{Main image credit: Jona Harnischmacher}
I’m Christopher and I have had eczema since birth. The condition has been a bit of a rollercoaster for me. Summer months bring highs where it almost seems to disappear, but the winters bring a lot of pain and struggle. I have very strong memories of being in hospital as a child, with various creams, bandages, and ointments on me, all trying to calm it down.
For the past five years, my eczema seems to have developed quite aggressively with no real ease in the summer months. I’ve had short bouts of topical steroid withdrawal (TSW) when coming off steroid creams, and eczema herpeticum at least once a year. It’s been a continuous battle to stay on top of, and I imagine it will be for the rest of my life.
At times, my skin felt like my full identity. From morning to night, I would be thinking of how to hide, heal, and ignore my condition but eczema became this overwhelming shadow over me. It was my every waking thought. All my decisions were centred around my skin. I spent years trying every remedy, hoping to find that one thing that would solve the problem so it would all go away.
As a child I was bullied relentlessly and as an adult I somehow felt what they said about me was true. I could see my difference and it made me feel both broken and monstrous. I hated sharing a bed with someone, and so relationships suffered. I didn’t want to keep someone awake at night with my scratching – or have to explain why I vacuum the bed each morning. To show my condition to someone in an intimate setting was huge to me. I didn’t want them to see that I was visibly different than others.
I work as a circus artist, specialising in acrobatics and trapeze. A peculiar job that most people wouldn’t imagine someone with these self-esteem issues to choose. The stage brings me an essence of validation and has brought me a lot of solace to be able to portray my body in an extremely skilled and agile form. However, being coated in moisturiser makes this job incredibly difficult. I’m super slippery! To solve this, I cover where’s needed in liquid magnesium to try and give my body a bit of grip, which is not good for the eczema, so it’s a bit of a balancing act.
During a flare, it can be difficult to fully use my joints. Cracks in my skin form where movement is needed, and long sleepless nights leave me feeling exhausted. I need my condition to be in an average state to allow movement, but dusty theatres and excess chalking can spiral it back to severity. Finding the happy medium can be tricky, but I’m willing to keep trying for my career.
One of my proudest achievements is being able to do my job with my condition being how it is. I always have visible eczema and I hope this defies people’s preconceived ideas of what eczema can be. I’m on tour with a dance/circus company across Europe and perform most nights – with my eczema – on stage, without any concern of judgement.
While I enjoy people watching me perform, unwarranted staring has troubled me a lot in the past. I would pre-empt these stares and cover up so they couldn’t see, and if the eczema was on my face, then I would stay indoors or surround myself with people that were aware of my condition. When people did notice, I would panic. They saw my skin, my difference, my flaws. I would spiral into a pit of low self-worth and shame.
However, since the support of Changing Faces, I have a very different approach now. When people stare or notice, it washes over me. When they ask questions, I speak loudly and clearly, “This is eczema, yes.” Many people apologise after, almost as if they felt they had overstepped. Sometimes questions come from a place of concern and care, but other times it’s blunt curiosity. The latter once felt like daggers but now I’m very happy to explain and chat about my condition, when I’m in the right mindset to do so.
Throughout my counselling sessions with Changing Faces, we found various deep-rooted beliefs I had surrounding my condition. Through picking them apart, I learnt that I am not eczema, and I am certainly not broken. I laughed, cried and came to terms with a lot of parts of me that I didn’t know I had buried. There were many areas of my life that my skin had an influence over and it was quite a surprise to discover them.
This support has changed my life. I was working with the kindest, funniest and most supportive wellbeing practitioner, and cannot speak highly enough of her. Having undergone therapy quite a lot throughout my life, I believe that Changing Faces has been the biggest step in improving my quality of life. My eczema is visible 100% of the time, and this doesn’t terrify me anymore. I stand with my skin, proud to have this place in society. I’ll repeat, my skin is part of me, not my identity. Of course, my window of tolerance changes each day, but I would honestly say that it’s generally in a good place now.
I’m so proud of the day-to-day achievements I’ve made, overcoming stares and telling people what these “rashes” are. Each time I talk about my eczema openly I feel an immense amount of pride for not perceiving judgement and spiralling into low self-esteem.
A change I would love to see is for people to view visible difference as normal and accept it without staring, asking questions or assuming the reasons behind it. I’ve got some horrible stories where people have equated my skin condition to my sexuality as a queer man, or people next to me on planes offer advice to “cure me”. Some people’s words can be incredibly damaging. These ignorant comments are not necessary. I hope one day for people to no longer see difference in each other, but instead see variance.
When people stand beside their condition – not behind – they showcase a real beauty. The pride and power they feel are contagious. To be unashamedly yourself given the difficulties of our conditions can be incredibly powerful. This path to self-acceptance has been a long arduous journey and I am nowhere near where I want to be, but I hope over time I will continue to make the small steps to get there.
My advice is to stay true to yourself and find the beauty in what makes you, you. Don’t be afraid to stand by that. After all, our conditions are one tiny fraction of who we are. I, for one, am a massive Pokémon nerd and love to drink wine in the sun. I think this is more indicative of my personality than eczema, and I hope you find yourself beyond your difference too.