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Showing posts from January 6, 2019

No one can see that I am a skin picker

I am trying to stop. I seek help, treat my skin, and love how I look when I can mask it.  But the new semester is starting. I am still their mother, and the bills are still due. So stress makes this worst. Me. Still, lust after me and try to smile but beneath, I am a ball of nerves. So I begin to pick. My face is the first place I go because I feel I am not worthy of beauty.  Then I say I must heal myself, so I pour alcohol on cotton balls and pat the open wounds. I scream out in pain, not sure if they can hear me. But without makeup, my children see the true me. The raw me ill me. And when I stop for a period of time, my skin shines and looks so young and soft. But life as to be going well. The kid's lives must be going well; school for me is going well, my love life is in and popping. And the bills are paid. So the clear skin does not last for long. Dry skin adds to its pain and stress. I can get help, and I motivate myself and use a wonderful life coach.