My step-dad was recently in the hospital. It was sudden and unexpected. His pacemaker stopped working causing his heart rate to plummet to 35.
My mom called to let me know. I think she thought it might be the end. She said more than once that he was 85 years old after all. She rarely lets me know about things that are going on. I didn’t find out about my step-brother or my biological father dying until months afterward. I was grateful for being included and told her so. She said talking to me meant a lot to her.
It left me with a familiar feeling. I want that man to confess to HER. He’s already admitted and apologized to me for what he did. In private when she and no one else was around. I said I forgave him.
Until he speaks the truth to her, it will always be my lies, my selfishness, my shame that she will put onto me and see me as. It’s wrong. I deserve to be vindicated. In my soul I feel it won’t ever happen.
He’s a coward. A criminal. And so is she.
Aren’t we all? We choose to stay where it’s safe, forsaking our happiness and health to live lies because the truth is so fucking scary.
I hate that. I want different.
Excoriation disorder
Skin-picking disorder
Neurotic excoriation
Acne excoriee
Pathologic skin picking (PSP)
Compulsive skin picking (CSP)
Psychogenic excoriation
Sharing a picture of myself is hard and scary and as real as it gets. This is what a part of my body looks like. It’s one of the most damaged areas, but there are similar markings on my shoulders, lower back, arms, and face. It’s shocking for me to see it.
For as long as I can remember, the need to pick has been part of who I am. It began when I was a kid, not sure exactly when but probably around puberty. That’s when the abuse at home got really bad. I’ve been picking my skin ever since. The severity comes and goes, but the action never ceases.
It’s much worse when I’m stressed. I’ve been very stressed for a few years now and it shows. The scars and wounds are horrible. I’ve attacked so much of my body that I can’t hide it all with clothes anymore.
I notice it the most during summer. Everyone’s wearing light clothes and showing lots of skin. I’m jealous. More than anything, I’m in awe that most others don’t suffer like I do.
I wish I could stop. I can force myself to slow down, but even that’s been futile for a long time now.
It’s so disgusting. As if I needed more reasons to hate the way I look. I can’t even get a haircut because I’ve trashed my scalp so badly. WTF?!
Alright, I’m in a self-loathing mood right now and that’s not helpful. Stress leads to picking. Time to shift gears and do my best to focus on something better.
Can you relate? If you want, share your story below. Your struggles. Your success. Encouragement. Advice. We help each other the most when we allow ourselves to connect.
And I’ll Be Me
Silly
Loud
Playful
Sexual
Affectionate
Scared
Insecure
Curious
Passionate
Soft
Tough
Brave
Naive
Trusting
Doubtful
Too long pretending
bending, changing, adjusting
Want more accepting
forgiving, celebrating, touching
Authentic ~
impossible without self-knowing
self-being, self-seeing, self-doing
just don't expect a fairly tale.
