“The best research suggests that 3% or more of the population lives with a BFRB—that’s over 10 million people in North America alone—yet they often go undiagnosed and untreated, causing shame and isolation.” – BFRB.org
Anyone who knows me, knows I am pretty open about my anxiety. When people first learn that this is something I struggle with, the response is often that they never would’ve guessed. This can be because I am someone commonly known as having an “A-type personality,” meaning I like to be in constant control of every avenue of my life and always make a point about showing it.
I’ve carefully curated every facet of my day-to-day habits. The clothes and jewelry I wear, the products I put on my body, the objects I have displayed in my room, the music I listen to — everything. This is because I have a bit of a perfection issue, which has forced my anxiety to operate on the high-functioning side.
On the outside, I may appear to be confident, ambitious, and organized; always ten minutes early, well-dressed, in constant work mode, and on the fast track to graduating with high distinction.
However, beneath the surface, I am grappling with an endless barrage of nervous energy. I don’t mean this in a quirky, socially awkward way. I mean it in the sense that it has pervaded my existence like its own physical entity. You know, kind of like the way people talk about depression as this dark, lurking shadow that drags them behind everywhere — except my anxious presence is perpetually bouncing off the walls and screaming bloody murder at the slightest embarrassment or inconvenience.
In some form or another, there is always a sense of impending doom lurking in the back of my mind, which then drives my never-ending fear of failure along with an incessant penchant for overthinking, asking for reassurance, and a seemingly permanent inability to relax.
Any laid-back personality would without a doubt call me high-strung and that would be an incredible understatement. And because I often never give voice to this ever-constant churning inside me, like an over-filled water tank with its lid tightly sealed, my anxiety has found a way of leaking out and manifesting physically.
Sometimes it’s minor, like temporary red blotches on my chest. Sometimes it’s major, like panic attacks or several days without a wink of sleep. But most of the time, it’s sitting somewhere in the middle — not necessarily impeding my day-to-day activities but always physically present.
I’m talking about BFRB: Body Focused Repetitive Behaviours. These are basically known to be a cluster of habitual behaviours, like hair pulling, nail biting, skin picking, lip or cheek biting, etc. Often it’s related to OCD, impulse control disorders, and (you guessed it) anxiety. According to BFRB.org, “these behaviours are not habits or tics; rather, they are complex disorders that cause people to repeatedly touch their hair and body in ways that result in physical damage.”
I didn’t learn that this was something I was struggling with until last year but it has been a steady fixture in my life for about ten years now. Every time I bit my nails, chewed my lips or cheeks until they bled, or twirled/twisted my hair until there were countless broken strands on my lap, there was always this underlying confusion. Why was this happening to me? And why on earth can’t I stop?
Let me say right now: combining BFRB with a perfectionist high-functioning personality is a recipe for disaster. I am constantly battling with myself and my impulses, fighting the shame over the physical evidence of my flaws. Anyone can take one look at me and think one thing, then glance at my nails and that perception could break in an instant. This is why I always have my hands fisted in public because enough people have made off-hand comments about the shortness of my nails for me to now know this is not something I should have on display.
But the more I learned about this disorder and the reasons I do what I do, the more I’ve learned to mitigate it. I know this is something that will never properly go away, but the best I can do is pick out the signs my body gives me and respond immediately and appropriately with the tools I have at my disposal.
The most important thing I discovered is that BFRB usually occurs as a self-soothing measure. If I’m overthinking, I’ll usually reach for my hair and begin to twirl very intensely. If I’m antsy, I’ll lift my fingers to my mouth. If I’m worried or frustrated, I’ll start chewing my lip. The impulse will always be there, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do everything I can to help myself get through it.
Now I’ve learned that if I want to stop biting my nails, I can paint them in my favourite Essie blush pink — this is where my perfectionism comes in handy, as I wouldn’t dare mess with it or allow it to chip, so the impulse disappears! If I want to slow down the lip chewing, I exfoliate and moisturize the heck out of them — again, I wouldn’t dare mess with an expensive Laneige lip therapy application. And if I ever need to twirl my hair? Then it’s time to bust out the hair clips and pin it all out of the way. Sometimes I try to be sneaky and try to slide my hair out from underneath, but multiple clips are often enough reinforcement.
As much as these measures help, they do end up leaving my body with no ways to self-soothe and this is still important. My mom bought me this tangle therapy toy last year and I have to say that despite my initial reservations, it’s helped immensely. It has the perfect texture and movement to satisfy my fidgety impulses and I can easily fiddle with it under the desk during meetings and as I’m working — all single-handedly!
Of course, none of this is to say the problem is solved. There are occasions where I’ll slip and still bite or twirl, but the most important lesson I’ve learned is to listen to my body and learn to be kinder to myself. People can always give me assurance, but the most important and valuable kind of encouragement will always come from myself. Often, just the simple thought of knowing I’m not alone in this experience can calm the raging sense of inadequacy and failure inside me. And that’s more than enough.