BDD SUCKS

Overcoming Body Dysmorphic Disorder - My Story of Living With BDD

"It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see."
~ Henry David Thoreau

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This is the Story of My Life Living With Body Dysmorphic Disorder

BDD and Vulnerability

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I am reading a wonderful book right now – Daring Greatly: How the Courage to Be Vulnerable Transforms the Way We Live, Love, Parent, and Lead, by Brene Brown. 

I have read her previous book in 2013 after watching her now famously viral Ted Talk on shame research. It moved me then and her new book brings even more insights to the reasoning behind BDD (although it is not written for this purpose). 

This new book is about vulnerability. Just 17% of the way through the book I am convinced that a fear of vulnerability is the underlying cause of BDD. 

Vulnerability is ………

Finish the above statement and see what you come up with. 

For me:

Vulnerability is going outside without may manly makeup on my nose.

Vulnerability is having a face to face conversation with someone in bright halogen lighting.

Vulnerability is camping with friends and having to get out of the shower when the hot water has caused my nasal bridge scar to flush. 

Vulnerability is anything that may result in criticism or judgement from another human being about my face. 

I don’t like vulnerability

Vulnerability is taking my daughter to a birthday party and having to deal with a temper tantrum in public which will draw  attention. 

Vulnerability is having a Skype conversation because I can’t stand the self facing camera. 

Vulnerability is looking in the mirror and dealing with my own self criticism and hate. 

My BDD and the social anxiety that comes with it, stems from a fear of being vulnerable. I am afraid of that glance  (perceived or real) at my scars, or even worse a comment. 

Yet, at the same time I seek out and admire anyone who would allow themselves to be vulnerable, to embrace their imperfections. 

I want to experience your vulnerability but I do not want to be vulnerable. 

Vulnerability is courage in you and inadequacy in me. 

I’m drawn to your vulnerability but repelled by mine. 

It’s vulnerability that is the basic building block of all human relationships. If I can let myself be vulnerable, I can break the bonds that hold me back from freedom from my BDD. 

Thus begins the journey of 1,000 miles, and it begins with embracing my imperfections and presenting them proudly to the world. 

And this, makes me feel very, very vulnerable. 

– Stephen  

“LUCKY”

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In the exam room chair, a chair where 1000’s of other anxious souls have sat before me, they took 15 minutes and a 10 blade and they cut into my nose.

What was left, was a gaping 1 inch hole.

They called me a week later to tell me the results were benign, they told me I was lucky.

As “luck” would have it I was indeed lucky, I wasn’t going to need something horrific such as “Mohs” surgery, a thought that was weighing heavily on my mind.

But this second scar on my face would send me into a tailspin of despair and regret. One that even 5 months later I am struggling to overcome.

Selfie

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I was at the falls with my kids.

The sun was pouring through the mist, the emerald green of the trees and bouncing of  the lichen… it was spectacular.

I snapped some shots of the kids and then my daughter asked me to take a “selfie.”

So I leaned down and flipped the camera lens on my iPhone.

I am already in the habit of avoiding eye contact with the LCD screen.

I held it as far away as my arm could reach and I snapped two shots.

My daughter, as any 7 year old would, wanted to see our smiling portrait.

So I flipped around my phone, and tried not to look, but then I couldn’t stop myself. My eyes zeroing in on the biopsy scar on my nose.

My demons won’t leave me alone

I took my daughters hand, it felt so warm and cuddly and small.

We walked up the circular trail to meet my wife and son who had gone up a few moments earlier to use the restroom.

I started to feel the scars, my nose, my cheek. I said I had to go the restroom (although not really) I had to check a mirror to see if it really was like the picture registered it. It felt to me like they were transforming, possibly growing.

The lighting was better in the bathroom, I quickly put my cap back on my head.

We made it to the car, where I saw in the window my reflection with the deep sunken scar on my cheek.

And then I fell apart inside, I felt despair, helplessness and hopelessness.

I started to feel anger toward the dermatology PA who cut my nose apart, I felt anger at myself for going surfing and not protecting my face when I surfaced.

I started to feel ugly, monstrous, and it hasn’t gone away. I feel my scars again tonight.

Santa Clause is coming to town

I dream of waking up one day with these scars gone.

Going back to my previous life when they weren’t part of my life.

If I could just live in that person’s body for a couple days, I promise I wouldn’t take it for granted.

But we don’t know what we have till it’s gone, and then it is too late.

When I woke up today in the cabin and used the restroom I glanced in the mirror. The restroom was poorly lit, without direct overhead lighting and because of this, my  sunken scars looked fine, I felt good about myself.

Then the camera revealed the truth? Or is this a deception. I just don’t know anymore.

* PS, I found this Wikipidea entry when I was Googling how to spell “selfie: In April 2014, a man diagnosed with body dysmorphic disorder recounted spending ten hours a day attempting to take the “right” selfie, attempting suicide after failing to produce what he perceived to be the perfect selfie.[66] The same month brought several scholarly publications linking excessive selfie posting with body dysmorphic disorde

Stop the Madness

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Overcoming BDD

I went out without makeup on my nose today, inspired by a story I saw on the news about a childhood burn victim.

Her face was horribly disfigured in a car accident when she was 7. Her face had melted off, separated from its bony scaffolding.

The doctors debated whether or not to let her live, trying to decide if she could ever have a descent quality of life.

She hid indoors for years once her childhood innocence had passed, afraid of what people would say.

Then she lifted the curtain.

When she began to see her beauty, what the trauma had taught her, how she had grown as a person… she let go.

She even found love and is now married.

Because love cannot be disfigured, it is pure and unconditional.

Watching her story I realized I didn’t have it that bad.

A modeling agency is doing a photo shoot of her, showing that even when we are disfigured we are beautiful because we are human beings.

So even if I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, I can accept who I am.

And even if this means I will spend my life disfigured in the mirror, I don’t have to live this way inside or on the outside.

Love is unconditional, beauty comes from the love we have of ourselves, of our life.

It’s time to stop this madness and live life again.

photo credit: AlicePopkorn

Knowing When it’s Time to Let Go

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let go
It’s never time to let go.

No matter how shitty, painful, miserable and hopeless you feel.

You must choose life.

It is possible to live in pain, you just do it.

Doesn’t mean its easy!

But what is the other option?

Life is precious, beautiful, fragile and very short.

If you stop and ask yourself what is the worst possible outcome of any given situation? The answer of course is “I could die”.

Humiliation won’t kill you.

I think the most miserable part of suffering with BDD is the feeling of constant anxiety. 

And the whole thing is complete and utter bull shit if you stop and think about it.

The things that make us anxious are usually fears about how the world or other people will perceive us. That somehow in our imperfect state we are unworthy of love. Even the King of Pop couldn’t bear it any longer.

That’s just great, but who is going to tell that to his children?

I have a patient, he is 25 and suffers from Cerebral Palsy. He is in a wheelchair, he can’t walk, he can’t clean or wipe himself, he can’t push his own chair and to add insult to injury he can’t talk. Then one day somebody at Stanford mounted a computer on his chair which allowed him to communicate with the one good arm he has.

Who knew he was not only hilarious, but bilingual and absolutely brilliant? He is also one of the happiest people I know, which makes me joyful around him because if anybody has a good reason to want to off themselves it is him.

I love seeing him in the clinic, after these visits I understand the meaning of happiness and the good life.

Living with BDD can be hell, but nobody ever said life was going to be easy.

Life, even in its most miserable state is better than death, because without life, you are no longer conscious, which may be less painful in the short run, but life, is not yours to take, even your own.

And in death we feel nothing, which is worse than being alive, even in its most painful state.

In caring for the ones we love we don’t “owe” them anything I guess, but if we love them, we will protect our lives. Our children, our friends, our family.. If we care for them we work hard for them and we suffer for them. This may involve some pain, but like I said: it is possible to live in pain.. You just do it.

And at the end of the day, all the fears, the anxiety, the state of despair over our appearance comes down to fear of what the world is going to think of us, how we will be perceived. Even if we have love it is hard to fathom we are lovable. But, we all are lovable. We know others opinions don’t matter, beauty despite what the makers of beauty products and TV commercials try to tell us has nothing to do with our complexion. Just ask my patient.

We are beautiful people, we just need to believe it! and if this is painful, it’s OK, we can live in pain.. We just do it.

photo credit: demandaj via photopin cc