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I've been thinking hard lately trying to remember when I started picking. I couldn't remember, and am still not sure in completeness, but I have an idea. I can't remember when I began picking, but when I was ten my mom decided we were going to live just she and I. (Prior to this we'd been living with her "boyfriend". His daughter and I didn't get along so they thought it would be best for Mom and I to move out.) Well during this time I'd be left home alone. I hated it so much. I wouldn't sleep until she got home. That's when I started picking the callous on my big toe. It was frustrating me so I started picking at it and pulling it off. If hurt, but I didn't care. I'd pull it as far off as I could with out it stopping because it couldn't be pulled off further. Now I'm 16 and I don't really pick my big toe. When I do I don't realize I'm doing it as much, but I do pick at my scabs, like I have before that, if not maybe worse. As I stare at my scabs now I've found myself wanting me to put them in my mouth--something I've never felt like doing previous. Does this "trigger" make sense?
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