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Day 5: Nightmare

I woke up with a startle in the middle of the night having a nightmare. And it was simply this: There was a giant, hideous, monstrous scab on my face, and I was picking it off. I can still remember precisely where it was: on my right side, where the picked at spot on my face is presently. The scab was between the size of a nickel and a quarter. It was as discolored and otherwise unpleasant looking as you might imagine, so I'll stop there. But I ripped it off my face, and instantly woke up to realize that I am not safe from the ways my mind drives me to hurt myself, even in my sleep.

This morning, groggy from poor sleep, the first thing I noticed in the mirror is that one of the small scabs where I had previously had a picked at spot was actually gone. In its place was healed skin, and a tiny tiny bit of dried blood. I wasn't sure whether to be glad, or worried: had I actually picked it off on the middle of the night? Or did it fall away spontaneously?

I'm trying not to worry about it. My first step, I am certain, is to stop picking while I am awake. And we'll go from there.


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I have the same thing! Now that my skin is starting to clear up I have horrible nightmares that I get huge pimples all over my face or that my skin goes back to how it used to be. Dermatologists should double as therapists.

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I know the feeling. My dermatologist has been pretty awesome and has seen me at some low points, but I have never, ever, been honest with her about how I feel about my face and how much I pick at it. Where would I even begin?

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