How to love yourself with acne

“I would be pretty if I didn’t have bad skin. I know I would be.”

That’s just one of the many thoughts I was used to have when I left the house. I could be in a rush; jumping into the shower for a 2-minute rinse, running to my car with my bag in one hand a cookie (breakfast) in the other, and I would still find time to have the shameful, “I hate my skin” thought. I’m not proud of that, but it’s true.

I’ve always had bad skin. In my teens it was just annoying, and some products would keep the redness and outbreaks semi under control. But in my 20s my skin got much, much worse — so bad in fact, that I thought I just truly couldn’t deal with it anymore. But I was wrong, I could. It took me 12 years to make peace with my acne but now that I have, you know what?, life is way better. It hasn’t been an easy road, but I’ll tell you how it happened.

To say what I have is acne would be a bit of an understatement. I’ve met people with acne who look like the folks from the Proactiv commercials. Mine is at a whole different level. From redness to scarring, to huge cysts that make me cringe and cry at the most unexpected times, my condition is something my dermatologist calls inflammatory cystic acne. I kept it a little more simple and called it, “the only thing keeping me from actually being happy.”

Because my health insurance nor my wallet could cover one of the most effective acne treatments, Accutane, I had to live with the knowledge that my acne was always at risk of flaring up again. It would sometimes disappear for months at a time, but it was never gone. Spring seemed to be its favorite season. Spring may be when love is in the air but for me, spring is when my face burns.

After years of searching I did eventually find an Accutane alternative that I could take. It would be a seven-month treatment and I could start immediately. I put all of my eggs in this medicine’s basket. It was going to work, it was going to cure me, I was going to be happy, and pimple free.

But then, due to a mixup with my birth control, I couldn’t start the acne medication for another 30 days. 30 days might not sound like a lot but for someone who’s been dreaming of this moment every second of her life since the age of 12, 30 days felt like an eternity. I fell into a deep downward spiral. I sobbed. I moped, I called myself a “monster” and refused to go outside. And then, somehow, I turned over a new leaf.

What did I decide to do? I decided to live with the acne, to make peace with it, and to accept it. I decided my skin wasn’t worth all these tears and grief and that treatment would come when it came. Why did this happen when it did? I’m not quite sure. I think something in me just snapped. I think I realized that allowing my skin to rule my life was just not something I was OK with. And now I don’t. Here are a few things I’ve kept in mind that have helped me get over this most unsightly of life blemishes.

Always remember that you have other things going for you. (Aka, you are not your skin.)

I used to always ask my friends the same infuriating question before leaving the house: “Is my skin like ‘ew, what’s wrong with her face’ bad?” I see now that is possibly the most immature question in the history of forever, but my self-consciousness would get the best of me.

When asked that for the millionth time, one of my friends finally said, “You have a lot more things going for you, you know.” It took me a while to believe her, but after really chewing on what she said I realized she had a point. I have lots of friends, and I didn’t get them by moping around and they don’t love me because of my skin. Sure getting ready to go out with my friends can be painful sometimes, but once I’m finally in the presence of the people I love I feel comfortable and my real characteristics start to show: My humor, my thoughtfulness, my awkwardness. The things that make me, me.

So if you’re dealing with acne, remember: You have other things going for you! Skin is truly, well, skin deep, and when your personality shines through it definitely masks whatever skin ordeal you’re going through.

Aways treat yourself with respect.

I’ll admit it, there have been times when I’ve sighed and been like, “What’s the point of even trying to dress nice if my skin looks like this.” Take my advice and push those thoughts aside immediately and remember that you deserve the best. This means that things like dressing like a badass and having a cool haircut are totally acceptable. Do not allow yourself to believe the thought that you don’t deserve to be yourself because you have bad skin. Don’t want your rockin’ outfit to draw attention too much attention to your face? Pshhhh, I’ve used that one plenty of times. Don’t let insecurity about your skin dampen your style.

For me this means dressing in my colorful dresses and having my bangs straight. This also means wearing red lipstick, even if my skin is already red. Dress how you feel inside, even if the inside is still shy about what people might think

I like to think of the left side of my face as the Mexico-shaped birthmark Saoirse Ronan had in The Grand Budapest Hotel. Most of that side of my face is red, but sometimes I pretend that rather than pimples it’s a scar that should be accompanied with an even cooler story. That’s the kind of spirit you need to have sometimes when going out with acne. Just own it.

People might stare, people might even be rude enough to call you out in a public setting (unfortunately there are people like this) but just shrug it off or make a joke. Don’t call attention to it by making it seem like it’s the worst thing possible; instead make it seem like its something that happened, that will hopefully go away, and that could 100% be worse. Because trust me — it could be worse. Real talk: Acne sucks, but it’s not so bad!

Just remember that the greatest weapon against acne is loving yourself. Sounds cheesy, but it could never be more true.

An open letter to my adult acne

I’m in my mid 20s and I still have my pimples

Writing about my acne is, in the best way I can describe it, a freeing but cruel act. Not only is it a reminder that I’m still struggling to achieve clear skin, but I’m also disclosing my seven-year odyssey (yes, I chose this word purposefully) to strangers.

However, the two things that make this experience feel cruel are also the things that make it freeing. In talking about my skin, in releasing society’s and my own personal stigma surrounding my looks, I’m also able to release myself from the idea that clear skin equates with “better.” Period. Not just better skin, but a better life, better looks—better everything.

I release myself from the idea that clear skin equates with ‘better.’ Period.

I’ve read op-ed pieces about people who have acne and always found myself disappointed in the end. I read along thinking, There are people just like me! but then the final paragraph transitions to their “success story.” It usually goes like this: They cut out dairy, their skin is instantly blemish-free, and they’ve never felt more beautiful. And if it’s not that scenario, they simply bit the bullet and opted for Accutane. The list goes on, with home remedies and clinical treatments like aspirin paste or more sleep, but, without fail, each ends with clear skin.

Courtesy of Author

MORE: Kendall Jenner Fires Back at Acne-Shamers

Regardless of the “solution,” with it came the expected exchange of tireless trial and error for an improved level of self-esteem. Before clear skin, they were depressed, anxious, uncomfortable with their looks, and unhappy. As I finish reading and scan photos of smooth chin shots, I’m left feeling depleted. When will it be my turn to feel beautiful and post photos of my face without wanting to rip my skin off? Is every acne story supposed to make me hate my skin even more?

Is every acne story supposed to make me hate my skin even more?

I’ve spent too much of my life loathing my skin. My first encounter with acne came in seventh grade. I remember being self-conscious and disgruntled, despite telling myself acne was normal. My older brother had acne throughout high school, my mom suffered from it when she was young, and basically everyone going through puberty did, too. Steadily, though, as people’s bumps began to disappear, mine got worse. So I finally took the plunge and went to a dermatologist, only to be loaded up with antibiotics, topicals, and rubs.

MORE: Here’s Why Adults Have More Acne than Teens

Nothing completely “fixed” my skin. I detested going to the dermatologist because all they did was scrutinize my skin, which made me feel like I had paper candy dots covering my face. I would look in the mirror, stare at my skin, and with my hands, cover up my chin or all the way up to my eyes to see how much better I would look if I didn’t have red, aching bumps. Some days, I felt completely debilitated. I didn’t want to go anywhere or to talk to anyone; I just wanted to take a knife and scrape my skin clean.

I spent so much time asking, ‘Why me?’ as I envied women with radiant, clear skin.

But I kept trying to find new ways to make myself look ideal. At the end of my freshman year of college, I learned my acne is hormonal. This means antibiotics work, but I can’t stay on them forever. I experienced clear skin for a whole year on minocycline before they had to wean me off. I cried as breakouts started to occur again, wondering, Where did I go wrong? I washed my face, did what I was told, and tried to eat healthily. I spent so much time asking, Why me? as I envied women with radiant, clear skin.

MORE: Saoirse Ronan Showed Off Her Acne Scars in ‘Lady Bird’ to Represent a Real Teenager

Eventually, I realized there’s not much I can do, so I need to start loving me for me. I have a blood disorder, which means I have to steer clear of birth control. Depression and anxiety also keep me away from Accutane, and breast cancer runs in my family, so the obscure drug spironolactone is ruled out. If I have acne, it means just that—I have acne. However, it doesn’t define or limit me. And even as I write that with complete confidence, I know I don’t believe it all the time. It’s damn hard. But I am starting to believe it more and more.

My acne doesn’t define or limit me.

Society might try to tell me I need to have perfect skin to live a healthy, beautiful life, and as much as I wish I didn’t have to worry about my skin, I can still achieve those things with acne. I’m grateful the conversation around acne is changing. With Hollywood stars embracing their natural skin and more articles discussing adult acne, my efforts to accept my skin has begun to be illuminated by these faint streetlights.

Courtesy of Author

But I’ve also learned, in the words of singer Jamila Woods, that I need to wake up each “morning with my mind set on loving me.” I might have bad skin days, good skin days, and eventually, skin days where acne never even crosses my mind. 

Where one would normally post their transformation photo, I leave you with a photo of what I look like right now while writing this article. I’m wearing no makeup, not trying to cover any of my acne, and, as afraid as I am to show it, here’s to taking a major leap of faith toward self-love and skin acceptance.