Quoteable

My brother sent me this one:

"Each thing in its way, when true to its own character, is equally 

beautiful." -- Ed Abbey

Recovery is a constant battle

I had a revelation today: recovery is a constant battle.  It is a relentless process, not one that happens in fits and starts.

Have I been fighting to overcome my BDD and working hard to set up a better life for myself? Yes, of course.  However, I’m realizing that I only fight when absolutely necessary.  When something happens, I can analyze it and determine if I want to have it in my life.  I can recognize when I’m having BDD thoughts, and am slowly working to push negativity out of my life.  But there are moments in between that are seemingly lacking in stimuli.  Moments when I’m not being pushed by my therapist or battling an obvious trigger.

I now recognize that true recovery happens in these moments.  Recovery happens when you recognize your opponents, see their arsenal of weapons and get pissed off about it.

I was feeling self-conscious as I got ready today ~ noticing all of my flaws, feeling extremely anxious and beginning to spiral into my typical BDD thought/compulsion pattern.  I didn’t want to go out of the house ~ I wanted to, but felt like I couldn’t.  I was just too ugly.  Everyone was going to stare at my face and all my horrible imperfections and turn away in disgust.  I couldn’t handle that happening.

And then something clicked in my head.  I thought, “who is telling you that you’re ugly? Who is making you feel this way? The media? Society? TV? Magazines with perfect-looking models on the cover?”  I stood in front of my mirror and listed all of the different sources that made me feel worthless.  I thought of all the ways beauty is personified in our culture and all the reasons I supposedly do not fit this ideal. I saw my opponents and I saw their weapons.  I knew exactly what I was dealing with.  And then I got pissed.

How do people who have never met me have the right to determine how I feel about myself?  Who gave a group of individuals the power to sit in their offices and decide who is prettier than whom, and who looks perfect and who doesn’t?  Why do they think that they can wave their advertisements and photoshopped pictures in my face and cause me to break down because I know I can never be what they want me to be?  Do they think I’m that weak?  Do the people pushing popular media today think that I am nothing but a weak, brainless little girl who will consume whatever trash they throw my way simply because they say so?

No.  I am not.  I am intelligent.  I am independent.  I can stand on my own two feet and make my own damn decisions.  You don’t know me, and you never will.  You can not pull strings like an invisible puppeteer and make me do your bidding, buy your products, spread the word of self-hate and ignorance.

 

I am going to learn to love myself.  I do not need you to tell me how to feel ~ I am perfectly capable of figuring it out on my own.  In those moments in between, when I am sitting idly around waiting for the next trigger, waiting for the next moment of insecurity, I will remind myself who and what I am fighting against.  I am going to charge at my self-loathing with increased fervor.  I will make recovery my full-time job.  I will defeat you.  You won’t even know what hit you.

It’ll be me.  And I’m going to be beautiful.


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Who would we think is beautiful?

Nabbed from Rachel Rabbit White

On my way

This is just a quick post to say that I think I am finally starting to feel better.  For real this time.  I am starting to believe that I am at the top of the mountain, ready to descend ~ that there is a light at the end of the tunnel (yay metaphors!).  So many times (too many to count, really) in the past few years I have felt better ~ less self-conscious, less anxious, more in control ~ but have never been at peace.  I always had a strong feeling in the pit of my stomach that the fight wasn’t over, that I was just waiting to crash again, to be suddenly ripped out of my seat, whirled around and dropped back at the beginning of the same long journey.  And this is always what happened.  I didn’t have the tools to move forward, I was simply willing myself to get better.  I didn’t even know where to begin or how to get help; I just wanted everything that was bad in my life to go away.

This time is different.  There haven’t been crazy ups followed by paralyzing crashes.  There have been ups and downs, of course, but there has been an overarching increase my well-being.  I have seen things slowly but surely get better in these past few months.  I have taken my treatment one step at a time and have been living my life one day at a time, which I believe has made all the difference.  Instead of expecting a sudden miracle, I have allowed everything to slowly fall into place.  I am taking time every single day to gauge my mood, my compulsions, my self-image.  I am constantly working on my identity and my life, steering myself in the right direction and allowing my past to move me forward instead of hold me back.

I don’t have the same sense of dread that I used to have.  I don’t feel like I am going to crash.  If I have a bad day, I honestly believe that I can come back from it (and have had to many times before).  I am at a place where I never ever thought I would be ~ steadily walking the road to recovery.  I had so many days where I would lay in bed and wonder if my life would ever get better, or if I was doomed to exist as a lump for eternity.  Would I ever become a real person?  Would I ever feel confident or pretty?  Would I be able to actually live my life?

I’m definitely on my way, and it feels amazing.  I can’t believe I’m here, but I’m so very glad that I am.

Tell Me What You See

I had my first official CBT session on Tuesday and ohmygosh I am so excited about it.  I seriously didn’t think that I would enjoy going to therapy, but I’m already looking forward to next week.

Let me back up for a second.  I mentioned previously that I started taking medication for my BDD a few months ago.  It has worked wonders in certain ways; my mood is more regulated, I have more energy and I feel more like myself (as opposed to a depressed, self-deprecating version of myself).  I also have less anxiety about my BDD.  In other words, the medication allows me to go about my every day life and actually accomplish things instead of just existing. While I am able to manage my life, I spend most of the day recognizing how others respond to the way I look, and I am constantly aware of my appearance.  Also, my BDD compulsions themselves (which I’m sure I’ll discuss in detail at some point) have shown little improvement. CBT is the final push towards recovery.

I was extremely nervous about therapy, as I have had sub-par experiences with it in the past, but this time is completely different.  I am seeing a BDD specialist, so I don’t have to explain to him what I am going through – he already understands.  This makes all the difference.  I can’t tell you what a relief it is to have someone nod when I say things, instead of staring blankly back at me or furrowing their eyebrows in confusion.  He. Actually. Freaking. Gets it!

Even though we went over some information I already knew (such as the basics of BDD and why I react so poorly to my appearance in the mirror) my therapist explained things in a way that helped me understand further.  For example, when I look in the mirror I see a myriad of imperfections on my face.  To me, my skin is my worst feature.  I think it’s blotchy, scarred, broken out, dirty and discolored.  Simply put, I hate looking at it.  This is not really news.

However, instead of rehashing this list of flaws, my therapist and I discussed exactly how I look at myself in the mirror.   This was something new for me.  I tend to get really, really close to the mirror and inspect every pore on my face.  You think I’m kidding.  I wish I were kidding.  It takes a seriously long time for me to get out of my house in the morning.  After describing my “facial inspection process” he pointed to the wall across from me and said, “tell me what you see.”  The rest of the conversation went something like this:

Me: Where?

Him: Between the door and the painting.

Me: Um, a bulletin board?

Him: No, No, right there.

Me: Where do you mean?

Him: Right here. Here.

Me: Um, wall? A part of the wall?

Him: Yes?

Me: A…white…wall?  Some white wall! WALL?!

It was like a really bad comedy act, but I got the general answer he was looking for.  Then he brought me up close to the wall so that my nose was practically touching it.  In other words, I was as close to the wall as I would have been to the mirror had I been examining my face.  That close up, I could see that the wall was bumpy and uneven.  There were large dents in the surface, scuff marks and random tiny ink blots.  It wasn’t just a white wall anymore, but rather a used, old surface dotted with imperfections.  I think you can see the comparison to how I look at myself in the mirror.  That close, nothing looks perfect.

Now, this does not mean that the miracle solution for BDD is “take two steps back from the mirror” (otherwise I’m pretty sure I would have figured it out before the experimental medication and roller coaster therapy sessions), but it is an analogous situation.  Other people see me like I see the white wall from afar.  I look at it, I take in its major features and I make a judgment.  It’s a wall, it’s white.  Done.  People look at me and say “cute” or “pretty ” or [insert positive or negative reaction here] and move on.  Their assessment has been made.

I, on the other hand, view myself as a close-up.  I look at my face and see every single thing that could possibly be considered a flaw automatically magnified a thousand times by my BDD.  Since I am “close to the mirror”, there’s no way I can miss the “blemishes” on my face.   The wall analogy clearly shows the disconnect between what I see and what others see when looking at my face.  This is something that, without proper help, is out of my control.

Well, now I’m getting help.  So hopefully it will soon be under my control and I can start seeing myself the way I really look.  Yay!

It’s going to take a while, and I’m sure the sessions will become less fun and more anxiety producing as they go on, but I am absolutely determined to move forward with my life.  I finally feel like this is the right time – there is no turning back.  Can’t wait to give you more updates next week!

Coming out of the crazy closet

I have something to tell you.  I’m crazy.  Fuh real, yo.

For those of you who know me well, your response is probably going to be, “well, duh…” Yes, I’m that kind of crazy, too ~ the loud, silly, random, dance when I feel like it, make myself laugh uncontrollably crazy.  

But I’m also crazy in my head crazy.

For the past seven years I have been living with body dysmorphic disorder (BDD).  Honestly, it’s probably been even longer than that, but seven years ago is when it started to really interfere with my life. 

What is BDD?

Unfortunately, BDD is not as well known as many other neurological disorders, and studies are still being done on the most effective forms of treatment.  It’s difficult to explain BDD, and very often people who have the disorder live with it in silence, out of shame, fear or confusion.  The easiest way for me to describe BDD is to say that the affected individual will look in the mirror and see something completely different from what everyone else sees.  I see a certain image of myself in the mirror that is not true to life.  I have no idea how I actually appear to others because my brain is telling me that I look a different way.

BDD can affect any area of the body that you can think of, including (but not limited to) the nose, feet, hair, breasts and even knees.  The main focus of my disordered thinking is my skin, but it also affects some facial features.

BDD is problematic for multiple reasons:

·       Extended, untamed thinking of this nature often leads to depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation, social isolation, and an inability to lead a normal life.

·       Individuals with BDD often become so focused on their physical appearance that they have extreme difficulty with other responsibilities, such as keeping a job or maintaining a steady relationship.

·       Severe mental anguish manifests itself physically, leaving many BDD sufferers with ailments that include migraines, heart palpitations and vomiting.

·       Because BDD has only recently been acknowledged in the medical community, many people with this disorder are misdiagnosed or not diagnosed at all.

I highly recommend reading this Wikipedia article on BDD.  It is extremely thorough and gives an in-depth look at the disorder.

It is important to note that BDD is not vanity.  It is a serious disorder that can not simply be willed away, or something that will disappear with time.  We would not tell someone with an eating disorder that they are self-centered, but would instead acknowledge their struggle with disordered thinking ~ this is the same for individuals with BDD.

Personal Progress

After moving home a few months ago, I decided to get some serious help.  I didn’t want to continue being afraid of the mirror, or being hesitant to go outside and engage with the rest of the world.  I just wanted to live a normal life. 

I started an experimental SSRI soon after arriving home, which has been an incredible help.  Though I still very much say that I am struggling with BDD, it is easier to manage each day.  I am about to begin cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT)  as well, which will hopefully target my disordered body image directly and allow me to gain some control over my crazy brain.

Reasons for “coming out” as crazy

Selfishly, I’m sick and tired of living a lie, never fully being myself, feeling shame, and keeping a big part of myself a secret.  Because I’m afraid that someone is going to find out, I have to edit what I say so that I don’t slip up.  Also, keeping my BDD hidden allows the stigma of shame surrounding “being a crazy” to continue.  Shoving it aside like some dirty secret makes it seem like a bigger deal than it is.  I have some whacked out synapses in my brain that I’m trying to fix so I can enjoy life again.  That’s all.

Not-so-selfishly, I want to help other people who are going through this (and people who are dealing with their own life issues, mental or otherwise).  It’s pretty difficult to find good female role models in the media, which is part of the reason why my idea of beauty is so messed up to begin with.  I want to be that strong female role model.  I want to create a community where people can speak openly.  I want to show that people are not perfect ~ even the celebrities that we admire have their own issues beneath the surface.

Ideally, I will be able to lead by example and show that it is possible to overcome BDD (et al) and lead an extraordinary life.  Not just a normal one, but one that you’ve dreamed about.  I hope to become a successful musician/performer, so that I can spread this message in a big way by doing what I love and being happy, healthy and myself.  I am not perfect, and that is okay.  However, I want to take this road towards becoming a better version of myself. 

I hope you will come along for the journey.  I hope I can help you.  I hope we can be healthy and happy together.

With Love,           

Jessie

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I'm no beauty queen, I'm just beautiful me

Selena Gomez and The Scene - "Who Says"

This song makes me feel beautiful.  It really does.

Who says you're not pretty?  Who gets to decide?  No one else has the right - you choose.  Choose happiness. Choose to feel beautiful.  Choose to love yourself.  It's way more fun.

Oh, Albert Einstein, you were kinda smart.

"The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again 

and expecting different results". – Albert Einstein

You know what happens when we don’t allow ourselves to take a break? We get sick. You know how I know this? Because it happens to me all the time.

The fact is, I’m used to having things to do.  I can’t really remember a time when I haven’t been going non-stop; I was involved in plenty of extra-curricular activities during my school years, and I started working the week I got my work permit as a teenager.  I have held a job consistently since, even in college.  Often, I have held two or three jobs at once in order to make ends meet.  Let’s just say I am no stranger to late nights and coffee-fueled mornings.

But the cycle is always the same.  I feel that I have to work harder, be better and succeed at everything.  I have found that I can multitask quite successfully and am able to take on a lot of additional tasks while still maintaining equilibrium.  For some reason, however, equilibrium is uncomfortable for me.  I make myself believe that if things are going well, if I’m getting to bed at a decent hour, have enough energy to make it through the day and am able to keep up with all of my work, then I’m just taking it easy.  I’m not working hard enough.  I don’t really need all that sleep ~ I’ve gone without before.  I don’t have to pack myself lunches for work ~ I’ll just spend a few dollars and grab something when I get there.  I don’t need to read, to watch TV, to visit my family, to laugh, to knit, to learn guitar.  I can add a completely new job/task to my life during those precious hours.  I can take on more ~ I can be a freaking superhero.

Aaaaaand then I crash.  Not a little crash either.  A big, falling out of the sky onto concrete splattering.  Sickness in all its forms: mental, physical, emotional, spiritual.  My body rebels in a sinus infection, nausea, migraine, muscle-ache fit.  My anxiety returns full-force, making me feel worse than I already do.  Mirrors become death traps and the thought of showering and seeing myself naked makes the physical symptoms worse.  I am drained, lost, tired, angry.  I suddenly don’t know what I want or where I’m going in life.  I question everything that matters to me.  Life spirals out of control.  Instead of being a superhero, I am a blob, resigned to lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and making to-do lists that I never plan on completing. 

It happens every time.  This is the insanity.

But what is this blog if not a place to document change and show that it is possible?  So, this weekend I stopped the cycle.  I chose a different path; I tried something new.  After a few long weeks of putting my body through hell, it started to wither.  It was sick of long nights, of me putting it down, of dehydration, of being too busy to eat a proper meal.  I started to crash, and for the first time I fought the crash by caring for myself instead of pushing my way through.  I dropped everything.  I cancelled my plans, took a hot shower and put on my most comfortable pajamas.  I haven’t left my house in two days, because everyone can take care of his or her own crap for a while.  I’m taking care of me.  All I’ve done this weekend is lie in bed, drink tea, eat toast and fruit and catch up on “Gossip Girl”.

It’s been an interesting experience.  Of course, I’ve felt some anxiety.  Whenever I sit down for a moment I feel that I should be doing something for goodness sake, you lazy lump.  But I’ve been down that path hundreds of times over the years, and I always expect it to work.  It will not work.  I’m trying this instead.  So far, I like it.  I like knowing that I am listening to my body and giving it what it wants.  Not that I will always cut myself off from the world when I need it, but if I can find that ever-elusive “balance” that some people seem to have, maybe I can work and play and relax all in the same day.

And then maybe I won’t crash anymore.

This story has a positive ending

Today was not the best day I’ve ever had.  In fact, it started out pretty horribly.  I woke up this morning and, before I even had time to take a deep breath, I was aware of a huge weight on my chest.  I felt like everything was pressing down on me ~ I don’t know what the “everything” was, but I could sense it, and it was hurting me.  My body ached, my limbs were tired, my head was swimming.  I was made of stone.  I wanted to go back to sleep, I didn’t want to get ready for the day.  I couldn't.  I knew what I would find when I went over to the mirror ~ ugly that couldn’t be covered up by makeup.  So, I slept in.  

When I finally crawled my way out of bed, I was running late for work.  I felt like shit about myself, yet again.  Looking in the mirror, as I suspected, didn’t help.  I felt worthless and disappointing.  It took a while, but I finally got up the courage to go in to work, even though I was late.  I had to.  I had to take a step in the right direction.  I had to face my fears and overcome.  

The car ride started off as an anxiety-filled race to my destination.  I was trying to get there before all of my problems did.  However, halfway through something changed.  I was able to come out of my self-conscious fog and breathe.  I rolled down the window and felt a fresh breeze blowing across my face, tickling my nose, and filling up my lungs.  I could feel the warm spring sun heating the air around me, creating a comforting blanket that allowed me to calm down.  It felt like a warm embrace.  In those minutes, I remembered why I am fighting.  I don’t want to let any more of those moments go by unnoticed.  I want to experience as many breezes, sunny days and warm embraces as I can.  I remembered that I don’t want to exist, I want to live.  I will keep fighting.

Mirror Mirror

I guess the best way to open this blog is by saying this: I have spent the majority of my life feeling like shit about myself. 

Which is strange, because I actually like myself, and it seems other people do too.  I have always done well in school; I graduated high school with high honors and attended a great college.  I competed at the varsity level in multiple sports and was also heavily involved in music.  I have always worked hard, made great friendships, taken care of everyone around me, had a great sense of humor and have generally done well in life.

However, no matter how much I accomplished, I never felt worthy of the praise I was receiving.  I never felt that I should be called a “great friend” or a “stand-out athlete”.  In fact, most of the time I didn’t want people to recognize me at all.  I was stuck in a strange paradox where I felt lonely and wanted someone to comfort me, but I also wanted to melt into a giant puddle so that no one could see me.

I felt this way because, in my mind, I was too ugly to be important or even to be loved.  When I looked in the mirror, I saw someone who wasn’t up to standard.  Not only did I not look like those girls in the magazines, I didn’t even think I looked average.  What I saw in the mirror was hideous.  

It’s hard to live when you fear the world.  When you believe that everyone is staring at you.  When you convince yourself that you are not good enough.  I thought I could never succeed looking the way I did, regardless of how much success I had already come upon in my life.  I would never get married, never find a great job, never be able to step out of my comfort zone and really live my life.  And, as our minds are powerful things, that’s exactly what happened.  I didn’t go anywhere.  I had a hard time keeping a job, I was constantly tired and ill, I lost contact with many of my friends, I lost all desire to do anything.  I could barely keep up with the bare minimum to survive.

Not only was I protecting myself from the world, but I was protecting the world from me.  No one should have to put up with looking at me, or dealing with my discontent.  Those people I did interact with only saw my happiest moments.  I became superb at putting on a brave face and making my way to work, going out to a birthday party, or having visitors stay over for the weekend.  I was able to take small doses of normalcy, but living as everyone else did was out of the question.  It was hard going from the “perfect” young woman to someone who could barely keep her head above water.

I finally decided that I needed to stop the madness.  I wanted to live on my own terms.  I wanted to stop worrying about how I looked.  I didn’t want the media to determine how I felt about myself.  In fact, I didn’t want anyone to tell me whether I fit in, whether I was pretty enough, whether I was ugly or fat or nowhere near perfect.  I wanted to start living life from the inside out.  Meaning, I wanted to start taking care of myself on the inside – focusing on my health, my happiness, my personality, my goals and the love I have for my closest friends and family.

So, I moved home to live with my dad.  He has stood by me in my worst times, and has also known me at my best ~ I knew that he would support me through thick and thin.  I wanted to start with a clean slate, and moving away from everything that was making me so unhappy was the first step.  I have been home for a while now, and though I have learned a lot and made quite a bit of progress, I still have a ways to go.  I am a generally happy person, but I do have to fight to make each day count.  I have to fight the mirror, fight to get out of bed, fight to take care of myself.  So far, it has been worth it.  I am starting to live my life again.

I want things to be even better than they are now.  There is no reason to settle for “fine” or even “good”.  I want to live a GREAT life.  I want it to be full of happiness and love.  I want to enjoy every day as much as I can.  I know that this will not happen in one day, or even one month.  I want to use this blog to keep myself accountable; to write about my journey, what I have done so far and how I continue to work towards a better life.  I also hope that I can, somehow, help others who are going through the same struggles.  You are beautiful.  You are worthy.  Together we can fight the status quo.  We can fight society and the media.  We can win these battles and overcome all obstacles.

We can love ourselves and love each other.  We can be happy.  We can live.