Living With Eczema
I have lived with eczema my whole life. For as long as I can remember, my skin has been something I have had to think about constantly. Where other people could move through their days without a second thought, I was always aware of flare-ups, itching, redness, and discomfort. But the hardest part of living with eczema was never just the physical pain. It was the emotional weight that came with it.
Eczema doesn’t exist in isolation. It shows up on your body, but it settles into your mind too. Growing up, I quickly learned that skin is one of the first things people notice, and when yours doesn’t fit into the narrow idea of what “good skin” should look like, it can quietly chip away at your confidence.
The Hidden Impact on Mental Wellbeing
As a child and teenager, my confidence took a huge hit. I never felt like I matched the image of effortless, clear skin that surrounded me in magazines, adverts, and even at school. I was constantly aware of how my skin looked to others, even when no one said anything. That awareness can be exhausting.
There was also a deep sense of embarrassment that came with managing my eczema in public. I relied on thick, clinical-looking creams just to get through the day. Pulling them out of my bag always felt like drawing attention to something I desperately wanted to hide. While those creams helped manage my symptoms, they never made me feel cared for. They felt like medical tools, not acts of kindness toward myself.
Over time, that takes a toll. When your skincare routine is purely about control and survival, it can feel like your condition is always in charge.
The Power of a Supportive Circle
One thing that made an enormous difference in my life was the people around me.
I was incredibly lucky to have a supportive circle of family and friends who never made me feel like my skin defined me.
They reminded me, often without realising it, that I was loved and valued even when I struggled to feel comfortable in my own body.
That support didn’t magically fix how I felt about my skin, but it gave me space to breathe.
It allowed me to start separating my worth from my condition.
And in that space, I began to explore what actually helped — not just emotionally, but physically too.
Learning What My Skin Truly Needed
As I grew older, I started paying closer attention to my skin. Instead of blindly following advice or using whatever was prescribed, I began experimenting. I tried different ingredients, routines, and lifestyle changes. Some things didn’t work at all. Others made a noticeable difference.
Slowly, I learned what soothed my skin rather than just suppressing symptoms. I learned the importance of supporting the skin barrier, of gentle consistency rather than harsh fixes, and of listening to my body instead of fighting it.
This process wasn’t quick or easy, but it was empowering. For the first time, I felt like I was participating in my own care rather than reacting to constant flare-ups.
Why I Created Calma
When I created Calma, I knew exactly what I didn’t want it to be. I didn’t want it to feel like the sterile, clinical products I grew up using. I didn’t want it to feel like another reminder that something was “wrong” with my skin.
I wanted Calma to feel rich, buttery, and deeply soothing. Something that truly supported the skin barrier while also feeling indulgent. Something that felt like comfort, not correction.
Living with a chronic skin condition often turns skincare into a necessity rather than a joy. But when you are applying something several times a day, it matters how it makes you feel. Those moments add up. Skincare shouldn’t just manage symptoms — it should offer relief, softness, and even a little pleasure.
Turning Necessity Into Ritual
For me, Calma is about shifting skincare from a chore into a ritual. When you live with eczema or other chronic skin conditions, your routine becomes part of your daily survival. That doesn’t mean it has to feel cold or joyless.
Applying something to your skin can be a moment of pause. A moment where you choose care over frustration. Even a small lift in mood can make a difference on hard days.
That’s why Calma was designed to feel like a treat — something you look forward to using rather than something you dread needing.
Design That Feels Human, Not Clinical
Calma doesn’t just feel different — it looks different too. I wanted the packaging and overall aesthetic to feel comforting and joyful, not medical or intimidating. So many products for skin conditions are designed like prescriptions, reinforcing the idea that your skin is a problem to be fixed.
I wanted Calma to be a moment of care instead. Something you could leave out proudly. Something that didn’t scream “illness,” but whispered reassurance.
Because how a product looks and feels can shape how you feel about yourself.
The Community Around Calma
What has grown around Calma means more to me than I can fully express.
The community that has formed is full of people who truly understand the emotional side of living with visible skin differences. People who lift each other up, who share stories, and who remind each other that they are not alone.
There is something incredibly powerful about being seen and understood. Especially when you’ve spent years feeling self-conscious or isolated because of your skin.
Calma started from my own search for comfort. Now, it’s becoming a space where others can feel at home in their skin too — even on the hard days.
Finding Comfort, Together
Living with eczema is a lifelong journey. There is no single product or routine that solves everything. But comfort, care, and community make the journey lighter.
Calma exists to offer those things — not just to the skin, but to the person living inside it. And if it can help even one person feel a little more at peace in their own skin, then it’s doing exactly what it was created to do.
Thank you Janna
Thank you for turning your own lived experience into comfort for others. For speaking openly about the emotional side of living with eczema and for reminding people that their skin does not define their worth.
Thank you for building a space where people feel seen, understood, and supported. A space where skin differences are met with empathy and where small rituals can bring moments of joy, even on difficult days.
Your honesty, vulnerability, and dedication have created a community that lifts each other up. One that feels safe, warm, and real.
