EPTAnother rant blog. [Post-writing edit - Well okay, it's not just a rant, it's a story. A story of a struggle. My struggle. Read on if you have time.] I seem to write all my rants on TL don't I? You guys are like a family. An entity to whom I can speak of all my troubles without being known. It's weird because I don't actually know anyone on TL in real life (except 2 people but they don't check TL anymore, nor did they ever check it regularly). But I've been here for quite a long time, and some people here do recognize my screen name.
Maybe some people here do know some stuff about me. I do post stuff here after all. You guys know who you are. Maybe you even remember some of my troubles.
But I never post about troubles for pity, never for attention. I do it for myself; I like getting my thoughts down. It helps me organize this sea of ideas, events, and whatever else is up there in that deranged brain of mine. It relieves me. A little bit at least. And I guess lastly, some people enjoy reading; and I do enjoy it when I'm able to contribute something to the world, even if it may only be a few minutes entertainment. Or maybe I can help people change the way they think - maybe a more positive way of thinking. That'll bring a smile to my face.
These thoughts won't make sense to many. That's fine with me. I just want to write and write.
This must've been the 4th time something like this has happened to me. I consider the first episode to be just the on and off periods of when I was young. Maybe 4 to 9 years old. I don't remember. I'm talking about my skin that is. The part of my body I hate most. The second episode may have been up till sophomore year of high school. Maybe it was getting better at that point, but now that I think about it, I doubt it. Yeah, that's it... it still sucked. The worst was when I could barely walk or move because of the huge long cracks on my legs and arms.
The third time was different. This was something different though. Might've been shingles. Not sure though. I actually wrote about these 2.5 weeks of hell for my admissions essay for college. It was during my sophomore year. And it came out of nowhere. I just felt a chill come up my back as I'm writing this. Basically, these pockets of pus grew all over my body. Smelly, sticky, and disgusting. And there was a lot, holy fuck how did I even stay sane during that time.
I ended up popping them all because I just had to. Maybe I had an OCD. They grew back, of course. I stayed in bed for the entire time, only going to the bathroom when I needed to. My mom had to lift me from bed and walk me there. Since I had been in bed, my raw skin and sores all stuck to the sheets and blankets, stinging when I ripped them off.
Well, they started clearing up after a while and I could go back to school again. I think my skin actually got better in general after that episode. I only had to put on lotion after a shower, instead of after showering and after waking up. Life was amazing and I loved it. Being able to live without such troubles, that is.
It's been four years since then. And I've grown better - physically and mentally. I've been working out, been playing more pingpong (1800 now, but haven't played a ton since I went to college), been living life with a positive outlook, been more sociable and outgoing, that kinda stuff. Even got a girlfriend my first semester of college (which didn't end up working out, but it was a good experience), and have a girlfriend now, who is amazing.
About a month ago, it hit me again. Fuck my skin. It just has to do this, doesn't it. Maybe life is just messing around. Or maybe I'm just unlucky. Or I needed some hardships in my life, I dunno. It was different this time though. I'm sure it was the result of a huge buildup - something this serious doesn't easily come and go. A huge buildup over many months, or even a few years: stress, unhealthy eating, and abnormal sleeping schedule.
It happened almost everywhere. Some parts of my legs, the entirety of my arm, my abdomen, my chest, my neck, my back, my face. My skin hardened up, thickened, dried up, and started cracking. It was so gross. It was scaly, gritty, and flaky. I could barely open my eyes because they were like this. Some parts were white from being scratched. Many were raw red from being scratched too much. Parts of my arm and neck leaked this sticky yellowish-clear fluid from the cracks when I scratched it.
When I first started just becoming dry, I did what I used to do - take a shower and put on lotion. It gets rid of the excess skin and moistens it up. For this kind though, that solution no longer worked. Put on lotion, and literally 1 minute and 30 seconds later, it dries back up. What the fuck? How the fuck does my body even do that? I actually tried this several times, with the same depressing result every time. I was losing hope.
And when I first noticed the dryness, I changed my lifestyle. I ate more healthily - more fruits and veggies, a good amount of eat, and I cut down a ton of salt and sugar. Drank enough water too. I slept 9 hours a day, woke up early for my classes, and went to bed around 11pm. And for some unknown goddamn reason, none of that helped. It progressively got worse.
At one point, it got so bad that I couldn't move without feeling pain. I stayed in bed for three days straight. Of course the reason why I didn't get up and go out or go to class wasn't because of the pain. I didn't want anyone seeing my like this. Especially my girlfriend. I looked like a burnt, charred corpse. And that shit leaking out of the cracks smelled awful. So I stayed in bed. Maybe I'd get up and grab a bottle of water in the fridge in my room. And I remember going to the bathroom once.
I had two blankets. At one point, the thinner one I wrapped around my neck to keep my from scratching it. I was under the bigger one. Wrapping the blanket around my neck actually made it really sweaty. This was my original intention though. I wanted my skin to be wet so I could scratch it all off. I couldn't stand the gritty, scaly, rough, dry, thick skin that covered my neck. After I woke up one time, I unraveled the thin blanket around my neck and felt my skin there. It was wet alright. Easy to scratch and claw off. So I did.
Scratching and itching - there are different kinds. One kind is like mosquito bites. It itches, you scratch it, it feels a bit better while you're scratching, and then whatever. Sooner or later, it goes away. A different kind is when you scratch it, it feels like a fucking orgasm. It feels that good, so you do it and do it until the feeling fades and you don't get that much out of scratching anymore, so you stop. Another kind is one that you scratch it and there's not that much feeling. Just a little itch, a little scratch, and then nothing. Done.
This kind, the kind I was experiencing was overwhelming; I felt so many different things at the same time. One, it was kind of itchy, but more because it was dry, scaly, gritty etc, and it was being irritated by both my sweat that was making it wet and movement, rather than an itch that emanated from the inside. Two, it was both dry and wet. Three, it felt so good to scratch at this skin and rid myself of the thing I hate most. Four, it felt terrible because I was making my skin raw and it hurt. And I knew it probably wasn't going to work. I like clawing at my skin to get rid of the scaly, dry parts and make it smooth.
And when I was done, I was left with a raw neck/chest that still had scaly, gritty parts, and a ring of skin pieces around me as I sat in bed. The parts I scratches either dried up again or started oozing this fluid. I brushed off all the skin I scratched off onto the floor and laid down on my bed again. Put the covers on and felt bad.
The first day, I just decided that I couldn't get up. Couldn't get up, couldn't put my clothes on, couldn't let anyone see me like this. I just stayed in bed.
My roommate would ask me if I wanted to go to the cafeteria for dinner, but I told him I felt sick and wanted to sleep. He didn't know what exactly was wrong though.
People called and texted too. Asked if I wanted to hang out or go grab lunch. I didn't bother responding.
Those were long days. A 24 hour day seemed like an eternity when you're lying in bed with nothing to do. It was difficult to fall asleep too. I mean, I already slept my good 10 hours. So I was just lying there, thinking. I thought and thought and thought - about everything.
I thought about what I was missing in my classes. Wow I feel like I'm gonna fail them all. International economic policy? Can't handle that after missing 3 classes. And participation and attendance are part of my grade. Japanese? Oh man I've got an entire chapter to catch up. So on and so on.
I thought about my condition. How it all came to be. How my entire life, how I grew up, everything that happened, has produced what I'm like at this very moment. It really is unfair, isn't it... Not like I can do anything about it anyways.
I thought about my friends. What would they think if they saw what was under these covers? They'd be horrified. What are they thinking of me now? That I'm sick? With the flu? I don't want them thinking that. But I don't want them knowing the truth either. On one hand, I don't want them seeing this me. On the other, what would I be bedridden for a week with? The flu? Am I that much of a pussy? I mean, being bedridden for a week is justified when I'm in this condition. But what can I tell them?
I thought about my family. How they've helped me during my previous times of hardships. I remember texting my mom during my time in bed. I had told her about my skin getting drier and worse a few days ago, and had listened to her advice of living more healthily, but that hadn't worked. Now I told her what had become. I got really good at one-handed texting on a qwerty keyboard, by the way. She called, but I didn't pick up. I was too tired and mentally exhausted to talk. I texted back. Dad called; I didn't pick up. Texted him I haven't gone to class. He texts, telling me I need to call, and I do end up calling them. I tell them most everything, and they decide to drive down. My mom was going to bring some natural remedies, a different lotion, and some food to nurse me back to health.
I thought about death as well. As in, I really considered ending my life. I didn't know how, but I definitely thought about how great it'd be. It would be awesome to have all my troubles end. It was a good feeling. I knew that life wasn't worth living if it was like this. Day after day of pain and misery. Oh, it would be marvelous if this could end.
Don't tell me about how stupid it is to consider suicide. I've though about this topic a lot before. And I know how to live life to the fullest. I know how to have fun, have a great time with my friends and family, to enjoy activities that people usually don't enjoy (work, homework, class readings). Those of you who read my previous blog know that.
And in that blog, I also talked about getting through hard times. What does it take? In my experiences before this one, I had learned that you just have to deal with it and make it through. If there is a shitty situation, and you had done your best but still cannot get out of it, then the way to live is to deal with it with a positive outlook. Understand that if you're gonna have to go through something anyway, might as well not get angry or frustrated at it. Understand that yeah, maybe shit is unfair, but in the end, you have control of your mindset, and you can make the most out of a shitty situation. Really, what better way is there? Deal with it, learn from it, don't regret it.
If only I could be like that. The perfect human being. A person who could do that would live life to the fullest satisfaction. After a long while, I've been able to think like that for little things in life. Get stuck in traffic? Don't get angry - you're only making your life worse. Enjoy the scenery, the music, the nice day. Hell, I can even laugh at the dudes who are getting pissed off. Have to wash and clean up the shit that people leave behind at work? Again, no point in getting angry. It's my job, I have to do it, might as well make the best out of it. Focus on improving your cleaning and increasing your efficiency. Damn, I feel pretty good when the entire office is neat and sparkly clean.
But the condition that I was in now? Fuck. I'm only human. No way I can change the way I think. No way in hell I could change from "Fuckfuckfuck this is the worse, my skin is so fucked up and there's nothing I can do about it, I wanna kill myself fuck" to "Don't worry, you've gone through times of difficulty with your skin before, and this one will eventually pass too. Just think of this as a courage- and character-building experience." Seriously, I'm only human. I wish I had the willpower and the mental strength to not sink into depression during a time like this.
I couldn't convince myself that something like this would eventually pass. I used to do that for plane rides. I didn't really enjoy them as they made my ears and head pretty uncomfortable, but I always told myself "Just sleep through it, and in no time, you'll be getting off, there won't be any more discomfort, and you'll be having fun!" I couldn't tell myself the same thing. Well, actually I could, but I wasn't convinced. The depression was stronger.
There wasn't any sign of improvement, after all. There was absolutely nothing that gave me the sign that it might end. Nothing to give even the slightest glimpse of hope. The depression was, at that time, I think, totally justified. The suicidal thoughts were justified. I don't blame myself for sinking into such a mental state. In fact, I'm pretty damn proud of myself for having lived through that.
So that's what I did in between periods of sleep. It's frightening how the mind can go... slightly off the edge when all you have is a shitty situation and loads time to think about it. My thoughts, my dreams, and my hallucinations were all in a jumble. I remember dreaming a lot, but I think there were more hallucinations. Probably because for about a third of the time, I was sleeping, for a fifth of the time, I was in a half-conscious state, and the rest of the time I was awake and thinking. I hallucinated almost all the time I was in the transition between sleep and consciousness. Random stuff like going to class. Scratching. Taking a shower. Waving at a friend. There was one particularly atrocious hallucination where I had completely healed and went out to see my friends. Imagine how I felt when I snapped back into reality.
My parents arrived on the 4th or 5th day of being bedridden. I didn't want to see them, because I didn't want them to see me like this. And the room smelled pretty bad from my skin. I actually had a little bit of hope - they said they were going to bring this one lotion that I had used before, and I toyed with the idea that it would help. I would take a long shower, scratch off all the scaly, gritty, nasty stuff, and put on all that lotion. I knew this lotion was totally different than the one I had been using, the one that failed.
Despite this, I didn't want them to see me. I'm just causing more trouble. I wasn't even sure if the lotion they brought, and all the remedies, would work. I mean, nothing ever has. So why would they work now?
I told my parents to call my roommate when they arrive so that he could let them into the dorm building. I also asked my roommate to leave us three alone for the rest of the day. He's a pretty good roommate for the most part, and said ok, and to call if I or my parents need anything.
They arrive, and I could tell they'd been really worried. My mom makes this drink - has a lot of vitamins and other stuff that's supposed to help me feel a bit better. I hadn't eaten anything in four days, so I guess some healthy stuff can only do good. I can barely sit up, so she helps me and I drink it. I laid back down and closed my eyes. The same as I had done for the past few days. What am I gonna do now? What were they thinking of doing?
They told me they had brought that one lotion. That I should take another dose of a different drink, take a shower, put on the lotion, and then eat some of the vegetables they had brought. This drink was supposed to be drunk 20 minutes before a meal (supposed to help digest, and for your body to absorb the nutrients better), so I told them I'd drink it after the shower. I was gonna be in the shower for a long fucking time, I thought. I was gonna take a long ass shower. And then I was gonna put on the lotion and rip off all my skin. And repeat that if necessary.
It took a really long time for me to actually gain the courage to get up and go to the shower. During the three hours or four hours where I just lay there, my parents cleaned up my room; it was pretty messy from all the days I hadn't been cleaning or washing dishes. The dishes were like 4 days old too, because that was before I stopped eating.
I asked my mom to get a big towel, a small towel, shorts, a t-shirt, and a bottle of the lotion, and put them in a bag. I get out of bed, grab the bag, and stumble to the shower - about a 40ft walk. My heart was racing.
I wet the small towel with hot water and wash my face with it. I rub my face pretty hard. Scrubbed it, where my jawbone is, and my neck. And shower. I rinsed and rinsed my skin and it felt pretty good. That's the thing with showers. They feel so good, but I hate the feeling afterward because my skin gets so dry, and lotion doesn't work. I showered for maybe 45 minutes. I didn't want to stop. Because I was scared of what awaited me.
I turned off the water and started drying myself. I was so scared at this point. I needed this to work. By the time I was done drying, I was exhausted. Literally. I couldn't lift my arms, I was so tired. That's what happens when you stay in bed and fast for four days. I sat down on the little bench thing outside the shower stall but still behind the door and started applying the lotion. Felt pretty good. I applied a lot. Rubbed it on pretty hard. Then scratched. I scratched and scratched my skin so much. Got rid of a lot of the nasty gritty layer. Then I put on more lotion. Then I scratched it more. I needed to make my skin smooth. Put on more lotion. And I did this for every part of my body that was affected. Which is pretty much my entire upper body. There was so much skin on the floor when I was done. Two hours after I got in the shower, I put on my shirt and shorts, and went back to my room.
I felt so much better. Granted, I still felt terrible, but it was an enormous improvement from my state two hours ago. Told my parents that I felt better and they were relieved as well. Heated up some white rice and vegetables in the microwave and had a peaceful dinner. Texted my girlfriend and told her my parents were here, and that they wanted to meet her. She was excited and happy as well, and she came over. I went to brush my teeth after dinner, and as I was walking back from the bathroom, I saw her walking down the hall towards my room. I ran to her, she started running too, and I hugged her so hard. She hugged back. It felt so good. I told her I was feeling better and she was so happy.
She doesn't know though. Well, she knows a little bit because I told her my skin wasn't feeling that great, that it was a little dry. Oh, but she doesn't know the details. The details I talked about up there in this blog post. Maybe someday I'll show her. And my other writings too, maybe.
I've been improving since then. Some parts of my back are clearing up, and my skin doesn't crack and ooze. It's not as dry, although it does get hard and dry if I sleep in bed for too long without any movement. I had been taking the remedies and supplements my mom gave me, and I do feel better. Making up work for class has been a bitch, and I do hope I don't fail anything.
And I've been happy. Really really happy about life. I was so glad to have my life back. It was gone for a week. After my parents left that night to head back home, I walked to my friends' apartment with my girlfriend and gave each of them a huge hug, and told them how happy I was to see them. Maybe to them, it was just another thing that friends say to each other, but I know that to me, I truly meant it. Just being able to see them has made me so full of joy. Just being able to walk around gave me a big smile on my face. And being able to stroll under the moonlight holding hands with a kind, smart, beautiful girl? It brought a few tears to my eyes that I let roll down my face.
Thanks for reading.
