Public
So for the first time the other day I had a picking session in public. Over the years, there has been the odd occasion where I’ve picked at a spot or two on my face while out shopping or at work or out with friends and family but this was something different. It started in one of my tutorials at University. As I was sitting there listening to everything my tutor was saying, my left hand started feeling for and picking at the scabs that were on my right hand. I just started tearing into my skin right there in class! And then I started picking at my back. I was hoping no one noticed and I still hope no one noticed but I just didn’t seem to be able to stop. As soon as that class ended I went straight to the toilet and before I knew it I had entered into a trance like state. Over thirty minutes later I had picked all the scabs on my right hand, on both of my arms, some on my upper thighs and a couple on my bum. I was bleeding and pussing everywhere! And it’s not like I could have just hopped into a shower so I had to clean up as best as I could with all that was on hand – toilet paper – and then roll down the sleeves of my cardigan over my weeping, painful, open wounds. I was so ashamed! So devastated at my appaling behaviour! Is this what it has come down to – being unable to control my picking in public? And this isn’t the first time it has impacted my studies. Last week I changed one of my units from internal mode to external mode because I had spent the day at home picking and was too embarassed to attend my tutorial that night. So instead of facing up to what I had done, I took the easy way out. Memories of my high school years are now flooding back to me where I would refuse to get out of bed because I just couldn’t stand the thought of seeing myself in the mirror and spending over three hours trying to cover up my sores and scars with makeup.
I’ve just added a third degree to my studies. With that, as well as being a full time single mum, still coming to terms with my break up and moving back home with my mum, having work three nights a week as well as volunteering when I can – I think I may be a little overwhelmed. I thought I was coping but I think my picking is telling me otherwise. Maybe my new mantra of “Don’t think, just do!” isn’t as helpful as what I thought it would be. Hopefully I can get this under control or ease up on my workload a little bit. All I know is right now things are hard and it’s taking every inch of my strength to keep it all together.
Inflamed Wrists
I can’t stop attacking my skin… especially my right wrist. I keep doing it over and over and over again! It is now sore, swollen, red and hot to touch. This means I’ve done it again; I’ve given myself another infection. And I’m sure that repeatedly digging my tweezers into the sores certainly isn’t going to help them heal any quicker. Why can’t I stop?
I Wish I Could Just Stop
I wish I could stop. JUST STOP! Why is it so hard? You think it would be so simple to just stop picking at your skin. But it’s not!! Am I lacking willpower? Am I beyond willpower? It gets me SO SO down! I just want to be able to be “me” without constantly being held back by my stupid spots. Sorry for the rant… “that time of the month is coming” which means I break out in pimples so naturally the picking gets worse and then because I’m hormonal I become more upset than usual about my derma.
What do you liken your skin picking to?
What do you liken your skin picking to? If at all you liken it to anything.
For me I feel my skin picking is closely related to drug addiction. I “depend” on my picking to feel a certain way. I “use” it to dissociate, calm me down, relieve anxiety, entertain me and of course when I get a good “pick”, kind of like a good “fix”, the rush I feel is indescribable. However once I “come down” off the picking “high” I feel ashamed, resentful, disgusted and phsyically ill to my stomach. I experience nausea, the shakes and suicidal thoughts.
In saying all this though; I am also a perfectionist. I suffer from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I pick compulsively. I pick to “perfect” and “fix” my skin. When I am doing it, I think (truly believe!) that I am making it better. I know it looks worse but it feels better. I like the feel of smooth skin. Picking achieves that for me. There are no bumps, there are no scabs. Unfortunately what is left in its place is raw skin – open wounds.
Then I hear picking compared to cutting… which makes me very very angry. Because for me, as a person who used to cut, I do not pick for the same reasons I used to cut. Cutting was about feeling physical pain in order to gain some release from the emotional pain I was feeling. And also at times to “bring me back to Earth” because I felt so out there. Not even in my own body; like I didn’t exist. I needed to feel something. When I pick, I don’t feel pain. I am numb to it. I admit that sometimes if I am angry my picking becomes aggresive and I do dig and tear at my skin with my nails in a way that is not focussed on perfection. It is me self-mutilating and taking my temper out on my skin instead of on others. However I only do this on rare occassions. Most of the time I pick I am not even aware I have started to do it. Then by the time I realise what I am doing, I feel like I need to keep going in order to achieve something or fix the damage I have already done.
There are multiple reasons why I pick. And there are probably multiple conditions that picking is similar to or related to. Drug addiction and OCD is something I feel my picking is similar to. Cutting is something I hear picking compared to. Whatever your reasons for doing it, it probably differs from mine. I am curious to know why people pick and what it is like for them. There definitely needs to be more research done on this condition and I hope to discover other sufferers who are open about sharing their stories with me. Together we can raise awareness and encourage further research on Dermatillomania. A silent, often misdiagnosed, and even deadly condition.
Much love to everyone reading and anyone suffering. ♥
Tweezers, BDD and a Bit of Background Info
I was thinking the other day about tweezers and how I got to using them. I’ve been trying to read up a little on Dermatillomania and have come across some information about there being a connection between Derma and Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD). This is most likely due to the fact that both Derma and BDD sufferers have an unnatural precoccupation with perfecting one’s image. It did not start this way for me but over the years I believe it has developed into this.
I started picking when I was four years old. Around that time we had just moved from one state to another – from a small country town in NSW with moderately cool weather conditions to a larger tropical touristy town in QLD which was often hot and humid. It was in this new town that I also met mosquitos and was constantly bitten all over by them. So there are two major things which could have contributed to the onset of my picking – the stress of the move and the itch of the mosquito bites. However it started; it soon developed into a habit. One that I could not seem to stop. Doctors did not know why I did it. Psychologists didn’t have an explanation for it. And I sure as hell copped a lot of bullying for it in school.
Then our next move came. Now I was a teenager – fourteen years old. I found it difficult to cover up my skin in QLD because of the heat and humidity but now we were in WA. A fresh start where no one knew about my picking and where the weather consisted of four seasons – which made it a lot easier for me to cover up my skin. So the heavy makeup started, as did the long sleeves and the long pants. Now I could keep my secret hidden which made the picking a LOT LOT worse! It was almost as if I could get away with it now.
At around the age of 16 – 17 I discovered tweezers. I’d only ever used them once or twice before to pick at a really difficult scab that I couldn’t get with my nails alone. Those ones where a tiny bit of white/green skin sits stubbornly amongst the deep red wound and you have to pull it out or it just stays there driving you crazy. And I felt wrong using the tweezers so I tried not to use them.
Then when I was 20, thanks to the internet, I finally discovered that my condition had a name. I also discovered that I was not the only person in the world who suffered from it, much to my surprise. For 16 years I thought I was the only person who did this to their skin. And all of a sudden I didn’t feel so alone anymore. There was a community of pickers out there. And they used tools on their skin too. So unfortunately for me, and it’s probably been the only downside to discovering other Derma sufferers, using tweezers on my skin became acceptable.
Picking was a habit. A way of releasing stress, anger, tension… happiness even. It was a way of controlling my emotions. Tweezing on the other hand was a way of “fixing”, “smoothing” and “perfecting”. I became obsessed with the wounds having to feel smooth, no excess or dry skin could be hanging from the edge of a sore. I would use my tweezers to tidy this up. To make it feel better. To make it “perfect”. And now I can’t pick without them. I do not get the same satisfaction from using my nails as I can with using tweezers. So I pick the scabs off with my nails and then “perfect” the sore with my tweezers. And this is my routine now. So I can see how Derma may sometimes be linked with BDD – tweezing has turned my Derma into an image issue whereas before picking just used to be a form of release for me.
Infected
So I’m starting to develop an infection again. It’s been a while since I’ve had one. The spot with all the cream on it was really itchy last night and I must have kept picking at it. Today it is red, sore and swollen and when I run my hand over it, it feels like there is a golf ball beneath the skin. So me and my smart thinking: I thought it would be a great idea to just attack it with tweezers. I have now put antibacterial cream on it and bandaged it up. Here’s hoping that’s enough to combat the infection. Sometimes when I get them on my legs, the pain is that bad I can hardly walk – it feels like my leg is burning and the sore will be hot to touch. Yet I refuse to see a doctor when it is like that because I hate their “I told you so” disapproving looks.
All bandaged up! I can still feel the sore throbbing as I sit here and write this though. It’s like it has a pulse of its own.
Disrupted Sleep
This is my forearm. The big gash started off as a tiny little scratch from brushing up against a wooden pallet at work. I knew as soon as it happened it would become something much larger. I honestly thought that tonight would be the first night I went without picking. I got home from work, unwound for a few hours and was starting to get sleepy. Before I tucked myself in for the night I decided to go to the toilet. As soon as I pulled my trousers down to sit down I picked at a scab on my upper thigh without even realising it. As soon as I noticed what I had done I became angry and disappointed with myself so I figured “what’s one more?” This gash was the second scab I picked at. Then I lost count. I entered that all too familiar “trance-like” state with tweezers in hand and went to work on myself. It’s now 3:30am in the morning. I am sore, bleeding and weeping and all the shower did was wake me up more. Now I have to try and unwind again so I can hopefully get some sleep before my son wakes up in about 4 hours time. My Dermatillomania has a negative impact on ALL aspects of my life but the one I notice the most, apart from the physical scars it leaves behind, is the interference it has on my sleep. Lack of sleep also impacts negatively on every other part of my life so I feel like I am constantly stuck in this vicious never ending cycle.
Dermatillomania 