So about a year ago, I started a blog here called The Psoriasis Club.
It was a space for me to share tips, advice, and stories on what it was like to be battling psoriasis so young. Last summer was a time where I’d become comfortable and accepted my psoriasis, knowing that it could potentially become a part of me forever. However, I no longer have psoriasis symptoms. And a sense of “normalcy” with my skin has become a new familiar that I quite like. Yet, I feel guilty saying that, knowing there are hundreds, thousands, millions of people who are still living with psoriasis. Just because mine healed…it doesn’t make their stories any less valid.
I’m not sure what to do with this blog. Though, I am still smiling at the comments that have gone forgotten from over a year ago. It was heartwarming to look back at my little following, and remember the passion I once had for this blog. So much has happened over the past year which has included me moving to California, picking up skateboarding, winning an artist grant for my work, reconnecting with old friends and seeing how their holding up during the pandemic, I fell deep into unrequited love, got a publishing deal, lost my publishing deal, went to a few concerts, and a festival, ate good food, rediscovered my love for guitar, traded fiction for self-help, all while trying to figure out a way to express my Blackness and support my other Black friends where each day the thought crosses our minds that we might not make it home. It’s a scary thought, but it’s our reality.
I felt with this blog that I was hiding parts of myself…the Black parts. The parts where I could talk about how psoriasis affected my hair and scalp, which is the crown for Black women. How defeated I felt knowing my hair couldn’t grow the way I had always envisioned it. How psoriasis was so misunderstood in the Black community, that I too often became the butt of jokes where friends would imitate me scratching my arms and legs, laugh, and go about their day.
I went through the journey of connecting with Christ, and became a reborn Christian, studying His word every day, until it didn’t feel right anymore. I still believe in God, The Holy Spirit, and Jesus. But I felt helpless in that I was only relying on God to change my problems. I felt like I wasn’t in control of my life. I now believe in The Law of Attraction, manifestation, and energy. As controversial as it is, it is my belief system.
Through the last year, my condition got progressively worse before it got better. I was wheelchair bound for most of the winter following the creation of this blog. I needed a wheelchair for most occasions. I hated myself for needing a wheelchair. I hated myself in general. I felt like a failure. The more I asked for help, the worst I sunk into a depression. I fell so out of love with myself and tried to seek validation in other people, yet reminding myself that there was no way I could be loved with a disability.
Early this year, my life hit rock bottom. A lot of family issues spiraled out of control. My condition worsened. I even made a little visit to the hospital after anxiety (and I think some bad food) twisted my insides out. Then in April, I celebrated my twenty-third birthday alone with Chick-Fil-A (pre-BLM movement and when I decided I would no longer be eating there), and drove across the country 4 days later to California. When I moved here, I was in a low spot, and even considered counseling. But after stumbling across a Tarot card reading that put me at ease, I was intrigued by a Tarot, LOA, and manifestation. I immersed myself so far into it that I invested in Tarot cards, crystals, and sage–which I love and use daily, all the while still reading The Bible and watching Steven Furtick sermons, which quickly became unsettling for me.
Then one day, it just didn’t feel right anymore, following both spiritual paths. So, I let one go.
Now, I’m currently in a limbo with starting a magazine, trying to publish new books all on my own, practice skating, meet new people, and staying healthy. This blog could go abandoned again for another year. Or I could change the name (feels most right) or this post could self-destruct and you’ll actually never see it.
For now, it’s safe to say that I have no idea what I’m doing. Is that ok with me? Not really. This week has been painful on a personal AND national level (Jacob Blake), with countless lives lost from either COVID or police brutality, it weighs on me heavy, along with everyone else. Never talking about my year as a whole like this is a new experience, but I know it’s worth it. It’s good to purge what’s on your mind. Going through this time has made me feel like I don’t have any say, my words don’t matter, and all of that really self-depricating stuff. I’m reading The Assertiveness Workbook and that’s been helping a ton with reprograming my subconscious mind.
Anyway, if you’re still here, thank you.