I am so incredibly upset right now.
Day 63: Sneak Attack
I was sleeping quite peacefully only an hour or so ago, and was awakened by my mom with a phone in her hand. She told me it was my dad and that he had called our dermatologist and found out they had an opening today and next week, which was really rare because usually you have to make an appointment weeks if not months ahead of time.
I simply stared up at my mom with an "Are you kidding me?" expression, which, now that I think about it, probably wasn't too discernible because I was just waking up and my eyes were half open.
Just a little background before I get any farther into this story:
The last time I went to the dermatologist was almost exactly a year ago. I had gone because the back of my neck was incredibly itchy and peeling and I wanted to figure out what it was. Anyway, after diagnosing it as seborrheic dermatitis, the dermatologist also recommended some creams because I had "a light case of acne." That was my first experience with recognizing my acne. This may sound dumb, but until that moment I just thought I had a few pimples like everyone else gets. Sure, they were popping up more often than I was used to, but I didn't really classify it as acne. That's when I first started obsessing about my skin, and it's funny because at that time it wasn't bad at all.
I went back to the derm a few more times after that, mainly to try a few different creams to cure what I thought was an acne problem. LOL. If only I could have seen what my skin would turn into once this year rolled around.
Okay so fast forward to today:
I'm laying in my bed, staring up at my mom with the best squinty eyed version of "Are you kidding me" my still half-asleep face could muster and something inside me just broke. I could feel it, something just snapped. I didn't yell at her though, and I took the phone and talked to my dad and kept my emotions in check then too. Even when he said our derm is one of the best he knew and that the derm could talk to me about things contributing to my acne, like food, or how to wash and what to wash with, and etc. etc. etc. and the whole time I'm thinking, is this man really talking to ME about finding more information on acne??????? Does he really believe I just sit around and think "Oh, woe is me. Acne sucks." Because I mean, for the most part I do... while sitting at the computer and spending hours and hours and hours of my time researching anything that could do with acne, reading personal experiences, and making plans about what I'll do next. And then he mentioned scarring, and said he wanted to make sure he did everything he could for me right now because he didn't want me to look back on this and wish I had done more to prevent it. !!!!!!!!!!!!
Calming down now...
The thing is, I love my dad and we're really close. He's probably the kindest, most caring person I know, and his heart was in the right place for this. He told me he didn't want me to think he discouraged going to the derm because of the money situation, and that he didn't want me to worry about my face anymore. He was so nice when talking to me and so enthusiastic about going and even taking off work (my dad never takes off work) to take me himself, that I had no choice but to agree to go next week. I really just had no choice... I didn't want to make him feel bad or let him down or whatever... damn it.
After I hung up, I just started bawling. All of these emotions and thoughts just ran through my head and crashed into each other and I felt so helpless that I could stop myself from crying.
I was angry at my dad, and then I felt guilty about being angry because I know he just wants to help. The way he talked to me, and how much he cares and loves me, I could hear it all in his voice and it just makes my heart break and I don't even know why. I'm on my period.. that's probably it. I'm just a hormone-y emotional wreck. Speaking of which, I started yesterday so that might be the cause that freak breakout last Saturday..
And now I'm worried about scarring. I mean I've always thought there was a possibility that I could scar, but I don't have cystic acne or anything and the red marks left behind from the pimples I do get seem to all be fading... but when someone tells you they are worried about your face scarring, then you worry too. Or at least I do. Since you know, I worry so damn much about everything.
Most of all though, I'm disappointed. I thought my face was looking so much better. I've actually been gaining confidence and haven't been too afraid to go out in public. But now...
These last two days I've been helping my dad and his job, and we've had tons of conversations face to face. Now, after that phone conversation I just had, I feel like he was staring at my acne the whole time, trying to figure out how to help me. Which is nice in theory, but what the hell. There goes all my confidence.
This is so stupid. I know I shouldn't be upset. I'm looking at the pictures I took my first week on the regimen and my face has improved so much. My dad doesn't even know how bad it was. He works so much he doesn't even see what I'm doing to make it better.
But damn I feel so hopeless right now. I shouldn't, but I do. I can't help it.
My face is dry and red, with PIH and one big ass pimple that keeps reoccuring. I'm young, should be at my prime, am surrounded by girls with perfect skin, am compared to these girls, am expected to have perfect skin, am judged because I don't. My parents don't trust my judgement, don't understand this is all I think about, can't understand. No one understands how someone with acne feels unless they themselves have or have had acne. They feel sorry for you, and they can say they know how you feel, but they don't. It's impossible to understand unless you live it. And I'm sure as hell living it right now.
I guess that's the reason I come on here and have this blog. At least you guys understand. We may never meet or even talk, but at least you get it. I'm sorry for complaining so much... I have no one else to talk to about this.
I'm probably going to lay in my bed and watch netflix all day. Have a pity party, you know, that sort of thing.