Stressed Much? Why, yes, I even have proof.

While several of you know that I have some slight OCD going on, very few (if any) of you know that when I am VERY stressed out, I have a nasty habit. And by VERY stressed out, I mean that I didn't do this particular thing when I was in hospital last year for 15 days, when I was going through Thesis Hell (tm) last year, or when I was unemployed and scared that I would have to move back to Missouri.

However, now with having a job that I love, working with people that I love, and facing the very real possibility of losing my job, combined with the stress of having exactly one full day and either one or two evenings (depending on the week) to myself (as in, no commitments), combined with the stress of hating one of my professors because he's clearly homophobic/biphobic, combined with The Big Project at work putting a ton of pressure on me...

Plus, the universe continues to throw shit at my friends. I have friends who are trying to make major life decisions that aren't easy to make. Friends going through major life adjustments. Friends dealing with illness and death. And while I'M not going through it, what affects my friends affects me. Because I love them. And I want to be there for them.

Yeah.

I'm taking a bit of a leap of faith here because some of you won't understand. And that's okay. Some of you might not even TRY to understand. And I can understand that, too, although it's unfortunate. But I have faith that those of you that are my True Friends will try to understand, even if you don't.

So. When I get VERY stressed, I pick at my skin. Usually the skin on my lips. Think about when someone has chapped lips and they pick the dead skin off. Not a big deal, right? Now think about doing that until the lips are bleeding. And they aren't even chapped. The person just digs into the skin with their nails and picks and picks and picks until there's something to grab onto. And then keeps picking. And won't let it heal.

I had an appointment with my therapist today and I told her that I've been so stressed that I started picking again. When I moved my hand away from my mouth, she could see it from across the room. She was shocked. I haven't done this in YEARS - as in, probably about four years, if not more. I've worked hard to develop other methods of coping with stress, but they've all failed me now.

And the fact that I fell off the wagon in and of itself kind of wigs me out.

But she and I talked and I feel better. We reviewed coping mechanisms. We talked about how to deal with work stress. She gave me ideas for managing my homophobic professor. She helped me brainstorm where to do the job search.

But still...