I realized a few days ago that until I stop picking at my skin, my life is never going to go the way I'd like it to. I have to stop, or I'm stuck. It's that simple.
So far, telling myself, "I don't do that anymore," is working nicely. Picking is incongruent with who I've become, and my subsconscious seems receptive to this message.
I don't want to be stuck. I want to move on.
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