My Life with Body Dysmorphic Disorder

Content Warning: Body Dysmorphic Disorder, Eatings Disorders

If you or someone you know needs help coping with BDD, please visit https://bddfoundation.org/

Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD) is defined as "a mental illness involving obsessive focus on a perceived flaw in appearance". Many people with eating disorders also struggle with BDD; if the "flaw" they see is their weight, they may go to unhealthy lengths to change that (been there, done that).

The first time I remember struggling with BDD was in elementary school. It was the first day of fourth grade, and I had just gotten my first flat iron. I have naturally curly hair, and I wanted to go to school with the stick straight hair trend of the late 2000s/early 2010s. But of course, September in Massachusetts means humidity and my hair was a hot mess. I was so afraid to go to school that I hid under my bed.

That day, my fourth grade teacher took photos of us to hang on a bulletin board. On the last day of school, I was so excited to rip it down.

BDD affects me every single day. It fills my mornings with anxiety, it whispers in my ear through the afternoon. It keeps me up until my body can't take it anymore and I fall asleep. It's an itch I can't scratch, because once I do, I spiral deep down through layers of my skin and I can't stop.

People that suffer from BDD often fixate on one flaw, although many of us fixate on various parts of our bodies. I struggle with my weight and specific parts of my body in relation to this (my face, my arms, my stomach), as well as my hair. But just when I think I have a handle on what's going on in those areas, something seemingly random like my eyelashes or my fingernails throw me off guard and I'm right back where I started.

I take a long time to get ready. No matter how early I wake up, I find myself showing up to work late because some aspect of my appearance tripped me up. Maybe my hair looked too flat on the top of my head. Maybe my braid made my face look fat. I'll spend an hour working on a hairstyle just to rip it out in a panic on my way out the door.

I get anxious if I don't think I'll have enough time to get ready before going somewhere important.

I change my clothes. A lot. Even if I plan an outfit the night before, I might wake up and feel like it's all wrong. I try on clothes until I feel like I look right. I bring a backup outfit incase I break down wherever I'm going and need another option. I throw clothes on the floor until I've tried on everything in my closet.

I usually settle on one of the three outfits I know my body looks alright in.

Until it doesn't.

I won't even sit around my house in something I don't think I look cute in.

Even if I'm home alone.

I'm anxious to take photos. I love keepsakes, but I hate creating them. I feel devastated when the photos of a happy day didn't come out the way I wanted them too. I've cried over so many "almost" Instagram posts.

I can't take my eyes off the mirror. I need to know what I looked like at all times to make sure I look okay. And if I don't? I use my resources to fix it. I've taken bobby pins out of my hair in the middle of dance class and used them to separate my eyelashes because they looked too clumpy. I've put my jacket back on because the shirt I'm wearing isn't as flattering as I thought it'd be.

I can't just go with the flow. I over-plan everything. I plan when I'm going to wash my hair so that it doesn't look too greasy for a special event. I get frustrated when these plans don't fit into my schedule. I stay up late straightening my hair so it looks good the next day.

I damage my body. I rip all of my nail polish off when just my pinky is chipped. I fill my room with the smell of burnt hair when I go over and over and over a piece that just won't fall the way I want it to. I force my contacts in when my eyes are too dry, yearning for my glasses. I shave even when I know my skin needs a break. I don't always feed myself when I'm hungry.

I spend money I don't have altering my appearance. I put grocery money towards manicures. I fall for the traps of salespeople saying this product will change my life.

I'll send a photo to five friends before I post it. I'll ask my friends to do my eyeshadow so I know it'll come out socially acceptable. I'll let someone else pick out my outfit to give my brain a break. I need constant reassurance.

I am not okay until I look okay. I could be out at a fun activity, like a party on Saturday night or brunch on a Sunday morning, but I will be anxious and upset until I can fix my problem.

I can't trust my own eyes. My mind alters the way I see myself. I truly have no idea what I actually look like. Someone will tell me I look like I've lost so much weight, but I only see that I've gained. Someone will tell me that my smile looks pretty in this picture, but I only see a yellow tint.

I constantly feel like a prisoner in my own mind. I feel like I can't escape this tornado sucking me back down until I never leave my room again. I miss life happening right in front of my eyes because I'm too busy retying my ponytail for the 10th time today or running to the bathroom to fix my highlighter.

I know I'm not alone, but this disorder makes me feel so lonely. I'm tired of acting like everything is fine or getting eye rolls when I have to do something to cope.

May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and as a goal of my blog is to be more honest about my mental health, I'm trying to talk about it more. Keeping it all bottled up isn't going to solve anything, and it's time we break this stigma. Mentally ill individuals are not stereotypes. We are just trying to get by, one day at a time.

I couldn't decide what photos to add to this post, but this past weekend I faced my fear of photos, tried out my new eyeshadow palette, and snapped a few pics. Over the past few years, there have been less and less photos of me online because of my struggle with body dysmorphic disorder. But I want to put a name to a face, show that I do in fact exist and will keep on existing even if I'm struggling. So here I am.