6 times the Charm City?

So as of the moment I have two blogs with the same name on two separate blogging platforms.

The other one is on wordpress.

I have yet to decide what I'm going to do about it.  There's pros and cons to both platforms.


Until I figure out which site is going to officially become Three Times the Charm City, expect content from both blogs.  I plan to make this site more fun and slack and the other more professional and informational.

We'll see.

Another 19 hours wasted...

Have some self-love:

Good day

I volunteered with my father for March for the Animals today.  I was worried that I wouldn’t be much of a help in my current condition but luckily they found a job perfect for me.  I was settled in a little station where people could have their picture taken with their dog for the SPCA website.  I sat in a folding chair most of the time, then popped up to take the occasional picture, all while petting adorable dogs (including a hilariously ill-proportioned corgi puppy!) on a gorgeous day.  It honestly couldn’t get much better than that! 

As fate would have it, the only pic I managed to grab on my own camera was of the tortoise that started chasing me the moment after I took it.

(Dad says it probably wasn't going after me.  I say he didn't see the red hot murderous fury in that tortoise's soulless beady eyes.)

So I’m thinking that if I can’t do a job right now, I can at least do some volunteer work and, yeah, probably I'm going to SPCA or Art with a Heart, if they're looking for help.  Also, I'm helping Cory out with his web series.

I really don't know what to do with myself right now, but I'm trying not to make things worse by stressing.

The side effects of the chocohol are lightening up a bit, thankfully, but I'm still having cravings, fatigue, and anxiety.  I'm thinking I'm probably going to go into a sugar coma sporting one eyebrow. 

I'm not sure why the xtillomania is so prevalent right now.  I think I'm largely out of the woods in terms of mood problems.  

I guess I'm having "picking up the pieces" anxiety or "what the hell do I do now?" anxiety.  

I'm considering mittens.

Dermatillomania, trichotillomania, onychophagia- Oh my!

FOREWARD

Before I get to dropping fancy words and pretending to know what I’m talking about, I want it to be clear that nothing I say on this blog is backed by more knowledge than that of a high school student’s research paper.

I guess the main reason I operate under these terms is that I’ve experienced many of the things I wish talk about and have done some research in order to better understand myself. So I know at least enough about this stuff to be able to weigh in.  If this blog opens up and I start getting readers, I would take research more seriously, ask for corrections and better understandings.  Any comments.  Yiss.

Now onto your regularly scheduled ramblings…

I was drawn out of my bed around 4pm with the promise of food.  I staggered to the bathroom, unreasonably exhausted, and caught my eye in the bathroom mirror.  The right side of my face is red and traumatized, the left half spotty.  My eyebrows, which I had been intentionally growing out for several weeks (as is in fashion) are uneven with bald spots.  I hear "sisters, not twins," and scoff.  I hear my mother’s groan of disapproval but lack the energy to do anything about it.

I’ve had some pretty persistent acne for the past few months that I attributed to stress at first, then to a hormone imbalance.  Now I’m thinking it’s both in addition to the fact that I won’t leave my poor skin be.  I poke, pinch and scratch until it bleeds.  This in it's aggressive form is called dermatillomania- compulsive skin picking.  The alarming thing is that even though patches of my skin are less-than-pleasant, I'm a very mild case of dermatillomania.  There are people who sport evidence of their disorder all over their body, and have marks and sores more visible or in worse condition, getting infections or leaving scars.

I do have trichotillomania, or compulsive hair-pulling, but again due to the fact that I keep my attention away from the hair on my scalp, I consider it a nuisance more than a burden.  Some people with the disorder have to wear wigs, hats, or bandanas in order to hide their shame.  There are also people who suffer from trichophagia, with which a person will pull out their hair and then ingest it.  At it’s worse, the hair forms a bezoar in the person’s stomach and may need to be surgically removed.

I’m fortunate enough not to go that far.  I just have to go around with extra eyeliner and poorly-drawn eyebrows.  In my last semester at MICA I was so stressed out from thesis that I finally resorted to shaving off my eyebrows then drawing them on every morning.

This picture was taken of me on a camping trip soon after I started pulling.  It seems I have no eyelashes and sparse eyebrows.  Another aspect about this photo that is disconcerting to me is that I’m pulling on the bottom of my shirt.  I remember that shirt was a bit tight and I thought that if I pulled on it so it wasn't clinging to my stomach, it would look less evident.

I wasn't feeling too good about myself in this picture.

I think one thing that every person with any degree of these disorders (also known as Body Focused Repetitive Behavior, which is on the continuum of obsessive-compulsive) is that their suffering is out there for anyone to see and little to understand.

Body Focused Repetitive Behavior is largely a coping mechanism for those who suffer from anxiety, in its many forms.  Many people pop their pimples or chew their nails (onychophagia) but when it happens to the point of excess, when it becomes the major avenue a person copes with an underlying issue, that’s when it becomes a problem. (I don’t know that this is true for anyone else, but I also consider trichotillomania a gateway coping mechanism.)

So if you can’t say you’ve never pulled out your own hair, cracked your joints, chewed your nails, popped a pimple, picked a scab, pulled apart a split-end and so-on, you might wonder why a person would do something like that.  Why would any of those activities would be rewarding to the point of addicting?

It seems modern science can’t tell you too much on the topic.  But I can tell you what it feels like.

It’s somehow always a shock that it occurs exactly when you’re feeling stressed, as though it's too obvious.  Sometimes I’II get a feeling of discomfort along my eyebrows or my lash-line.  Sometimes I notice a hair out of place.  Sometimes I just plain feel compelled or I might pull the first one unconsciously. 

It’s as satisfying as popping bubble wrap with the additional relief- like I’m purging something harmful, ridding a defunct hair.

(It’s also where this habit most clearly stems into the territory of OCD for me, due to the fact that it involves the concept of contamination.  More on that later.)

I don't remember it ever being that painful, but maybe I've just grown a tolerance.  As it is now it’s the kind of pain you feel when you’re massaging a sore and tender part of your body- it hurts slightly but is ultimately soothing.

Then it’s that old potato chip simile.  You can’t just have one.

I’m not all that ashamed of it anymore.  It was with my last episode several months ago that I stopped giving a fuck.  Maybe I was getting back to my punk rock roots.  I had no eyebrows and, well, that was that.  The world didn’t live and die by my eyebrows. 

It's not to say of course that I enjoy not having eyebrows/lashes or feel attractive in their absence or that any person should care less when sporting baldness or that they shouldn't be prepared to be judged.  I used to go through great lengths in order to hide evidence of my mood or anxiety.

I just hope that people can learn to be at peace with their afflictions.  I know that's a tall order.  You will probably never be happy with your afflictions, but I hope you can be at peace.

So, you know what….

Chocohol is kicking my ass.  The cravings.  This twitching and dropping things.

I just dropped what I’m sure were to be four scrumptious chocolate chip cookies on the sidewalk.

So basically, it gives me the utmost desire to have sweets, then makes unceremoniously me drop them on ground.

This is why I can't have nice things.