Posted March 9th, 2009 by wiccanprincess35
this is disgusting, but hey, I see everyone is being honest here. I honestly have been a picker since I can remember as a small child. When I was a child I used to get made fun of by other classmates because my legs always had open bloody sores all over them. My dad even tried making wear gloves and nylons to get me to stop, and now here I am 35, still picking as much if not more. I am diagnosed with anxiety/panic disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, and depression. I have been on 40mg of Prozac for and Klonipin for over a year now and it has not helped at all with my OCD of picking my scabs off. Ever since I was little, I also eat the scabs. I can't describe it, its like some kind of urge I get to pick of the scab, and I get some kind of satisfaction and enjoyment out of the feeling of picking the scab off and then chewing it and swallowing it. I always thought I was crazy and weird and maybe a vampire in a previous life time. I also love sucking the blood, after I pick the scab, the taste of the blood, and then my favorite part is when the blood stops and there is only plasma coming out. I love the smell of the plasma and rub it all over my lips. Then I am almost obsessed and keep smelling the wound for the smell of plasma. I am not proud to admit I have this mental disorder, but i guess hiding behind a computer screen makes it easier to talk about. I tell my psychiatrist about it and his reply is lets just raise my dosage of Prozac. I always thought I was mentally disturbed and enjoyed hurting myself, but Now I found this website and I am glad to know I am not the only one who suffers from this condition and there is an actual name for it. The consequences I have had from picking over my lifetime: When I was about 7 or 8 blood poisoning going up my leg, could have killed me, when I was a kid, got impatago, and as an adult, have acquired, staff infections from the picking. My picking has driven my parents crazy all of my life and now my boyfriend thinks its so gross, but no matter what I do, I can't stop. Thank you for letting me share my story.