I’m having so much difficulty, as of late, finding a way to vent my pain. It’s currently backed up in my head in the form of an endless scream. I drown it out with books and cooking shows and crushing candy. Plastic screens and magic black squiggles that envelope the here and take me anywhere else. The pages flip, the colored squares pop and for a moment I can make myself believe I’m accomplishing something instead of standing still.

If you bothered to pry me up, to shake me out of anywhere to here, I’ll admit I’m not okay. And if you make me stand in front of a mirror, you can watch me fall apart.

I dragged myself to my therapist’s office and blinked awake long enough to let the scream out for a diagnosis. Then I shut it back inside, handed the prescription to my husband, and took my diagnosis down to the place where the scream began.

I’ve exorcized the house, one room at a time, and covered all the mirrors with towels.

You probably think I’m overreacting. So rip off the crude curtain and make me stare at myself, at the hot red slap on my pale European ancestry, the angry flush of heredity that makes me hate my skin. I’ll try to crawl out of it while you watch, clawing my way to the surface before the scream suffocates me.

Yes, I could make a believer out of you. I could show you the madness that creeps around the edges of my I’m-just-fine. But nevermind, I’m just drama and attention wrapped in the paradox of attempting to live life unseen.

So I’ll swallow the scream and let you think what you want of the diagnosis, the prescription, and me. And I’ll wait for the day when the trauma is cool enough that I can take down the towels, look in the mirror, hear silence and see nothing except rosacea.


2 thoughts on “Rosacea

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  1. Hi Rachel,
    Here is something I wanted to tell you that is totally unrelated to this specific post; well for the most part, at least. I read through this post and was trying to understand the difficult things/thoughts running through your mind. But somehow, the picture thumbnail that comes up on the side above your name leads me to think otherwise. I do not know if that is your picture (there are two pictures, one young girl sporting brown hair and the other has darker hair – yeah they mostly look the same) and I am sorry if you have explained that in the past in one of your blogs and I did not read it. But the woma(e)n smiling through the pictures is (are) very beautiful and to top it, they are actually smiling with their eyes. It is as if you are a fantastic actor, who is able to smile and make people think you have no worries in your life. I have no idea what is true and even more strangely, I have no idea why I am writing this long winded comment. I was just taken aback by the perfectly beautiful and calming image of your face I saw and the torrid imagery of your mind that you presented. It was too paradoxical for me to ignore.

    Again, I hope everything works out in your favor and you are ok.



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