Ever since she was a little girl, senior Shenal Christian had spots of white covering her body. These sports turned out to be vitiligo, which she was diagnosed with at a very young age.
Underwater
April 5, 2019
One of the treatments used to control the growth of vitiligo is called Narrowband UVB therapy. Every other day after school, my mom would pick me up and drive me to my dermatologist’s clinic. Once there, I would undress completely, step in to a four door box with lamps inside as part of the therapy. Before I would step into the “sun booth” as I liked to call it, I would do a quick prayer because I was scared that the box would take away my eyesight and as a precaution I would wear eye goggles and close my eyes super super tight. My mom would smother sunscreen onto my face and I would step in.
I never told this to anyone before, but I would cry every time I was in the therapy booth. Those six minutes and 30 seconds felt like I was close to the sun and if I opened my eyes, I would get sucked in.
I HATED the sun booth. I hated the days I would be forced to go. I hated my unsightly, spotted skin. I hated the kids who asked what was wrong. I hated my doctors for not fixing me. I hated people who had clear skin and a perfect life. I hated myself.
I developed obsessive compulsive disorder two years after I was diagnosed.
My hand would compulsively scratch my spots, making them inflamed and red. My nails dug into to the inside of my palms every time I was in the box and counting to 300 was my only outlet from the pain.
Counting my steps was the only release from having to talk to other kids on the playground and wearing pants every single day became a routine.
Every time I closed my eyes, I felt like I was underwater. I was drowning.