Disgust and release.
She started picking at her face when she was a teenager. She had often found herself fixated on the imperfections staring back at her in the mirror from her imperfect face. No one ever told her she was pretty. “You have a beautiful neck” was something her aunt told her when she was young. She always wore earrings after that or turtlenecks to accentuate the length of her neck.
Her mom had long warned her not to pick at zits. She knew about her tendency to fidget and touch. But her mom wasn’t in the picture. She had left and the girl was alone, pretty much. She didn’t have to worry about being watched, monitored or judged. She had chewed on her hair well into her first decade of life. It was disgusting, she knew, but it gave her the input she needed. Gradually she stopped chewing hair and moved on to another fixation, another release.
And the pain felt in popping the zit and the physical sensation it held when she scraped away at the residue compelled her to continue. It allowed a release to happen and she needed that release.
There was so much she was unworthy of but this release it was hers alone and that was empowering. After the release, it left a mark. The mark was red and unpleasant and forced attention. This made her uncomfortable. She didn’t like that aspect — the people staring and trying hard not to say anything.
Almost like a game of chicken where you are waiting for someone to notice and call you out on it. To pay attention and to say, “Hey you look…well, you look like you need help. I see you.” That didn’t come but she relished how people stared and said nothing. It held a silent power.
The picking escalated in times of high stress and continued long after the girl’s mother had passed and well into adulthood. She would lock herself up in the bathroom and tweeze and pick and just allow herself escape from the pressures around her.
It continued into her middle age but with awareness that she could stop it. She was old enough to get that. Still, it lingered in the background, like a well-worn shoe or and old purse you’re not ready to relinquish just yet.
