It seems in the movies that every teenage role is an enviable, carefree and confident character who has the world in their hands. This age is known for its freedoms and youthful beauty that older family members swoon over when they see you. Imagine at this peak age that each day you want to conceal yourself, in particular: your face. You wake up every morning with new pimples, discoloration and scars. Your friends tell you it’s barely noticeable, but sometimes you cannot help but sob from a simple glance in the mirror. It shatters any sense of self-confidence. This is not something I have to imagine- it is my life. I have dealt with cystic acne for years, and learning to live with it has become one of my biggest challenges.
I thought my acne would be a phase, like a bad storm that would pass over and soon be forgotten. I was wrong. Pills, lotions and potions could not save my skin from the inevitable acne that mockingly greeted me every day. Everyone was helpless in the scenario, myself included. My parents and dermatologists were sympathetic and supportive but still could not cure me of the issue. My acne is deep and unrelenting. It causes me more pain than people think, as my face becomes tender to the touch. Acne started appearing on my chest and back, which prompted serious confidence issues when the bikinis and tank tops of summer were rolled out.
I would say the emotion I feel most frequently while dealing with acne is frustration. I know many friends who hardly wash their faces and yet have glass skin. Meanwhile, you can catch me with my persistent skincare routine, which I have rotated for years to no avail. To an extent, acne controls my life. It is always at the top of my mind. I am worried that other people are noticing it. I joke with my friends that only the chosen few are allowed to see me without makeup on. I have subconsciously internalized the thought that men will only find me attractive once I have clear skin.
It is sometimes my favorite (and least favorite) experience when someone cannot recognize me with makeup on. I do not know when my acne will stop; my skin will likely never be flawless with all of my scarring and rosacea. Despite this, I have learned that what I cannot control should not define me. I was born with this condition in the same way that many experience a variety of uncontrollable mental or physical limitations. I have accepted that no matter what medication I take or which products I use, I will always have imperfect skin.
This is simply a part of my identity, and I can choose to be ashamed of it or channel it as a source of confidence to show others that their acne is not something that defines their worth. Only you have the power to determine the narrative about yourself- not others. If you deal with acne, remember that it will not likely be permanent. Your body and appearance should be the least interesting things about you. People will remember your humor, smile, and personality- not the marks on your face.