About 100% of the time, I am convinced that I write this blog for myself and no one else, which is obviously enough for me, because I keep on keeping on.
However, occasionally, I receive emails/comments that make me feel, even if just for a brief moment, that I’m not just blindly throwing this stuff out into the universe. People are reading and sometimes, it helps them feel better or laugh at my idiocy or see me in a different, more understanding light. These things make me very happy, because I am the type of narcissistic jerk who writes a personal blog and I therefore love attention, especially the positive kind.
Recently, I got an email that asked me what I would trade to get rid of my acne, once and for all. If presented with the opportunity to banish this thing that has haunted me for my entire adult life, what would I give up to have clear skin?
I thought it was a fascinating question, considering the answer has changed dramatically over the years.
I’ve had acne on and off for about 14 years – I was 14 when I got my first pimple. I’ve spent an obscene amount of time thinking that I would give anything to rid of it. To finally feel good about myself. To get the kinds of attention my high school friends got. I would have given up any accomplishment, any personality quirk, anything to feel pretty, normal, young. I just wanted to be normal, dammit.
But strangely, right this minute, I can say that I wouldn’t give up anything (except most sugar, dairy, and coffee, of course). Despite all of the skin issues, I have lived a very fortunate life and have friends and loves all over the world and I’m funny and interesting and have okay feet. I am happy. I don’t think I’d want to sacrifice anything I have to earn better skin.
My aunt once told me that everyone has a cross to bear, and at the time, I thought it was a really insensitive thing to say to me, as I cried about my red, bleeding acne. No one else I knew had to carry their cross on their face. Now, though, I agree with her. Everyone has their crippling issues – and in comparison, I am okay with mine. They are more visible maybe, but they are manageable. I am safe, I am loved, I am not in pain (most of the time).
I’d love to be finished with this once and for all, but I couldn’t risk anything else in my life.
Maybe that means I’m not a total mental case about it anymore.
Thank God for small miracles.