Throughout her life, Katie Lam has struggled with her confidence due to eczema. In this Perspective, she opens up about battling insecurity and shares how time has helped heal.
“What happened to your arms?” A boy in my 7th grade class points to my inner elbows.
“Did you get into an accident or something?” He looks genuinely concerned. I wouldn’t fault him. The creases of my elbows are bright red, littered with irritated bumps and flaky skin peeling off like the corners of my bedroom wallpaper. I put my arms behind my back, wincing at a slight sting coming from the open cuts, and I awkwardly laugh. “No, I’m fine, it’s just eczema.”
I have one of the most globally common skin conditions, yet I still feel awkward exposing my blemished complexion. When that boy asked me about my arms, it wasn’t his discernment of me that made me the most unconfident; rather my low self-esteem stemmed more from how I saw myself. I’ve resorted to long sleeves, sweatshirts and jackets year-round. I’d rather be uncomfortable than embarrassed.
My whole entire life, I’ve hated that I could feel my skin. I felt ashamed every time my fingers dragged across coarse, leather-like texture, then guilty when I gave into the urge to scratch and alleviate the prickling sensation. I had originally hoped that my eczema would eventually disappear forever, but it never left my body. As soon as the rashes on my elbows faded, itchiness crept onto my neck and collarbones, then eventually migrated to dry, pigmented splotches on my back, resembling the dark spots of a cow.