Every morning when I wake up, my hand instinctively reached my calf muscle and I start start scratching.
And I cant stop.
Its addictive.
And sadly, it feels good.
I have Psoriasis.
According to a medical webpage, Psoriasis is "a long-term (chronic) skin problem that causes skin cells to grow too quickly, resulting in thick, white, silvery, or red patches of skin. Normally, skin cells grow gradually and flake off about every 4 weeks. New skin cells grow to replace the outer layers of the skin as they shed. But in psoriasis, new skin cells move rapidly to the surface of the skin in days rather than weeks."
I have this since I was in class 8.
Same time I got specs.
I remember sitting in the Doctor's chamber, scratching my hand even then.
The Doctor examined me and told me flat on my face, no sugarcoating, that this disease had no cure.
At least not as of yet.
I remember getting home and walking up the stairs and bursting into tears.
I had white and red patches all over my body - from head to toe.
It used to itch. I used to scratch. And in many a times, it would bleed.
I cried and clenched my mother's saree.
She hugged me back and tried to comfort me, in vain.
I got home and locked myself in the washroom.
I undressed myself and stared at the mirror.
The patches were all over.
I mean. ALL over.
I cried for a long time.
I cursed everything and everyone around me.
I didn't know who to blame.
My genes? The Doctors? Myself? God?
I was just in class 8.
14 years old.
Just two years into my teens.
And there I stood, looking into the mirror, thinking I looked ugly.
Disgusting rather with red blotches on my face, my hands, legs and white flakes on my hair all the time.
I felt So angry.
Having nobody to blame, I cursed "God".
Even till then, I believed in His existence.
Next day I had to go over to my friends house.
I had a crush on her brother.
Lying down on the bed that night, I wondered how I would face him.
He wouldn't like me.
I looked ugly.
As it is, girls in school thought I was untouchable.
They went and complained to the Principal.
They feared I was going to school with a contagious disease.
Burying my face into my mother's bossom and tears running down my cheeks, I fell off to sleep.
Next morning as I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, I thought about what had happened to me.
Yes. I was 14 years old.
Yes. Friends of mine looked at me with disgust.
Maybe. Boys wouldn't like me.
Maybe. I wouldn't end up walking the ramp ever in my life.
But.
I was still strong.
I still had a family and friends who loved me and cared for me.
I still was the same Me. Inside.
I went to the washroom and undressed myself and stared into the mirror again.
This time, however, I didn't feel bad for myself.
I realised I Had to fight this fight. I Had to be confident of who I was.
I Had to Love myself first for others to love and appreciate me.
I needed to forget the external and concentrate on the internal.
And Nobody in the world would be able to help me if I didn't help myself.
That is also the moment, I gave up on Him.
From then on, for me, there was no god.
No external force.
Just Me.
There was just me - who had to fight the battle.
A battle with the self.
Always.
If people don't want to stay around me when I have psoriasis - its their loss.
If a guy doesn't want to like me because he thinks I look beautiful when I have psoriasis - he is stupid.
Or.
Thats what I told myself.
Defence Mechanism?
Maybe.
But it helps.
Helps.
Because today, if anyone looks disgusted when they see my red-patched arm, I don't care.
If they ask, I explain. Beyond that, I am happee with myself.
That doesn't mean, I still don't break down at times.
I still cry.
I still crib.
I still wanna blame someone.
But.
Its takes me far less time to get myself around.
To embrace myself yet again and move on with life.
To Love myself from within and not worry about the outside.
"When you are able to look into the mirror and feel happee about yourself, when you are able to love yourself and to be confident about yourself - the world with all its people will automatically reflect your belief.
It all starts with the Man In The Mirror."
And I cant stop.
Its addictive.
And sadly, it feels good.
I have Psoriasis.
According to a medical webpage, Psoriasis is "a long-term (chronic) skin problem that causes skin cells to grow too quickly, resulting in thick, white, silvery, or red patches of skin. Normally, skin cells grow gradually and flake off about every 4 weeks. New skin cells grow to replace the outer layers of the skin as they shed. But in psoriasis, new skin cells move rapidly to the surface of the skin in days rather than weeks."
I have this since I was in class 8.
Same time I got specs.
I remember sitting in the Doctor's chamber, scratching my hand even then.
The Doctor examined me and told me flat on my face, no sugarcoating, that this disease had no cure.
At least not as of yet.
I remember getting home and walking up the stairs and bursting into tears.
I had white and red patches all over my body - from head to toe.
It used to itch. I used to scratch. And in many a times, it would bleed.
I cried and clenched my mother's saree.
She hugged me back and tried to comfort me, in vain.
I got home and locked myself in the washroom.
I undressed myself and stared at the mirror.
The patches were all over.
I mean. ALL over.
I cried for a long time.
I cursed everything and everyone around me.
I didn't know who to blame.
My genes? The Doctors? Myself? God?
I was just in class 8.
14 years old.
Just two years into my teens.
And there I stood, looking into the mirror, thinking I looked ugly.
Disgusting rather with red blotches on my face, my hands, legs and white flakes on my hair all the time.
I felt So angry.
Having nobody to blame, I cursed "God".
Even till then, I believed in His existence.
Next day I had to go over to my friends house.
I had a crush on her brother.
Lying down on the bed that night, I wondered how I would face him.
He wouldn't like me.
I looked ugly.
As it is, girls in school thought I was untouchable.
They went and complained to the Principal.
They feared I was going to school with a contagious disease.
Burying my face into my mother's bossom and tears running down my cheeks, I fell off to sleep.
Next morning as I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, I thought about what had happened to me.
Yes. I was 14 years old.
Yes. Friends of mine looked at me with disgust.
Maybe. Boys wouldn't like me.
Maybe. I wouldn't end up walking the ramp ever in my life.
But.
I was still strong.
I still had a family and friends who loved me and cared for me.
I still was the same Me. Inside.
I went to the washroom and undressed myself and stared into the mirror again.
This time, however, I didn't feel bad for myself.
I realised I Had to fight this fight. I Had to be confident of who I was.
I Had to Love myself first for others to love and appreciate me.
I needed to forget the external and concentrate on the internal.
And Nobody in the world would be able to help me if I didn't help myself.
That is also the moment, I gave up on Him.
From then on, for me, there was no god.
No external force.
Just Me.
There was just me - who had to fight the battle.
A battle with the self.
Always.
If people don't want to stay around me when I have psoriasis - its their loss.
If a guy doesn't want to like me because he thinks I look beautiful when I have psoriasis - he is stupid.
Or.
Thats what I told myself.
Defence Mechanism?
Maybe.
But it helps.
Helps.
Because today, if anyone looks disgusted when they see my red-patched arm, I don't care.
If they ask, I explain. Beyond that, I am happee with myself.
That doesn't mean, I still don't break down at times.
I still cry.
I still crib.
I still wanna blame someone.
But.
Its takes me far less time to get myself around.
To embrace myself yet again and move on with life.
To Love myself from within and not worry about the outside.
"When you are able to look into the mirror and feel happee about yourself, when you are able to love yourself and to be confident about yourself - the world with all its people will automatically reflect your belief.
It all starts with the Man In The Mirror."
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