I am an avid finger cricker (or cracker).
It started the summer of 2008, when the famous credit crash happened as a direct result of greedy bankers wanting to profit on fake bonds in the housing market (a relatively safe market – or so they thought). It all came crashing down past their ears though in the end. Thankfully (sarcasm intended), none of those greedy bastards were jailed, and they got off scott free. Hell, the government even bailed them out because that’s what rich people do; help a rich brother out and all that.
I wasn’t affected by the credit crunch, though. I was liberally fourteen. I had enrolled in a summer school in the heat of a UAE summer. Perhaps it was the air conditioning, but my fingers ached and the only way they stopped aching was if I cricked them. I cricked and I cricked and I cricked and it was pleasant and relieving. Since that summer I have not stopped cricking.
It’s like a primal need. Sometimes I don’t notice that I am doing it. Sometimes I do notice and I try to stop but when I try to make myself stop the urge to crick increases.
My husband hates my cricking. He says it sounds disgusting and vulgar and he can’t imagine how my fingers can make such a loud and irritating noise. In fact, when I crick he becomes moody and brooding and won’t respond to my kindness or even my terrible jokes and my attempts to cheer him up. He says I crick around fifteen times a minute and he knows this because he counts. It really is a big issue for him.
In short, my cricking puts him off.
Oh dear. It even puts me off!
It makes me frustrated and annoyed. I only have to move my finger slightly and a loud SNAP resounds around my very being. No. I lie. I move my fingers that way on purpose, because the snap is such a relief.
Short lived relief. The urge to crack again comes not even moments later.
I am constantly aware of it. Even my toes crick. I don’t know what to do. I have a cricking addiction. I need to stop. The more I think about it, the more I need to crick. I crick my back too by turning on either side, and the series of little snaps it induces make me slump in relief.
This terrible habit makes me feel like all my joints are loose and I am just a loose jointed, cricking humanoid.
I think it’s a vicious cycle in which cricking evokes the onset of the need to crick which then makes one crick which then exacerbates the cricking urge turning cricking into a nasty habit that is enforced by itself, thus making it even harder to stop.
Do you crick? Do you think cricking is a vulgar and unattractive habit? What are your thoughts on cricking, and do you know how one can stop cricking?