May: What the mirrors didn't say

I thought meeting with the second doctor would give me some relief instead, it planted the dreadful fear of LPP in my mind. I mean, in my entire life of 30 years, I had never heard such terms, and all of a sudden, I was bombarded with difficult skin conditions that were too challenging to pronounce. Coming back from the hospital first thing I did was Google about this LPP thing, which sounded like the name of some strange snail breed rather than a skin condition.

So basically, LPP is a type of skin condition where dark brown or grayish-black patches appear on the skin. It usually shows up on he face, neck, and arms. Unlike regular pigmentation that fades with time, LPP is more persistent and is often linked to the body's immune system. No one really knows why it happens, but the possible triggers are sunlight, cosmetics, or even stress. Put together, it is considered a rare and chronic skin condition, which can take from months to years to fade away.

Reading about LPP gave a quick shiver down my spine as if somebody had hit me with a heavy metal rod. I mean, somewhere I also read that it's too difficult to go away, and it often becomes like an imprint on the skin forever. The more I was reading about it, the more my emotional gates were making way for the release, and after reading plenty of sources and blogs, I couldn't hold myself back and cried my eyes out. I mean, there was no certainty that the condition could be LPP. According to my derma, it could also be normal PIH, but still, I was feeling hopeless to read all about that.

Why me?

Was my first question. I had never applied any kind of cosmetics on my face, no hair colour, no spa, no adoration, with plenty of available skin care products. It was just a normal herbal Heena that I have been using forever. Nothing ever happened, but just an application of Indigo can cause such a big change in my skin was unacceptable. I can't help but hold a grudge against that YouTuber for recommending indigo. I only trusted their advice because they would talk about organic ways of living. But little did I know that using something organic, like indigo, could change not only my skin but also my life. But crying wasn't going to solve any problem. No matter what happens, I have to face people, even if it means them staring at my patches as if they defined every part of me.

Avoidance quietly became my new routine as answering people became too heavy for me. By the end of the third week, almost everybody had asked me about my skin condition. I was always met with remarks like 'your skin looks so dull, what happened?'. Some were more cryptic than concerned, like one of the co-workers said, 'Aren't these marks supposed to happen during pregnancy?'. Despite knowing that I was a single woman. Some would come up to me with a face full of pretended concern, saying, 'Are you depressed?'. I mean, these were those people who would hardly say 'hi' to me or smile at me, but all of a sudden, they were too worried about it. Another remark that shook my entire confidence was the comparison of my patches with burnt skin. They told me how my skin used to shine like a diamond before, but now it looked all messed up and blackened, as if it was burned.

I would be receiving this or that suggestions - apply aloe vera, apply potato juice, apply ice... But nobody tried to assure me with the fact that it will get better. It was also the time of summer camp, which I would be so excited about every year. But this year, I would hide behind my phone to shun away any stares that could hinder any confidence in me, which was left behind. I started feeling ugly, and social withdrawal came to my rescue. I did participate in summer camp, but most of the time I would be behind the curtain because the spotlight felt too harsh, exposing the parts I wasn't ready to share.

Little did I know hiding wouldn't dim the light - it would only find new ways to reach me.

With love,

AY