Childhood (and Adulthood) Body Secret: I’m a Picker
All About Scabs by Genichiro Yagyu and Amanda Mayer Stinchecum
That’s one label for it. I imagine that I am healing myself by allowing the skin under my scabs to breathe. Also, I can’t leave my cuticles alone, and I always have torn skin around them. This has gone on for as long as I can remember. While I do feel pain sometimes, I feel more of a type of satisfaction from this pick-pick-pick-pick-picking.
Regina, my mother, used to compulsively twirl her hair and then pull it and break it off (trichotillomania), and while I don’t recall her picking on her own scabs, she used to examine my ears very carefully, and squeeze any pores that looked like teeny little blackheads when I was quite young. She would do this often, and as I recall it, this was just about the closest contact I would get from her, as she did not hug or kiss or hold me or my siblings once we were able to walk.
I’ve been tempted to cut myself only lately. I never really considered it in the past, but, even knowing what I do about the dangers of becoming addicted to cutting, etc., something inside me wants to do it anyhow. How pitiful. I’m totally reverting to being a confused pre-adolescent. I’ve heard the claim that cutting makes people feel more real–like they can’t feel anything except pain, and at least that is something. The worst pains I’ve felt in my recent memory have to do with my sexual organs: I have killer cramps every other month or so; and several years ago, I had a miscarriage that lasted for several hours, and I think this was the most painful thing I’ve ever had to experience on a physical level.
Skin pearls: This is the name I gave the hard white core that comes out of a zit that has come to a “head”. They are a prize of sorts.
Around my nipple piercings, I often get a little crustiness that washes away when I shower (from lymph fluids). I enjoy cleaning this with my fingers, though, which probably makes it worse since I don’t consistently wash my hands first.
My hands and fingers just do what they want to.
I really enjoy reading your blog. You have some interesting insights.
I don’t understand some people’s compulsion to pick scabs. It seems there would be enough other things to do in this big world besides picking things off of oneself.
Dear Mystified:
I suppose that’s exactly my point (that there seems that I’d be better off ceasing the picking in favor of other better things to do).
I don’t understand my compulsion either. By definition, a compulsion is “a strong, usually irresistible impulse to perform an act, esp. one that is irrational or contrary to one’s will,” (http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/COMPULSION).
However, since I have bigger problems to tackle (being an abuse survivor, wanting to be a thriver), I guess I can live with being a picker without questioning it too too much.
I do the exact same thing. Zits, when I was breastfeeding and I’d get the dry skin, cuticles, scabs..I don’t know why I do it either. Sometimes it’s comforting, but sometimes it interferes with my day.
I feel your pain. I’ve been a picker since I was 12, and I suffer from other BFRBs (body-focused repetitive behaviors) as well. I found your blog while doing research for a proposal I am writing for school. I am a massage therapy student, and my idea is for a volunteer massage therapy program that would cater to the delicate needs of people who hurt themselves (pickers, hair pullers, cutters, anorexics and bulemics, compulsive over-eaters, etc). If you’re interested, drop me an email. Best of luck to you.
i have a scab on my head i have had for a while it wont go away cause I keep picking it