I Was Stuck in a Skin-Picking Shame Spiral-Until I Took It All Online

How my greatest fear became my favorite conversation.

- KIMBERLEY MILLS

As an anxious child, I always had my fingers in my mouth. I'd bite my nails and peel my cuticles until I bled. My parents tried different strategies to help me, but nothing worked. And then I hit puberty and developed a new obsession: my skin. Picking at my breakouts felt like stress relief. I'd head to the mirror after a long day of school to see what I could find and "fix." It didn't seem like a big deal at first-I was simply cleaning out my pores, after all and besides, most of my friends picked their pimples too.

But after I was assaulted in my early teens, skin picking became a coping mechanism, a way I could feel a sense of control over my body. I started grazing (when you "scan" your skin with your fingertips, looking for bumps) my entire body throughout the day. Whatever I found, I picked. At home, I'd lock myself in the bathroom and dig into my skin, scraping off scabs and squeezing zits until I was spotted with inflamed and bloody welts. Physically, I looked like a plucked chicken, but mentally, I felt a release, something akin to a pure dopamine hit.