Finding My Own Comfort With Psoriasis

Remember that character Pig-Pen from the Peanuts gang? He was the one who was always followed by a cloud of dirt. When my psoriasis was at its worst, I felt a little like that kid. I was surrounded by particles coming off of my body and it seemed that people didn’t want to come too close to me.

This was in the 1990s before there were medicines readily available to halt the psoriasis plaques I had all over my body. At work, I covered as much of my body as I could to keep other people from feeling uncomfortable, ignoring my own comfort.

Avoiding judgment to make others more comfortable

There was no covering the flakes in my hair or those that had fallen onto my shoulders or my back. Strangers, or people who didn’t know me well, felt that it was okay to wipe them off of me. My chair at work was covered in flakes. The floor around me was covered.

But what was I supposed to do? I couldn’t prevent my skin from flaking off. Every time I looked around me I felt shame. I felt like Pig-Pen. Except it wasn’t dirt, it was my own skin. Was that worse? I thought it might be.

When I went out shopping, I remember feeling people stare or attempting to stay away from me. I wanted to tell them that I wasn’t contagious. But then I would be acknowledging that I saw their judgment. Continuing the theme of forgoing my own comfort for the comfort of others.

Going headfirst into embarrassing situations

Getting a haircut was the worst. At that time, I didn’t have a stylist I saw on a regular basis because it was such a mortifying experience. When I couldn’t wait any longer for a haircut, I would go to a drop-in hair salon and hope for the person who looked the kindest.

In almost every instance, the Fantastic Sams or Great Clips stylist offered advice. “Honey, all you need to do is buy this tea tree shampoo and it will all be okay.” While I’m sure that this shampoo is great, you don’t “tea tree” away the amount of psoriasis I have.

I wanted to swim but I knew that if I dared to show my psoriasis-covered body at a swimming pool, that would clear the pool out in seconds. There was no way I was going to put myself through that kind of embarrassment.

I refuse to feel any more shame. My comfort matters.

Fortunately for so many of us who have psoriasis, medications that help control the symptoms have since been released. I had nearly two decades of almost total relief from psoriasis. During that time, I matured and gained my voice. I learned to stand up for myself and to stop being so ashamed of things I can’t control.

My psoriasis has stopped responding as well to the medications as it once did and I’m starting to have visible plaques on my body and flakes in my hair. It’s nowhere near as severe as it once was, but no matter what happens, I refuse to feel shame for the way my body responds to the condition I live with. My own comfort matters.

I know how hard it is to share your psoriasis with the world, but it is nothing to be ashamed of. I wish someone had told me that all those years ago.