OK Archives - BDD SUCKS

In The Arms of Little Children

May 24, 2014 By Stephen

The day before yesterday I was headed to pick my son up from school.

My wife and I decided we would take the kids’ razor scooters the 7 blocks down to my sons school on a nice sunny day and have fun riding with him on the way back.

I needed to get out of the house since I had been working all day. I took a run up in the woods earlier but besides that, I had kind of isolated myself. Pretty typical Thursday.

The workweek had been hard on me, the anxiety I felt covering my nose was exhausting, plus it was a busy week.

So I went into the bathroom to cover up my nose, and I lost it.

I mean I just completely went from happy (enough) to pissed off and angry at the world.

I walked out and just yelled to my poor wife, asking why this had to happen to my nose! Why did life keep crapping on poor me!

She did something she has never done before and she just walked out of the room and got on the kids’ scooter and left.

I was pissed and hurt and angry at the world.

I felt like a caged animal in the house so I figured I would take a drive to blow of some steam, and then my mom showed up with my daughter who was kind enough to pick her up from ballet class.

I forgot that it was that time of the day.

Then something happened

My daughter just walked up and gave me the biggest kid hug you could ever imagine, and she just stood their and held me for at least one minute.

It humbled me and I could feel my anger, resentment and shame melting into my feet and into the concrete that lined our driveway.

The power of a 6 year old is immense, children understand some things better than us adults.

My daughter calls the red spot on my nose “cute”. It makes me smile, and I love her for this.

So today I am grateful for little children because their power to help is immense and unbridled and often unexpected.

They are wonderful medicine to overcoming BDD.

When my son and wife got home, I forgave my wife for walking out on me, OK she really had nothing to be forgiven for but, I forgave myself for yelling and being irrational.

I hope today is a better day, I am sitting on the bed with my kids and my wife is off to work. They are begging for breakfast so I guess I have to get off my ass.

To you all, may you have a better day as well.

– Stephen

HOW DO WE LET GO?

December 24, 2013 By Stephen

One of the hardest things to let go of is the way we want things to be.

We have fantasies of how our lives could be like, what we could be like as people, what other people should be like, what the world should be like.

These are fantasies, but we rarely recognize them as such. And so it’s hard to let them go, because we want them so.

SO HOW DO WE LET GO

Realize that reality, as it is, is amazing. Look around, and see things as they are, and appreciate the beauty of it all, as messy as it might be. Be grateful you can experience it. That includes everyone around you, as they are. That includes you, as you are.
Realize that when you’re frustrated, stressed, angry, or disappointed, you are holding onto a fantasy. Think about what it is.
Let them go. Breathe, and release. Smile, and be grateful for what is. Learn to love yourself, others, and all that’s around, as it is right now, without fantasies, without wishing things were different.

If someone else is acting a certain way, is that good or bad? It’s only bad if we wished they would act differently. So tell yourself, “She’s acting exactly as she should, given who she is and her circumstances. She’s doing the best she can. She’s learning, as we all are.”

Well, all of a sudden, you can smile and have compassion for her. You can help ease her pain, or listen to her, or give her space. You can figure out how to act compassionately, and do what you need to do, without getting worked up because she’s not acting the way you wished she would.

All the world becomes OK once you decide it’s OK. When you start wishing it were different, recognize this, and let that wish go. And then say, “It’s OK as it is.”

To Live

December 13, 2013 By Stephen

Somewhere down there deep inside of me there is this small little man.

And he is hurting, and I can’t get to him.

He is in pain and I cannot comfort him.

He needs to be told everything is going to be OK, but he is crying.

He feels more than I do, so I have taken over day-to-day functioning.

I have shut him out, created a box so that I can go on living. But I cannot feel, so I am mostly dead.

The only part of me that lives is in the box and this keeps me going.

Why do you hurt? Why can’t I comfort you? Why are you so afraid?

It is better to be outside the box, because where you are is dark, it is cold and it is a world for the dead.

I cannot live with you inside this box.

I am just a shell, a soulless human being roaming the world looking for guidance.

But in this damaged, soulless self there is life, waiting to be set free.

You are writing this letter, I know you are there, please do not cry you are loved, you need not fear anymore because I’ve got your back. I will hold you and when the world looks upon us, it is you that they will see.

And I will fade into the background where I belong.

A lifeless shell, damaged for sure, animated by the smallest intentions to keep you alive.

So that you may once again be free.

To love, to laugh..

To live.

DISQUIETING

July 4, 2013 By Stephen

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.