Welcome to Rudan Thursdays where we talk about…things! Anything from books and movies, to blog posts and authors, to food and drink, and everything in between!
This post led to discussions in the comments section about everyone’s various self-inflicted wounds, in which I participated. Go read the post, and the comments, then come back. We’ll wait.
So, I’d shared something that I don’t normally enjoy talking about, but I’d wanted to support my friend by giving her something of myself. Jenny then encouraged me to share this particular pain on my blog. Apparently she thinks I enjoy this level of discomfort.
And I suppose since I’m now posting the very thing she encouraged me to, I do enjoy it.
Or, maybe she realizes the healing power that talking about it and sharing it with others will bring to me.
Or maybe she’s reading this, and laughing her tukus off.
ANYWAY! Yes, I’m stalling…
What I’m really trying not to talk about is the adult acne I’ve
been cursed with had since around the time I turned 25 years of age.
I do not have a clear enough photo of myself handy to show you exactly what I’ve been dealing with, but this comes close (and, ok, I’m also just not that comfortable posting it for the world to see. Yep, just not that brave yet.):
Note ~ You may find yourself glancing from the post to my blog photo, and scratching your head wondering what’s going on so allow me to share that I’m wearing about a pound of foundation in that photo. Moving on…
I’d never had acne as a teen, and only a minor blemish here and there as a young adult. It was right about 25 when all of a sudden I broke out in the area on either side of my mouth and chin.
And I mean, break outs: large puss filled cavities in my face. Huge, red, painful lumps the size of a dime or larger, and every time I speak or move my mouth I feel the lumps painfully stretching my skin.
Over the years I’d tried everything from washing my face 2 or 3 times a day, to not touching it at all (which I wasn’t very good at), to rubbing various vegetable and fruit juices on my face, popping only the whiteheads (yes, I know, I know)…you name it, I tried it.
I was ugly. Unattractive. Gross.
These were the thoughts going through my head every single time I looked at myself in the mirror. Then, I’d stopped seeing myself in the mirror and instead only saw swollen, red sores and scars.
Real uplifting stuff.
Then, one day a few weeks back, I decided enough was enough.
I’m NOT ugly! And more importantly, I’m a good person! I’m friendly (most of the time), helpful (when you’re nice to me), and I love to laugh. I enjoy being around other friendly, helpful, laughing people. There was no excuse for how I was treating myself. I deserve better.
This acne, these pustules, were ruining me. I was allowing this condition to control, not only my life, but my personality, and it’s ugly, scathing hands were reaching down into my soul. I went from a fairly
bubbly, happy albeit-slightly-moody person, to this miserable, cranky depressed woman who I didn’t like.
So, as of now, I’ve politely asked that hag to leave and have instead welcomed a new, more positive me into my life. I’m taking better care of myself, and with the help of family and friends am trying new ways to beat back the acne.
Interesting aside ~ I’d always thought having acne in this area was a sign of a hormonal imbalance, but a friend told me she’d learned from a specialist this is my body’s way of telling me I have toxins building up in my kidneys and liver. Considering how much I was abusing myself in my early twenties (that’s a WHOLE other post!), it makes sense that my body would start yelling at me when it did. And what a way to get my attention!
Now that I’m thoroughly uncomfortable and twitchy, and really questioning my decision to post this, it’s your turn…
So talk to me. What flaws do you agonize over? What is your problem with the mirror? Have you decided that enough is enough? Are you struggling with self-inflicted pain? Do you beat yourself up, and say things to yourself you would NEVER say to someone you love?