News

I first realised I might have BDD, when I was receiving talking therapy. I reached out for this as I was in a really dark place after losing my sister in law who had been more like a sister to me, and had been in my life since I was 5 years old. My brother and her were high school sweethearts but we sadly lost her 8 weeks after her cancer diagnosis. It was towards the end of lockdown, so due to the rules in place I didn’t get to say goodbye to her, and at her funeral I had to sit completely separate from my family – just me and my son.

During my assessment for talking therapy, I was asked a lot of questions, and for the first time in my life I was completely honest with my answers, even finally admitting I had been in abusive relationships. One was physically abusive and two had been emotionally abusive. At the end, the assessor said I displayed the traits of someone suffering with grief, PTSD & BDD. The first of the relationships being the worst one, and the root of my BDD. He would call me fat, tell me that there’d be no point leaving him because no one else would want me, say if I wore make up that I was cheating on him or doing it to get attention from men, and tell me I looked like a prostitute if I wore a short dress. Among many other things, I carried his words with me for 26 years before realising what he had done to me mentally. I was only with him for 5 years but the damage lasted a lot longer.

Some of the behaviours I was carrying out were: I hated anyone taking my photo, and on the rare occasion someone did without me knowing and I saw it, I would feel absolutely devastated about how I looked – to the point in private I would cry my heart out about it. I am not able to look in a mirror or see my reflection in a window without tearing myself apart with negative thoughts about my appearance. I don’t avoid social situations but when I do go out even just shopping I feel like everyone is looking at me & thinking things like “Oh my god – she’s so fat, so ugly, looks so old, her skin and hair are awful, her nails are horrible, what’s she wearing…. etc.” I have a slightly discoloured tooth caused by the previously mentioned boyfriend who hit the bottom of a beer bottle while I was drinking it, hitting my tooth and causing nerve damage. I felt like everyone would be staring at it when they were talking to me, and my thoughts were having a big impact on my life because even though I still went out I wasn’t living my best life or enjoying it fully.

It felt like there was always a grey cloud hanging over me, I would constantly compare myself to others and wish I looked a certain way (an idea I had of perfect), I picked at the skin around my nails making them bleed. If I had a spot I couldn’t leave it alone I would be picking at it all the time making it ten times worse, which would then make my the negative thoughts about myself even worse. I never told anybody how I was feeling as I thought they would think I was being dramatic, stupid or looking for attention, so many a time when I got home I would sit and cry uncontrollably. My lowest point with it was when I’d lost my sister in law and most days I would think ‘it should have been me not her’. I felt like I didn’t deserve to be here and wished I wasn’t. The only thing that ever stopped me from taking those thoughts any further was my son, I couldn’t do that to him, he was my saving grace. Most days I would spend the biggest part of it deciding what negative things other people were thinking about me, I mostly wear hoodies and sweatpants as they are nice and baggy so cover up what I believe to be a disgusting body. I hate it when people make a compliment as I feel like they are lying and just trying to seem polite.

A few months after I separated from my sons father, I met some who I had know for years – we’d previously had a kiss 22 years previously, and I had always had a soft spot for him. He treated me like a queen, but not because of his actions or words, but because of my own insecurities – I didn’t feel good enough for him. I felt like he could do better, have a more attractive girlfriend, and felt like he would leave me for someone better. I constantly tried to push him away even though I loved him, yet the thought of losing him broke my heart. I really am lucky because he stayed and even though he had no idea what was going on with me, he wanted to help me and support me however he could. After releasing that my actions could actually one day cost me a good man, I reached out for help.

It found it really hard talking to my therapist initially, as I always bottle things up. However, after a few sessions I felt comfortable with her so started to open up. She pointed out that the thoughts I have about myself have come from someone I trusted who used those words to make themselves feel more powerful by breaking me. She recommended telling my partner about BDD and the thoughts I have about myself, and to look for support from other people going through the same thing. I sat down with my partner and found it really hard as I thought even though he’s a kind and understanding man – he would think it was ridiculous and I just needed to get a grip and stop being silly. But, I opened up and that’s not what he thought at all. He asked me what he could do to help me, and we are now both working on my recovery together.

I found The BDD Foundation on Instagram and even though I didn’t interact with the posts, it was such a comfort to realise that it not just me being daft, silly or dramatic – but there are so many people out there who are affected by it too. I am only just starting my recovery journey, and still have some days where the BDD takes over, but each month they are getting fewer, so I know I am making steps in the right direction. I have slowly started to trust some of my family and a few of my closest friends with knowing what I am going through, and it has been so much more helpful than I thought it would have been. I’m still not comfortable with seeing myself but I’m having less thoughts about what other people are thinking, I don’t pick at my skin around my nails as much as my partner bought me an anxiety ring to fiddle with instead. This really is helping. I am taking each day as it comes but feeling hopeful about the road to recovery I am now on.

To anyone who is struggling with BDD – even if you haven’t officially been diagnosed but you feel you have the signs, I encourage you to reach out and look for support. You are not alone and even though you don’t feel anything can help as you think it’s just you feeling this way, more people will understand than you think.

I was 12, the first time I can remember experiencing what I now know as Body Dysmorphic Disorder.

I was in year six of primary school and had to have a small operation on my nose. The operation was simple and tiny, but I had no idea of the massive impact it was about to unlock on my life. Waking up from the surgery, I was disappointed that my nose didn’t appear smaller, knowing full well that the surgery wouldn’t have done that anyway.

Not long after, I had my first proper phone and had reached my first year of secondary school. I can vividly remember one of the first videos I watched on Instagram – a very pretty lady, heavily contouring her nose to make it look smaller. That’s where my insecurities started becoming visible to other people. I started purchasing fake tan, dark brown eyeshadow, contour sticks, even tattoo needles and ink, and would go as far as taking a pair of sharp kitchen scissors to permanently mark a line across my nose.

At this time, school was becoming insufferable. I would wake up at 5 am to apply layers of extreme unblended contour to my nose, fake freckles, blusher, and heavy eyeliner, then I would go into school. Children are cruel, and so are adults when they don’t know what’s wrong. People thought I had dirt on my nose or was awful at applying makeup. They had no idea that I couldn’t be seen without it. Every day was a new comment about my nose, how silly it looked, how funny it was. People in public would point or stare and laugh. It got to the point where going to school was just too much, and by halfway through year eight, I was refusing to go to school, and no one knew why.

Until the first time my mum had noticed that something was wrong. I had a sleepover with my best friend, slept in a clay face mask the whole night, and refused to take it off by morning. It was at this time that my mum realised I couldn’t let anyone see me without my extreme makeup. I had convinced myself that I would rather die than let anyone see me. I would walk to the bathroom with a towel over my head in the morning, like a ghost, wouldn’t go swimming, not even on holiday, and had completely stopped going to school or making any contact at all with some of my closest friends. My family didn’t see me; only a hand out my bedroom door and standing up would cause me to nearly faint due to lack of sunlight. My mum would slide food under my door on the days that I was just too exhausted to spend hours doing my makeup. I would lay in my bed with the blinds shut and spend days at a time a prisoner in my own room. On the days that I did put makeup on, I would sleep in it because taking it off again was awful.

The first time a name was put to it was by a homeopath that my mum was seeing. She sadly passed recently, but she had no idea how much she helped me and my family by giving it a name. My mum reached out to the BDD Foundation and after a few years I was officially diagnosed with Body Dysmorphic Disorder by Professor David Veale.

I started on fluoxetine, a game changer and continue to take it to this day. I am nearly 21 years old, and after over 80 sessions of CBT, lots of trial medication, a whole lot of mental and emotional turmoil, and a few more years hiding away, I can now walk around my house makeup free. I have a boyfriend, my best friend is still my best friend, and I have achieved a driving licence. I’m aware that I will never exactly be ‘free’ from my BDD and certainly not from the trauma it has caused me, but I am a whole lot happier.

BDD is still a massive part of my every day, but it’s moments where I feel sorry for myself that I realise how grateful I am to have had the support of my family and the BDD Foundation. I hope that more people, whoever they are, can reach out, talk , and get the help they need. No one should go through this alone. I wouldn’t have survived by myself.