I apologize for the ads in this article, but I wanted to repost it, and the only way I could do so without it costing me money was to post it with ads. This is an OCD spectrum disorder I've suffered from for as long as I can remember. When I was younger, it was a lot worse. I mostly pick at my fingers, but occasionally, I get what I think of as "hot spots" - there's a spot on the bridge of my nose, a spot in the middle of my spine, and another on the top of my scalp. When I was a kid, the one on the top of my head became a severe problem - not healthwise, but just the fact that I wouldn't stop picking at it and for several years, I had a pretty permanent sore on the top of my head. I was never as severe as the person in the picture in the article below...but I am sometimes ashamed of my fingers.
I don't really know how to explain why I do it, other than with my fingers it's almost an unconscious habit; sometimes I don't even realize I do it. My husband has told me that I've sometimes done it while sleeping, so who knows. There are times, though, where I know exactly what I'm doing and don't care that I'm doing it. This is when spots like the one on my spine or the top of my head or the bridge of my nose are "hot spots" and I'll drive a fingernail into that spot. This is the part I don't really know how to explain or describe - I've tried to figure it out for years. Is it the pain? It's definitely a compulsion - at the time, I NEED to push my fingernail into that spot hard, and then I feel relieved.
I know it's OCD, but in trying to figure out why I do it, I guess I never really connected it with some of the things I went through as a kid. Is it a reaction to being hurt? Is it me punishing myself for something? Or am I just trying to distract myself from something else? I wonder if some of the things I feel when I do it are similar to what people who cut feel when they're cutting.
I did learn several years ago that skin-picking and hair-twirling (which I also do) often go hand-in-hand, and a lot of people who do one also do the other. Part of me wants to stop, part of me doesn't care. I'm still here, so it could be a whole lot worse:)
Anyway, I thought this article was interesting.
Childhood Trauma Leading To Compulsive Skin Picking
As a child, from the age of about ten, my brother ( three years older than me) never called me by my name, but always referred to me as ‘Scabby' or ‘The Scab'. When, at age and eleven, I joined him at secondary school (Watford Grammar School for Boys, Hertfordshire, UK, just in case anyone's remotely…
I watched a documentary on Netflix last night about Janis Joplin. Lately, I've been emotional about a lot of things, which is not something I'm proud of. I hate getting overly emotional and don't really think of myself as an emotional person; I really think I have a hard time expressing emotions sometimes or dealing with other people's emotions. My BFF, for the record, disagrees. So maybe part of my problem is that I don't recognize it in myself.
Anyway. I watched a faux documentary last week called A Girl Like Her, which was about a girl who attempts suicide after being bullied. I read afterwards that the main character was inspired by the case of Phoebe Prince from Massachusetts, who committed suicide in 2010 after being bullied. I relate to cases of bullying because I was bullied as a kid - incessantly, constantly, and intensely. My childhood is not a pleasant one to look back on in a lot of ways. I was bullied at school, I was bullied by my mother, who should have been one of the adults who could protect me and nurture me. The shining lights in my life were my brother, my dad, music, books, and my dog. Those were the things that helped me survive my childhood, and I am grateful for them every day of my life.
Back to Joplin. I never realized that she was also a victim of bullying when she was younger. Imagine that. The film I watched was Janis Joplin: Little Girl Blue and a lot of the information came from letters she wrote home while she was on the road, from interviews with her siblings, from writings and drawings and photo albums she kept, etc.
Janis Joplin viewed herself as ugly and homely. She never saw herself as a pretty girl. This is one of the things that comes from being bullied; I know this first hand. You can only be told so many times by so many people that you're ugly or unwanted before you start to believe it. That's one of the hardest things to overcome later in life.
I'm going through perimenopause right now, and lately my emotions have been all over the place. Feelings I thought I'd dealt with a long time ago are returning in force, and I'm finding myself thinking through them, trying to sort them out - again. I wondered after watching the Joplin documentary why I watch things that upset me like that, that strike so close to home sometimes. I discussed the documentary with my husband afterwards, and I think maybe part of the reason these things are on my mind so much is because I'm beginning to understand. Conversations I've had with him and with my best friend have given me additional insight - into my feelings, into myself, into my soul.
Janis Joplin died of a drug overdose on October 4, 1970, lonely, sad, and thinking herself ugly. Think about that for a moment...because I did. The thing is...Janis Joplin never was able to realize how beautiful she truly was...and I completely understand why that is. To be made to feel so worthless at a young age, as a pre-teen and teen when your mind is so impressionable and so malleable - to be rejected by your peers - that's a pain that runs deep and lasts a very long time, if not forever.
Why was Janis Joplin bullied? Because she dared to be herself, because she was different, she didn't "fit in" with the "norm." The older I get, the more I think that's why a lot of people are bullied. Sure, part of it is because the bullies themselves are feeling pain and are striking out at the easiest targets; but most of it is simply because someone is different. Human nature is to fear things we don't understand. Joplin was growing up in the 60s, racial tensions were high, she lived in a place where the KKK had a big presence, and she accepted blacks as - wait for it - human beings. She also accepted love where she could find it - male, female, it made no difference to her. So her peers rejected her.
Why was I bullied? Because I was different, because I didn't "fit in" with the "norm." Honestly, take a look around you sometime - what is the "norm"? And is it really something anyone should strive to be a part of? It's taken me a long time to realize what's so different about me that my peers would have rejected me. Because I'm different? Because I don't think the same way they did? Because I didn't conform to the "standards" of beauty society had at that time? How shallow and petty the "norm" can be...
I like to say that as I get older, I care less and less what others think of me, but that's not totally true...I'm human, so of course I care...but it really only hurts because I don't understand. I don't understand why one person considers another person inferior simply because of the amount of melanin in their skin. I don't understand why one person considers another person inferior simply because they are gay or lesbian or transgender. Imagine how boring the world would be if we were all the same. I embrace my weirdness; I love that I'm different and not "normal." I love that I have quirks and nerdy interests. These are part of the things that make me who I am.
We are all beautiful in some way. Maybe it's not on the outside, and actually if you're lucky, it's not on the outside...because I think some people with "plain" outsides have the most beautiful souls on the inside:) I only wish that more people would learn to recognize their inner magic - people like Janis Joplin, who spent so much of her life feeling unworthy when in actuality the people who rejected her were unworthy of the beauty and light that was her.
"There's a light, certain kinda light,
Never ever, never shone on me, no, no."
So wish this beautiful soul could have seen her own light.
I know it's OCD, but in trying to figure out why I do it, I guess I never really connected it with some of the things I went through as a kid. Is it a reaction to being hurt? Is it me punishing myself for something? Or am I just trying to distract myself from something else? I wonder if some of the things I feel when I do it are similar to what people who cut feel when they're cutting.
