Tuesday, June 17, 2014

My Journey So Far...

Hello everyone reading!

I feel as though I am about to cry. The other day, I was removing my nail polish. Actually, perhaps this isn't the place to start my story. Lets go way back.

One of my earliest memories is my mom telling me to stop picking at my cuticles, otherwise I'd get sick. For years, I've had this ongoing problem. I will pick at my fingers nonstop until they're little bloody stumps of shame. I've always hated this about myself, yet I still manage to do it. I've had this habit since I can remember.

There have been small amounts of time in the past where I've stopped, but these last for only a couple days, and just when I am starting to become proud of myself, I notice a drop of blood on my leg and I've started again. This habit usually gets worse with my anxiety. It reached it's all time high during my junior year of high school. When New Years rolled around this year, I vowed to stop picking and my reward would be my first tattoo. Around April, I was dismayed to discover I hadn't really made any progress at all.

Now back to now. I was removing my nail polish, and I braced myself for the intense stinging pain of remover in my wounds. After about two minutes, I realized there was no pain. I quickly removed the cotton ball and saw my fingers; they were smooth!

Now for those of you who don't know what it's like to pick your fingers, healing takes quite a bit of time. Your open wounded stubs do not heal over night, they don't even heal in a week. At least not for me. Because I've picked at them for years, it takes a long time for them to completely recover, which is actually a milestone I've never reached.

I told all my friends and they were so proud of me. They should be. Everyone who has been close to me has known about this problem since they've known me. In many ways, I feel like this step is a step toward recovery. Not necessarily recovery from just my picking, but from the anxiety and tortures I've been handling for the past three years or so. I feel like I am FINALLY getting to a better place.

I saw The Fault in Our Stars, and I cried a lot. I cried more than I thought I would. I went back to the car crying, and I was crying when we stopped at McDonald's. My best friend's nephew didn't really understand it, my friend Sean and my sister ignored it, and my best friend Kim looked at me knowingly. I wasn't crying over the movie. I was just letting it all out. The years of pretending to be strong and being mad and hurt are over. I cried for the first time. And I feel like it's finally over. I'm finally free. It may not make sense to some of you, but I will talk about it later on this journey...

I still catch myself picking occasionally, but I stop myself immediately. I thing things will change. They're looking up.

Yours Truly, Jamie♥

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