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Hi everyone, I'm 47 years old and a picker from way pack. Seems I've always picked my face from the age of 12 when picked off a scab on my face and noticed there was a "plug" attached to it. Anybody know what I mean? That was the first time I realized that there was stuff IN my face that had to come OUT. Some times I'm pretty neurotic about getting stuff out of my face, it feels like something foreign is in my skin and it has to come out under any circumstances. I, like many of you, have used straight pins, tweezers, safety pins, extractors, masks, blackhead removers, scrubs, over the counter peels, facials, etc. I have dug huge craters in my face, I'm very fair so it takes a long time to go away. I have also been a scab picker from earlier than 12. So I pick to get something out of my skin, then a scab forms and I pick the scab off, it forms again, I pick it off, etc, etc, etc. I won't bore you with years between 12 and 47 except to say I struggle with major depression and anxiety and have been on SSIs for years and they have not helped. I am now 47, and I'm still doing it. Right now I'm trying to let my face heal, but after a long stretch with depression and anxiety, I've started picking my arms and back as well. I don't know how that happened, I don't remember what was even there for me to have started picking. My arms are the worst with quarter inch scabs and red spots up and down my arms. It is getting warm, but I am still wearing long sleeves, and I won't go anywhere because I don't want any one to see. I even cancelled my apptment with my dermo this morning because I didn't want him to see and ask me questions. I have to go to a luncheon with my Mom on Saturday, I have to go find myself something long sleeved, if my Mom sees this she will have something to say about it. Did I mention I'm 47? If I could stay in my whole until it was all cleared up I would be good, but it won't clear up because I'm still picking. I saw a bump on my ear. BAD. So I started picking and sqeezing that, now it is all reddish/purple and swollen. I have to hide it with my hair so no one sees it. I'm embarrassed. I'm sad, I'm mad at myself. Thanks for letting me vent. It's taken 47 years to finally tell a therapist that I have a problem. So glad to be here.