Day 1

First blog post.  I picked my fingers again tonight.  And ate ice cream for dinner.  When I say I picked my fingers, I don't mean I pick at my nails or that I pull off dry skin and leave it at that.  I mean that I actively pick the skin of my fingers off.  It always starts the same way, a patch of dry skin, or a rough patch that I feel I have to take care of, I'll just pick it off, I think, and then it will be ok.  But it is never ok.  Just picking that simple piece of skin off leads to a frenzy.  By the time I am done, half (or more than half) my fingers are an ugly bloody mess.  I do not stop when I watch myself pull my own skin off my fingers.  I do not stop when I see it start bleeding.  I do not stop when it hurts.  I have this need to keep going.  I will just take care of this one thing, I think.  I need to smooth it out, I think.  Meanwhile, several hours later, I have band aids on my fingers and guilt on my mind.  Depression sets in.  Why am I like this?  Am I alone?  Am I a freak?  I can not control my own actions, what is wrong with me?