My Skin is Burning Again
It’s been five years since my skin burned this badly. The last time I felt this level of relentless, fiery itching was in February of 2020, while I was living in San Francisco, trapped in an abusive relationship. Back then, my skin felt like a cry for help—a visceral manifestation of all the emotional torment I couldn’t fully express. Now, here I am again, my body covered in eczema, the itch nearly constant. Every night is a battle for sleep, and every movement sends pain shooting across my skin. What is my body trying to tell me this time?
Eczema, I’ve learned, can often be a manifestation of emotional or spiritual imbalances. These flare-ups seem to carry messages from the body, asking me to look deeper within:
Suppressed emotions: Eczema may symbolize repressed feelings—anger, frustration, grief—that haven’t been fully processed. The skin, our boundary between the inner and outer world, can reflect struggles with emotional boundaries, perhaps feeling too exposed, raw, or vulnerable.
Sensitivity: Spiritually, eczema can reflect heightened sensitivity or empathy. This sensitivity makes me susceptible to emotional and environmental stress, with my skin reacting defensively, as if trying to protect me from absorbing too much.
Healing and release: Flare-ups are the body’s way of trying to purge toxins—physically and emotionally. My body might be begging for deeper inner healing, urging me to release old patterns tied to self-worth, shame, or trauma.
Boundaries: The skin, as a protective layer, may be pointing to boundary issues—absorbing too much from others, or not protecting my energy well enough.
Transformation: Spiritually, eczema could symbolize growth and transformation, calling me to nurture deeper aspects of myself that I’ve neglected, ignored, or avoided.
It feels like my body is speaking volumes through my skin. The unprocessed grief from my grandfather’s passing in September. The stress of transitioning to a new life in Seattle. The yearning to connect more deeply with my soul’s purpose. Physically, I’m struggling with the Pacific Northwest’s humid climate, which has always been a trigger for my eczema. My body, still acclimating to this new environment, feels like it’s revolting against the changes.
Complicating things further, I’m living in a basement, and I’m painfully discovering that my body is highly sensitive to mold toxins. I’ve tried every natural remedy I could think of—colloidal oatmeal, aloe vera, calendula, tallow, even urine therapy. But after two agonizing months of sleepless nights and worsening pain, I surrendered. I walked into urgent care, feeling a strange mix of relief and defeat.
The doctors didn’t ask to see the full extent of my condition; they simply handed me prescriptions for Prednisone, Hydroxyzine, and Triamcinolone, and a referral to a dermatologist, just from the appearance of my neck and the panic in my voice. And within a day, my skin started to ease, the burning subsided, and for the first time in weeks, I slept soundly. In that moment, I realized that there is a place for Western medicine, even in a life focused on natural healing. Sometimes, when the body is too overwhelmed, we need the strength of emergency medicines to pull us back from the brink.
To nurture my body moving forward, I see this as an invitation to establish rituals that bring me into a deeper relationship with my physical, emotional, and spiritual needs. Addressing eczema not just through external treatments but also through inner work allows me to create space for transformation.
I’ll start with creating sacred moments each day where I check in with myself emotionally. I’ll allow the emotions I’ve been avoiding to surface, knowing they need to be seen and felt to be released. Being an empath can be overwhelming, but I’m learning to honor this as a gift. To prevent external energies from affecting my skin, I’ll commit to daily grounding and energy-clearing rituals.
To support my body’s detoxification, I’ll weave in gentle practices that align with holistic healing and nourishment. I’ll create a daily tea ritual using detoxifying herbs like dandelion root and burdock. Sipping this tea will not only cleanse my body but also give me a moment of mindfulness to connect with my healing intentions. Once a week, I’ll practice deep breathwork to release toxins and emotions. This will be a powerful way to let go of stored energy, supporting my body in its natural healing process.
Strengthening my boundaries will become a central part of how I care for my skin and energy field. In the mornings, I’ll take a few minutes to imagine myself surrounded by a protective, golden light. This light serves as a reminder that my energy is sacred and not available for depletion by external forces. Each day, I’ll repeat affirmations like, “I respect and protect my energy” or “It’s safe for me to set healthy boundaries.” This will reinforce my ability to assert myself emotionally and energetically, which I believe will reflect in my skin’s healing.
Healing trauma will require gentle, compassionate care. I’ll turn toward practices that help me connect with my inner child and release any shame that still lingers. Once a week, I’ll do an inner child meditation, imagining my younger self and offering her the comfort and love she needed but didn’t receive. This will help heal wounds that still affect my sense of self-worth and body image. Each night, I’ll practice loving-kindness meditation, directing warmth and healing thoughts toward my body, especially where eczema flares up. This will help me shift from frustration with my skin to gratitude for the healing it’s guiding me through.
This eczema flare-up, as painful as it has been, is guiding me to a deeper understanding of myself. Through every sleepless night, every patch of inflamed skin, my body has been calling me back—to care for it with compassion and tenderness, to heal the parts of myself I’ve neglected for too long.
I realize now that healing is not just about erasing the symptoms. It’s about listening to the body’s whispers before they become screams. Eczema is not my enemy but a messenger, urging me to slow down, to release old traumas, and to nurture the most vulnerable parts of my soul.
As I embark on this healing journey, I’m committed to transforming this pain into a process of rebirth. Through daily rituals of self-awareness, protection, and nourishment, I will allow my body the space it needs to heal, not only on the surface but at the deepest levels of my being. I will honor this sensitivity as a gift, creating firmer boundaries where needed, and embracing the spiritual call for transformation.
With each step, I will remind myself that healing is not linear, and that it’s okay to seek help when the burden is too great to carry alone. Sometimes, it takes surrender to find strength. Through this experience, I’m learning that healing is as much about releasing control as it is about taking care of myself—and in that surrender, I find a deeper connection to my body, my emotions, and my spirit.