I can't believe it's been 18 days since I made the commitment not to pick at my skin. By and large, it's been a smashing success. If by success, I mean that my face is finally clear enough that I don't feel the need to go stare at it every six seconds.
I still...reach up to touch it. I have a big plug sitting in one of the pores on my damn nose. I have a couple of tiny plugs on my chin.
I hate them on the chin. Drives me bananas.
If by success, I mean: I'm twitching with irritation, because I hate hate hate that stupid little plug in my stupid nose pore and those plugs on my chin and I want then GONE, but I haven't tried to "scratch them out," then yes, it has been a success.
Success is hard. But it's not nearly as painful as picking my skin until I have painful, oozing, infected scabs, and I hate myself for making it happen yet again.
Here are my reasons for not picking my skin today.
I choose not to pick my skin:
- Because my nose and my chin are fine exactly the way they are. My face is fine, scars and all. I am fine.
- Because even if picking "works" to quell the irritation, the cost is too high. Like drinking sea water.
- Because if picking doesn't work, the cost is astronomical. A puffy, painful, split-skin-layers-filled-with-blood wound the size of a nickel, if I'm lucky, or a quarter, if I'm not. And a scar to remind me of what I've done.
- Because I don't have to pick. I can stop, if I want to. I get to decide.
One more thing:
When I feel the urge to pick, I think about everyone else on here who is going through this same thing, and it sincerely gives me strength and courage to know that I'm not alone in tackling this.