Sometimes I just can’t believe it happened:  The scar, the injury, the entire incident.

It doesn’t seem fair, but then again, life often isn’t. And we just have to accept these things as they are.

ON THE ROAD

I am away from home, on the road, in a hotel room. Alone with mirrors and overhead lights. I am around those looking to network, and I am again ashamed, disgusted with myself and wishing to crawl into a hole.

How long can I exist like this? I have to ask myself, because it seems already it has been and insufferable amount of time.

I have been researching scar revision surgery and have decided it is ultimately my best option. And, for this I had to consult with my wife, she just nods and is accepting. But this doesn’t help me decide if my desires for scar revision are based on the scar, or my perception of it.

And this is where BDD seems to have me. The inability to separate my truth from reality, and the awareness of this kills me. I just don’t know if this is vanity or not.

I scan everyone I see trying to find some type of imperfections in their face. I see none, but every-time I enter a bathroom with that overhead light I have to duck, and hide from the mirror. I have to dodge the glances of other peoples eyes, I have to hide here in my hotel room.

THIS IS NO WAY TO LIVE

I have tried SSRI’s and this made matters worse. It is time to seek counsel I presume, maybe I will do this as part of my workup to surgery. My greatest fear is that the surgery will not provide me with the results I desire, and from that point I don’t know where or how to proceed.

I can tell you one thing, I hope never again to feel suicidal, although I can feel those thoughts pouring back in. But my defenses are up, and it seems that I am a lot better at blocking them.

SOCIAL OBLIGATIONS

I am visiting a good friend this weekend, one I haven’t seen in over a year. To top it off his entire family is going to be there. Baby steps I tell myself, it will be OK.

What is it I am so afraid of anyway? This is the other part of BDD, a lot of poor self esteem all wrapped up in a package. Why do I care about this gross imperfection? It is just part of me, it is not my fault… Although I don’t think I accept that as a truth.

STAR STRUCK

I was watching the news this morning and there was Lindsay Lohan. She was headed back into rehab. Then they cut to a newsflash that the original singer Chris Kelly from the kids R&B band Kris Kross had died of a drug overdose at the age of 34, he had performed on tour with another BDD sufferer Michael Jackson. Then my thoughts wen’t down the row of dead superstars who seemed to have all the good things in life.

What is wrong here? Something is wrong here, and I wonder if it affects me.

BAD HABITS

I started smoking again when I am away from home. This just makes me feel even more like shit, but there you have it, a self destructive behavior on top of a layer of self hatred. Fuck me!

I am at a medical conference but I stared in the mirror and decided to spend the last two hours in my hotel room. I am thinking of catching a movie and then going out to dinner. I am supposed to meet up with a colleague and his wife tomorrow for dinner, I hope I can get my nerve up.

TESTING MY “BDD” THEORIES

Every time I have tested my theories that my face sucks and nobody would want to hang out with me, or love me, or make love to me.. I have been proven wrong.

My wife doesn’t even seem to notice and my friends have not abandoned me. Hell they seem to not even notice. My parents are the same. People notice, and sometimes they even make a comment about my scar, but it is rare. My patients never say a thing, Maybe it is just a kind world I think, or maybe, just maybe some of this is in my mind.

Or maybe it doesn’t matter, it is just an external thing, and people have their own worries, which usually do not involve my face.