Mark's Story

Triggered by a tragic loss, Mark shares his story of living with psoriasis—exploring the overwhelming emotions that followed his diagnosis and how he has navigated dating, self-acceptance, and life with the condition.

Hello, Mark here. My life with psoriasis began in 2012 triggered by the tragic loss of my sister, Claire, to suicide. I was 31 years old. I remember noticing small red patches on my skin (forearms, stomach) shortly after she died, but I brushed them aside given what I was going through. Everything at that time seems like a blur when I look back now and it's true that I wasn't looking after myself particularly well. As a result, these strange red patches grew and I found them hiding in all sorts of places (armpits, groin, bottom, ears). If you can name it, they were there. Cue persistent (and very annoying) scratching, bleeding on bedsheets and clothes and a constant cloud of white skin flakes wherever I went. I scratched day and night without control. I didn't even realise I was doing it until friends pointed out, "Mark, you've always got your hand in your bum crack itching.''

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This was becoming a big problem, so I booked an appointment with my GP still not really knowing what this all meant. Psoriasis, they said. Plaque to be precise. Here is a prescription for 100 creams and lotions: one for the patches on your stomach, back, legs and arms; and one for your groin and bottom (as these areas are much more sensitive - so don't use this cream on other places)!), this one for your scalp (some delightfully smelling shampoo) and you should apply these two to three times a day. Oh then please use this separate cream to keep everywhere as hydrated as possible. It was all a bit overwhelming. I came home with a bag full of bottles and creams trying to make sense of this new regimen. Well, it didn't last long. I tried my best to keep up with my instructions, but life (and bereavement) got in the way. Things got worse. The areas became redder and more inflamed. New patches emerged. Blood flowed. The GP prescribed steroids. I took them. Things got a little better. However, lasting improvements required lifestyle changes, as I was told this condition wouldn't resolve. 

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A year later I met my partner, which was a fantastically exciting time. However, it stirred many difficult emotions because being intimate with someone meant eventually taking these clothes off and exposing my patchy body. Ahhh, stressful. Cue more patches. More itching and more clouds of dust. My worries were eased because this new man in my life was (and still is) extremely caring and understanding. Together we slowly created a life as a couple. He encouraged and supported me when people stared at my elbows in the street, or my funny white and red patches on my stomach while on holiday at the beach.

Fast forward to present day and I have finally accepted these patches on my body. Not having them there now would actually feel quite strange. They are a part of me and who I am. Having made my way through a catalogue of treatments (bar light therapy as being a ginger I was advised against it by the dermatologist 🤷) over the years, I find that using natural alternatives work best for me. Coconut and neem oils, bees wax, salt water and sunshine (plenty of factor 50!).

It has been a journey to say the least. But we got there. 

My thoughts are with anyone out there struggling as I did (and still do). Hopefully sharing my story will make you feel that you are not alone.