I remember not being able to look at people in the eyes. Maybe if I don’t look at them, then they won’t look at me. I had become my acne. All I thought people could see when they looked at me was the pimples I had all over my face. It was horrifying.
The summer of 2017 I started to break out really badly. I was living in Washington D.C. and thought that maybe the stress of my job and the new environment was causing the acne. I hadn’t experienced acne like this before, which left me with lots of unknowns and a feeling of helplessness.
I tried so many things.
Acne face washes. Face masks. Lotions. New makeup. Drinking more water. Icing my pimples to reduce inflammation. Eating less oily foods. Witch Hazel Alcohol. Soap-free, dye-free, fragrance-free, everything-free creams. Not touching my face. I tried it all.
But nothing worked.
I found myself in a place of deep insecurity. Before my acne, I didn’t mind leading and talking in front of people. In fact, I would jump on any opportunity to be in the spotlight. But as my acne began to takeover, I didn’t want anyone to look at me. I barely wanted to look at me. I was disgusted by each and every pimple. There was little to no relief. Even when I was surrounded by my family, I still felt insecure and would rather have been alone in my room. The passions I once had were being suffocated by this isolating insecurity. I wasn’t myself anymore.
Finally, I went to see a dermatologist.
I remember sitting in the waiting room. It was the first time in awhile that I had left my house without any makeup on. On top of that, I had just washed my face so everything was more inflamed and red. The seconds in that waiting room were incredibly drawn out. Anytime someone walked into the office, I would slightly turn my face away. Trying not to draw any attention to myself. I wasn’t smiling. The way I usually do. I didn’t greet people. The way I usually do. I was aching inside. Aching to hurry up and get the appointment over with. Aching to find a solution to my problem. Aching to be the normal Celeste again.
“Celeste?”
Hearing my name relieved some of the tension inside me and I stood up.
“Yes.”
“We are ready for you in the back.”
I followed the assistant and was led back into a room. As I waited for the dermatologist, I filled out some paperwork. Distracted by posters on the wall, I found myself looking at graphic pictures of what pimples look like under the surface of the skin. And reading about all the bacteria that lay waiting to escape. As if I wasn’t already grossed out by my face. I took another deep breath. Name. Phone number. Doctor. Allergies. I continued to fill out the paperwork. A few minutes later, the dermatologist entered the room. She greeted me and immediately started asking me questions. I didn’t have very many answers. I didn’t know why exactly I was breaking out. I didn’t think it was related to anything I was eating or using on my face. If I had answers, I probably wouldn’t be sitting there in front of her, but I knew her questions were only to help her properly provide me with a solution. She nodded after each of my answers. Then, she took out a bright light and pointed it directly at my face, exposing every pimple. I wanted to hide. But I couldn’t go anywhere. No more hiding. I had to sit there and let her shine a blinding light in my face. Hoping she’d be able to help, I ignored my desire to hide and continued to let her analyze my face. A few weeks later, I started day one of what I called my “regular cream” journey. A journey using the cream that the dermatologist had recommended.
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(Excuse the mugshots. Lol)
I was hopeful, but still discouraged. My face was burning from the cream and I couldn’t contact the dermatologist. I tried calling in one day at the peak of my discontent with the results of the cream.
“Hi! My acne cream does not seem to be working. It seems like it is doing more bad than good.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It should get worse before it gets better.” (I now realize everyone says that -_- )
“Okay, could I speak directly to my dermatologist? I have a few more questions.”
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to schedule an appointment.”
“Could you leave her a message?”
“I’m afraid not.”
I was beside myself. I knew that I wouldn’t be scheduling another $150 appointment just for a dermatologist to say, “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.” Or worse, “Let’s put you on pills for the acne.” I was afraid to do anything other than use a topical treatment, which is a treatment applied on top of the skin. I knew pills were serious and could cause hormonal changes. So I let a few more weeks pass by. And as the photos show, there was some improvement, but not enough to convince me that I should continue with the “regular cream.”
Around that time, I started seeing ads on Instagram for skincare called Curology. The company seemed to flood my feed with so many before and after photos from people using Curology’s acne cream. It didn’t seem to faze me. Instagram? I thought. There is no way that this Curology thing is real. Literally a few days after I had that thought, a friend of mine brought up Curology and said that we should do the free trial together. I was still skeptical. But because the first bottle was free, I decided to do it. Next thing I knew, I found myself on Curology’s website filling in all my information about my face. More information than I had been asked to give to the dermatologist I saw in person…anyways. I explained how oily my face was, what things irritated my skin, whether I had any dry areas on my face, what sort of pimples I had, and how much redness and irritation I experienced. In a weird way, I felt like that online account information made me feel more cared for than I had felt in person with my previous dermatologist. After I filled out the info, I was paired with a dermatologist, who was selected from Curology’s team of dermatologists. I was told that I had 24/7 access to her services. I would need to send in progress pictures and share how the cream was working. Should I choose to continue after the free trial, every two months I would receive a new shipment of my personalized cream.
And so my “Curology” journey began.
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At this point, I was thriving! Curology was working and my face was finally looking like normal again. Some of the pictures above still include me using the “regular” cream. I continued to use the cream a few days out of the week so I could wean my face off of it. My Curology dermatologist recommended this so that my face would not become irritated or inflamed. Anytime I had questions or was concerned about how my face was doing, I would message my dermatologist. Not only would she answer my questions, but she also gave me advice for face washes, makeup, and sunscreens that I could use along with my Curology cream. None of the products she recommended were even related to Curlogy, so I felt confident that her advice was simply to see my face restored and healthy.
Once I got home from my summer in San Diego, my face still had some flare-ups here and there.
But overall, my face has been so blessed by Curology. Honestly, they should sponsor me. Haha. But this is the real journey I’ve been on with my acne. At times it felt incredibly discouraging. Isolating. Consuming. Exhausting. It exposed just how deeply rooted my quest for beauty and vanity lied. I learned how much I care about how I look. Ironically, I thought that finally having a clear face would release me of my insecurities. What ended up happening, though, was I just picked another part of my body that I wasn’t satisfied with. So there isn’t an end. There won’t ever be. There are days that I completely tie my worth to my external appearance, but those days are becoming fewer and far between. I think I am slowly beginning to embrace myself for all that I am. I encourage you to do it too. Why not? What do you have to lose?
(Disclaimer: I started eating vegan right before I left to San Diego. This also boosted my skin’s radiance and I think played a huge factor in helping cure my acne! #govegan)
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