I had a driving lesson this morning, and we did one of the test routes to get me used to the format before my test at the end of the month. I mainly did well, but there were a few things that I didn’t nail. Which would have been fine, except I started picking the ever-loving crap out of my bottom lip in response. My instructor commented on it, which yeah… I was going to town on a bit of dead skin and it was driving me around the bend for existing and insert light notes of panic here. It’s totally an OCD-esque thing, I’m sure, but I’ve not really pushed for analysis of my OCD-esque traits yet. And as I sat there, trying to force my hands to stay on the wheel, I had to wonder if I’d ever hit a point where I didn’t ‘need’ to pick at my lips. At least I can take perverse comfort in that skin-picking itself is supposed to make it into DSM-V, right? It totally relieves anxiety even if it does cause bleeding and pain. Also? Let’s ignore the callous I chewed unto my finger, ’cause yanno… same boat. *coughs*
Oh, I’m sure that there is treatment out there, such as our usual friend CBT… but do I really want to stop something that provides immense relief? I’m absolutely unashamed of my lip-picking, and my finger callous… it’s been there for years and I’m used to it. It’s one of those little vices I let myself cling onto because if I didn’t have anything there to pretend I’m going to fix later, my brain would probably spend even more time freaking out over stupid crap; such are the games I must play to keep sane.
Anyhoos, I have a new toy to play with, so I’m going to get to that. *pets netbook and purrs*