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potatoes , 24 Jul 2012

A note to myself

This is a note to myself so if in the future I end up in this relapse again, hopefully I will read this again and stop myself from making a mistake. Here's the pattern that I seem to notice that follows why I start in the first place. It may not seem like a long time, but I only seem to survive feeling good about myself facially wise, for like about a week and then I forget how many times I've told myself before and end up using my fingernails to scratch over this small mark over my face (caused by picking of course! And I've had this stay on my face since back in November 2011!) And I get into this weird, tired lazy mood because I give up on the point of not going out because I'm a perfectionist, and I feel its too much effort on sometimes getting dressed, shaving my legs, doing my face - makeup wise, how I feel self consciously socially etc. So I rather just slump it in my dressing gown indoors, on the Internet, watching telly. And that's when I start focusing close on my face again, my damn mark, and not only that, running a pin along my face to feel anything rough on my skin and slight spots. I feel grubby and bad what I've done so I slather Sudocrem all over my blotches. When I started this and when I didn't, like that week when I felt good and went out everyday in that week, the weather was rubbish and it felt like summer wasn't arriving. But then I started picking again, and I can't believe it, its been literally sunny for the last four days with no cloud in the sky. But because I made that mistake on picking, I haven't even left the house once since its been sunny and its so depressing! So this mark looks ten times worse now. I notice, when I pick, the next day it looks worst. So I go for hours literally, trying to neaten up the wound and end up picking more. This continues for perhaps three more days. On the third or forth day, I get so tired and knackered from it and how much it physically hurts me that I seem to give up on picking it anymore. What I should had done in the first place. So then it almost heals and the patterns repeats. Once the scabs roll off, I know that I will forget again and go back into my doom trance. It was horrible when my face was raw, I was hoping that I had the day indoors to myself but my bf brought his friend back, so I slathered make-up on my face. I had to apologise for my awkward behaviour and little eye contact. I think I pick because when I feel good, I make the effort to go out but overall I feel it is pointless and wasted. So I focus on my face and end up doing this. I live in a small town. Now the sun is out, I feel I want to and should go for a walk around the meadows and fields. And try to finally get some illustrations done as I finished graduating in Illustrating. But I've done none of that. Sometimes I can't find the point of going out in the first place, I get bored of the same thing, how people look, the town, the conversations. Its all so predictable. I want to feel alive, get in touch with the world, nature etc but when I try to, I feel its so false.
3 Answers
July 24, 2012
Have a shower. Apply mud mask. Wash off. Wear snail gel on face. Apply Sudocrem.
July 24, 2012
I relate to your suffering. Hold your head high :)
July 24, 2012
None of my siblings pick and they are older than me, so why do I have this massive problem? All the boyfriends I've been with all had beautiful clear skin and none of them were vain. Although there was one boy who obviously hadn't got out off puberty yet and had terrible acne and pits but even that didn't bother me from being strangely attracted to him. My skin was also good then and I never picked or worried about my complexion. I feel like I have some unresolved issues, that could be the reason why I agonise about myself. Growing up with my sisters, they used to be cruel to me and I was abandoned at home from the ages of 11-14. Whilst my siblings were growing up in their teens, I was left alone indoors a lot and rarely went out apart from going to school. My father had a massive gambling addiction and barely stuck around anymore even though we were 'living' with him. This became more noticeable when my mum left when I was 8 and I was very attached to my mum. Then I moved to my mum's at 16, and my mum always pointed out something on my face. That's when my skin obsession probably started. I remember feeling ugly and crying in my bed because nobody had made me feel special. Until I started University, and friends and boyfriends would compliment me. But I still felt neglected and burdened in a way because the way guys would make me feel small and my boyfriends all ended up becoming huge dick heads.

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