Over the years I tried nearly everything the pharmacy aisle and the dermatologist's office had to offer.
Coal tar shampoos. They worked. That is the honest part.
They also made my bathroom smell like a road crew had moved in, and the smell followed me into the car, into the office, into other people's houses.
And the moment I stopped, within about three weeks, everything came back.
Steroid creams. Two weeks of relief. Then my doctor would talk about "taking a break" from them, because you cannot use them forever.
So I would take a break. And it would come back thicker than before.
Salicylic acid. It lifted the scale beautifully. It did nothing about the fact that more scale was already on its way.
Every moisturizer with the word "psoriasis" on the box.
I lost count.
Some soothed.
One of them stung so badly I sat on the edge of the bath with a wet towel for twenty minutes.
Dermatologist visits. Three different ones over the years. The advice was always some version of the same thing: "Avoid your triggers." But my triggers were cold weather, stress, illness, and any small injury to my skin. In other words, being alive.
Even phototherapy. Twice a week, a forty-minute drive each way, standing in a lit cabinet in my underwear.
It helped. It helped for exactly as long as I kept driving there.
Some of it helped for a while.
Most of it did not last.
And every new product I opened came with the same quiet fear:
What if this is the one that makes it worse?
Because that happens.
Anyone who has this knows that happens.
A scratch, a harsh product, a sunburn, and six weeks later there is a new patch where there was never one before.
That fear alone kept me stuck for years.
Thousands of dollars. Three decades of the same cycle.
And my dermatologist was telling me to "keep managing it."
At your age, she said, this is just something we manage.
I sat in my car after that appointment and stared at the steering wheel for a long time.