Journey To Confidence
Writer: Lindsay Lansberg
Editors: Riley Zachem and Kate Mintz
It’s August 2021, and I’m a frightened, fresh-faced prefrosh just two weeks from beginning my first year at Duke. I’m quite anxious, but simultaneously excited to start my college experience. As I mentally prepare to begin anew in an entirely foreign place, I look in the mirror and see the area surrounding my chin covered in cystic acne.
I have never had a breakout in my life. And now, just two weeks away from the start of a brand new chapter, I face clusters of pimples emerging on my lower cheeks and jawline. After a trip to the doctor, I come to terms with the fact that I have polycystic ovarian syndrome, otherwise known as PCOS.
PCOS can cause acne due to the ovaries producing more hormones called androgens, which stimulate an increase in oil in the skin. It finally made sense why this breakout had erupted in such a short period.
It was time for me, crippled with self-doubt and insecurities, to start my career as a college student. I had been picturing my first few weeks at Duke since the day my computer exploded with streaks of blue and white confetti, congratulating and welcoming me into its “most impressive” group of admitted students. Yet, I couldn’t have felt worse about myself. Suddenly, I was scouring my local Sephora, scrambling for the heaviest coverage foundation I could find.
I would stare at my reflection in the mirror every day, hoping, and praying that it would all go away before school. I applied layers upon layers of mismatched concealer and quietly appreciated the times my peers and I would be forced to wear a mask for COVID-19. I was a shadow of myself.
All I could think about was the first impression I was making on the people around me. Would they immediately notice the parade of bumps protruding from my skin? How quickly would they realize that my makeup did not match the coloring of the rest of my face? The sharp decrease in my confidence coincided with an increase in negative self-talk. I started working out more and more, thinking that toning my body to a greater extent would perhaps supplement how my face looked to my new peers’. As time passed, my skin was still a warzone, and the breakouts were on the winning side. Finally, fall break came around, and I completely broke down in tears to my doctor. Of course, I knew that healing takes time, but why wasn’t this happening fast enough? Didn’t my skin know I was in my first semester of college?
By the end of my fall semester, most of my active pimples had cleared up, with a residual few here and there. Yet, every time my face looked pimple-free, I was terrified. When would the next one come? Would I ever face a severe breakout again?
When it came time for my second semester, I started to feel like my old self again. This caused me to wonder how I could have had the time of my life my first semester, while not feeling like I was showing my new friends my most authentic self. I finally felt the tide turning as I came to that realization. That is, until one week in March when everything changed.
I visited Florida with my family for a few days, and at the time, I was using a topical cream called Tretinoin to help with my acne scarring, which made my skin hyper-sensitive. I had fallen asleep in the sun, and later that night, felt feverish: my entire face had blown up and was completely swollen. I was terrified—I had sun poisoning on the entirety of my face. I was two days from returning to school, and my eyes were distended, my lips were cracking, and I was downright miserable. I would scroll through my first semester pictures and cry. I felt entirely defeated once more.
I returned to school with my face still fragmented and red, layering more and more foundation atop the burns. Baseball caps became my best friend. All I wanted was to hide my appearance from anyone and everyone. I loathed the way I looked.
But, finally, after a few weeks of feeling down, my face returned to its regular coloring, and the acne had all but vanished. It wasn’t until April 2022 that I felt a wave of confidence. Confidence within me, and externally, too.
Starting college is scary enough as it is. You’re leaving the only home you know to venture into the uncertainty—uncertainty in social events, friendships, and academic priorities.
Over two years later, I revere and empathize with that frightened freshman girl. I have never felt more confident than I do now. I finally appreciate the healing journey I’m lucky to have endured. I also hold a new outlook on confidence that has helped me immensely: nobody cares about your insecurities except you.
At the time, every freshman was so bombarded with their intrusive thoughts and plights that nobody noticed my acne.
I have found that confidence fluctuates. Some days, I feel unstoppable. Others, I want to slip into the cracks and be noticed by absolutely no one. I’m still learning how to handle these juxtaposing thoughts. This is a journey I’m so grateful to be on: one filled with healing and appreciation for who I am and what I have gone through.
That girl was terrified of starting Duke, loathing what she looked like and doubting herself more than ever. But the girl she’s become because of that experience is someone I’m so proud to be. Today, I’m more confident than I was yesterday. And that’s something to be grateful for.
