From the time I was twelve years old I had acne, or...

Margareta Rolff

From the time I was twelve years old I had acne, or pimples, on my face. I hoped that they would disappear sooner or later, but they grew worse instead and finally spread to other parts of the body. My parents sought the help of physicians for me, but to no purpose. I began to be worried that I was not like others, and as a result I became melancholy.

When I was seventeen years old articular rheumatism was added. This aggravated the acne, which developed into boils, and my sufferings grew still worse. I was so obsessed with the thought of my own body that I became shy, almost shunning people. There was nothing that could so catch my interest that I would forget myself.

When I had finished school I obtained a position, but did my work from a sense of duty; I never felt any joy in working. I was wrapped up in myself and brooded, all of which resulted in nervous illness. At last things grew so bad that life lost all meaning for me. I wanted to get away from people. I even tried to take steps to end my life. There was no physician who seemed able to put my thoughts right.

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