Self Esteem.

The events of our past can have such a profound effect on our current lives. My journey toward self-esteem began with waking up one morning and looking in the mirror. I realized this day would be unlike other days in which I would be putting my best face forward when walking out my front door and into my world. No, this morning was indeed different. Mirror Mirror on the wall had revealed that I was not the fairest of them all! As I stared at the reflection of my own face I wished that it was someone else’s face. What had happened was a reality that had been festering for sometime. The reality was that I had been greeted by puberty’s cruelest assault: acne vulgaris. My self esteem was under attack! I felt devastated. In trying to face this new reality, for a brief moment I pondered how convenient it would be to be a vampire and with a glance, simply crack the mirror into smithereens and go about the business of finding a juicy neck to bite. What now? Was I supposed to call in sick to school? Was I supposed to tell my mother that we needed to schedule an emergency make-up artistry appointment? I did not want anyone to see my face. Then the knocks on the bathroom door began. I shared the bathroom with my three siblings and there was a time limit that I had already exceeded. A few more knocks from my eldest bossy, crabby brother and out I came to the question of what was I doing in there? I came out of the bathroom, looked at my brother, sighed and went to find maman.

My maman was a very petite French woman with seemingly perfect skin. I approached my mother away from the kitchen breakfast table where my sister, other brother and father were already seated and began to somewhat privately and with an attempt at discretion, explain how anxiously I was facing this day. Well my father immediately chimed in with a sarcastic little laugh and stated “you will be going to school today” So much for discretion on the sidelines of my mothers domain: the kitchen. Looking back at this scene, there is no wonder that two years later I arrived to the breakfast table with a partly shaved head, black nail polish and a cut up t-shirt held together with bobby pins that read “Never Mind The Bollocks Here’s the Sex Pistols” I was dreading getting on the school bus, dreading going to school and especially concerned that I would have a terrible encounter with Jeff Henry the crotch grabbing, wedgie king and school bully. Once at school I spent the day trying to hide my face and steer as far away from Jeff Henry as possible. I made it through the day unscathed. I looked forward to the safety and privacy of home.

That evening while helping to do the dishes, my mother told me that my acne would go away. It was just part of puberty. The plan was that we would go to the Dermatologist. Time passed like an eternity as I waited to see Dr. John C Goodall. Finally the day came! At the doctor’s office the most awful muzak played. The ugly muzak matched the dreadful state of my face. The dermatologist’s office was drab, darkly lit and smelled like old magazines and disinfectant. The waiting room was just that: we waited and waited and waited some more. In the future I would come to find that Dr. Goodall always ran quite behind schedule.

My name was called… I leaped to my feet the anticipation had propelled me like a rocket! The examination was fairly brief but the doctor was kind and caring. He would prescribe Tetracycline, an oral antibiotic, Benzoyl Peroxide, a topical cream and an antibacterial soap. I asked if my acne was going to go away and his response was that we would see how the medications would work and that he would see me in six weeks. This answer was a little worrisome.
Six weeks passed and I returned to the dermatologist. There was little difference to my skin. I was still plagued by comedones (blackheads and whiteheads) and some rather large zits. The doctor now prescribed a stronger antibiotic, a stronger topical cream and advised I continue the antibacterial sulfur soap. The soap really stank and it was the kind of smell that stayed with you morning and night and warranted you wanting to get away from your own odor! The doctor said he was going to remove some of my comedones and use liquid nitrogen to treat some of my larger pimples. I was warned that the liquid nitrogen was very cold and may sting a little.

UGH! The metal extractor, to pop out the comedones was not a pleasant sensation at all and there was no warning for that unpleasantness. Next came the tall Thermos, looking like the kind in which you brought soup to school . Inside the Thermos was the magical liquid nitrogen and when he opened it, little white clouds of smoke puffed out. Cool! Dr Goodall inserted a very large Q-tip into the thermos and asked if I was ready? Yes! I enthusiastically replied, convinced that my acne would finally be healed. Oh my GOD! THE PAIN!

Six weeks later in came Dr. Goodall accompanied by two young interns that I had agreed could sit in on my appointment. He examined my skin and pointed out some cysts. I’d unfortunately reached a worse level of acne and now had cysts! He felt that I should consider taking Accutane because I had begun getting scarring from the cysts. My mother who lovingly and patiently was enduring the Muzak was summoned into the exam room. The Accutane discussion began. It was a very strong drug that would require me to have blood tests while I was using it to monitor my liver. He handed my mother and I a pamphlet with additional information, said he would see me in six weeks and that he was sending the interns back in to have a go at extracting my comedones. Yay! I was willing to endure pain for any treatment that would improve my complexion.
The Accutane pamphlet had an illustration with a pregnant woman on it with a red circle around her baby bump with a red X through the baby and it also said it could cause severe depression. Accutane causes birth defects and requires that the patient be using birth control while taking it. My parents were a hard NO! on the Accutane and I was already depressed enough! I continued my regular visits to Dr. Goodall and his revolving door of interns who tortured me leaving my skin red, puffy, sore and angry. I had large cysts that were painful and my self esteem was becoming non existent. Then it happened – a cyst like no other! Now I had one of those urgent ‘can’t wait to see the doctor’ appointments. Dr. Goodall examined my cyst and told us that he was recommending that I immediately get an appointment with Dr. Bell, a plastic surgeon who would have to remove my cyst . The reason for the plastic surgeon was the hope of less scarring. The cyst was below my right eye and it became so large that it was obstructing my vision and it pulsed and throbbed. The day came and both my parents brought me to the hospital where Dr. Bell was going to remove my colossal cyst. Time passed. I had a scar, a battle wound, a constant reminder of the war on acne, a war I was still battling.

My intuition was telling me there had to be a better way.

I did some research and found an Aesthetician that did facials that helped to clear up acne and made an appointment. Upon entering the skincare salon I felt relaxed, it smelt wonderful and was warm and inviting. The Aesthetician had me change into a gown and cocooned me into a comfy bed and began to work her magic on my skin. Her hands felt soothing on my face and each product she applied had a delicious aroma. She gently and skillfully cleaned out my pores. An hour later I left feeling nurtured, my skin glowing, not red and puffy! I had found a better way to treat myself and my acne. I found a way to combine science and natural medicine to heal my acne. I had found inspiration to have a career caring for and helping others to heal their acne. A career that would allow me to go on further to understand and study acne and its effects on self esteem.

For the last 25 plus years I have been passionately helping individuals heal their acne in a soothing and nurturing environment.