I remember being 10 years old learning about the birds and the bees, and all the lovely, hormonal fluctuations of adolescence. Being ecstatic about my development, I embraced the “teenhood” ahead of me. Between watching Degrassi, One Tree Hill, or just about any other drama series that emulated high school experiences, I thought I knew what being older was all about. I looked forward to not only being more mature, but looking more mature.

The harsh reality was not one actor had acne. I was forewarned by my parents of the demise ahead of me (based off what they went through at my age), but I figured the exaggeration was just comedic commentary on this aspect of puberty.

It started with just the chin. Clusters of whiteheads, blackheads, any kind of head. . . Filled with oil and perpetual anxiety. But at this time I was 13, which means a solid chunk of my peers were to some degree dealing with the same funk that I had growing on my face. Little did I know how much worse it was going to get.

I entered high school and my acne slowly, but surely populated to the T-zone of my face. For those of you blessed souls that have not heard this reference before (probably because you have the skin of angel), it’s the area that consists of your chin, upper lip, nose, in between the eyebrows, and above the eyebrows. T-zone breakouts are the worst. As much as people try to be polite by not making eye contact with your obnoxious, eroding sores, they just can’t help it when they’re multiplying in the center of your face.

I was using Neurtrogena Skin-Clearing foundation at the time (which on a budget, it’s decent makeup), so I attempted, to the best of my ability, to cover at least the redness of the war that targeted my face. My sophomore year was the hardest. I began to produce cystic acne, causing a lot of pain and embarrassment—being criticized for wearing foundation by girls who had baby soft skin made me want to scream. I remember four students at my high school asking “What is that?” as they squinted their eyes in repulsion to which I replied, “It’s a pimple…” Their embarrassed “Oh,” never sufficed the shame I felt that this was all anyone ever saw.

Didn't see me, didn't see my mind. Just, acne.

So what did I try to fix it? I started with ProActiv; my face became inflamed 24/7 and caused my skin to produce more oil. Clinque was too moisturizing so it caused me to break out more. X-Out was decent for a while until it dried out my face, causing more acne to rise (sounds strange, but this was true). All-In-One Acne Control by Neutrogena also dried me out and didn’t thoroughly clean my face; I produced extra cysts after that product. Oxy Acne made my face flaky, and my acne remained the same. Skin ID gave me a bad reaction, leaving me with discomfort and pain. Any other over-the-counter product I tried as well, but my acne never diminished.

When I sought out professional medical help, I was prescribed everything in the book: topical and oral antibiotics, such as clindamycin, doxycycline, erythromycin, and tetracycline. Most of these creams or oral medications were intended to dry out the oil producing the acne. The problem with this was I had combination skin type, meaning I wasn’t oily all the time. If I use the medications every day, then I would be so flaky, I looked like a snake. But if I paced out the dosages and creams then my acne would react badly, every single time. I was running out of options. I cut out grease, chocolate and as many unhealthy things from my diet as I could. However, I quickly discovered that diet has little to nothing to do with my breakouts, or anyone’s really. Acne comes down to pure genetics and stress. If it doesn’t run in the family and acne has flared up, it’s not because you had a Snickers bar, it’s probably because you have a test tomorrow that you haven’t prepared for.

I felt hopeless. This was my face before I visited the dermatologist again, seeking my very last option.

Shortly after this photo was taken, I was told about Accutane. Accutane, or also called isotretinoin, is an oral acne medication that specifically targets and treats cystic, severe acne. This is the acne medication I’m sure all of you have seen on commercials claiming that leads teenage suicide, liver problems, and so on. Though these concerns are completely valid, this form of treatment has been regulated and monitored well before I was prescribed it.

Skipping medical vernacular, isotretinoin essentially is an extremely high dosage of vitamin A. Therefore, when it gets accustomed to your body, it stops all the natural lubricants of your body from functioning. If all natural lubricants are being disabled, then acne cannot thrive… Nor can the moisture in your lips, hair oil, or anywhere else on your body. If you experience any oil, it’s little to none, but it never takes place on your face. With any high dosage of anything, there are always going to be risks. In order to monitor the risks, I was required to have blood work done once a month. I was required to fill out a questionnaire every month talking about my mental health and emotions. And lastly, I was required to take birth control. Not only could the medication attack my liver and heightened my triglycerides and cholesterol, but if I were to become pregnant, my baby would have automatic birth defects. The baby would have an alien shaped head and serious mental disabilities.

Pretty crazy huh? But I did it, for 6-7 months. My acne diminished significantly within the first three months and the other minor spots were gone by the end of my treatment. However, I did struggle with random rashes due to the medication, headaches, and sensitivity toward the sun. But I was cured… At least I thought.

I had vibrant, beautiful skin. And at this point of time, I had little to no major scarring. My confidence beamed and I felt like my worst days were over. I was in the clear (pun intended) for about 3 years; things changed when I started working for In-N-Out Burger.

As much as I loved working for In-N-Out, I’m pretty sure it was the direct cause to my acne resurfacing. Grease in the air, who would have thought? I didn’t panic initially, but it progressively got worse. One too many further events intensified my problem.

I received a massage from a friend who was going to massage therapy school, and though I never struggled with back and chest acne before, I did after this. PSA: Shower right after a massage.

My face was already populating in breakouts, but my back was almost completely covered in acne. I cried for hours, in disbelief this was happening again. It didn’t matter what anyone told me, “Haley, you’re not your acne. You’re beautiful, no one sees it.” It didn’t help. They loved me and they tried to make it better, but no words of encouragement could help me look passed the repellent blemishes that took over my face.

There were times where I didn’t want to go out. I would be putting makeup on and I would break down, hating having to look at myself. I wished for any other issue than the one I had, at least they had a solution.

As my cystic acne progressed, I had a friend who was a fairly new esthetician at the time and didn’t have a lot of experience yet with skin like mine. She wanted to help and I hadn’t tried getting a facial to treat my condition. Part of a facial is extraction, but when it comes to cysts, you don’t want to do that. My friend poked and prodded at my pimples which made them very angry (yes they have emotions after how long I’ve had to deal with them) and swollen. The next day, I woke up like this…

And Beyoncé was not playing in the background… (at least I would have a mean mug shot though)

I was still transient with my face cleansers, but I decided to see a dermatologist again. Instead of taking medications right away that I knew wouldn’t work, I would routinely get cortisone shots in my face to eliminate my cystic acne. The doctor injects a diluted corticosteroid directly into the center of the nodule reducing the inflammation and seeing absence of the cyst within 48 hours. This does work every time… But it is painful and can be expensive after a while.

I was seeing the doctor for these shots close to every 3 weeks or so. Between the costs and the inconvenience of my frequent visits, I was considering another solution—one I was already familiar with.

This was my face before starting my second round of Accutane. The statistics of a previous patient doing a second round of Accutane was unlikely, but still possible based off the severity. The protocols were all the same and I began another 6-month treatment. Disclaimer: I stopped working at In-N-Out, so that helped the process.

My face became clear again and my confidence radiated like it once did. Unfortunately, my acne battle the second time around inflicted more scarring on my face, but nonetheless, I felt freed from my disease.

Present Day

As much as I’d like to say I’ve never struggled with acne again since 2014, that’s not entirely true. I have minor pimples here and there, recently receiving a large knot that needed to go through its course to diminish. But I haven’t had a serious problem since my second round of Accutane, and I’m grateful I did it. I currently use Asepxia face wash bar from Walgreens. It’s neutral and cleans the face, nothing more or less. I’ve found that acne related cleansers, toners, and creams tend to cause the reverse reaction than what you want. Unless you have ultra-oily skin, use neutral cleansers that aren’t harsh on the face. Secondly, use a moisturizer. This is one thing I did not do which I should have a long time ago. Believe it or not, a good moisturizer will regulate the oil production in your face. When your face doesn’t receive the moisture it needs, it produces extra therefore you break out.

To those that don’t struggle with acne: Please be sensitive to those that do suffer from it. Be grateful you have beautiful skin and that you don’t know what it feels like to get stared at for your biggest insecurity, especially one that is difficult to cover up. And for the love of God, do not complain about your “pimple” that looks like a piece of dust… At least not around someone who has been called pizza face once or twice.

To those who have or are struggling with acne: As much as people tell you that they don’t see your blemishes, you should believe them. This was something I battled with during my harder acne days. People that love you and see the authentic person that you are don’t pay attention to the imperfections. This is the first time in the history of my life that I’ve posted or shown these before pictures of my acne because I was ashamed. But why? It never defined me. What may have not worked for me, may work for you. I went through numerous trials and errors so don’t be discouraged if you go through a similar journey. I wanted to share my story because it’s real.

Beauty is always beyond the skin.