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I have psoriasis. It's something you notice when I walk into a room. I can’t introduce myself as Melissa; I have to introduce myself as Melissa, who has psoriasis, and then reassure you it's not contagious.
The rash that coats my face, the red plaques that coalesce down my arms until my fingernails give way -- these things understandably make you uncomfortable. I wish you knew that I was sorry.
I wish you knew that while psoriasis is the first thing you notice about me, it doesn’t define me at all. I’m happy, energetic, and adventurous. I’m dedicated to living beyond the confines of my disease. But there is a duality to its nature.
I wish you knew that psoriasis affects me. It isn’t cosmetic. There's physical pain, and it’s hard to describe. I often liken it to a relentless mosquito bite, a constant frustration. It’s the itch that can never be scratched. But unlike a mosquito bite, it won’t go away. And it’s not just one spot -- my entire body is overwhelmed by uncomfortable itching sensations. These are nonstop distractions.
I wish you knew that I can’t predict my psoriasis. I might fall asleep feeling like it’s healing but then wake up and, to my dismay, see that the rash has spread overnight. In this way, it can feel like psoriasis has control over me. I wish you knew how many times I lay awake at night hoping for answers, for relief, for respite.
I wish you knew that I appreciate your advice, but it can unintentionally feel hurtful, too. You’ll ask me if I’ve tried a certain type of lotion, or if I’ve read a new blog about a diet that someone says worked for them. You’re looking out for me. We both want this to get better. But I wish you knew. No, I wish I could yell from the rooftops: I’ve tried everything. I don’t passively live in this rash that torments me; I fight every day. I try every soap, lotion, and treatment. I exercise and eat healthfully. I go to the doctor. I would do anything to get better.
I wish you knew that despite how terrible my psoriasis might look, I spend hours upon hours caring for it as best as I can. I wake up to apply hot compresses to loosen the dead skin before applying ointment after ointment throughout the day. There is not one moment without these symptoms. I wish you knew ho w badly I want to escape this body.
I wish you knew that I experience social pain. I’ve become immune to people being afraid of me and keeping their distance, but I’m forever impacted by it. I never want to be the cause of making people uncomfortable. But I know it can be hard to look at me or know what to say.
I wish you knew that when you politely tell me you don’t even notice it, we both know this isn’t true. I won’t be ashamed if you address it. I’m more embarrassed if it’s something so terrible that you don’t think you can admit it’s there. It is part of my existence. I wish you knew it was OK to talk about it.
I wish you knew that some days I wake up ready to bear my skin and conquer the world, but other days I want to hide, if only to have a moment where I can experience what life might look like without my skin disease paving the way. I wish you knew that I question myself with each willful contradiction.
I wish you knew that my psoriasis is part of who I am, but it is not WHO I am. Psoriasis is the unwelcome guest that announces my presence in a room, but it's also the catalyst for conversations, understanding, and empathy. And yes, I have psoriasis, but amidst its challenges, I am determined to live life to the fullest. I wish that for you, too.
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