Sometimes The Hardest Thing To Do Is Nothing At All

I pray anyone who reads will take my words and apply any to their lives that seem suitable...in the hopes that I may help them while I try to help myself...

I’m going on day three of no picking. The false nails are helping more than I imagined they would. At first, they were the only thing keeping me from tearing into my skin. But the longer I go without picking, the less I find myself relying on the nails, and the more I find myself relying on pride and determination. The fake nails have been my training wheels, and hopefully I can take them off soon and pedal safely to being healed.

The first day was the hardest. I looked in the mirror, and tell myself I couldn’t scratch, and I’d cry over not being able to “fix” my perceived imperfection. If I didn’t fix it, I would feel dirty and ugly. But the longer I go without “fixing”, the less I feel I need to “fix”. Even my recent breakouts and a bug bite on my knee have not gotten in my way yet. I feel extremely proud.

I’m learning about myself as I wade through the floodwaters of both a broken-off relationship and a struggle with my picking habit. I’m learning that sometimes the hardest thing for me to do is absolutely nothing. I’m learning that I have to let go of the idea that I can “fix” my skin or relationship with one move or one thought. As much as I want to find the one thing to say or do that will heal all and bring my problems to peace, I have to recognize that just as in my swimming lesson where I learned that the more I struggle, the faster I sink, the more I try to “fix” my skin or solve my relationship issues, the more rapidly both get out of hand. I have to take deep breaths and relax if I want to float.

But I’m proud of my progress.

Perhaps I’ve said this before, but I consider two kinds of relationships to be the hardest:

1. Relationships with long distance

2. Relationships where addiction-type behavior exists

I guess you could say I’ve been involved in two relationships at once where both of those were happening at the same time in each of them.

One with another person.

Another with myself.

I obviously have an addiction-type behavior (though I know it’s more than that).

I would also consider myself in a long distance relationship with myself.

How can I be in a long-distance relationship with myself?

I can explain it simply.

I’ve felt a sense of detachment from myself for a while…off and on. Sometimes I feel fully present in my body and happy to be there. Other times I feel so jaded and dismal that I have this sense of “floating along” and barely getting by. I’ve been trying to find out why for some time. Sometimes I’m just not myself at all, and then I look in the mirror later and say “hey there, happy girl. You’re back…I haven’t seen you in a while”.  I don’t know why she shows up, but she’s usually around when I’m crafting, or daydreaming, or doing something I like. But even then, there are times she refuses to show her face. She’s there on the first day of a visit home from college to my family, though she fades by the end of the week and reappears when I get my own space back. She’s often there in the presence of my recently-slightly-less-significant-other (“Ex-boyfriend” sounds too harsh) when she feels hopeful that he’s recovering, and that there’s still a chance to save things now that she’s getting better too.


But my cynical half keeps this girl in check. My cynical half tells me that we will both “relapse”, and that there won’t be a “better” or a “later” for us.  She tells me that even if I don’t pick, I will always be covered in scars and look dirty.

Maybe it’s odd that I refer to different traits about myself as being different people, but I feel that it’s like having kids in a way. Referring to them all as individuals helps me see where/who different thoughts are coming from and who I need to pay attention to and nurture a little extra that day….who I need to discipline lovingly…who I need to hug and reassure.

Again, I have to find the balance…

Between telling myself there is hope and telling myself that hope is an illusion and I will soon see that what I want most is just not meant to happen.

But for both situations, one of the most important factors is love.

So long as I love myself, I stand a chance of getting better.

So long as we love each other, there’s a chance of a future between us.

But no one can promise me either of these things.

This is more incentive to keep on going and keep on trying...

Trying to do nothing.

To do nothing about my wounds but give them ointment, keep my hands down, and accept that what I think will “help” will only hurt.

To do nothing about my recently-slightly-less-significant-other but leave him alone, give him space, and let him approach to me if that’s what he chooses. He too is one of my wounds; constantly messing with him to try and “fix” things will only irritate the situation.

To just be myself, take a deep breath, and not struggle…

…so that I may float.

I’ve watched on in the past three days and found something amazing.

When you leave your skin alone, it heals. Fast.

Maybe I’m stupid for not really realizing that before, but my body has healed wounds plenty of times without me really leaving them alone. It takes a long time, and the scars are deep. In fact, I have wounds that are just now healing that have been open for over three months. They were the most tempting because they were in a place my clothes always cover, making them some of the easiest to hide. They’re the ones I’m most ashamed of right now because they are deep purple marks on otherwise white skin. Even though they have healed almost all the way, they might as well always be there with how much they stand out.

Picking makes my wounds permanently noticeable.

If I pretend they aren’t there and leave them alone, it’s like they never were.

I have realized that my skin is amazing and alive.

And I don’t want to hurt it anymore if I can help it.

I will heal.