From the first that I knew him, I knew he had a skin condition.
I brought him special soaps to try.
I called him when I heard a man on a Saturday radio program promoting his miracle water that healed skin.
I said a week long novena, with his permission, though he was confused about God, to be guided to the answer - the cure.
I was guided.
On the last day of the novena I suddenly had the urge to turn on my television. On the channel that was previously set, was a special about allergies and skin conditions and it seemed apt. I suggested he send away for the show transcript.
I didn't tell him that I also had a tarot reading asking for the underlying cause, for my friend was always itching, tearing his skin up so that it never fully healed, even at night, even as he slept. He was tortured.
The tarot reading brought forth a card depicting a youth looking at his reflection in a pond which substitutes as a mirror.
This was more telling than I understood at the time. It suggests an obsession with one's appearance. I didn't know until years later that he was spending increasingly long periods of time in a mirror in skin clearing rituals. The depiction also suggested a person who is trying to figure out who he is, as we all do in moving towards maturity.
Another interpretation is a fellow in love with himself. I recently heard that Narcissistic people actually hate themselves.
Over time, because of small comments that some of his long time friends from his high school said to me, such as that he was "stuck" in high school, that he "always had to have his way," or that he was showing up for work so late that employees sat around waiting for him because of his skin rituals, I began to think.
I understood that he had not left his high school girlfriend behind, though she was long partnered and the mother of two in a distant city. She was an obsession and an excuse for why he just wasn't attracted enough or interested enough in other women.
As an employer he was quite liberal about letting employees take time off - even weeks. They got the work done. I had a boss who spent his afternoons partying when he was supposed to be out visiting good customers so I wasn't sure an absent boss was a problem. We were glad when this moody man wasn't in the office. I thought that for his employees his not being there could be a good thing.
My friend had a good sense of humor too. I wasn't prepared to call it a "compensation."
Some of his friends accepted he had a condition.
Absolutely no one called it a disability.
They were all entitled to their opinion, their own experience, but years later I didn't know if they had been honorable in saying so little and not telling me more sooner. Why hadn't they? My guess is a mix of pity, respect for privacy, ignorance, and a competitive attitude towards me - for some time the new best friend.
I thought of him as good and true. It takes time to know someone you thought so well of isn't.
Slowly, by incident, his illness began to hurt our friendship. I wanted him to get well, if that was possible, and the real medical issues that were present made it difficult to know how much was psychological.
He went to a medical doctor who basically was in business to give out prescriptions including psychotropics. He got a common antidepressant from him which he said did not help. Not a referral to a therapist. No.
Actually, my scratchy friend said, the meds made things worse because now he had no libido. I noticed that while he was on them he turned into a snotty person, arrogant and pompous. I was glad when he talked back to the meds, quite popular at the time, and threw the pills away.
Then, one day on the phone he said he was in pain from a physical issue not related to the skin condition. It sounded like a pulled muscle. He was at his wit's end. There was a hint of suicidal thoughts. I called one of his other women friends who I liked. I said I was really worried. Did she know of a good medical doctor because I didn't.
She seemed to think it was all in his head.
Years went by during which we saw much less of each other.
One day in a college computer lab, in walked a man who needed to use the computer I was on. He explained he was earning a doctorate in psychology and urgently needed to use a computer. Though working on my thesis for graduation, I readily agreed to get off the computer so he could get on. I had been thinking of my friend with the skin condition, who never called me long distance to see how I was doing or showed support, but who I visited on breaks. I said to the man, "Briefly, if you don't mind me asking," and I quickly told him the story.
"We find with such people that they build themselves a House of Cards and about the time they hit 40, it all falls down," said the proto-psychologist.
So the next time I was on break I went to visit my friend at his office. He was running frantic. This was what he did these days. Hours in the mirror, late to the office, running frantic.
I went to visit his mother, a woman I always liked. I hadn't planned to bring it up but she did. She began crying. "I hope it's not psychological," she said, tears smarting her eyes.
Somberly I said, "I think it is."
If anyone had been aware of all the desperation, the antics, the seeking, and the trying this and that - perhaps not one thing long enough, it had to be his parents.
Denial that their son was mentally ill.
Codependency.
I knew now that he had prevailed to get his way with them time and time again. If his business went poof, they were there with the mortgage payment till it picked up. No one seemed to think he couldn't possibly keep a job working for someone else.
Ultimately, what ended our friendship was my refusal to make excuses for behaviors of his caused by his mentally ill lifestyle.
He broke a promise to me at a very bad time, I caught him running away rather than face me about it, and I looked him square in the face and directly in the eyes.
I said not a word but I projected a message. "This is shit."
He ran to his car and pulled away.
//
Over Covid-19 time, I found a YouTube video put up by a woman who reminded me of this man. She admitted her skin condition was psychological. I think her diagnosis fits him. Self Harming. Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. Then I found another: Doctor Lee, otherwise known as Doctor Pimple Popper, who was a scarred woman's last hope. Applying medical tests, Doctor Lee pointed out that the scars and open lesions this woman had were the result of this woman's failure to stop picking at herself because they only appeared where she could reach and other tests revealed she didn't have cancer or a fungal infection. The doctor avoided suggesting she see a psychiatrist and sent this patient away with medicine patches to stop her fingers from touching sores as much as to apply medicine. The woman said she didn't agree with Doctor Lee that this was not a skin disease. Actually, this woman was in better condition than my old friend.
One time I saw him go into a zone where his eyes became transfixed on something far away or maybe something deep inside. Then he rhythmically began to scratch his legs.
We are not able to force an adult into psychiatric care or to take their meds.
I realize this is a complicated and confusing issue. I know there are health issues associated with any long term daily medication. Yet, combined with other forms of therapy, some people are able to achieve a better life.
There's help worth trying if you're a picker. Or maybe you pull your hair or eyebrows out.
It's OCD.
Being firm and not accepting him back into my life until he was being seen by a psychiatrist was not an easy thing for me. I hope his House of Cards didn't bury him.
Over the years he had tried everything but a psychiatrist.
C 2021
OCD is known for repetitive and ritualistic behaviors as well as obsessive thoughts. Hand washing, door checking - these are well known. OCD can also be hang up calling or repetitive message leaving.
