My name is Annabelle and I struggle with depression, anxiety, and dermatillomania (skin picking disorder). Everyday is a constant fight with the dark. Everyday is a constant fight with not reopening sores that scar and bleed. Everyday I have to cling to the love of God to save me.
My name is Annabelle and no one would ever guess I struggle with these things. When I am out in public I am smiling and laughing. I’m loud and opinionated. I am seemingly happy. The only people who see the truth are the ones closest to me. The only people who see behind the mask are the ones who have saved me from the edge of destruction.
Society assumes that because I am smiling and posting funny videos on Facebook that my life is great. Wow look she moved to Florida on her own.She must be having the time of her life. Little do people know I am calling my mom hysterical and depressed because I haven’t made any friends. With God’s grace and strength, I force myself to leave the house and try new things. I force myself to go eat alone. I don’t want to be another statistic.
My pride has always gotten in the way of asking those around me for help. I would turn to my parents but I would always wear my mask around my closest friends. “Everything is going great!” I’d tell them. Little did they know I was in my bed crying when I would send the text. My pride has kept me from making my deepest relationships real and honest.
I have never told a single soul about my dermatillomania. It is a disorder where a person cannot control the picking of their skin. People who have it pick for a multitude of reasons. I started doing it in elementary school. I remember kids asking me what was wrong with my arms and legs because they had sores all over them. My parents have tried everything to help me. I have seen many psychiatrists. I have been on plenty of medications for it. I have worn gloves. I have worn long sleeve shirts. I have seen counselors. Nothing has helped me so far. It is an extremely painful disorder. I rip my skin open time after time until it scars. I bleed constantly because there aren’t many moments that I am not ripping my skin open.
I am confessing all of this not for a cry for attention but for a cry for prayer. My anxiety, depression, and dermatillomania have gotten worse. I am having panic attacks constantly and my depression is consuming me. My parents have rallied around me to support me and pray for me. God spoke to me and told me to swallow my pride and ask for help. Ask for prayer. Ask for my closest friends to pray for me.
I long for the day when I am a peace. I long for the day that I feel joy from the moment I wake up till I go to sleep. I long for the day when the Lord sets me free from my anxiety.
The Father has me in his hands and hears my cries for help. I believe one day that I will be healed. As for now, I ask that you rally in prayer for me.
I love you all and thank you for your support!