#10 New Year, New Me, But Really.
Perioral dermatitis, breaking up with the beauty industry, and stepping back from Youtube.
You’re reading Try Stuff Energy, a newsletter on how it feels like to put yourself out into the word and try stuff. Written by Caitlin Sowers.
This edition: perioral dermatitis, breaking up with the beauty industry, and stepping back from Youtube. It’s a long and vulnerable one. Buckle up.
I woke up one morning in 2018 with two bumps on one side of my mouth just below my bottom lip. I assumed it was a breakout and spot-treated with my chemical exfoliant. It persisted and then worsened. None the wiser, I continued my nightly exfoliant routine, always dabbing a bit extra around my mouth.
Within a few months the situation physically hurt, had spread to both sides of my mouth, and delivered the news I was now the proud owner of perioral dermatitis. A term meaning general inflammation around the mouth, intentionally vague as it’s poorly understood.
I stopped exfoliating only after it stung and moved onto prescription creams. They dulled my dermatitis slightly, but as soon as I stopped my skin would erupt (a Tinder date would ask me if I had herpes around this time).
Over the next three years I tried diaper cream, African black soap, non-fluorinated toothpaste, SLS-free toothpaste, SLS-free face wash. I stopped eating, eggs, gluten, dairy, grains, and drinking caffeine and alcohol. All suggestions from the online Facebook groups I had joined for support. My PD would wane and then worsen, in a maddening patternless cycle. Each morning before I even opened my eyes I traced my fingers across my mouth, assessing the condition of my skin, running through everything I ate and applied the day before.
I became a crazy person.
My self-esteem plummeted. I didn’t want to leave my house. I avoided eye contact with others. A long-looked forward to trip to NYC with Tony was ruined because I couldn’t stop obsessing over my skin. What I remember most is the white-tiled, large-mirrored bathroom of our Brooklyn Airbnb, where I stared at myself every morning exhaling a cruel sigh, wishing I looked better.
When you reach the end of your rope… spend a lot of money? I assumed that if my skin barrier had been damaged with products, repairing it with other, better products would be the solution. I doled out a significant amount of cash on top of the line need-to-be-logged-in-to-see-the-price skincare. I shared my routine on social media. I was religiously consistent for months. My dermatitis would again dull slightly, worsen, and repeat.
At that point I had tried everything. I was miserable.
Admitting defeat, I brought up my skin for the first time in therapy. Yes, despite all of the above behaviours you’ve just read, I only then decided it was worth discussing. I admitted to taking close to 1,000 photos over the last four years trying to track my triggers. In that confession, I saw my PD, or rather my narrative and beliefs about my self worth as a result of it) as the blood-sucking energy vampire it was.
My therapist and I agreed that skin conditions are complex: genetics, topicals, diet, physical, and mental well-being all play a role. I had tried my absolute best, and I will go to my grave believing I could be awarded a doctorate for my attempt to fix my skin, but I couldn’t. I asked myself honestly, am I okay with the fact that the condition of my skin drains me like this? That it robs me of any semblance of self worth?
With his help, I acknowledged my body was talking to me through my skin. What was it saying?
Just stop. Stop everything you’re doing. No skincare. No makeup. No getting close the mirror and grading me. Please just leave me alone.
I listened.
The next day I woke up for the first time in two decades having not applied a single skincare product.
Each morning that followed I’d wake in disbelief. My skin had somehow not shrivelled up and fallen off my face. In the bathroom mirror I would quietly sound “what..the...fuck…”. I felt absolutely nothing. A lack of feeling. Unnoticed comfort. My skin looked exactly the same as it did with a $700 skincare routine and felt fine. WTF.
In two weeks of my new “routine” (splashing water on my face), my dermatitis had healed more than it had in the last four months. Still in shock, I researched “zero therapy” and found Jessica DeFino, a “pro-skin/anti-product beauty reporter”. I read one of her articles, and then another, and another. Our stories are eerily similar. Jessica subscribes to the idea of “supportive skincare”, meaning our skin can self cleanse and self moisturize. Now over a month in on this idea, I’m forced to agree.
I’m not against capitalism, but I am for understanding how it affects us. By encouraging a collective of people to outsource internal knowledge (acne is bad and wrong and here is a product and or medication you can take to fix it) vs. look within (your skin is talking to you, what might it be saying? why is acne bad?) we keep people buying. You can’t sell contentment and you can’t market inner peace.
My dermatitis was the canary in the coal mine for a f*cked up relationship I had with my self based on extraordinarily high-performance as a pre-requisite for self love. It took me so long to realize that. That realization blew up not just my belief system but also my hobbies and professional goals.
To start, I haven’t just been a consumer of the beauty industry, I’ve been an active player in perpetuating its consumption and standards. My last Youtube video features a prominent beauty brand. My last Instagram post is a makeup look. The irony is not lost on me. I feel bad. I feel bad that in showing products I’ve been excited by and hopeful for, I may have influenced you in some way. I’m sorry.
I’ve let go of long-admired female entrepreneurs in the beauty space. I’ve let go of building a digital tool for beauty as a business venture. I’ve let go my dream job. I’ve let go of the social capital of fitting into narrowly constructed beauty standards.
I expect I will settle at the end of this somewhere on neutral territory. A simple face oil. An ornamental lipstick. For now I’m raw. I feel delicate with myself and I feel a bit damaged. Youtube isn’t the place for me to be right now so you won’t see any new videos. I do plan to keep writing.
When you first sink into cold water, you panic. That’s your brain. If you stay, you’ll realize what your body knows, which is that it is deeply good. It is healing. My life feels like cold water right now. It is deeply uncomfortable. There is a definite before and after to all of this, and it is healing.
Thank you for reading.
Caitlin
Things That Are Good ™️
In the interest that you may have found all of the above incredibly self indulgent, here are a few things that are very good and have little to do with me.
The Bad Blood podcast reports the story of Elizabeth Holmes, once the youngest self-made billionaire (now a convicted felon), and her former company Theranos. I binged every episode in two days they’re that good.
Confession: I’m not over quarantine banana bread. Anyone else? This one is delicious. Bonus that its vegan. If I’ve linked this before I’m not sorry because it is perfect!
Interiors Youtuber Paige Wassel. Her vibe is awesome and taste is good.
Hi 👋, I’m Caitlin Sowers. I started sharing my life online via youtube videos in 2017. I love the art of story telling and am deeply curious about what I can learn by listening to others’ stories as well as sharing my own.
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Wow I really loved this one Caitlin! I'm sad to hear you're stepping away from Youtube but I can totally understand why. And I related so much to your story because I had a very similar experience with acne but I guess it just goes to show that everything really happens for a reason... On a lighter note, I'm so obsessed with Paige's channel, her style is sooo good! x
This is inspiring me to do the same....I've been struggling with rosacea. Maybe I need to just do nothing and leave my skin alone to let it balance itself out...and focus more on cleaning up all that I have been consuming.