Self-Injury

I have to wonder about my sanity sometimes. Maybe not my sanity but my intelligence actually. I have this horrible habit of picking at my cuticles. You know that little bit of skin around your nails that you ought to take a cuticle cutter to with fury? You’re probably nodding thinking “oh yeah”. Well that’s what I’m speaking about. That little bit of pain in the ass that I have a horrible habit of focusing on. This happens mostly during meetings when I feel as if I’m about to zone out from either sheer boredom or because I don’t want to hear what is being said (I often find that this is not a good idea, especially when someone directs a question at me and I look up to simply blink in confusion and hear mental crickets).

But here’s something interesting I realize about myself. I, when nervous, anxious, depressed or any other sort of negative emotion which will assail me every once in a while, will start to pull at these little pieces of skin and before I know it my cuticles are a bloody mess. Here’s my theory: clearly this sort of way ‘self-injury’ http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=self-injury is my way to distract myself from the real problems that plague my life (there are absolutely too many things to mention in one short blog entry). I believe I may be physiologically fucked.

How do I stop myself from doing this? Worse, when my poor little innocent cuticles have managed to heal itself, I find myself picking at them until the wound opens once again and my fingers are so sore that I can’t stand for any sort of water to even caress my skin : (

Poor P yells at me every day for doing this and now he’s come to the point where he just looks at my hand as I cry out in pain and whine, shake his head, turns around and stalks away while throwing a “I told you to knock it off” over his shoulder in less than sympathetic tones.

Okay, too late to write more. I’m going to catch as much sleep as I can so I can look half-human tomorrow (that’s really aiming high for me nowadays).