After 40 Years, I’m Sharing My Story So Sweat Doesn’t Get the Last Word
By Brice 

I can trace my first memory of hyperhidrosis back to 5th grade. That was the beginning. I remember it clearly: gripping my pencil tightly and sweat dripping onto the paper. Literal drops. My teachers always knew which papers were mine — they were warped, smudged or torn from being so damp. That was the first time I felt different. And the first time I felt ashamed of something I couldn’t control.

Over the years, hyperhidrosis has affected nearly every part of my life — physically, emotionally, socially, and even spiritually. If you live with it, you know it’s not “just sweating.” It’s constantly working to stay one step ahead of the embarrassment. It’s strategy. It’s dread.

I can remember in middle school being thrilled to be dropped off at the mall to go to a movie with NO parents. It was so liberating… until some of the boys (one of whom I had a HUGE crush on) initiated a game called “Hold Brice’s Hand.” My palms were soaked, and the idea of someone touching my hand — and feeling that wetness — was unbearable.

My “problem areas” are my hands, feet, and underarms. I used to soak through shoes — turning them stiff and crusted from salt stains. My beautiful leather and silk gloves would become soggy, transforming something elegant into something I wanted to hide. I lived in black and white. I wore two t-shirts at once, believing they could mask my enormous sweat stains.

In college, as part of a sorority rush day, there was a party based on the song “I Saw the Sign” by Ace of Base. We all wore red, yellow and/or green like a stoplight to match the theme. My dress was red linen. I was so desperate to get out of that day that I faked a neck injury convincingly enough that an ambulance came to take me away. All of that, just to avoid being visibly drenched and humiliated — my sweating exposed.

My dad later said that next time I had to be taken by ambulance for a fictitious disorder, I should make sure the hospital was in-network.

I’ve been a bridesmaid on more than a few occasions, but one pink satin dress nearly gave me a panic attack. The bride and I ended up designing a custom wrap in the same fabric as the dress to cover my underarms. She knew me well enough to know exactly what I was trying to hide.

At church, I still dread when we shake hands and say, “Peace be with you.” Instead, I’ve become the hugger. Some people think I’m warm and affectionate; others think I’m cold and distant. The truth is, I just don’t want anyone to feel my sweaty hands.

Even my role as a mother has been touched by this condition. I sometimes wonder if I’ve missed certain skin-to-skin moments with my children — times when they reached out and I pulled away. Not out of rejection, but because I couldn’t bear the physical contact. That thought breaks my heart.

I’ve tried everything — prescription antiperspirants, iontophoresis, and consultations with thoracic surgeons who warned of serious side effects. At one point, I drank alcohol to suppress my sweat anxiety. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I know others with hyperhidrosis may have found themselves in that space, too.

Then I found the International Hyperhidrosis Society (IHhS), and everything started to change. I participated in an IHhS Hyperhidrosis Master Class in 2014 where dermatologists were learning how to administer Botox (botulinum toxin) to manage excessive sweating. I was nervous and feared the people around me wouldn’t understand. Instead, I walked into a waiting room full of people just like me - working professionals, students, families... We’d all spent a lifetime silently suffering in the same invisible way, but now we were together, at an event focused on our wellbeing!

To those just discovering they have hyperhidrosis: I see you. It’s not silly. It’s not minor. It’s real, and it matters. And most importantly, you are not alone. There’s help. There’s support. And others understand exactly what you’re going through.

Now, I have grown children, a full life — and a voice. I’ve found tools and built systems to manage my sweating, yes. But I’ve also found power in sharing. If my story helps even one person feel seen, then maybe — finally — sweat doesn’t get the last word.

I hope that this year you’ll get involved in Hyperhidrosis Awareness Month and help our community of people living with hyperhidrosis to find support, understanding and treatment. 

All month, IHhS will be sharing facts about hyperhidrosis and its impacts on people’s lives.  You can help by spreading the word — share IHhS social media posts, talk with friends, family, and healthcare providers about excessive sweating, and start conversations that build awareness.  Every post, share, and conversation helps make hyperhidrosis more visible — and helps those of us living with it feel seen. 

The International Hyperhidrosis Society is grateful to Brice for sharing her story with us and the entire community. If you’d like to send a message of support to Brice, you can email Info@SweatHelp.org and we’ll forward your message to her.

We also want to hear your story!  Share your hyperhidrosis experiences on your social media by tagging the International Hyperhidrosis Society and using #HyperhidrosisAwarenessMonth — or post directly on our social platforms if that feels more comfortable. Every story shared helps raise awareness, supports others, and reminds people living with this condition that they are not alone.

Thank you for helping shine a light on this often-overlooked condition — together, we can make hyperhidrosis visible, understood, and treatable.