My coming out - can you be apart of it? It would mean so much :)

*Spoiler Alert* - This is not a success story, yet a wonderful thing & I need your help :) I never thought I would see a day where I could tell people I have dermatillomania. The last time I posted on this forum was almost three years ago - and it's been a long and horrific journey since. The last time I posted, my skin was horrid. So many scars, so many wounds, my parents were shocked at how many times I could pick a day. It wasn't just dots of blood on the tissue anymore, it was so much more than I ever expected. I lost all of my confidence, the guy I madly loved for two years randomly disappeared (he's now married, asshole lead me on and broke my heart.). This made me cut contact with the my family, regardless of that fact that I lived with them (How does that work? I don't know.). It got to the point where my depression affected my mother - she lost weight, became frail, and emotionally damaged. Summer vacation had come along, and I locked myself in my room. I would come out to make food, and go back. Drawing gruesome drawings and painting shocking things. I stayed in my room for a month and a half. If you took a look at me you would think I came from an 1800's Asylum. So that continued until I had a huge meltdown. I was so tired of being let down - by that guy, by friends, by God, by me. I began reconnecting with my family, and slowly forgot the guy the I loved. I love him until this day, you know? I just don't remember my love for him. The memories have become hazy, I never see him anymore (he's in a different country), he never met my friends, and I never met his. Like a feather he came into my life, and flew away forever. Things got better. I began talking, walking, and making new friends. The days were nice. I was working, going to school, socializing - I didn't have much time to think. But when I did, I thought about love. What did it mean? Why can't I grasp it? Why doesn't anybody love me? I wanted love, still do. But I couldn't get it, still can't. This led me into another long-term meltdown, but this time was different. I watched the movie Frieda (based on Frieda Kahlo's life) and was sickly inspired. She was hurt in such different ways - but I felt so similar to her. I felt a connection. I started painting how I felt - which shocked my conservative family. And one day, I felt so angry - I cut all my hair off. I took pictures, I painted the pictures and glued my real hair into the piece...it was so sad. I had grudges against everybody - my father for not taking me to a psychologist. My mother for never noticing my pain before I broke down. My brother for being the most beautiful piece of work since Michelangelo's David. He had everything I wanted, it wasn't fair. I hated everybody. I hated you, I hated God, I hated me. After many trips to the hospital, and many more anxiety attacks, I eventually began getting help from a beloved family member. Now I regularly go to meetings, I no longer wear make-up to hide the hurt skin underneath... I used to have long hair remember? I would hide my face scars under it. But since I had cut it, I no longer had a choice. Wearing makeup now clearly made me look like an idiot, who was I trying to fool? I can't say I'm better in terms of skin, love, or emotion. But I can say I'm me. I threw out all of those depressing paintings, threw away the rest of my hair. Got a nice haircut, a few new pair of clothes, and a smile. I'm being taught how to let go of my grudges with the help of therapy. I will never be grateful for having dermatillomania, but I am grateful of the things that have resulted from it. Greater acceptance, a loving personality, and there's more; however, I just had a brain freeze lol. I've had derma for 10 years now, don't think it will ever subside - but I don't care. I know I'm posting again, but this time I need your help - I want you to do something for me. I'm doing a project, I'm presenting in front of about 10 to 40 people. This will be the first time I will talk about dermatillomania. The people don't know I have it, they all think I have eczema. But I'm going to express myself, nothing will stop me. I can then finally breathe. I want you to quickly record a video. Whether it be with your phone, laptop camera, video camera - I don't care. I don't need to see your face, all I want to see is you releasing this OCD onto an object. Something destructible like a piece of foam. You don't have to go crazy - just how you normally go about when you pick your skin. I'm going to do it too. I just want a few videos displaying the different levels of skin picking. If you're going to send a video, PLEASE don't pick your skin. I don't want to witness your pain. I don't want to see someone else suffering so. Let it out on something else. The email I would like you to send it to is marieimani@hotmail.com Just want to thank you for reading, even if you're not sending a video - really. Thank you, I don't know any of you - but I love you fellow pickers in a special way. You guys remind me that I'm only human, also human, just human.