My husband was sweet to make a post about me here. I was the suicidal pregnant wife. I'm a new mother now. Someone had told him to suggest I join so I am here. I don't want my daughter to touch any skin I have acne on. I know it's not rational. My acne started at 12. These disgusting pus volcanoes showed up on my face. It was hell growing up. I know that so many people have worse lives and knowing that doesn't make me feel better and I can't know why people think that would make me feel better. First world problems. So insulting and trivializing. It's clear skin people who I always see say that about people with acne. These are cysts all over my face. Each one eventually starts leaking pus but I usually squeeze them before it gets that far. I'm my own worst enemy. I wash my face constantly even though I know it's bad. I eat like a pig. The more depress I get the more self destructive my habits become. My husband underrepresented his efforts. He tells me I'm beautiful everyday. Several times a day. He still writes me love letters. He sewed beautiful woman on my pillows and sweaters. I don't know why he thinks I'm pretty. I'm grotesque. I'm hideous. I'm ugly. I'm disgusting. I'm just sick of being ugly. Over my pregnancy I've gotten terribly overweight which kills my already dead confidence. I feel dirty. My acne itches and hurts. I'm just tired.