Hey. So, this will be my first time ever airing my problems to people I don't know! If you could bear with me, in that case, I'd be grateful...
I've had vitiligo for while now. I think about 5 years. Maybe. I started with a patch on my foot, then the other foot, then my hands, then my eyes, and so on... am absolutely caked in it now. Approx 50% coverage, in all the delightful patches. I often think I'd prefer if all my vitiligo skin was in one place. Like 50% is my number, but it's from the top down, so my legs are still nice and even... 😂 Sadly, it's the patches!
Anyway, I've been through the requisite steroid creams - none of which has been remotely helpful - and I naively thought, somewhere in the back of my mind, that it would just go away. My white patches would turn back to...well, also white, but less so. Then the dermatologist said "maybe if we try a different topical steroid on the face? I mean, there really isnt anything we can do for the trunk...". I broke. I obviously knew vitiligo was a forever thing, but I hadn't heard anyone say the words yet. I cried for the first time, submitting myself to the grief - and I think it is a kind of grief. Mourning for the me I knew. Anyway, fast forward 2 years, and I'm losing my grip. This lid I thought I'd clamped down so tightly has an air break. Feelings are starting to leak out, and I'm not coping that well.
My traditional coping mechanisms are making a joke of it, and saying "ah well, it is what it is". Assuming that ignoring it or employing rigid pragmatism will somehow render it dealt with.
I accidentally got myself referred to a clinical psychologist at the medical centre. When asked how I felt about my diagnosis I'd said, jokingly (or so I thought), "just when I thought I couldn't hate myself anymore ha ha ha", and I was referred. Unfortunately, me being me, I just fluffed through the sessions, putting my best "ah well" mask on and never really delving into it all that much. I didnt open myself up to the psychologist at all. I should've and now I really regret not making the most of my opportunity for help.
So, here I am now. 3 st overweight, getting uglier by the day, with little or no respect for myself. I go to the gym with my husband a few days a week, and my body is starting to change shape - which is great - but the more it does, the more I realise that it doesn't matter. I'm never going to have beautiful, neat, even skin. I will always have my piggy, jowly, face; my giant forehead; my huge ears (which I have had reduced once already); my scruffy, frizzy hair; and, worst of all, my patchy, pasty, stretch-marky, huge pored, untannable, skin. I hate it. I hate me. And I don't know how to stop.