How my acne made me hate myself
This is a story I never thought I would publicly tell.
Because for over twenty years, I hated the person I saw in the mirror.
It started when I was nine. My periods arrived earlier than most girls', so my body was changing faster than I was ready for. Then, from age eleven, came the severe cystic acne, which took over everything. It stopped being something on my skin and became who I thought I was.
The girl in the magazines
I used to flick through magazines. Yes, magazines. Remember those vintage things? This was well before smartphones, and possibly before we even had a personal computer. I'd mentally pick out the faces, the skin and the bodies I wished I could swap mine for, like a very sad, very analogue version of a filter. If a genie had offered me one wish, I wouldn't have hesitated. Clear skin, forever.
Teenage Michelle, a blury photo of a photo. And yep, definitely overplucked those eyebrows too!
By the time I was eleven or twelve, I'd been put on the contraceptive pill, which was the GP's answer to all of my symptoms. In hindsight, I wish I'd had more information back then, and I would have made other choices. But I was desperate, I have would do anything to ease the pain and heaviness of my periods, calm my inflamed skin, and to stop the teasing from the school kids calling me ‘pizza face.’ Kids really can be cruel. By then, the shame for who I was had cemented itself into my brain as a core belief.
Over the years that followed there was hair loss, hormonal chaos, insomnia, IBS, burnout, depression and anxiety. I did what most of us do and kept going back to conventional medicine, but the short appointments and symptom-by-symptom fixes left me feeling unheard, frustrated and depressed.
So I kept searching. After conventional medicine, I went to naturopaths, skin specialists, dermatologists and beauty clinics. I tried antibiotics, Roaccutane and different skin treatments, you name it. Then I turned to food. I went paleo, then vegetarian, then vegan.
I cut out entire food groups, reduced my sugar and removed dairy. Some things helped a little, and some things did F all.
For over twenty years, acne was one of the most painful threads in my life. There were stretches when my skin cleared, but every time it came back, it sent me somewhere dark.
A flare-up could make me feel like a monster.
The voice in the mirror
What I don't think people realise about acne is that the cruelest part isn't always the skin. It's the voice.
I would look in the mirror and say things to myself that I would never say to another human being. Ugly. Hideous. Nobody is going to love you. That voice was so familiar it felt normal.
I cried almost every day. Often I didn't even know why, only that something inside me felt heavy and wrong. I was depressed, and I didn't have the words for it. I hated myself, and I hated the face looking back at me. More than anything, I just wanted to be somebody else. Anybody else, as long as they had clear skin and didn't have to hide.
I got very good at hiding. Hair across my face, makeup layered on, my eyes down. I spent years believing that the real me was the problem and that everyone would be better off with a different version.
A snap from my face on a ‘good day’ in the life of my acne journey - age 32. Bare faced, something I would never show in public!
The Amazon
When I was 33, I travelled to Peru for an Ayahuasca and San Pedro retreat in the Amazon. The day I set foot in the rainforest, my skin erupted into the worst flare-up of my life. It was all over my face - but this time I had to tackle it with no makeup. I had to be seen exactly as I was. Strangely, part of me trusted that it had come up for a reason.
Midway through a San Pedro ceremony, I spent some time alone with a playlist, crying, screaming, angry, and so upset by the state of my skin. But I realised it was now or never. I asked myself, the medicine, my higher self, or whatever was listening:
WHAT IS THE CORE ROOT OF MY ACNE, I NEED TO KNOW?
A song came on that felt like an anthem for my soul, and the answer came through clearly:
"The reason you have acne is because you don't love yourself.
And the reason you don't love yourself is because you have acne."
It was a loop. The acne fed the self-hatred, and the self-hatred fed the wound underneath. I looked myself in the mirror, with a face full of acne and no way to hide, and I made a promise: I would never speak to myself that way again. I would catch that voice when it tried to sabotage me, and I would learn to accept myself as I was, not only on the days I looked clearer, thinner or prettier.
And something shifted. Maybe it was the medicine, maybe it was magic, or maybe it was just my body, my home, sighing with relief and saying FINALLY, she doesn't hate me anymore.
A few days later I left the Amazon and kept travelling.
My skin cleared, and it NEVER came back.
(YEP, MY MIC DROP MOMENT)
In Cusco, Peru - about a month after my retreat
What I'm not saying
I'm not saying self-love cures acne. That would be too simple, and it isn't true for everyone. Acne has many causes, and what helps one person won't help another.
What I am saying is that healing turned out to be about more than skin. It was emotional, environmental and relational too, and for the first time I had started treating my body as something to listen to rather than something to fight.
The unglamorous part
The skin work came after. When I got back to London, I studied organic skincare formulation, started making my own oils and serums, and kept nourishing myself from the inside with wholefoods, hydration and low-tox living. Over time, my skin healed and so did the scarring.
None of it was a miracle. It was consistency, and years of small daily choices that said, I'm worth looking after.
My body was never broken
This is the biggest thing I took from all of it: my body was never broken. It was speaking.
The acne, the painful periods, the gut issues, the insomnia, the burnout, and eventually the hair loss. For years I read every one of those symptoms as proof that something was wrong with me. They were messages I hadn't yet learned how to read.
That belief is the reason I retrained as a health coach, and it's at the heart of everything I do at Interior Self now. Your symptoms aren't a personal failing. They are information.
The genie was listening
Remember the genie, and the one wish I wouldn't have hesitated over? Clear skin, forever.
My skin has now been clear for the last nine years. I'm human after all, so I'll still get the odd spot. But it doesn't send me into a spiral. I treat it as information, and I look after my skin with products that suit it.
It turns out wishes can come true, just not in the way I imagined. The biggest change wasn't what was on my face.
It was the voice in my head.
Me at 42.
Same face, very different relationship with it.
3 things worth taking from my story
1. Notice how you talk to yourself.
If you wouldn't say it to a friend, it's worth questioning why you say it to yourself.
2. Treat symptoms as information.
Your skin, sleep, digestion and energy are all giving you clues.
3. Less is more
I tried every single product under the sun. What really moved the needle for me was loving and accepting myself as I am,
with AND without acne.
If you're struggling too…
If any of this sounds familiar, whether it's your skin, your hormones, your energy or the way you talk to yourself, you don't have to work it out alone.
I'm a health and embodiment coach, and I support women to understand what their bodies are trying to tell them and to build simple habits that help. If you'd like to talk it through, I'd love to hear from you.
Prefer to start with a message? Email me at michelle@interior-self.com.
I personally read every message, so please do reach out.
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This is my personal experience, not medical advice. Plant medicine isn't right for everyone, and I'm not recommending it as a treatment for acne or anything else. If you're struggling with your skin or your health, please speak with a qualified practitioner. If you're struggling with your mental health, please reach out to your GP or a trusted friend / family member.