Pax Nortona – A Blog by Joel Sax
From the Land of the Lost Blunderbuss
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Category: OCD
Of Crumbs and Dandruff
Posted on January 3, 2006 in OCD
I pick at my navel, the bridge of my nose, my chin, and my toes.
To be Bipolar and Blog
Posted on October 21, 2005 in Blogging Mania OCD
This is what it means to be bipolar and a blogger: you are forever seeing other bloggers using mental illness as a means of defaming those they don’t like.
Wet Compulsions
Posted on October 20, 2005 in Cats OCD
This just happens — regardless of whether I am in mania or depression or a stable state.
Pollen Pushed by a Santa Ana
Posted on April 18, 2005 in Disappointment Encounters OCD
. It can be hard for me to not to blame myself for the noshow — what is wrong with me? — a style of thinking which I am best allowing to blow through like pollen shoved through my nostrils like a Santa Ana.
The Mind of A Stalker
Posted on April 11, 2005 in OCD Responsibility
In my loneliness, sometimes, I get euphoric when obtaining a phone number or an email address.
Moody Blogs Again
Posted on March 4, 2005 in Anxiety Depression Mania OCD PTSD
There’s no need to be alone or to hide.
Sign of the Cross
Posted on September 28, 2003 in Book of Days College OCD
I never managed to quite shake the Catholic out of myself. Not that it is such a bad thing.
Pickings 2
Posted on August 5, 2003 in OCD Psychotropics
Others pick at their arms, their toes, their face. I pick at a pair of old blisters, my navel, and a spot hidden by my beard.
The Secret
Posted on September 21, 2002 in Avoidance OCD
“You don’t seem nervous and shy to me at all,” Alan averred when I told him that people made me anxious. I picked at my finger under the table, sluicing the hypertension away. “I put up a good front,” I said.
Parings
Posted on September 19, 2002 in Fact-Dropping OCD Psychotropics
Do you recall my mentioning that a rhino’s horn is made of the same stuff as a fingernail? The thought occurs to me that I could save my parings, grind them up, and sell them to desperate Asian businessmen.
Pickings
Posted on September 16, 2002 in OCD
Something’s eating me. The evidence is on my fingers, three of them in particular. The two index fingers and the left thumb. There are these spots there on each where I pick at the skin using my finger nails and my teeth. Ever hear of [[trichotillomania]]? ((Skin picking is called [[dematillomania]].)) People with this disorder pull out their hair. They keep at the harvest until small bald patches crop up. They can cover them with the unplucked remainder for a time, but after a while, the urge begins to show itself.
I don’t have trichotillomania. I do this thing to my fingers instead. The spots I choose are all old scars, places where I cut myself or developed a blister. It’s nothing spectacular. I’ve never whittled the skin down to the bone. Sooner or later, I pull off a little too much and open a wound. Then I stop myself. I chew on the inner corners of my lower lip or pick at my navel or at this spot on my chin which is well covered by my beard. I leave the hair alone.
I figure something’s eating me and I am taking out little pieces of surface flesh to propitiate it. This is the price I pay for being silent about something, I suppose. Now I need to sit awhile until I know what needs to be spoken.
UPDATED: 6/14/2011
