My Story

I remember the first time I ever picked. I was in kindergarten on the playground, and my knees were healing from falling a few days earlier. I don't know why I picked at it but I did. It amazes me that as a little kid I had these symptoms. I've continued to pick for the rest of my life and I'm 20 years old now. When I got acne, it got worse. When the stress of bullying, school, and family occurred, it got even more worse. I grew up as an only child and a tom boy, which made me very lonely and with little friends. When my parents got divorced and my mom moved out, my dad started to get abusive and I lived mostly with him for 8 years. My dad never picked, but he never took care of himself either because has always been an alcoholic. When I was around 13, I saw my mom pick at her legs. I never thought twice about it until I came to this site and how this disease might be hereditary. I always thought the wounds on my face were from acne alone. In high school, I finally put two and two together and realized I had something to do with it. I never really wanted to stop, so it kept going. It grew to my arms and eventually my back. I was also the biggest hypocrite when I scolded my mom for picking at her nail cuticles. And I was doing the same damn thing to my face and back! Her fingers looked horrible and I hated it when she did it in front of me. She never stopped and I thought she was so weak. But I'm no better. And it's not about being weak at all, because I know I'm a strong woman. This is a disease and we have to fight back. When I started dating my boyfriend, my first prom dance came around. As I tried on some dresses, my mom said, "You need to stop that picking." I turned red from embarrassment and agreed. A year passed, and I was trying on new dresses for my second prom. My mom said the same exact phrase because I never stopped. I still haven't stopped. In college, it got better on my face but worse on my back. Freshman year, I was watching TV in bed with my boyfriend (same boyfriend from high school). I don't know how it came up, but he finally asked what was on my back. I never took my shirt off in front of him and he eventually noticed. I cried for about 5 minutes and said I wasn't going to tell him. I eventually said weakly, "I pick at my skin." He laughed and said "Everyone does that, I do that. A big pimple that's annoying I'll get rid of it." But I shook my head crying and said, "No, I can't stop." I told him that I've been doing it forever and it's not just on my face. Then he said the most fearful thing ever, "Show me your back." I continued to sob and slowly raised my shirt. I felt SO ashamed when I revealed it. It's like I could feel his eyes like lasers just judging me. He said how sad he was that I was hurting myself and he really wanted me to stop. I forced myself to get better. I found this site and eventually diminished my picking, but it never stopped. When summer came around, my father figure (my grandpa) fell greatly ill and I was desperately searching for a job but no one wanted me. The picking got worse again, especially when my boyfriend stopped talking about it. In my whole life, I've must have told myself to stop over 1000 times! I've noticed that I do it when I'm nervous, anxious, reading, or bored. I've read that some people do it in front of a mirror and a mirror is a trigger, but for me, if I see what I'm doing I stop. The mirror actually helps me. I think I also have a bit of OCD because it's like the wound feels like it doesn't belong and I'd rather have my skin be smooth. I drink coffee, which probably doesn't help with the anxiety. But I need the mental energy to take my hard classes. I'm trying to get into pharmacy school. Now we come to today. My boyfriend ignores the wounds now, just like I have since a kid. I'm finished with ignoring the problem. I tried the 21 day challenge and made it to day 2 before I crashed, and 2 days is actually really good for me. I'm on day 1 again now, and I'll keep trying this challenge until I defeat it. My mom works at a great rehabilitation center (alcoholism, sex addicts, depression, anorexia, etc) and she gives great advice from her work. Most people get their addictions from trauma and imbalances in their life. I've read books that say that shame is the worst feeling we can have. It makes us feel worthless. I'm sick of the shame. When I pick, I feel like I have no worth and I feel shame. I know I have worth, and so do you! We all have worth and there is always hope. If I'm going to be a pharmacist and help people, I need to help myself first. And I think to help my treatment, I should involve myself on this site. So let's talk. Thanks for reading and it's very nice to meet all of you! :)