12:39 pm
Fayetteville, Arkansas
Age: 20
Coping Mechanisms
(the NEGATIVE kind)
Today I am going to be addressing some of the things I have noticed that I do when I am having an anxiety spike. I know that it may sound painful or harmful when I talk about it, but I am using this blog as a way to understand and work through my anxiety. It may get a little dark at time, but trust me it will be okay.
Alright, back to coping.
The biggest thing that I do is also the easiest thing to catch me doing. I tear at the skin on my lips. At this point I don't even know when I do it. I will just be sitting in class tearing a pulling at the scabs. My lips are scarred and flaky. They crack and bleed but for some reason it doesn't matter. It is so satisfying to get that piece of skin off, even if it hurts. I have tried so many things to stop, but when I am really nervous or stressed it comes back. It is the worst when I am sad. When I am watching movies or TV shows and something sad happens I sit there crying pulling at my lips. I have done it since I was very little. My mother and Sid are the biggest ones who look out for me. They will stop me if I am doing it or hold my hand, but it is so automatic and ingrained that when I am alone I just pull and pick until there isn't anything left. I have also realized that I have started pulling a biting with my teeth when my hands are otherwise occupied.
The other things that I do are along the same line, but they aren't nearly as violent. I scratch constantly, even when I am not itchy. I sit and listen to music or read and I am just scratching away at my chest and my arms. It isn't as detrimental as the lip thing but after doing it for 3+ hours it does start to show side effects. These little red dots appear under my skin in the spots I have been scratching. It never bleeds, nothing can ever be wiped off so it isn't as bad, I don't think . . . It happens mostly on my chest around my collar bone and on the inside of my elbows where your arm actually bends.
The last thing is something that I have also done for a very long time. I pick at bumps and scabs on my skin. I don't create them, but once they are there I will go to town. I mercilessly attack scabs and pimples. I pick and poke and pop and squeeze until it bleeds. Pain means nothing. It is just so satisfying when the scab comes off or the pimple pops. It is like a wave of achievement. I know it is horrible.
"You'll leave your face covered in scars if you don't stop!"
"Do you want your entire face to look red?"
"That hurts doesn't it? Why would you do that?"
But for some reason I can't seem to care! Scars are permanent but a long war down the road but that doesn't even matter to me. I just poke and pick and peal and scratch all day long. It gets worse, exponentially worse when I am in a spike, but it just happens normally too. I constantly touch my skin everywhere and because of that I know all the places that I have cuts or bumps and they become other victims in this never ending parade of nervous ticks.
I realize this was a rather dark post. I am sorry for that, but again, this section of my blog is to help me work through things. If I don't put them out in tangible words they become simple thoughts in my head that sit and get ignored with endless amounts of excuses.
I leave you with a picture and all my love,
Katie
No comments:
Post a Comment