Bio-Indicators. I Have Psoriasis and My Legs are a Barometer for the Stress in the Work I Do (This is What Happens When I Don't Stay On Top of My Health)

My sisters, Mom, and I have psoriasis. It is hereditary and it is invoked by stress levels that produce the excessive skin reproduction in spots that is out of our control (but in our control, because it is a measurement of stress). I am on medication, but insurance only allows treatments at a paced scale, and even when I am mentally feeling in control of the amount of work coming at me, my body has a different level of measurement. My legs get inflamed, and it tells the story of the internal material I am navigating, but have no control of...

...this is the work being put upon me. It shows in my skin. 

Next week, I go for treatment, which is 100 wasp stings of Kennalog that will subdue the stress on my legs for a few month. Still, the body reacts as it will to what we are willing to endure mentally. I'm in this to support teachers, who I know support young people, but our institutions wreak another havoc. I'm aware of this, as are my legs - and the are burning internal, biological warfare right now, articulating another scenario. 

Yes, I know I should do less, fight less, and operate to calm the biological battle in me, but this is the work of our times, so what do I do? I stay on top of it (thank the Great Whatever for insurance), but that might not even be enough. 

Little is known about psoriasis and the way it plagues our bodies, and I'm thankful it is only on my legs and not on my neck, scalp, or arms. Still, I know that one solution to curing it is living a calmer life of self-care, push-back, and human self-perseverance. I feel lucky when my stress level is subdued and 99% of the time, I like to think I'm on top of my game, but then the body has another story to tell. It is not liking the insanity of work that has been placed on me this year as so many of my colleagues have departed, and I'm doing what I can to sustain programs for our students.

This is what my body is telling me, and I have to rearrange the narrative. I know our systems most definitely don't care about how its workers are treated. I feel as if my legs are on fire. My symptoms show externally, and I imagine it is nothing compared to the internal damage such work causes. It will be gone upon Kennelog shots. But for now, I chronicle the legs as evidence of how a body reacts to the inequities, harshness, and realities of the work place.

I'm fortunate to work and to have work, but I wonder, "At what cost?'

This too shall pass (I hope).