Suddenly I see

As long as I can remember, I've had a fascination with picking at myself. Not just any part of me, but specifically, my head. Even when I'm not itchy, I scratch. At one stage, as a child, I used to rub sand into my hair to have something to pick at.

Pretty odd behaviour, right?

I found it became even more pronounced when I'm stressed; this year has been hell on wheels, for the most part, and it got to the point I was giving myself actual sores on mys calp. Let's just say that going bald was never an option.

Today, I found out that what I'm doing is an actual mental condition. Yes, it seems that I may well have Dermatillomania.

The hell? Hmm, as a semi-hypochondriac, I have to wonder if it's not just me jumping on the mental-illness bandwagon. But I know that's not it.

I don't pick at any other part of me but my scalp, and yes, I end up feeling humiliated and ashamed about it - but I can't stop. I've even found myself doing it in my sleep. If that's not totally whacked out, i don't know what is.

So, Dermatillomania what's that all about?

From Band Back Together:

Dermatillomania or Compulsive Skin Picking (CSP) is the urge to rub, pick, scratch, squeeze or dig into the skin, often to remove some perceived irregularity or flaw such as a flake of dry skin or a pimple or scab. The action may be performed with the fingers, nails, tweezers, needles or any other instrument.
Picking can happen on any part of the body or in a combination of places.
Picking is usually preceded by an intense urge to "fix" the spot.

Yes! Even when it's not a good idea - like when driving

The urge becomes the focus of attention until relief is found by acting on the urge.
Often the picking happen in a trance-like state and in severe cases, a person can spend several hours a day performing the actions associated with trying to "smooth out" or remove all the problem spots.
The picking is almost always followed by a feeling of guilt, shame and regret about the damage done to the skin. Sufferers often are also diagnosed with social anxiety disorder and depression.
Many people do not realize that CSP is a real illness and do not report it or seek treatment.

You can be damn sure I'll be telling Des about this when next I see her.

CSP is not listed in the DSM-IV. Dermatillomania labeled as an impulse control disorder (grouped with things like kleptomania and pyromania).
CSP is now often considered by many professionals as a Body-Focused Repetitive Behavior (BFRB).
Some professionals will classify it as an subtype of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder because a large percentage of people with OCD also pick their skin.
Many of the emotional and psychological processes resemble those of Trichotillomania (Compulsive Hair Pulling) and you may find the resources for Trichotillomania helpful, as well.

Wait, there's something ELSE?

Okay, no, that part's not like me. I'm interested in my scalp - not my hair.

Dermatillomania has a much higher incidence in women than in men.
CSP is not the same as self-injuring or self-harming behaviors (like cutting or burning). Dermatillomania sufferers are not trying to inflict damage upon themselves. Instead, people with CSP are trying to "correct" some imperfection.

So why do I do it?

Some believe Dermatillomania is a natural "grooming instinct" gone haywire. These people theorize that there is a genetic or biological component.
Others think it is a self-soothing mechanism or emotional outlet because many sufferers report being "zoned out" or trance-like while picking.

That's for sure.
Is there any treatment? Well, apparently anti-depressants might help. Since I'm on Ritalin, Valdoxane and Esperide, maybe that combination will help. Time will tell.

So, there you have it. Sorry; this blog has pretty much been light-hearted until now. But what the hell. You always knew I was a freak, right?

* I should mention that this post was inspired by Chibi Jeebs' Break-up Letter to Dermatillomania, which was what sparked off my realisation.

My spider-sense is tingling

Let me preface this post with an acknowledgement: I am arachnophobic. I am so freaked out by the thought of anything creepy, crawly and specifically, spider-y, that I would rather go and sleep in my car than face the thought of that eight-legged creature walking over me in the dark, should I happen to spot one in my bedroom when MadCat's not around.

I've been trying to change my spidey-killing instincts since I met him, given that spiders are his favourite creature - so quiet and industrious. I have been known to dangle lengths of toilet-paper into the bath so that spiders trapped in its white expanse can get a grip and climb to safety (as long as I'm not in the room). I don't automatically swat or grab the Doom - although I do shriek like a girl - when I spot one in the vicinity.

But on Friday, I went past all that.

We've been running an adventure challenge at work all week. Eating gross food (not that I would have a problem with roast sheep's head, brains or eyeballs - hey, I'm coloured, I grew up eating that shit!) and pulling keys out from underneath an annoyed tarantula.

I mean, I couldn't take part in the competition, given that I was running it, but. But. I have a horror of creatures being mistreated in front of me. So, naturally, I got all protective about Miss T, snarling at the people who tried to provoke her by banging on the glass of her box (seriously, people, WHAT THE FUCK? Leave the freaking spider alone! How would YOU like to be in a glass bowl with moronic giants banging on the walls and sending vibrations through your head? It'd be like standing in the church tower of Notre Dame while the bells rang! People just DO NOT THINK, the fuckers.).

And then I met Raul, the spider wrangler, and we chatted. He took the keys out from under Miss T. Then he put them back under neath her. Then SHE decided she'd had quite enough of this crap, thank you, what with people kicking the table and screaming as they crowded around, and went off to the back of her tank to have a good sulk. The winner pulled out the key and drove off in his prize. And I stayed behind to guard Miss T from idiots trying to open the tank and pull her out while Raul was inside.

From Spidey

Finally things quieted down, and it was just Raul, Shopgirl and myself. All this time, I was thinking of MadCat, and how stoked he would be if I managed to actually allow Miss T to touch me. Lubabalo came outside and allowed her to walk all over his hands. Shopgirl did the same, making sure I took pics so she could show her son there's nothing to fear. And finally I allowed Raul to put Miss T on me.

From Spidey

Only on my sleeve - I couldn't quite bring myself to actually allow her onto my skin; after all, still FREAKED OUT BY SPIDERS ARGH!; but I did it without shrieking or swatting. She crawled up above my elbow and settled down without trying to reach my shoulder (THANK ALL THAT IS MERCIFUL).

Let me tell you, a tarantula the size of my hand? Is freaking heavy.

From Spidey

Shopgirl went so far as to allow Miss T to crawl across her bare shoulders and cleavage. Actually, I think I could have handled that; but every time I thought of taking her onto my hands, my heart started pounding and my breath grew short. Minor panic attacks.

Still, I did it! I'm proud of me. And MadCat is, too.

(Click pics to embiggen. Will pop up in new window)