A Nail Bitting Moment!
The most likely time for it to happen was when I was deep in concentration. It was a subliminal action.
As far back as I can remember, I have been a nail bitter and as a child, my mother hated it and was determined to cure me of doing so. She tested many remedies to put into remission, this nasty habit. The worst of which was a smack with a wooden kitchen spoon to the back of the knuckles. This certainly got my attention, although it didn’t stop me from chewing my nails.
My mother was not a deliberately unkind person. In fact, quite the opposite. She had learned her ways from a very abusive and religious father who beat all of his children relentlessly, which she told me of in later life.
She, not knowing any different, practised tough love and a sharp slap with a wooden spoon. Whether it was to the back of the hand or leg (which really stung) was just her way.
I didn’t bite my nails to be defiant of her because as the consequences were always instant and very painful. My mom then tried a pharmaceutical remedy which came in a small bottle, which she applied to my nails with an equally small brush, like nail varnish. It was a simple idea and soon highlighted its potential as a deterrent, as it was hot. In fact, VERY HOT! So hot it burned my lips. I jumped around crying in pain and my mother smirked, thinking she had found the perfect solution. She hadn’t, and I soon got used to the heat and taste as I continued to bite my nails.
I often wonder if it was this which gave me a passion and pallet for hot and spicy? My wife is Asian and can’t go near the level of heat I crave in my food.
It backfired on my mom!
The application resulted in making my lips swell and gave me horrendous rash and spots around my mouth which looked worse than a bad case of acne. My poor mother’s concern grew by the day as the unsightly rash spread across my face quicker than foraging ants. By the end of the week, I looked as though I had advanced leprosy. Because of comments, worry and concerns from other parents, my mother was told I should remain at home till I fully recovered. This happened at Christmas and I didn’t return to school till after Easter. My God, what was in that witches’ brew?
I continued to bite my nails for the past sixty years and accepted if it was the worst, life would throw at me; I was getting away lightly. As I researched before writing this post, I learned this habit even has what I presume is a Latin title. It’s known as Onychophagia, which sounds indefinitely worse than nail biting. As I researched the reasons, anyone would bite their fingernails, I came across an AHA moment!
Apparently, it is a symptom of ADHD which I defiantly do have and can boast of all of my life. So, nail-biting for me has nothing to do with stress or anxiety, or the many other labels people are keen to attach to similar negative behaviour.
I have never used worry beads or drummed my fingers or tapped my feet, as many do as an alternative to nail biting. No, when thinking and concentrating on something, I bite and chewed my fingernails.
Then it happened!
Or rather, it didn’t. For no apparent particular reason, and I am unsure of the reasons. Approximately two weeks ago, I STOPPED the habit completely! Not even a little nip or taste. I had finished and was without desire. I made no conscious effort to do so, nor was I aware of the change. Only when I realised the length of my fingernails, which until today I have never seen so long. Only then did I stop and think. They were clicking on the computer keys and got in the way as I typed this short article. So, I stopped to do something about it. Today, trimming my nails was a new experience for me.
But why now?
I’d love to know? Have I got the early stages of dementia and forgotten chewing my nails was a lifelong habit, or has being a few days off my sixty-seventh birthday given me restraint or subliminal wisdom?
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