Guest Post: Not Just Fiddle Toys and Deep Breaths…

I am a painter and decorator by trade, which is quite useful as it gives me the opportunity to fiddle and pick and keep my restless hands busy. There is nothing quite as satisfying as peeling off a good sized piece of wallpaper, or smoothing the bumps off a wall.

I have had large scabs on my bottom ever since I was a child. Whenever my bottom is exposed my right had searches for a flap of skin to lift, an edge which, once pulled, comes away quite neatly – rather like wallpaper.  But of course, unlike a wall, once the scab is removed the remaining skin is damaged. Sometimes bleeding, but always itchy. Itchy to the point of not being able to ignore it. Then I dig and continue digging hard until there is a release, a satisfaction…

Rising levels of anxiety, arousal, stress which I might not even be aware of and which I lack the mechanisms to cope with, create a deep need to pick….because certain types of picking gives me that deep sense of release. Its not just self-soothing, its life saving. A dissociative trance, a frozen state where I feel safe, calm, protected, quiet. Quiet because I have turned the noise off. I have turned off that jittery uncomfortable feeling.

Here is my old friend.

But, eventually I ‘wake up’, often covered in blood, or with the realisation of the damage I have done, which then spirals me into feelings of shame and disgust and failure. I am a monster, not necessarily because I pick, but because I can’t stop.

I am doing this disgusting thing to myself, and I enjoy it!

I suffer, but I only have myself to blame.

Its my fault. I am a freak, unworthy of love or pity or understanding.

If people knew, they would be disgusted, repelled and so I hide and isolate myself…..and then my levels of anxiety begin to increase. Rinse and repeat…..

So, I am writing this so I can admit to myself what is going on, to talk about it, to shine a light into that smelly dark cave that I live in, to get rid of the dirty little secret I have kept since I can remember.

I accept that the urge may always be there, but I will work hard to remove the shame.