'I felt seen in the worst way: Here's what I want you to know about my "dirty" skin.'

I’ve had eczema for 28 years, and while we know it has obvious, negative physical effects, the emotional toll it’s taken on me up until now has been even harder to deal with.

Having eczema as a kid is one thing, but dealing with it in your teens and twenties, when society has told you that you’re meant to be at your physical peak, is a whole different ball game. 

I really have had to channel my younger self in order to cope with people constantly commenting on my appearance. 

Watch: Mayo Clinic Minute - Understanding Childhood Eczema. Story continues after video.

When I was in primary school, my friends and other schoolkids would often ask me, 'What’s that red stuff on your skin?', or, in typical 10-year-old fashion 'Ew! What is that rash? Don’t come near me'. 

Maybe I didn’t know what it was to feel self-conscious while I was so young, but for some reason, none of their chatter bothered me.

In fact, I remember thinking those kids were so dumb for not knowing it was eczema. Like, DUH.

Sadly, once I got to high school, the pressure of feeling like I had to be physically attractive to be liked and 'cool' got to me and tore down my once-unwavering self-confidence.

This is definitely something I think most young people go through, but having a skin condition like eczema added an extra layer of shame and anxiety. 

So, I recruited the Le Tan and the MAC Studio Fix Foundation, and I lay it on THICK, even though it went all patchy over the areas where I had eczema. 

I was constantly trying to hide and ignore the fact that I had eczema so that I looked like all the other girls that boys thought were 'hot', only to come home, wipe it all off and hate who I saw in the mirror. 

I thought she was ugly, and I didn’t want anything to do with her. Now that I look back on the relationship I had with myself as a teen, I feel so heartbroken that I could cry.

I can’t believe the things we have to navigate as emotionally vulnerable teenagers with such little life experience.

How are we women expected to know that our appearance doesn’t define our worth, while we’re just starting to realise that 'pretty privilege' exists? And how whoever the boys find attractive, directly correlates to who’s popular and 'accepted'? 

I so badly didn’t want to be that weird girl with eczema, that I shoved myself into a mould of who I thought I had to be, every day distancing myself from what made me uniquely me.

Image: Supplied

After school, I found myself in the beauty industry, which pushed me even deeper into that mould. I used to wear makeup because I wanted to cover my blemished skin. Now I had no choice. 

I had to wear makeup in order to be taken seriously by clients when offering skincare advice. It wasn’t just me. 

All of the beauty therapists had to wear makeup, but my boss always let me know about it if my foundation wasn’t thick enough and you could see my blemishes coming through. 

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I think I understand the idea of looking 'clean' and 'well-groomed' in a professional environment… but do I, actually? Where is the line? Does having eczema and acne make me look 'dirty' and like I don’t belong in this industry? What does my appearance have to do with my knowledge and how good I am at my job, anyway? Who am I trying to make feel comfortable here? What about my comfort? 

Here I am, putting makeup on my raw, sensitive skin every day in order to be accepted in an industry that’s supposed to be about helping other people feel beautiful. 

These were all questions and realisations I had, boiling inside me, until I’d just had enough of hating myself and pretending to be someone I wasn’t. I was so tired and sad. I still wanted love and acceptance more than ever, but this time, I was craving my own.

I knew that just like in high school, I’d found myself in a situation where the way that I looked, defined my worth. 

It was time to find my strengths and rediscover myself. I knew I loved helping people feel beautiful, seen and loved, it’s the reason I wanted to be a beauty therapist in the first place, so I thought it would be cool to share a photo of my bare skin on social media. Maybe if somebody saw me sharing something so vulnerable online, they might feel a little bit more comfortable in their own skin too. 

Image: Supplied

This was a huge deal for me at the time as I was still dealing with a lot of self-loathing and there was a bit of cognitive dissonance. But I thought I’d better 'fake it ‘til I make it' regarding self-acceptance. And I did exactly that. I’m now at a point where I wholeheartedly accept myself.

I stopped wearing makeup for a long time. It was so uncomfortable in the beginning. I felt seen in the worst way. But I really channelled my inner child. That young, resilient girl who was comfortable in her own skin, and didn’t care what other kids thought of her as long as she was happy. 

Now, I put makeup on because I want to, not because I feel like I have to in order to look pretty or professional. 

I exercise to pay my body and my brain back for what they’ve done for me all my life so far, and what they’ll take me through in the future, not because "If I’m skinny, maybe people won’t care about the fact I’ve got eczema and acne." 

I don’t care about other people’s opinions of my appearance anymore. Even the good ones. Of course, they’re nice, but nothing will ever mean more to me than the self-love and acceptance I’m so lucky to have found.

Maddie is a certified and practised beauty therapist who has sought to convert her years of work in the beauty and skin space into a practical, raw informative journey into skin and self-love. Maddie experiences hormonal acne and eczema, and her main goal is to help others facing a similar reality find some sort of peace and solace via her Instagram posts.

Feature Image: Supplied