I can feel it on my face. The deep, open crevice of  my scar.

I can feel it stretching, tugging, retching.

For the first several months after the injury I attributed this to the process of healing and the formation of new cartilage. But now I know it is in my mind.

How do I know this?

Because I feel it at times when I am my most vulnerable, when I am my most self conscious.  Otherwise it is just there not bothering anyone.

We have been on vacation as a family for the 4th of July weekend. And here at the resort I have had a break from my scar.

I woke up twice this week and the thought didn’t even cross my mind, I just woke up, threw on a hat and interacted with the world.

And you know what? No one was horrified.

It wasn’t until I returned back to our room that I realized I had forgotten about my scar.

For the first time I didn’t notice peoples eyes gravitating towards it, for the first time I had a conversation without thinking about it.

SO HOW THE HELL DO I GET RID OF IT?

The thing that upsets me most about BDD is that no matter how much I know that it is in my mind, I cannot escape it.

Especially when I can actually feel it.

I was having a nice conversation at a nearby winery with my wife and a couple who was visiting the states from the Netherlands. It was at this point in time I could feel my scar, it started when I took my hat off, when I knew that my facial defect would catch the overhead lights. It is like a trigger for me.

And I could feel it tugging at me, I could feel all my self hate and all the emotion pouring into the scar. And it sat there like a curse on me. My thoughts wondered, I dodged the light and I scanned the faces of those around me. “Great” I thought, “they don’t seem to notice I must be OK.” So I reached for some more wine.

I am drinking it now as I write this, and alone, here in the hotel room I feel the relief that wine and seclusion can give me. A moment of calm… Disquieting.

THE GREAT ESCAPE

Here on vacation, here at the lake life is slow. The days are hot, we just relax and take it all in.

I have had time to let my mind relax as well, to give all my attention to my family, where it belongs.

I wonder why my family still loves me with this scar, but I am ever more thankful. I am thankful for my wife’s love and my children’s hugs and kisses. I think about those who suffer from BDD who may lack this family support, and I worry about them.

Note: If this is you, please know that I love you, I hear your pain through these pages, and please know that there is healing for us, we will do this together.

I am thankful for these mornings when I wake up without the concerns that weigh me down constantly. It give me hope that somewhere in this mess there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

One where I will wake up and not judge myself so harshly.

One where I can live in the hearts and minds of others and away from the prison that is my mind, the gruesome tug of body dysmorphic disorder.