My scars are my story…

in Diary

From a young age I never had the option of a childhood like most. I was instead plagued by a nasty skin condition that had me grow up faster than I could ever imagine. Painful blistering spots that waged war on my skin- growing in number and size, taking over my body until there was no clear skin left to see.  

Other children worried, cautiously keeping a distance, in the fear they would catch ‘it’. And, whilst no-one knew what was happening, I was pulled out of gymnastics and swimming classes in the fear it may be contagious..

I was acutely conscious of my skin, as were my parents. And whilst the other girls my age spent every spare minute rolling up their skirt to do cartwheels on the lawn, in time to attract the boys, I spent mine learning how to cover up. It didn’t matter what the weather was outside, I layered up, and stepped out to face the world with my insecurities on show, and  a smile that hid my emotional struggle.

Although there was one saving grace: it hadn’t spread to my face – my small chink of light, which kept me going, even at the darkest of times.

From the age of twelve, I endured years of monthly hospital visits where I was prodded and poked at a time most teenagers are checking out asserting physical boundaries. However, still, there was no confirmation. And over time I slowly began to adjust to the realisation that there really were no answers.. No helpful diagnosis that would come with some accompanying cure-all magic pills.

I knew my parents’ hearts were breaking for me. Perhaps they knew better than me at times, what I was missing out on  - the simple, ordinary things you do as a child, which is why they never gave up in their mission to find a way to help.

However it is for this same reason, in honour of their tireless efforts to find a solution, that I dedicated the last few years to creating my own solution. To thank them for their overwhelming support, and to show them how grateful I was for their insurmountable support - for being such loving and accepting parents, most notably my dad. As however flawless his complexion, he really is the reason no man will ever compare!

Although, now, with time, my childhood difficulties have sparked a desire not to simply chase the dreams most people do, but instead - to bring the best possible results to all those Nior London touches. And in it all, I am grateful for the reminders that I was normal, despite my flaws. The friends and family who never once flinched at a glimpse of my scars, but instead accepted me with encouragement and love. The very same ones who helped me accept the aftermath of my condition and to be proud of who I am. For every brick of confidence laid down by them to follow my dreams.

And as one once said, “I think they are kool. They are your war wounds. You survived your own battle.”

I couldn’t think of a better way to have put it myself, as it is this that has become the inspiration behind Nior London.  

With all my love.. 

   




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