On my morning commute today, I decided to whip out my camera and take a photo of my fingers. The person next to me on the BART train was curious about the candid photo op, and we ended up spending some time talking about fingernail biting and resolutions. He claimed to be a nail biter, as well. His nails were not too short and had a considerable amount of white tip that my fingernails desperately lack. Essentially, he was using nail biting as a grooming clipper. Functional. And, we concluded that he was more of a "maintainer" than an anxious biter.
While I am self-admittedly a worry wart, I don't associate my biting with real anxiety. I used to bite my nails while I driving (thankfully, I don't drive anymore, as this photo exhibits). I tend to bite my nails during movies, which is when I feel the most removed from my own stress. But, other than these two instances, I have had trouble finding any other patterns for my nail biting. It has just become a habit that is deeply imbedded in my muscle memory. I'll be halfway through demolishing a hand before I realize that my fingers are even in my mouth. If I slip up, I'll try to document my mood and mindset.
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