There was a time when I hated my skin.
The itching.
The flaking.
The burning discomfort.
The way it controlled my days and stole my sleep.
Living with eczema and topical steroid withdrawal pushed me into a cycle of frustration and resentment toward my own body. And if I’m being honest, the words I spoke — out loud and in my heart — were not kind.
What’s wrong with me?
Why does my skin have to be like this?
What did I do to cause this?
So many questions. So much blame.
When the pain turned into self-betrayal
During my worst flares, I didn’t just feel physically uncomfortable — I felt broken. I spoke to my body as if it had failed me, as if it was the enemy standing in the way of the life I wanted to live.
I didn’t realize it then, but I was turning against something that was actually fighting for me.
As I moved deeper into my healing journey and began learning about the root causes driving my symptoms, something inside me shifted. I started to understand why my skin was behaving the way it was.
And suddenly, the shame gave way to remorse.
I looked back at all the anger, the harsh words, the impatience — and my heart softened.
God’s design was never a mistake
One of the most humbling realizations I had was this:
God created my body with intention and purpose.
There was no flaw in His design. No accident. No mistake.
The problem wasn’t my body — it was that something within my system was overwhelmed and asking for support.
When I allowed myself to see my body through that lens, the negativity I once held toward my skin no longer made sense. How could I hate something God designed with such care?
My body was never against me
What I learned is that when our primary detox pathways — the liver, gut, lymphatic system — become overwhelmed and unable to move toxins out as they’re designed to do, the body looks for another way.
It adapts.
It protects.
It reroutes.
The skin, being our largest organ, often becomes the next exit pathway.
In my case, that’s where everything was pushed.
My flares weren’t random. They weren’t punishment. They were signals. My body was doing everything it could to protect my vital organs and keep me alive.
It wasn’t betraying me.
It was fighting for me.
When the tools meant to help made things worse
Looking back, I can see that I tried to silence my body instead of supporting it.
I reached for quick fixes — topical steroids — without understanding the deeper picture. Over time, my skin developed a dependency, and when those supports were removed, it cried out even louder.
Not because it was broken.
But because it needed help — real help — from the inside out.
That realization changed everything.
Choosing compassion over control
When I finally understood what my body had been doing for me all along, compassion replaced frustration.
I stopped asking, “What’s wrong with my body?”
And started asking, “What does my body need?”
That shift alone was healing.
If you’re speaking harshly to your body right now
If you’re in a challenging phase and find yourself stuck in cycles of negative self-talk, I want to gently encourage you to pause.
Pause…
And consider everything your body is doing to protect you.
To adapt.
To survive.
Thank it for working so hard — even when it doesn’t feel good.
Personalize what you’re experiencing. Connect with your body instead of fighting it.
And if it feels helpful, write it out.
A love letter to my body
Dear Body,
I’m sorry for the ways I spoke to you when I didn’t understand you.
I’m sorry for the anger I carried when you were doing your best to protect me.
Thank you for fighting for me when I didn’t know how to fight for myself.
Thank you for adapting when systems were overwhelmed.
Thank you for communicating, even when I tried to silence you.
You are not broken.
You are not failing.
You are beautiful, resilient, and intentionally created by God.
I promise to listen now.
To support you gently.
To nourish you with patience, care, and compassion.
I’m learning to trust you again.
And I’m grateful for every step of healing we take together.
With love,
Me
If this resonated with you, know this:
You are not alone in this journey.
Your body is not the enemy.
And healing begins when we choose compassion — for our skin, our story, and ourselves.
