“Please Don’t Call It Gross”: Living With Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviors in Silence

There are things people live with for years that never make it into conversation—not because they’re rare, but because one reaction can shut the door forever. A raised eyebrow. A half-smile. That tiny moment when you realize the other person is about to label you.

This is a de-identified story about Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviors (BFRBs)—repetitive actions like nail biting, skin picking, or cheek chewing. It’s written in a human voice because that’s how it’s lived: not as a “fun fact,” not as a quirky trait, but as something complicated, exhausting, and often invisible.

A quiet pattern that starts early

For one person, it began in childhood the way many habits do—small, easy to miss. Nails bitten down. Skin around fingers picked until it looked raw. It wasn’t a “phase.” It was a loop. And because it didn’t come with a dramatic announcement, it lived in the background.

Parents noticed the surface signs sometimes. But the deeper part—the urge, the trance, the after—was harder to see.

And that’s the part most people don’t understand:
these behaviors aren’t always a decision. Sometimes they feel like a reflex. Sometimes they happen while your mind is somewhere else.

“If you call it disgusting, I won’t tell you anything”

There’s a line that stuck with me while reading this person’s experience:

People don’t hide because they don’t know.
They hide because they do know.

They know it can look odd.
They know it can be unhygienic.
They know it’s not something you casually bring up at dinner.

So when someone—especially someone close—reacts with disgust, even subtly, the message lands hard:

“Don’t talk about this again.”

That one moment can turn a manageable struggle into a private life sentence.

And that’s why “just stop” doesn’t work.
Not because the person hasn’t tried.
But because the behavior isn’t only a habit—it’s often tied to stress, focus, overwhelm, or emotional overload.

The invisible fuel: anxiety, neurodivergence, and difficulty naming emotions

This person had diagnoses like ADHD and anxiety, and also described signs of neurodivergence and difficulty identifying and describing emotions (often called alexithymia).

That combination matters because it can create a perfect storm:

• you feel uncomfortable or overloaded,
• you can’t easily name what you’re feeling,
• and your brain reaches for something that creates short-term relief.

Sometimes that relief comes from movement. Sometimes from pressure. Sometimes from repetitive behaviors that feel “automatic.”

Not everyone with BFRBs has the same background, and not everyone has the same pattern. But it’s common for these issues to overlap.

When it starts to cost you—time, skin, confidence

One of the hardest parts in this story is not the behavior itself.
It’s the hours.

This person described zoning out and picking or chewing for long stretches without realizing. The body gets tired. Joints ache. Posture collapses. You come back to yourself and feel shocked by how much time disappeared.

Then comes the second punch: checking the mirror or touching your skin and feeling the damage.

That’s often where shame gets louder.

And shame is a powerful trap. Because shame increases stress. And stress increases urges. And the loop deepens.

“I’m not lazy. I’m stuck.”

The story also touched something many people relate to: the way mental health can look like laziness from the outside.

When you’re overwhelmed, you might miss assignments. Avoid tasks. Stay in bed longer than you want to. Not because you don’t care—because your brain and body feel jammed.

Sometimes the behaviors spike exactly when things matter most: exams, deadlines, major transitions. The pressure doesn’t push you forward. It pushes you into coping.

And that’s why judgment doesn’t help.
It only adds weight to an already overloaded system.

What helps more than “stop”: replace, reduce, repeat

There’s a practical insight in this person’s journey that deserves more attention:

Harm reduction beats perfection.

Instead of expecting instant change, it helped to redirect the behavior toward something safer.

For example:

• a chewable necklace,
• gum,
• a fidget,
• a routine that gently interrupts the “zoning out” pattern.

It wasn’t magical. It didn’t erase the urge overnight.
But it created a bridge: from “I can’t stop” to “I can shift.”

That’s a big difference.

Because when you feel a little control, the shame eases.
And when shame eases, the urge often becomes less intense.

The complicated part: wanting help, fearing the reaction

This person described being afraid to seek professional support—not because they didn’t want it, but because they feared judgment.

That fear makes sense. People do get judged. Even by well-meaning family members. Even by people who should know better.

And the scary part is: one facial expression can do more damage than a lecture.

If you’re someone trying to support a person with BFRBs, here’s the simplest rule:

Don’t lead with disgust.

Lead with curiosity and respect.

Even a calm sentence like:

• “Thanks for telling me.”
• “That sounds exhausting.”
• “What helps even a little?” can change the entire conversation.

A note on safety and urgency (without labels)

The person writing this story questioned whether their situation would ever be treated seriously unless it looked like an emergency.

That’s a painful reality for many people: support often arrives late, after things escalate.

BFRBs can range from mild to severe. When they cause ongoing injury, distress, or major life disruption, they deserve attention. Not dismissal.

If someone reading this feels stuck, it’s okay to start small:

• talk to a trusted clinician,
• look for a therapist familiar with BFRBs,
• explore evidence-based approaches like Habit Reversal Training (HRT) or broader CBT-based support.

You don’t need to “prove” suffering to deserve help.

The unexpected upside: healing changes the mind too

One of the most hopeful parts of this story is also the simplest:

When the person let their body heal—even for a while—they felt better.

More confident.
More positive.
More “themselves.”

That doesn’t mean healing is easy. It means it’s worth it.

Sometimes the body is the doorway back to the mind.
Not through punishment—but through care.

If you’re trying to help someone like this

Here’s what this story teaches, in plain terms:

• Don’t shame them.
• Don’t treat it like a gross secret.
• Don’t demand instant stopping.
• Help them replace the behavior, slowly.
• Praise progress that looks small.
• Respect boundaries if they don’t want details.
• Keep the conversation open so they don’t have to carry it alone.

Because the biggest risk isn’t always the behavior itself.

The biggest risk is that someone feels so judged they never ask for help again.

Final thoughts

Some problems don’t announce themselves.
They hide behind jokes, silence, and “I’m fine.”

If this story felt familiar, you’re not alone—and you’re not broken.
You’re a human being with a coping pattern that got too heavy to carry.

And you deserve support that doesn’t make you feel less human.

Short version for YouTube Short / FB / WhatsApp

Option A (voiceover, ~20–25 sec)
Some habits aren’t “gross”—they’re coping.
Body-focused repetitive behaviors like skin picking or cheek chewing can happen automatically, especially with anxiety or ADHD.
Shame doesn’t stop it. It just makes people hide it.
What helps is compassion and small replacements—like gum or a chew tool—one step at a time.

Option B (caption-style, ~2–3 lines)
If someone opens up about BFRBs, don’t react with disgust.
Shame makes it worse.
Compassion + small replacements can work better than “just stop.”

Option C (WhatsApp status, 1 line)
Some “bad habits” are actually hidden coping—compassion helps more than judgment.