What You Didn't See

Content Warning: Body Dysmorphic Disorder

On Sunday, I posted on Instagram for the first time since New Year's Day. I was in the mood for a new profile picture, so I styled my hair, used my favorite eyeshadow palette, put on a top for this unseasonably warm Sunday, and headed to my bathroom where the lighting was the best to snap a few shots.

I'm super self-conscious on camera and I overthink everything. I'm riding a rollercoaster I can't get off. I think about past photos that didn't come out so good, so I don't work the camera quite right. My lack of confidence in turn ruins the photo, and the cycle of feeling un-photogenic goes on and on and on...

My rational brain knows that photography and modeling art crafts to be mastered, and my appearance has little to do with how a photo comes out. If I don't have the right angle or the right lighting, it doesn't matter if my makeup was flawless. The photo will not be great in my eyes.

My rational brain also knows that my irrational brain sets impossibly high standards for myself when I take photos. I'll feel great when I look in the mirror, but fall apart when I see myself on camera. Even if I'm looking at the screen and thinking "this will be cute", I check my camera roll and break my own heart.

But you didn't see any of this emotional turmoil when you saw my post.

You saw me, with my glittery eyeshadow and my curled hair. You saw me, in my baggy jeans and silky white top. You saw me, as I am, but maybe not as I saw myself.

Because there's so much more than you didn't see.

What you didn't see were the three hair tools I had plugged in at once. Two curling irons while I determined which one would work better, and a flat iron for when a curl came out wrong and I wanted to redo it.

What you didn't see was me pulling at my hair in a panic, regretting my choice to cut it, worried I wouldn't look good tomorrow.

You didn't see how hard I was brushing my hair when it wasn't coming out right.

Ripping away at any little piece out of place.

You didn't see me weigh myself this morning and make a note to self about how much more I want to lose. You've never seen me flipping over packages of food, determining if I can have something based on how many calories it has.

Cause that's been happening quite a lot lately.

You didn't see the four, five, six outfits I tried on before picking the best one. You've never seen me change in a panic right before leaving because suddenly my chest gets tight and I decide I can't go out in what I'm wearing now. You've never opened my backpack to see my backup outfits in case this anxiety happens while I'm out.

You've also never seen the emergency make-up kit.

For when my eyelashes are too clumpy.

You didn't see me curl up into a ball on my bed when I felt like I couldn't breathe.

You saw the two photos I posted, but not the 86 others I deleted.

You saw my post for a moment in time, not for the two hours it took to create it.

I read somewhere that "social media is a highlight reel". You see the good, the beautiful. You don't see the effort and the stress that went in to taking the photos.

I posted a casual selfie and a mirror shot, not at all Vogue worthy but definitely cute.

Definitely not a post you think would cause any sort of stress.

And I could keep it that way, but holding up the background is getting to be too much work.

I'm not a stand for some painting sitting on your shelf.

I'm a person.

A whole person, who is struggling with body dysmorphia, anxiety, and self-esteem.

My therapist recently told me I'm "playing a game of whac-a-mole"...as soon as my hair looks right, something else is wrong. The new mole can pop up right away, or sometimes the game restarts an hour, a day, a week, a month later. I fixate on a new aspect of my appearance and am compelled to fix it. I can't calm down until it's fixed.

And then I do, and something else is wrong.

But you'd never see this in a selfie.

I don't know what the right answer is here. Do I just give up on Instagram altogether? No, because I love sharing my life with others and posts from my friends. And I don't want to give up on something just because it feels hard. Do I stop wearing fun outfits because sometimes I overthink then? No, because I love fashion and I'd be sad if I didn't get to make my outfits everyday.

I guess the answer isn't to just avoid things I like doing just because sometimes they're hard, but to start being more honest. And find ways to cope, find ways to avoid getting into that spiral in the first place.

And maybe you won't see that, but I can tell you all about it when I figure it out.

If you are struggling, you are not alone. Please visit nami.org for mental health information and resources.