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.
