This is a first-person account of living with psoriasis. It reflects the author’s experience and is not medical advice.
If my skin had a personality, psoriasis would be its evil twin who shows up uninvited, ruins everything, and refuses to leave.
I used to think “feeling uncomfortable in your own skin” was just a figure of speech. Then psoriasis showed up in my life, and suddenly my own skin felt like a stranger I couldn’t escape.
It started in early 2024, with dry patches, itching, and little spots that just wouldn’t leave me alone. At first, I tried to convince myself it was “just dryness” or maybe an allergy. But then it spread, got redder and itchier, and I started noticing the stares. Every time I caught someone’s eyes flick to my skin, I wanted to disappear.
By August 2024, I finally started treatment. For a moment, it felt like hope. My skin started to heal, the patches calmed down, and I thought, maybe I’m finally free. But in December, like an uninvited guest who refuses to leave, psoriasis came back. Worse this time. More spots. More itching. More stares. And with it came a heavy cloud of depression.
The truth is, psoriasis isn’t just about the skin. It’s about the way you stop wanting to be seen. I stopped wearing certain clothes, avoided mirrors, and sometimes even avoided people. I felt like my body betrayed me, and I didn’t know how to fight back.
But here’s the awkward, funny, and kind of hopeful part: my skin is slowly healing again now. The redness is fading, the itching has calmed down, and what’s left are dark patches, little reminders of the battle. It’s not perfect, but it’s progress.
And I’ve learned something through all this: healing isn’t a straight line. Sometimes it’s August-hope, then December-despair, then slowly finding yourself again in the months that follow. My skin might still carry marks, but so does my story. And for the first time, I don’t feel like hiding it.
Find MonieWrites on Instagram: @her_mo_nie.
