Red.
No, not red. Really red. Purple red. Puffy. Bumpy. Scaly.
Obvious.
It’s November 2009 and I’m in Phoenix, Arizona. I’m standing in front of my sister-in-law’s bathroom mirror, trying to convince myself that I look normal. I had to psych myself up about this because in a couple of hours I would be leading my first in-person workshop. Instead of running through my agenda, I was hyper-focused on the fact that my dark shirt was making my face look even redder than usual. That stressed me out, which made my face… redder. Which stressed me out. The vicious cycle defined.
Oddly, I wasn’t the least bit concerned about how I would do at the workshop. I knew my material because I had lived it. It was all about sharing my experience, so even if I had to wing it on a street corner without any visual aids, it was cool.
But my face was a different matter. I looked horribly diseased. I stared at the mirror, scared, sad, and angry. I wondered why the hell this was happening to me.
Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful
When I was a teen, I had a friend who had severe acne. I couldn’t even imagine what that was like. It was a foreign concept to me. Aside from the odd pimple here and there, I always had a great complexion. I grew up in sunny Phoenix, so I also enjoyed a healthy glow nine months of the year. I just never worried about my face. I didn’t even consider myself lucky, because I was a clueless fifteen-year old. I couldn’t care less why I was blessed with great skin. I sure used it to my advantage, though.
As I got older and started to lose my hair, I didn’t let that bother me much. It happened at a time when guys with really nice hairlines were shaving their heads, so I jumped on that bandwagon instead of maxing out my credit card on Rogaine. Twelve years later at 39, it’s just my look.
Despite my shiny dome, I’ve always looked younger and healthier than a lot of my peers. The roundish Paul McCartney cheeks don’t hurt. Secretly, my ego inflated in proportion to my cherubic face. I would swear that my bathroom mirror winked at me on a regular basis. I usually felt good about my looks, even if I didn’t always have the greatest confidence in my actions.
One morning in April 2009, my perspective shifted. I quite literally woke up with wine-colored splotches on my face. Um, what the hell?
Just because it has a name doesn’t make it feel better
Of course I thought it was weird, but I figured I had spent too much time stoking the fire in our wood stove. Big deal. I rubbed on some lotion and forgot about it.
Except that it didn’t go away. It got worse.
After a few weeks, I had scaly bumps on my nose and forehead. My nose was slightly swollen. My face was puffy and itchy.
At this point, most people with health insurance would be making an appointment with their doctor. I do not have health insurance, so I turned to Dr. Google first. Actually, it was over a period of months that I researched, experimented with treatments, and found a name for my condition. It’s called Rosacea (Google it).
Boo-hoo. Should we call the WAAHH-mbulance?
I know how this sounds. Big frikkin’ deal, right? So my face is red. Waah. There are certainly worse problems to have and bigger problems in the world than my pretty face. That’s what I tell myself. A lot.
Except that I have a business where I meet with clients. I build my network. In person. I host workshops. Well, I had plans to, anyway.
The one thing I always took for granted was how I looked when I met people. I never gave it a second third thought. I always worried about what I would say. How would I respond off the cuff? Will I be charming and clever? Will I be smart and funny? Will they trust me as a professional?
The irony is that as I developed a sense of my worth as someone who can actually help people and settled into an ease in meeting with new people, I developed a whole new fear: will they be turned off by my face? Will they think I have some kind of contagious disease?
Back to Phoenix. Besides the new people I would meet in my workshop, I had set up meetings with two of my favorite internet sisters, Pam Slim and Victoria Brouhard. All I could think as I drove to meet them was will I have to explain my face? And, if they don’t mention my face, what will they be thinking? Will I look like I don’t take care of myself? Will they see me differently than if I looked like my normal self?
Of course, neither of them mentioned my face. That’s just not who they are, which is why I love them. It sounds silly even as I write it.
But my mother mentioned it during the visit. She looked… concerned. And now I can see it in people’s eyes when they meet with me or take my coffee order. It’s like I go about my business, thinking about new ideas for products, illustrations, or how big my kids are getting and I forget that i look like a freak. Then I get in a checkout line and I see the slight double-take and the eye contact avoidance. Then I remember. Right. Splotchy Man is back.
On a recent trip to New York, I wore a hat the entire time. It was kinda weird to meet new people as Hat Guy, but it covered up some of the splotches and bumps. Well, it felt better, anyway.
This will not stop me
Like I said, there are worse problems to have. Sometimes this face thing upsets me. I get sad about it when I glance up at the photo in the corner of my web site. I don’t look like that guy anymore (hence no updated web avatars). I have good days where my face is only ruddy pinkish. Those days I follow my wife around so she can see the man she married for a while.
So after I spend three minutes feeling sorry for myself, I get back to work. As I sit in my office, I don’t feel like a freak. So I make plans. What else can I do? I suppose I could let this stop me. It would be easy to fold up my lemonade stand, tail between my legs. I could find a job driving a forklift in a dark warehouse again.
But I won’t.
In a couple weeks, I’ll be spending an entire weekend with a lot of new people on a business retreat (Lift Off). After that, I need to start planning a new workshop around my Get Great Design Guide. I have another Between PDX unconference to help plan. I have to get out and meet clients who need the kind of help only I can give. I have shit to do, man. I am on a course to make great things happen for a lot of people. If I let something as small as a skin condition stop me, then the past three years has been a complete waste of everyone’s time.
So I’ll slap on the lotion, find an awesome t-shirt to wear, and go do my thing. Which brings me to the real reason for this post. It’s about me, sure. Heaps more about me than you probably needed to know. But it’s about you, too.
There will always be something to get in the way of the stuff you need to do. You move one thing, solve one problem, and another is ready to block your progress. It never ends.
The things we do that are most worthwhile are often the hardest. You don’t have to do them. No one will make you. It has to come from some place other than the I-need-a-latte-or-I’ll-die monkey brain. If you believe in what you’re doing and you love what you’re doing, you’ll do it regardless of the obstacles.
So we’ll get it done.
Dang, that's tough, Sparky. Ugh. Sorry you have to deal with it, but it sounds like you've worked your way through the grieving process we all have to go through when life pulls the rug out from under us. You made it all the way to acceptance, which is the only place you can take action from.
Thanks for sharing this. I have to say, the quality of your skin was never what attracted me to your work, so this doesn't change a thing. It's your can-do attitude and creative take on things that makes you awesome!
Big thanks for writing about this. I appreciate your honesty and courage and smarts.
This struck a chord for me. I have my own worrying-about-what-I-look-like stuff that happens. And I get the hard around that.
So thanks. Really.
And, yeah, we'll get it done. Totally.
A good friend of mine has psoriasis. He will wear long sleeves in the hot, hot summer because he's so embarrassed by it. Over time he's come to the same conclusion you have: shit has to get done. This is not the end of the world. The people who will judge me by this aren't people who are worth knowing.
Congrats to you for this post and putting it out there. Your talents and creativity need to be seen by the world, even if there are days where you don't want to be seen. You make the rest of strive to be better people and artists.
All the best. :)
Amen for busting through our stuff so we can get our things done. Pretty sure everyone feels uncomfortable with one thing or another. Some of the most terribly self-consciously people I've known would also be the ones you'd think would have the least worries, ironically.
I've also known a few people with Rosacea, but I guess I was always more worried about myself to think about it much. heh.
Right on. The world needs your special blend of awesome. :)
Courageous journey. (Do you roll your eyes at the word “journey”?)
I have so many counter parts to your story. It isn't easy is it?
Well done, Mr. Pants.
Hey- I had rosacea for about a year, and then I also started breaking out into a horrible rash every time I drank alcohol for about 8 months. Went to doctors, got cremes, but nothing helped. In the end I think it was stress related. It started after a very bad breakup and all went away about a year later. Hope that's helpful-
Lily
This is such a great post, I love it when people reveal something human about themselves. I have a mystery rash on my stomach right now, and I had a horrible self-created, giant swollen rash on by butt a few months ago.
Yes I agree we have to go on and make shit happen, despite our self conscious fears, I have had my own for sure. Also, when you kick ass, as you do, it's nice for people to see that you aren't 'perfect', so maybe they can kick some ass too!
What an awesomely honest post.
And you know the funny thing? I totally didn't even notice it. I was trying to remember seeing anything splotchy on our first meeting, and the only thing I could think of was my brain because I hadn't had enough coffee.
So isn't it funny that the one thing we think is screaming out to others about our body parts is often just a whisper, or better yet, silence.
I think you are a handsome devil, always have been, and always will be.
:)
-P
I love what you've written here, and can relate in a couple of different ways.
We get shit done.
Hell yeah, we do.
xoxo
Thanks for the support, everyone.
A few of you mentioned that we each have our own uncomfortable spots. So true. I think it's interesting that so many of us see our weaknesses as something bigger than they appear to others. This is true in my case (as witnessed by the lovely Pam Slim, may her last sentence be etched on my tombstone).
It felt weird posting this because my issues seem trivial compared to people who can't get fresh water without danger of being killed. On the other hand, when you run your own business there are times when it *feels* that dire.
I think a key difference between people who succeed and those who give up early is the ability to face those demons and fight through them.
I'm reminded of the speech Lucky Day gives in Three Amigos. “For some, shyness may be their El Guapo. For us, it's the actual El Guapo… who happens to be a big, dangerous guy who wants to kill us.”
So I wish everyone an actual El Guapo, who is always smaller than our imaginary El Guapo.
Wow, Mr. Pants. Thanks for sharing this.
It's so easy to say, “…but other people have harder things to deal with…” And although that's certainly true, having stuff we're not happy about in our appearance – especially stuff we can't hide – is really hard. It's even harder when we're trying to just get shit done and then we catch someone giving us The Look.
Like Pam, I really didn't notice. I was way more wrapped up in making sure *I* was being charming.
One thing's for sure, I'm glad we got to hang out.
Here's to getting it done.
Mighty fine sharing you done thar, Mr. Pants~ !
For some people, side-stepping their personal self-perceived obstacles really is like reaching the “well” without getting killed. Now you've now shown them that you faced, and faced down, and side-stepped — and will continue to side-step — anything between you and that well of success you're due to drink from and pour into others' cups.
Your feelings about an overnight medical change in appearance, especially if you formerly felt particularly adorable in your skin, are totally normal. But your posting about it, your working it out for public appearances, your loving stand as an brave model for all the times we wanna fold over some presentation issue is not normal, it's outstanding.
We've heard the stories about stutterers becoming famous actors; the illiterate becoming published authors; hell, when I feel too [fill in the blank] to keep a lunch date, one look at Stephen Hawking's book makes me stand up straight and get a move-on… but hearing from our own beloved Mr. Pants makes all this humanness seem more, uh… human.
FWIW, I always thought your (pre- 4/09?) avatar pic looked just like I always do when I run that last block to be on time to see a friend I can't wait to see: excited and flushed. That's just how I always think of you: eagerly flushed to see us ~ and your face was just as sweet in person (tho your smile was bigger~!)
Thanks for reaching out. (Now go grin at that bathroom mirror for us, eh?)
~GirlPie
http://www.changingfaces.org.uk
was the best place I ever worked
love your posts
thanks for sharing this one
-x-
Years ago I told someone that I felt petty and ridiculous whining about my problems when there were so many out there fighting for their lives. She told me that I wasn't living THEIR life, I was living MINE. Sometimes, in our efforts to “suck it up” we forget that and try to ignore an obstacle instead of dealing with it. Regardless of its composition or size, an obstacle prevents us from completely giving our attention to what we want to do, keeping us from doing our best. At times, the action we take can be no more than looking into a mirror and accepting what we see, but that's still confronting the obstacle. As I look in the mirror and see the signs that I am heading into the far side of being middle-aged, I worry how this will affect my ability to find work or be seen by others as productive. But the way others see me is none of my business. It's how I see myself that matters. Thanks for making me think about this.
For years I wore button-up collars so no one would see the rash—practically hives—I would break out in whenever I had to do any public speaking. No medical condition here, just good old fright.
I envied the seemingly fearless people who could get up at the drop of a hat and speak impromptu on any kind of topic. I had no idea that they had their own demons. Imperfections. Things they thought they sucked at.
I understand perfectly what you are saying here. If you are like me, you really don't like attention focused on you. It's uncomfortable. But what a thinking and growth process you have gone through here. And, as others have said, the times we feel everyone is staring at us, really, they are more worried about themselves, how they come across to others and, as Pam said, where on earth they can get another cup of coffee.
You are very special, Sparky. And you have helped me to see that I don't have a monopoly on self-doubt. Thank you for this eloquent post.