Making Progress

Today was fine. I had trouble concentrating at work, but other than scratching at my scalp and face a bit, I left my skin alone. I even saw a bump on the back of my left arm that would be perfect to pick, but I said to myself, "Nah!" and looked away. I'm glad tomorrow's Friday. I haven't been getting enough sleep. I'm going to brush my teeth now and go to bed quickly. Better not turn on the light in the bathroom. Don't want to risk it.

Identifying as a Picker

Very few people know that I pick at my skin. Sometimes I envy other addicts, like smokers and alcoholics. Their addictions are so widespread and so well-known. You could tell someone that you're trying to quit smoking or that you're a recovering alcoholic and they'd know exactly what you're talking about. Not only that, but the person would probably offer you their whole-hearted support. Chances are that they've been or know someone close to them who's been in the same boat. I'm certain that if I confessed to someone I didn't know very well that I'm fighting an addiction to picking at my skin they'd be confounded.

From the number of websites that have cropped up related to skin picking, it seems like picking is more common than most people imagine, but I still think it's quite rare. The interesting thing about this is that picking requires no tools other than your fingers, and no materials other than something to pick at, unlike smoking and drinking, which require cigarettes and alcohol. I wish I could pour the object of my addiction down the sink, or break it up into little pieces, but that's another matter.

I guess one of the reasons that picking's not more widespread is that in addition to fingers, picking usually requires privacy and down-time. Many people have no privacy or down-time. Intense picking, unlike chain smoking and binge drinking, is not typically done socially - you probably won't be peer pressured into a long session of picking. Unlike some monkeys most of us don't sit around picking nits out of each other's hair. However, sometimes picking starts socially. I think what first got me started picking was a friend showing me how to push blackheads out of my nose. Around the same age, another friend taught me how to pull hairs out of my legs with tweezers. Luckily, I never evolved into a trichotillomaniac.

The bottom line is, I've only told my immediate family, a few friends who've come and gone in my life, and a few other people who've asked and who I thought I might as well be honest with about my skin picking. I don't know whether the other people I come into contact with suspect anything - I'm sure a few have wondered why I have red bumps on my skin. So far though, most have been either too polite or too self-absorbed to ask. I don't mind. It's not something I feel like discussing with people I don't know very well. The only reason I made this blog public rather than private was on the off chance another picker or someone trying to understand picking better might find it interesting or helpful.

Losing Its Appeal

Yesterday I picked a bit at my skin, but I realized that picking is losing its appeal. It's just not giving me the same satisfaction it used to. The skin on my arms is dry, red, and irritated, and I would rather let it heal than to make new wounds. I felt some bumps on the backs of my legs, and tried to squeeze at them, but nothing came out. I used moisturizer yesterday so my face wouldn't be so flaky, which seemed to reduce the amount I scratched at my face. When I did scratch, I was annoyed at the flakes of dead skin that got all over my clothes and my chair. I felt the same way when I scratched at the scabs on my scalp because scabs I peeled off got stuck in my hair. Another thing I did different yesterday was to turn on a small fan at work. The cool air seemed to help me keep my mind clear and to remain on task. I'll turn the fan on today, too, and hope to be even more productive. As a side note, I really can't believe how bad my arms look. I've been so preoccupied, for the past many years, with the red bumps left after picking that I never noticed how sun-damaged my arms have become. I hope they look a little better once they're fully healed, but it's quite possible the damage is permanent.

Things to Look Forward To

If I manage to stop picking, here's what I have to look forward to:
- Smooth skin
- Being able to wear whatever I want to, including short-sleeves and shorts when it's hot outside
- More energy since my body won't have to work so hard repairing my skin
- More free time
- Less self-loathing
- Less self-consciousness
- Being able to go swimming without embarrassment
- Pride and self-confidence from having successfully overcome a difficult challenge

The Curse of Privacy

Ah, privacy. I love my alone time, but for pickers like me, privacy can be a curse. I do not pick when there are other people around, except for people who know me extremely well, like my immediate family. The kind of picking I do when I'm around my immediate family is very low-key compared to the kind of picking I'm capable of when I'm alone, though. I've tended to pick less during the times in my life when I've had to share more of my space and time with people. When I've had more time alone, the opposite's been true. Of course, surrounding yourself with people is not the solution to stopping picking. You have to be able to deal with the times when you are alone too.

Back at It

The three-day weekend wasn't bad. The first night I scratched at my scalp like crazy and squeezed at many whiteheads and blackheads on my face. The second night I scratched at my scalp less and scratched at my face quite a bit (dry flaky skin). Yesterday was okay. Again, picking consisted mostly of scratching at my scalp and face. It was the same today, with some cuticle scraping thrown in for good measure. I even wore short-sleeves today, and left my arms untouched until just before I left work. My arms are actually starting to look okay. Scarred and sun-damaged, with several scabs and a few red bumps, but okay. Even though I haven't made it through a day since starting this blog with absolutely no picking, I feel like I am making progress. Slowly but surely, I will prevail.

Leaving for the Weekend

Well, I'm going away for the long weekend and won't be able to write until I get back, most likely the day after tomorrow. I feel pretty good today and am determined not to harm my skin at all. I will be with family, which usually is good but sometimes can be stressful. I'll try to stay relaxed.

There are several topics connected to picking that I would eventually like to write about. These include the role privacy plays in picking, how friends and family can be helpful, other sources of inspiration, how picking has affected my life, and productive vs. unproductive obsessions.

Too Soon

It was far too soon to wear short-sleeves! My work could not hold my interest and I decimated my right arm. Scratched at the dead skin around the scabs that had closed, squeezed at some small bumps that weren't hurting anyone. I didn't touch my left arm, though. Crap. And now I have to try to sneak out of work without anyone seeing my arm. Luckily most of my coworkers left early for the long weekend. Time for me to go home, too. I need to take a shower and put on a long-sleeved shirt.

Short Sleeves

Unfortunately, last night I spent some time in the bathroom picking. My target was the bumps on my chest that have appeared since the weather started warming up. I'm disappointed with myself. However, today's a new day, and a Friday, at that.

It's been a week since I started this blog. I have left my arms alone. This has allowed me to indulge in one of the great pleasures of warm weather many pickers cannot enjoy - wearing a short-sleeved shirt. Feeling the air on my arms is wonderful. Of course, as most pickers know, wearing short sleeves is also risky. Leaving my arms exposed means I may see a bump on my arm and that I may be unable to resist picking at it. One day I hope I'm able to see a bump on my arm and ignore it. But for today, the safest thing seems to be to avoid looking at my arms at all. I'll report back at the end of the day about how it went.

Red in the Face

I got a decent 8 hours sleep last night but today has been a struggle. I've been waiting for a coworker to give me information I need to move forward with a project at work. I'm also learning lots of new things, which can get overwhelming at times. Not to mention I'm kind of distracted by the prospect of potentially leaving my current job to go back to school in a few months. Anyway, as a result, I've wasted quite a bit of time at work absentmindedly browsing the web and trying to sort through work emails, during which I have this annoying tendency to feel for bumps on my scalp, face, and upper chest, and to scratch at and squeeze some of those bumps. I was startled when I went to the bathroom and saw a red, blotchy face starting back at me in the mirror. Yikes!

About a month ago I found myself doing something similar in a training class. During the mid-morning break one of my classmates saw me and asked me if I was having an allergic reaction. That was embarrassing. I had to say, "No, I was just touching my face, my skin's sensitive."

Of course touching my face isn't as bad as concentrated picking sessions are, but I would like to stop all forms of picking, not just the worst ones. I'm wondering if a better solution for me is to find something else to occupy my hands at the times when I would typically touch my face, or to try to dissipate some of my excess energy. I've noticed that sometimes when I'm really focusing on something, I get tense and don't breathe as deeply as I probably should. Perhaps if I made a more conscious effort to relax and breathe while concentrating I would be able to leave my hands in one place. It's worth a try.

Still Tired

Yep, I'm still exhausted. I didn't get to sleep as early as I'd hoped to last night. I don't have much self control when it comes to picking when I'm this tired. I haven't caused any serious damage, but today at work I was scratching at my forehead quite a bit. Still scraping at my cuticles, too. The skin around my fingers is so dry; I guess I should put some cream on my hands. Tonight I turned off the light above the mirror when I went to brush my teeth, just to avoid temptation. Got to get to bed asap.

Dead Tired

I'm just exhausted today. It's only a Tuesday, and I could barely keep my eyes open through the day. I haven't been picking, except for some feeling around for bumps on my scalp, and lightly squeezing/pressing on those, and a tiny bit of picking at dry skin around my fingernails. I stayed up too late last night, watching shows. Tonight I'm going to make some tea, read for awhile, and try to turn in early.

Deadline

Today I received great news. I have been offered a scholarship to undertake a two-year academic program in my area of interest. It is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. If I accept, I will be starting the program in just over three months. This means I need to stop picking before those three months are up. Not only do I want to stop picking before then, I want to completely eliminate the urge to pick at my skin. I want to be able to look at a bump on my body and think, "Oh well." Because after three months, I will need to be able to focus on my studies. I will need to be productive, not self-destructive. And, I'd like to have some fun!

Anticipating a Hard Week Ahead

Sunday...started off well. In the morning I was in spiritual mode. By the afternoon, though, things got harder. I was not perfect today. I picked at the skin around my fingernails and my toenails. I picked at one bump on my leg. I picked a pimple on my face (but that was necessary). I picked at a bump on the back of my head. I scratched at some scabs on my right arm. I picked at a bump on my right arm. I tend to touch my head and my face while I'm reading and watching tv. While I'm reading, I need to keep both hands on the book. While I'm watching tv...well, I still haven't figured that one out. It may sound like I did a lot of damage today, but it really wasn't too bad, compared to what it could have been. But it is getting harder. The more time that passes from the last "incident," the more complacent I become. Next week will be a challenge. I need to make sure I get plenty of sleep, and remain vigilant.

The Weekend

I love the weekend. Nothing to do, nowhere to go. I can sleep in. I can relax. I ate a good breakfast, did some organizing and cleaning, went for a bike ride, had a long bath, stretched, and then had a nice dinner. My skin does not look good. But I'm leaving it alone. I think I'll watch a movie, and turn in early. I can do it. I can get through the day. I can do it.

The Next Day

I have to stop doing this. I need to stop being so self-destructive. I need to let myself heal. This is a remnant, of an earlier, more insecure phase of my life. This behavior is no longer congruent with my current self. I was able to stop biting my nails, a long time ago. Why can't I stop picking my skin?

If I could stop, how long would it take for me to see an improvement? I think scabs would form and fall off in about a month, maybe three weeks. I don't know if my scars will ever fade. Probably after about two years I'd see as much improvement as there'll ever be. Can I make it even a week without picking?

I will try, and I'll document my struggles and successes here.

Some Nights

Some nights are very difficult. You were tired, you told yourself you'd go to sleep early, but then...you got stuck. You were standing in front the mirror, ready to brush your teeth, and instead, you ended up hurting yourself. You went into a sort of trance, immune to the damage you were doing. An hour passed, while you worked diligently on your task. When you were done, you emerged slowly, noticing for the first time the stiffness in your neck, your shoulders, and your legs. It was very quiet. You looked in the mirror, disappointed, knowing that tomorrow you would be full of regret. You quickly brushed your teeth, and turned off the light. You waited for the pain to subside a little before crawling carefully into bed. Again, you would get too few hours of sleep.