Sunday, August 06, 2017

Hardest wound yet to leave alone

I've a body littered with scars of dozens of wounds—because of my OCPD and my habit of picking at a scab as it is healing and therefore leaving a scar.

The scar ridge on my cheek is the hardest wound yet to leave alone. When dried it's a lump of dried skin I know I could cut from my face (or pull it off) and it's a delight to pick. Unless that is I slather the fucker with the steroid cream my horrified back-up doc prescribed me when he saw what I had done.

The greatest danger is on waking up because it's there, ready to be haved at. I have to get up and go and get the cream and rub a thick spread on it to prevent those puckered ridges forming which my OCPD-afflicted brain delights at tearing. I even tried putting the cream by my bedside to put it on before getting up but that didn't stop me.

I've slathered it now and unless I wash it off, then dry it for the sole purpose of having another go at it then in theory I'll now leave it alone. The cream robs the site of its "tingle", that message to your head there's an invader on your body and you can take it off if you diligently razor your face with a sharp finger nail. 

OCPD is not a fun thing to live with—and it's a co-morbidity with depression, anxiety and PTSD. That's just the mind—my body is a whole other temple to oddity and the perturbing strange.

It's all part of the Mikey experience; the game played by just the one person and who inadvertently set the difficulty at fucked.

But I wouldn't be me without all of that and that's still a game worth playing.

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