Skin Picking

I have a bad habit of picking at my skin. I am very ashamed of it. I rip and tear the flesh off my fingertips, usually I pick with my nails, leaving flakes of skin in my wake, other times I naw with my teeth (and for some reason swallow it (it's disgusting, really)). I've had this compulsive behavior since I was young. I usually dissociate when doing it, my body automatically does it when something isn't in my hands and/or mouth. My fingertips are always bright red, a layer (or several) missing. I make myself bleed often. I do it more when I'm anxious, I'm always anxious.

I've tried so hard to stop, even as a little kid. I would make new year's resolutions to stop. I got a necklace to chew on in middle school to try to stop hurting myself. The school took it away. I tried wearing a bandaid on one of my particularly raw fingers to disuade the action, it didn't work. I tried bandaging my fingers, with multiple different material. I just pick at the bandaging, it doesn't last the whole day. I tried fidgets, still do. I get new ones all the time. I break them too quickly, they either burst or degrade within a couple weeks, a month at best. Wherever I go, I carry something in my hands, a stress ball, a fidget, a little toy, anything, so I won't unconsiously pick with my hands.

This week, I got a sobriety app that includes a skin picking option. I started using it on Wendesday night. I went a whole day without picking at my skin on Thursday, even though I went to school. I was so proud. I have literally NEVER done that. Not that I can remember. Friday, I do it again. I'm so happy, I cry when I get home. It's Saturday. I go see my father with my younger brother. It's 3 hours. We eat out for half of that time. We get to his place. It's fine, I haven't picked at my skin yet. We are going to leave soon, I haven't picked yet! We're walking to the bus. I start picking. I try to stop, I haven't actually ripped the skin yet, so it doesn't count! My dad tries to hug me. On the bus ride home, I manage not to pick at my fingers. I get home. All is fine. I start picking unconsiously once I'm alone. I don't notice until I look at the clock and realize I spent 5 minutes nawing on my skin. It's because of my dad.

I will try again. I don't have to see him for another 2 weeks. I can't let this deter me. I'm really trying. I keep telling that to myself. I'm really trying not to cry. I'm really trying to get better