I am HD

I haven't lived long enough to have experienced as many life battles as my Dad, but in those few years of my life, I have been given a battle that will surely matter to me even in the next twenty, thirty years: ACNE. 

I know I should be writing my manuscript, but this write-up is ten years overdue. 

I was one of the first people who got acne in my class when I was in sixth grade. From then on, acne has been an uphill battle for me. That's fifteen years of countless visits to different dermatologists, hundreds of prescriptions, creams, aesthetic procedures, peels and pills, and more than ten thousand dollars (twenty, my mother claims) all for the sake of getting rid of acne. Fifteen long years of low self-esteem, self-consciousness, and depression; more than a decade of hiding the emotional damage for fear that people might think I'm stressing over something so girly. But now I've had enough. I'm not here to give you medical advice on how I cured my acne; neither am I writing about a success story nor the next holy grail product to achieve clear skin. This is not a beauty post. Once and for all, I'm writing about this tiresome, never-ending battle that has affected my growing-up years. I'm writing about what hurt, what and who helped and how I (still) cope with acne. 

1. The humiliation sticks with you forever.

I don't expect eleven-year-olds to be understanding about how to protect one's self-esteem, and how bullying actually damages life. Yes, I know we were all just eleven, but it doesn't change the fact that I was hurt. My classmates said hurtful words that I can't ever forget, not because I'm still holding grudges but because it hurt that much. I still remember one of my classmates' mom asked me "Heidy why do you have pimples?" Uhm, you're the mom so tell me about it. I heard versions of that questions many, many times from other parents, teachers and even from my loving relatives. When my brother was ten, his playmate asked, "Is that your sister? Why does she have a lot of pimples?" I went home crying. 

2. It's not a girly thing. It IS depressing.

At eleven, I already experienced crying myself to sleep, praying that my pimples be gone the next day because I didn't want to get bullied again for another day. I started comparing myself to other people, thinking why am I the only one suffering? What about him? What about her? Why me!? I saw a glimpse of serious depression when thoughts of harming myself entered my mind at a tender age of eleven. 

My acne got really bad, as in medically described as "severe", when I turned 18. That was the time when depression hit me hard. One year of darkness -- that's all I remember from The Great Depression. At one point I was getting by, thinking that "Nah this too shall pass." (it did) , and "God has a plan for me." (yes He has) and that "I will wait for God's miracle!" (sure). I went from being that optimistic to being a crying mess real quick as soon as I see my face in the mirror. In an effort to help myself, I avoided cameras and mirrors but I could only do so much when my face was tomato-red, with big painful lumps and it's impossible not to see it even through the back of a spoon. So tell me, how can you overcome depression if you are reminded of it every time you get a glimpse of yourself?

3. Friends can't cure acne, but they can cure the damage that it does you emotionally.
Depression takes so much of your self-worth that you tend to reduce yourself to the amount of what's hurting you. When my acne was calmer, I'm happier but when it gets bad, I fall apart. My best friends reminded me that there is so much more in me. They were kind enough not to hurt my self-esteem in any way and kept on encouraging me that things will get better in time. By now, Ghel and Deb have run out of things to say to lift my spirits up, to tell me it's really okay. It is not an easy thing to do but I thank them for trying because kind words really matter.

4. Accutane: The double-edged sword

The severity of my acne went down several notches because of Accutane: the be-all and end-all of all acne treatments. It is considered as the last resort for patients who have tried everything across the board with no results (like me) because of its harsh side effects (if you'll just google). With a promise that my acne won't ever return after a six-month course and with monthly lab tests to ensure my health is intact, I took the plunge. And after six months my acne struggle was over.. or so I thought. I was one of the 30% in the group who had to do a second course after a few years because my dear acne came back. Not as bad as before, but it came back. So repeat, I did. Studies show that there's only 30% chance that acne will come back after two Accutane courses so I'm off the hook right?

Nope my acne came back just recently. My doctor recommended a third round of Accutane.

Fuck me. I was outraged. After two courses of rigorous treatment with my health on the line, why am I still not off the hook from this fucking acne? No seriously, I was just barely enjoying my clear skin and now I'm back to square one?

5. The rude awakening
It took me a lot of pondering and maturity to logically identify and assess my current situation. You see, the Great Depression that I experienced last 2009 was valid: my face was pus-filled and tomato red and not even my loving friends can deny that. It was BAD. Now, though my acne is back, it's still not half as bad as it was before. My face is just not good for my liking.

So you might ask, why not? Just take the damn pill. Third time's the charm. Yeah that's what I've been asking myself too. I've done it before, doctor said it's safe, it's effective, so why not? What's stopping me?

Maybe you'd also ask do I regret taking Accutane? Hell no. It saved my life. But maybe I'm just being greedy if I'll take it for the third time. At one point I need to draw the line, start accepting that Accutane can only do so much for the skin that I was born with, and just learn to deal with a few spots here and there.

Do you believe in divine intervention? I do, and He tells me "not now".

Not now because I want to learn something from this experience. I want to learn how to feel beautiful despite my imperfections, and I want to be able to look at myself in the mirror and appreciate the reflection. I'm sick of feeling sad for a condition that has immensely improved over the years. I want to be "cool" about it, like "I don't give a shit because seven years ago, when severe cystic acne made smiling physically painful, I would have given anything for the world to get the skin that I have now. So fuck off."

To everyone who has shared the same struggle, don't let anyone dismiss your feelings as "trivial" or "vain" because no one will understand the impact of how something simple and vain as acne can control someone's life unless they've actually lived a decade with it. Let's hang in there. Stay strong, you're beautiful!

2009

I came from a typical Asian family. My father is a diligent, hardworking man who spent half of his life providing for our family; sent us to the best universities and only ever wanted the best for us. My mother is a caring housewife who tended to all our needs from cooking all our meals to looking for our missing socks. Between the two of them, my father is the strict parent while my mom is sympathetic -- a very typical setup. I remember having far and few attempts to being "rebellious" throughout my teenage years, but it didn't take a while for me to jump back to my old ship after receiving a few beatings from my father. 

I really had a strict upbringing compared to my friends. I was hardly allowed to go on sleepovers and out of town trips until I was twenty-one. My curfew was 9pm for as long as I can remember. My friends said that I did not have any freedom, but now that I look back I think I got it all wrong. Apart from the discipline and the inspirations, my parents never really forced their way through my childhood. They gave me the intellectual freedom to shape my personality and define my beliefs and principles in life for as long as it is morally right. I had the freedom of satisfying my curiosity through books, movies, classes and people without my parents' intervention. How I stayed in 'moral boundaries' without my parents' guidance during those curious years was beyond me. Kidding aside, I think it's one of the greatest things that my parents imparted to me -- the freedom to think. Truly one of the reasons why I am on this path of delving the unknowns in Science. (I took it way too seriously, now I am an overthinker! Damn it. ) But thanks folks!