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Saving My Skin

E-BookEPUBePub WasserzeichenE-Book
182 Seiten
Englisch
Books on Demanderschienen am14.09.20203. Auflage
Atopic eczema, also known as atopic dermatitis, is an enormous challenge - not only for self-confidence, but also for physical, mental and emotional strength and your own zest for life. After more than 45 years of suffering from this agonizing skin disease, Iris Seidenstricker has found an amazingly simple way to healthy skin. With courage and determination, with sometimes very little hope but with untiring patience and confidence in the healing powers of her own body, she went this new way despite many setbacks. In the end she was rewarded with healthy skin and a never before experienced quality of life. This frank, sensible and touching book is not a self-help guide - it is a personal report which tells of an impressive recovery and provides deep insights into daily life with atopic eczema. The book gives hope and offers inspiring impulses to build and strengthen self-confidence.

Iris Seidenstricker is a German coach, author and trainer for personality development, stress management and career. In her workshops, seminars and books she conveys that life never has to be the way it is. And that the solution - if you really want to find it - is often where you never expected it to be.mehr
Verfügbare Formate
BuchKartoniert, Paperback
EUR14,99
E-BookEPUBePub WasserzeichenE-Book
EUR9,49

Produkt

KlappentextAtopic eczema, also known as atopic dermatitis, is an enormous challenge - not only for self-confidence, but also for physical, mental and emotional strength and your own zest for life. After more than 45 years of suffering from this agonizing skin disease, Iris Seidenstricker has found an amazingly simple way to healthy skin. With courage and determination, with sometimes very little hope but with untiring patience and confidence in the healing powers of her own body, she went this new way despite many setbacks. In the end she was rewarded with healthy skin and a never before experienced quality of life. This frank, sensible and touching book is not a self-help guide - it is a personal report which tells of an impressive recovery and provides deep insights into daily life with atopic eczema. The book gives hope and offers inspiring impulses to build and strengthen self-confidence.

Iris Seidenstricker is a German coach, author and trainer for personality development, stress management and career. In her workshops, seminars and books she conveys that life never has to be the way it is. And that the solution - if you really want to find it - is often where you never expected it to be.
Details
Weitere ISBN/GTIN9783752632095
ProduktartE-Book
EinbandartE-Book
FormatEPUB
Format HinweisePub Wasserzeichen
Erscheinungsjahr2020
Erscheinungsdatum14.09.2020
Auflage3. Auflage
Seiten182 Seiten
SpracheEnglisch
Artikel-Nr.5350754
Rubriken
Genre9200

Inhalt/Kritik

Leseprobe
Chapter 1
Survival. Somehow.

External crises are the opportunity
to pause and become aware.

Viktor E. Frankl

My face is glowing. My skin tightens and burns, my left eye feels swollen. In the right cheek pulsates a sharp pain, sticky-wet warmth crawls up my neck. The bedroom window is wide open and I can hear the wind in the trees. But I don t feel the cool morning air. Just the sultry heat on my face.

Is it the toner dust? Or the printer s ozone? I was in the copy room a lot yesterday. Paper jam, toner empty, new toner cartridge inserted, waiting for printouts.

Or was it the tomatoes in the sauce for lunch? Or maybe the raisins in the salad? I hadn t eaten any for years and I avoid grapes consistently. How stupid to eat raisins with this skin condition. Or maybe I should finally do without my breakfast apple. Too much fruit acid ...

The right calf is on fire, it feels like bloody scratches. And there s that diabolical itch in the little finger again. I rub until the skin surface is rubbed down and lymph flows. A hot, sharp pain. But at least the itching is gone. My sultry neck s on fire, too. I m palpating it, the big scab is gone. I must have scratched it up at night. The gloves I ve been wearing again at night are lying somewhere in my bed. They re no good either, they make it even easier to rub the skin down to the raw flesh.

I m tired to death, my body feels heavy and leaden. It s only three thirty in the morning. I could still lie in bed. But I have an appointment at 9 o clock, I have to get up. I need the time to physically and mentally prepare myself to go among people today with all the visible and invisible misery of atopic eczema.

I reach for the fatty ointment on the bedside table, smear the skin around my mouth and force myself out of bed. I sneak past the large corridor mirror into the bathroom without looking at me. The light is off, the gleam of dawn is bright enough to find toothbrush and toothpaste. I don t want to see myself in the mirror. How I feel is enough to know what I look like.

For months now I have been living again with dim light and without mirrors. Like countless times before in my life.


Every mirror is different. Some are soft, some are hard. Some a little blind. Some sharp and ruthless. A lot of people don t even notice the difference. I recognize immediately those who mean well with me. They are those who do not mercilessly show every redness, every crack or scratch and every swelling. Mirrors can be an elixir of life, but they can also kill the courage to live. If I want to survive, I have to know and to use the merciful mirrors. And even those I have to avoid every now and then.


A look at the alarm clock. Almost four hours to deadline. Perhaps the skin will calm down a little before then.

I wash my face carefully. The water bites in the rubbed areas. I cool the left eye with a washcloth, which I touch in a way that the damaged fingers do not come into contact with water. Somehow it penetrates into the injuries, nevertheless.

Taking a shower? No way. I do not want to endure water in the many cracks and wounds of my injured skin.


As a child I was put in bathtubs with sea salt during my holidays on the North Sea island of Borkum. I screamed my head off and refused to get back in those creepy tubs. How should children at all understand why they should suffer the torture of salt water in addition to their already so painful skin? It ll be over in a minute, the adults always said. That was right, the burning and biting passed, the atopic eczema doesn t.


I cream the skin around the mouth again. The feeling of tension eases a little, the heat on the face increases. With my head bowed I leave the bathroom. This is the safest way to escape an accidental glance into the hall mirror.

A short meditation on the living room carpet. Pray that the skin cools down, that by nine o clock I won t feel it at all. That I have an easier, more relaxed day today. That a miracle would happen and I would not look so terrible at the meeting between all the other healthy looking people. Not so red anymore, so swollen, not so inflamed and so blotchy.


Our skin is our largest and most versatile organ. It releases warmth and fluid, with it we perceive touch, feel if it is warm or cold, whether something feels good, bad or painful.

In addition, our skin protects our entire body and draws the line between inside and outside. Which also makes it a contact organ with other people. Tender touches, abuse and pain hit it first.

With our skin on our face and body we also show ourselves to others. It reveals our inner condition, whether we are excited or stressed, happy, worried or afraid. This has to do with the fact that the skin and the central nervous system have the same developmental origin-both are formed in humans from the same predispositions.

In our language now it becomes visible how much the skin reflects our feelings. We blush with shame or excitement and fade when we are scared and afraid. Fear makes us sweat on our foreheads, our whole bodies shudder and we get goose bumps.

Who is insensitive, has a thick skin , those who are sensitive and delicate have a thin skin . Something is no skin off of our nose or we escape by the skin of our teeth.

And sometimes we have to save our skin for that.


I ll light a candle in the kitchen, the perfect light for me. I get an ice pad, put it in the washcloth and hold it carefully against the thick eye.

My gaze falls on the cream pack that someone had put on my computer keyboard without comment yesterday when I was not at my desk. An expensive cosmetic organic cream, skin soothing . I asked my colleagues if one of them had put it there. They shook their heads. Later I went to Sabine, who also suffers from atopic eczema. How encroaching she indignantly said. I would never dare to do such a thing.

I nodded. But I don t know what to make of it. Did someone really see me? Is it compassionate? Nice? Or is it just the inability to recognize personal boundaries?

I ll put the cream away. No experiments today.

An apple, a banana and porridge. Add a pot of hot water. I haven t had coffee for a long time, because I read that coffee is supposed to irritate the vegetative nervous system. My body and my entire system are irritated anyway, they don t need any more excitement.

My scalp itches. I scrape and dandruff falls to the floor. In the past the scalp skin was rarely affected and I was very happy about it-at least no dandruff in my hair and on my clothes. But that had been once ...


Actually, I wanted to go to the hairdresser tonight. I ll cancel the appointment. For the third time. The way I look, I cannot bear to sit in the light in front of a mirror, to be looked at and not be able to escape my reflection.


I eat the porridge with my right hand, the left one holds the washcloth against the eye. The cracks in my face burn, my mouth hurts with the smallest movement.

I wonder what someone would think who could see me here in the candlelight at the kitchen table, with a washcloth, a thick eye and a scratched face. I remember what the brother of Natalie, a girl I met many years ago in a clinic where she was also treated for atopic eczema, said to her when she was a teenager: You could play in the movie Ben Hur . In the valley of the lepers.

In former cultures, lepers had to live apart from society. Maybe that s where my diffuse fear of people comes from. That I m rejected by them because of my difficult appearance and my skin. I feel as excluded as the lepers had been. I feel like living in a valley, far away from the others with the beautiful, pale, cool skin. And a carefree life.


When I get dressed, my legs burn. I bend down and see only now the broad and long scratches at the calves. It s as if a predator had pulled its claws along it. But it was only my toes that gave in to the nightly itching without restraint. I take a deep breath and disinfect the scratches with pure alcohol.


The alcohol will dry out the skin even more, I know that of course. But it s better to bear the burning and kill the bacteria than to have wounds that get infected. In that case I would have to endure the itching still longer, of course.

As a child, when I couldn t stand the itching any longer, I held my breath and poured Grandma s Mountain pine spirit on the scratched skin. I could have screamed. But I clenched my teeth because I knew the terrible pain would soon pass. And with it the even more horrible itching also.


Whenever I was with others, I always pay attention to their skin first. Healthy skin almost makes me jealous. Why must I of all people have a disease that is so visible? Why is it so easy for others? Why is it so natural for them to get up in the morning, wash, feel good and start the day full of energy? What a luxury to complain about one or even three pimples!


Half past six in the morning. I don t have to leave until eight thirty . I am endlessly tired and want to go back to bed, fall asleep and not feel anything anymore. But I am not allowed to lie down now, so that at least the eyes get a little bit better. Lying down again won t work for...
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