"What's your NYE resolution, Whumpee?" Friend asked excitedly, "oh um, it's a secret." Whumpee smiled. "Hey, what did you do to your hand?" Friend asked. "Nothing! I just uh, scraped it." Whumpee lied.
Next week:
"Hey Whumpee! How are you- oh my gosh your FACE! Are you ok?!" Whumpee's eyes filled and threatened to spill over. "Well. My NYE resolution isn't really a secret anymore." Whumpee took a deep, shaky breath as Friend gave Whumpee time to speak.
"I have dermatillomania. It means I can't stop picking my skin and my NYE resolution is to stop. I decided that if I was picking, that I'd put a bandage on the spot to stop myself. As you can see, this is how it's going. There are more under my clothes. I look like the aftermath of a cheese grating incident." The tears began as they whimpered the last sentence. There was so much bitterness in their voice as they truly believed they were worth less for their condition.
Friend stood there in silence, stunned. They knew Whumpee had some weird scars but never knew the origins. "D-doesn't it.. hurt?.... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that." "No it's ok to ask. I'm glad to be able to talk to someone about it. I can't really feel it in the moment. At the time, I'm too focused on the picking. And I really want to stop because it's embarrassing. I'm literally doing this to myself but I don't have control."
"Have you tried talking to a doctor about this?" "I'm afraid they'll put me away in a hospital thinking I'm doing it on purpose to hurt myself." "Right, but you aren't. This is a symptom of a condition and you deserve to have it treated. At least, that's my opinion." "Well, I guess it's worth a shot." "If you want, I can come with you as like, an advocate! Or I can just sit in the waiting room. Whatever makes you feel safer."
Whumpee's eyes filled again. "Thank you."
