Uncovered: Motherhood and HS The Anjelica Mendoza Story
One of the hardest parts about living with Hidradenitis Suppurativa is that life doesn’t stop when the pain begins. Bills still need to be paid. Children still need to be cared for.
Meals still need to be cooked. Life will continue lifing regardless of what else is happening.
Responsibilities still exist even when your body feels like it’s falling apart.
This week’s Uncovered story comes from Anjelica Mendoza, a mother of five whose journey with HS reflects the resilience so many of us carry every single day. What moved me most about Anjelica’s story was her honesty about navigating chronic pain while continuing to show up for the people she loves. Her story speaks not only to the physical realities of HS, but also to the emotional exhaustion, isolation, strength, and advocacy that can grow from it. For every parent trying to survive HS while still holding everyone else together, this story is for you. Today, we are honored to hold space for Anjelica’s truth.
My name is Anjelica Mendoza, I've been living with Hidradenitis Suppurativa for most of my life, but for many years, I didn’t even know what it was. I knew pain. I knew embarrassment. I knew what it felt like to hide wounds that wouldn’t heal and to constantly wonder why my body was doing this to me. But I didn’t know there was a name for it. I didn’t know there were other people going through the same thing.
When I was finally diagnosed, it wasn’t the relief people might expect. There wasn’t a packet of information waiting for me. There wasn’t a roadmap explaining how to care for my wounds, manage flares, or navigate life with a chronic inflammatory disease. I was handed a diagnosis and sent on my way. So, I did what many HS warriors have had to do: I became my own advocate.
Some of the most valuable information I learned didn’t come from a doctor’s office. It came from other people living with HS. Late-night scrolling on TikTok introduced me to a community of warriors who openly shared their experiences, wound care tips, products that helped them, and most importantly, hope. For the first time, I saw people who understood exactly what I was going through.
Living with HS while raising five children has been one of the hardest things I have ever done. There have been days when I could barely walk because of a flare but still had lunches to pack, appointments to make, homework to check, and children who needed their mom. There were nights when I cried in private because the pain was unbearable, only to wake up the next morning and do it all over again.
HS doesn’t pause motherhood.
It doesn’t care if your child has a school event, a basketball game, or needs help getting ready for their day. The disease keeps going, and somehow, so do I.
My journey has been filled with surgeries, countless wound dressings, drainage, scarring, and flare-ups that left me physically and emotionally exhausted. Every surgery came with hope that maybe this time things would get better. Sometimes they did. Sometimes they didn’t. Recovery wasn’t just about healing my body, it was also about healing the frustration, disappointment, and grief that came with realizing HS is not something you simply overcome.
There were moments when I felt broken. Moments when I questioned my worth because I didn’t recognize my own body anymore. Moments when I avoided mirrors. Moments when I wondered if people saw me before they saw my scars.
But somewhere along the way, something changed. The same disease that made me feel invisible became the reason I started speaking up. What began as searching for answers turned into advocacy. Loneliness turned into community. And my pain turned into purpose.
Today, I use my voice because I remember what it felt like to have none. I remember desperately searching for information and finding very little, feeling ashamed of things that were never my fault and believing I had to suffer in silence.
Now I share because I never want another warrior to feel as alone as I did.
The biggest misconception about HS is that it’s “just a skin condition.” It isn’t. It affects your mental health, your relationships, your confidence, your finances, your career, your parenting, and sometimes your entire sense of identity. The wounds are visible, but the emotional scars often go unseen.
Yet despite everything HS has taken from me, it has also shown me who I am. I am resilient, a mother who continues showing up for her five children, even on the hardest days, an advocate who turns pain into purpose. I am a warrior who refuses to let this disease define my worth.
If there is one thing I hope people take away from my story, it’s this: you can be struggling and strong at the same time. You can be hurting and still have hope. You can have scars and still be beautiful. HS changed my life, but it also introduced me to a community that taught me how powerful our voices can be when we stop hiding. For years, I thought I was fighting this battle alone. Now I know there are thousands of us. And together, we are impossible to ignore.
Stories like hers remind me that resilience may not always look like what you think it should. Sometimes it looks like packing lunches while managing a painful flare or recovering from surgery while still showing up for our loved ones or even crying in private one minute and finding the strength to put on a smile and keep going the next.
To Angel: Thank you for trusting this space with your story, your vulnerability and your truth. Your voice will undoubtedly help another warrior feel less alone.
To everyone reading: You are allowed to acknowledge how hard this journey can be while still recognizing your strength. Both can exist at the same time.
If this story resonated with you and you feel called to share your own HS journey, you can learn more about the Uncovered series and submit your story here.
If you are looking to keep up with Angel, she can be found on