So I remember the day it started. I was 11 I think. I remember asking my mother what these black bumps on my forehead were. I had 4 of them. She said, "Oh they're blackheads." and then showed me how to pop them. After that I would spend HOURS sometimes 4 or more in front of the mirror, sitting by cross-legged on the sink. I would use my finger mostly but also used tools such as tweezers. I am 25 now and it's gotten a lot better. Something I never thought was possible. I remember that it greatly improved once I left my parents' house for good. Where I was once spending 4+ hours a day to this ritualistic obsession I now spend maybe 30 mins to an hour and maybe only 7 days out of a month. I remember my parents used to mock and shame me and would stand outside the bathroom door banging it and telling me that I was making myself ugly. So when I would eventually leave the bethroom they would scrutinize my face and chest and tell me how disgusting it looked. Which only made me do it more intensely. Everyone always thought I had acne because that's what I told them as I was too ashamed. My parents didn't even try to help it understand. They said, "Just stop doing it. Why do you want to look hideous?" Hurt a lot. I still lie about he massive scarring in my chest when people ask. I just say I had chicken pox really bad (which I did) but it's not the real reason for my scarring. So ashamed. Thanks for having this place.