I’m a Nail Nibbler — and I Hate It

Dissecting the psychological torment of a lifelong habit

Confession time over.

That picture is definitely not my nails. I wouldn’t ever consider showing them. To anyone.

The fact I am even here telling the whole Medium world is a huge step for me. I am mortally embarrassed by my tendency to chew my nails practically to the quick. I have done so since I was a child and it is something I am highly ashamed of.

I write this story with enormous trepidation.

I write it with the fear of being labelled, judged, ridiculed, and/or rejected.

I’m writing it to inform and educate — and heal. I write risking all of the above.

In the beginning

None of my girly friends had ugly nails like me. I recall going to my friend Susan’s house and her mum had a basket-full of emery boards, cuticle creams, and pretty nail polishes. It seemed every Saturday night was ‘nail night’. Her mum would remove the old polish off her long, strong nails with a stinky, smelling liquid, file and buff them and reapply a different colour.

I was in awe and completely envious.

I remember sitting beside a girl in elementary school who had a significant port-wine birthmark on her face. I felt for her looking so different from all the other girls in the class. But that wasn’t what caught my daily attention.

It was her beautiful nails.

I was so jealous of her! Her long, thin fingers had perfect moons, smooth cuticles, and a seemingly manicured curve at the end of each finger.

In comparison, my fingers — although long — had moons that were swallowed up with ragged, overgrown cuticles and my nails were stubs.

They still are.

Why do people bite their nails?

There are days that I blame my mother for not cracking the whip hard enough on my nasty habit. Both my brother and sister also chewed their nails and yet both mum and dad didn’t.

They managed to break the habit.

Yes, mum used to paint foul-tasting stuff on them and I’d be told to stop if they caught me in the act — or get the odd smack. Corporal punishment was part and parcel of discipline back in those days.

Mum would do a regular manicuring of hers, filing them into a sharp point. She didn’t apply polish very often but when she did I was again envious she couldn’t do the same to me.

I just kept on chewing mine.

Looking back I wonder if it was a subconscious behaviour to cope with my mothers' absence in my upbringing as a young child? She was sick and spent months either in the hospital or being cooped up in her room. I don’t recall much of this, but did write about her battles in an early story ‘Beating the Odds.’ I wonder if she felt guilty, hence not coming down on me like a ton of bricks when I did chew them?

Onychophagia is the medical term for nailbiting. In an article in Psychology Today, it defines it as:

a pathological oral habit and grooming disorder characterized by chronic, seemingly uncontrollable nail biting that is destructive to fingernails and the surrounding tissue

Most of the time I do it without even realizing it. I’ve been doing it so long, I now associate its occurrence when I am either bored, nervous, or hungry. Once I start, I can’t stop. Back and forth across each finger I go, tearing off a little piece of nail — or skin — with my teeth.

Frequently, I go too far which often leads to a larger piece of me being unwittingly extracted and pain results — and sometimes blood.

At that point, I may stop. Or, I move on to my next victim. I’m ready for the kill; I’m in a fiendish nibbling mood. Maybe a thumbnail or a pinky is next? Perhaps I need to go and re-tackle that bit I had a go at earlier and wasn’t satisfied?

I’ll try from a different angle. Where there is a will there is a way.

When there is nothing left to get my teeth on, or I get distracted, I will stop. I vow and declare to never do it again. I forget about them for a day, sometimes a few, but when the urge reappears, my willpower is rapidly dissolved with the insatiable desire to nibble any new growth away.

More growth is more prey for my appetite.

For those of you with perfect nails and never the inclination, this will sound foreign; probably disgusting, and unfathomable.

But it is me — and 10% of the adult population.

The DSM5 and Onychophagia

The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) is the authoritative guide to the diagnosis of mental disorders for health care professionals around the world. In the United States alone, it influences the care that millions of people of all ages receive for mental health issues. Clinicians use DSM to accurately and consistently diagnose disorders affecting mood, personality, identity, cognition, and more. The manual does not address treatment or medications. Source

In the most recent edition of this diagnostic compendium — the DSM5 — nail-biting is briefly mentioned in association with other disorders that fall under the Obsessive-Compulsive Related Disorders umbrella. Trichotillomania (Hair-Pulling Disorder) and Excoriation (Skin-Picking) are the main behaviours that are listed in this classification and are often referred to as Body-Focused Repetitive Behaviours (BFRB).

If you want to read an analysis of these disorders, the Canadian BFRB support network has written a summary of their findings and opinion on the recent changes to the DSM5.

Essentially, nail-biting, although considered a relatable obsessive-compulsive behaviour, has not been classified as a mental disorder. It is ‘flagged’ as a potential sign of other more serious disorders such as depression, attention deficit disorders, and of course, obsessive-compulsive disorders (OCD).

But it can simply be just a nasty habit that is difficult to break.

What about me?

I’ve had a brush with depression before the complete failure of my marriage, but do not consider my nail-biting habit as a result of that. I was doing it long before the demise.

I’ve studied OCD in nursing and never believed myself to fall under the typical examples of the classification. To me — and the DSM5 — OCD is when repetitive behaviour causes dysfunction in one's everyday lifestyle to the point of becoming ruled by it.

Yes, it pre-occupies my mind, but it does not stop me from functioning ‘normally’ within society. The main problem with my habit is it is an utter embarrassment. I am not mentally ill or dysfunctional.

The ironic thing is I am a perfectionist in my everyday life. I have written about my need for my surroundings and work to be orderly and organized, and spend hours writing my stories here on Medium to ensure they are grammatically correct and respect the wishes of a prospective publisher. I thrive on doing things right.

The state of my nails seems oxymoronic in terms of my usual behaviour. Presenting with vile, hagged nails is not congruent to perfectionism.

Or is it?

Research on nail-biting

I discovered an interesting magazine article that honestly, might as well be written about me. It brought my attention to some research that was carried out — ironically by the Psychology Department at the University of Quebec at Montreal (UQAM), the city where I now live.

The study was conducted circa 2013, to determine the impact of emotions on BFRB’s. Amongst other screening measures, two, in particular, caught my eye after reading the research abstract.

• The style of planning questionnaire (STOP) that measures maladaptive behaviours such as ‘the unwillingness to relax, high standards of personal organization and complicating straightforward tasks’
• The Frost Multidimensional Perfectionism Scale (FMPS) ‘that measures perfectionism across 6 dimensions: Concern over Mistakes, Personal Standards, Parental Expectations, Parental Criticism, Doubts over Actions, and Organization’

The final analysis from the research undertaken was that ‘individuals with maladaptive planning styles on the STOP and elevated perfectionism scores on the FMPS had greater difficulties regulating emotion…and that cognitive therapies…designed to address…modify…these issues could effectively reduce BFRB’s.’

My personal analysis of the research

First of all, I would love to complete these two questionnaires as I am sure I would be off the charts on both of them. The crux of their subject was like music to my ears. This research gave me hope that if I understood the deep-set reasons for my chronic nibbling, I might be able to stop.

I have always had a very hard time sitting and doing nothing. If I am in front of the TV and my hands are not busy, they will be in my mouth. When watching certain programs — especially high tension ones like Sons of Anarchy or a hockey game — I get so nervous that I could almost eat my hand off!

My personal standards of organization are extremely high. I can’t fathom how some of my colleagues can teach when their files and binders are in such a mess. It gives me anxiety just looking at them. My mind is very linear and everything has to flow in an orderly fashion. My binders are organized according to each day assigned to teach a subject. I will redo worksheets and quizzes until they meet my high standard, or I won’t use them. It often means a lot more work than was actually necessary.

When I was a child, if I made a mistake writing a story, I wouldn’t just cross it out; I would carefully remove the page ( ripping it out was not acceptable as it left a messy edge) and write the whole thing out all over again. Thank goodness we now have computers with delete and save buttons as I fear I would still be in this mindset otherwise.

I was always acutely aware of wanting to please my parents. My Dad was a school teacher and there was a definitive need to uphold the family name. I was probably considered a goody-two-shoes as I knew if I misbehaved at school it would get back to my parents sooner or later. I knew my limits and never wanted to disappoint them. I still don’t.

I’ve always doubted my abilities. I am the worst at making comparisons with others and beating myself up about my competence. If someone complimented me on a job well done, I would downplay it and give them one back that superseded theirs. I was reluctant to share my work with my colleagues when I first started teaching as I was terrified it wasn’t good enough and they would judge — or laugh at me.

Can you imagine how it felt to expose myself to the Medium world when I first started writing 3 months ago?

Moving forward

Although by now you may think I am a complete freak, a heavy load has been lifted from my shoulders by facing and sharing my battle. Owning my struggle makes me feel much better about myself.

I could hide behind my insecurity for years, knowing the chances of meeting a Mediumite in person is next to nothing. You would never know I was a nail-biter.

Ironically, a lot of people close to me have no idea that I am a chewer. I am a professional concealer of my habit.

My behaviour is rationally explained from this research and I have identified the areas of concern that contribute to my addiction to nail-biting.

After 8 years of teaching, I have started accepting that the work that I produce is high-calibre, and I am more than happy to share it with my colleagues. Repetitive validation has helped me take compliments for their face value and is an important part of self-acceptance.

Although I continue to be uber-organized, I have started to not be so anal about it on a daily basis. A pile of papers will now gather for a month or so before I religiously file them. My google pics will accumulate haphazardly and every now and then I will sort them into albums rather than doing it the minute they are uploaded.

I cannot control what people think of me, whether from my personal appearance, my work, or my writing. I hate going on a first date, knowing it’s a potential turn-off seeing a set of gnawed nails. I’m extremely self-conscious of the quality of work I provide and produce. I’ll admit to getting uber nervous if a story sent to a publication sits for days waiting on feedback. I accept constructive criticism graciously, but if nothing is said, my mind goes bananas; it reverts back to the ‘I’m not good enough.’

Judging a book by its cover is a topic I have also covered in some of my stories and it is just one of those things that we tend to do. I may be a nail-biter but it doesn’t mean I am filthy or unkempt. Quite the opposite in fact.

Strategies to cope

I try to take care of myself in other ways to detract from my disgusting nails. I have developed means of hiding my bad habit: I can position myself in such a way to hide them if writing in front of someone; I wear gloves wherever possible if demonstrating a nursing procedure or use a pen to point at things.

Band-aids are my best friend, hiding a vicious, self-induced attack from the night before. When possible, I will get gel nails on — boy, do they look amazing! I am incredibly embarrassed showing my nails to the technician, knowing they are probably the worst she has ever seen.

Unfortunately, the nature of my job prevents me from having these on permanently. Patient safety before self-assurance.

Until I find some way to stop biting my nails — and I will look into cognitive therapy — having nice ones will always be on the top of my wish list. That dream has always been ahead of wealth and a new partner. I don’t want the continued expense of falsies; I want to grow, nurture, and own them.

Having never been in the habit of a weekly manicure — whether by my own hand or a professional — it must become a learned behaviour if I am to succeed. I am trying to tend to those ragged cuticles, keeping them soft and moisturized. I use that icky, stinky stuff that my mum did to thwart the chewing before it gets out of hand.

But am not used to paying attention to my hands to make them look good. I’m a pro at destroying them. It’s akin to an alcoholic striving to adjust to life without booze. To succeed takes strategy, willpower, and commitment. I have to make time for my nails like I do brushing my teeth or taking a shower.

The first thing I notice about people is their nails — because of my horrid ones. Now that I know what the root cause of the behaviour is, maybe there is finally hope for me? In the meantime, I can hold my head high and educate others that perfectionism comes in many forms.

And that one day, I can ditch the habit.

I’m not proud that I nibble. I hate it. But it doesn’t define me.

With or without nails, I am me.