One summer when I was twenty, a cloud suddenly drifted across the clear sky of my life. While bathing, I noticed a few pale red patches appearing on my lower legs, topped with a thin layer of silvery-white scale that fell away at the slightest scrape. At first I thought it was a seasonal allergy, but when the patches spread to my thighs and arms and the itching kept me awake night after night, my family urged me to see a doctor. “Plaque psoriasis,” the physician’s diagnosis landed like a hammer blow, shattering my bright expectations for youth.

In the following years I became a frequent visitor to the hospital. Topical ointments and oral medications were switched one after another, yet the condition fluctuated like a roller coaster. Stress, late nights, and eating spicy food could all become triggers for relapse. At its worst, erythema covered my back and scales stuck to my clothes; wherever I went I feared being noticed. I became ashamed and hypersensitive, always wearing long sleeves and pants in summer, turning down every invitation to swim or camp, and even avoiding close contact with friends. Negative emotions wrapped around me like vines, and the anxiety in turn aggravated my skin, worsening the lesions and creating a vicious cycle.

The turning point came at a patient support meeting. A recovered woman said, “Psoriasis is not only a skin disease but also a test of body and mind; learning to coexist with it is more important than blind treatment.” That sentence awakened me. I began to try to change, adjusting step by step from skin care to lifestyle habits.

Every morning I would bathe gently with water at 37°C, avoiding vigorous scrubbing; within three minutes after drying I would apply a ceramide-containing moisturizer to lock in the moisture. Diet-wise, I gave up my favorite hotpot and barbecue, switched breakfast to oats with milk and boiled eggs, and ate more fresh fruits, vegetables, and high-quality protein for lunch and dinner. What benefited me most, however, were emotional regulation and exercise.

I no longer shut myself at home; every evening I would go for a jog in the neighborhood park. At first the slight itch from sweat soaking my skin made me uncomfortable, but when I ran into the evening breeze and felt the rhythm of my heart and breath, the pent-up gloom seemed to be sweat out of my body. On weekends I would invite my close friends to hike, practice yoga, or simply chat about our feelings in a café and pour out my worries. Before bed I would read a light essay and fall asleep to soothing music; my sleep quality gradually improved.

A shift in mindset made me more patient with treatment. I strictly followed the doctor’s prescriptions and no longer became anxious or irritable when I couldn’t see results in the short term. After persisting for more than half a year, a miracle quietly happened: the erythema on my skin gradually lightened, changing from deep red to pale pink and eventually fading away; the silvery-white scales became fewer and fewer until they disappeared completely, and the originally rough, dry skin became smooth and delicate.

Now, three years have passed and my condition has not had a serious relapse. I finally dare to wear a pretty short-sleeved dress and stand confidently in the sunshine. I understand that psoriasis may be an indelible mark in my life, but it also taught me to accept and care for myself. Those days fighting the scales taught me resilience and serenity, and made me realize that true health is the expansion of both body and mind.