News

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. 

I remember starting to stare at myself in the mirror when I was 16 years old. Before then, I would spend most of my free time walking and reading outdoors, watching television, writing, or playing with my friends and pets. After I turned 16, I became increasingly critical of my appearance, especially my face. My eyes were too small and close together, my nose was too large, my forehead too short, and my chin too long.

I confessed to my mother how much I hated my appearance, especially my nose. I told her that I didn’t want to get married and have children, in case they ended up with my fat, ugly nose. Her response was to pay for plastic surgery (a rhinoplasty) to have my nose “corrected” by making it thinner. After the surgery, I was horrified by the facial swelling and black eyes. My mother had to cover all the mirrors in the house while my nose healed.

However, soon after the swelling went down, I realized I still hated my nose.  My profile looked odd to me now. I never mentioned my displeasure with the results to my mother. She was pleased with my altered appearance and thinner nose. I now felt depressed and guilty that the surgery had left me feeling worse about myself and my appearance.

Self Diagnosis & Getting Treatment

After I turned 30, I decided to move from Boston to Boulder, Colorado, where my brother and best friend lived. Trail running and hiking in the Rocky Mountains helped to relieve the depression I often felt upon waking. My appearance still preoccupied me, so being outdoors definitely helped to relieve my symptoms for a while. If I could not look at my face, I didn’t obsess about my nose.

Then, one day while waiting in line at the grocery store, a magazine cover caught my attention. On the cover of the SHAPE Magazine (May, 1997) was a beautiful blond model in a bright blue bikini. As I scanned the headlines surrounding the model, I noticed an article titled, “Hate your looks? What it means when your mirror lies.” The title caught my attention because my friends, past boyfriends, and family members had always insisted I looked fine to them, which contradicted what the mirror told me.

Inside the magazine was an article by Liz Brody about Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD). The article described the symptoms, possible causes, and treatment for the disorder. There was a five-item self-diagnosis questionnaire and a list of 10 common symptoms of the disorder. The information was taken from the seminal book by Dr. Katharine Phillips, The Broken Mirror: Understanding and Treating Body Dysmorphic Disorder (Oxford University Press, 1996, 2005).

The article discussed effective treatments for BDD, including anti-depressants and therapy. Patients described feelings of shame and embarrassment that were incredibly familiar to me. I was also relieved to learn that people with the disorder were often considered to be quite attractive, even while believing they were ugly.

That article changed my life. I felt empowered by the information about BDD diagnosis and treatment. For the first time in almost 20 years, I had hope that my ugliness was more imagined than real. That article gave me the insight and knowledge I needed to diagnose myself with the disorder.

I was both relieved and dismayed by the possibility that what I saw in the mirror was not accurate. As an artist, I wanted to trust what my eyes were telling me. It took educating myself about the disorder to understand how my body image was being distorted by the BDD. The stigma regarding having a mental health condition was less important to me than the stigma and shame I felt regarding my perceived appearance defects. As a result, I referred myself for treatment.

The psychiatrist at the health maintenance organization (HMO) was not familiar with BDD so she diagnosed me with depression. She put me on Prozac, which is one of the medications that reduce symptoms of the disorder. I also entered therapy with a clinical psychologist at the HMO. The medication started to take effect after a few weeks, and my anxiety and preoccupation with my appearance slowly started to diminish.

After being on Prozac and in clinical treatment for two years, my symptoms improved. My anxiety about my ugliness dissipated and became manageable. I was no longer obsessed about my appearance. Over time, I was able to work with my psychiatrist to slowly decrease the dosage and stop taking Prozac. A counsellor I worked with in the following years taught me meditation and mindfulness techniques. My treatment also involved coming to terms with childhood fears about abandonment and loss of love.

Moving Beyond Body Dysmorphic Disorder

Now, 25 years after getting treatment, I consider myself to be recovered from the disorder. I no longer agonize about my appearance, and most of the time, I am at peace with how I look. I now enjoy my physical self, and appreciate what I can do with my body, rather than worrying about how it appears to others. I recognize that my feelings about my appearance originate inside me. That makes them manageable. My self-worth is no longer dependent upon how I look or the shape and size of my nose. I still don’t like my nose. That’s okay. I am not my nose.

I have moved from being a victim of this debilitating disorder to becoming an advocate for those seeking hope for recovery. You may contact me about my recovery from BDD at eva@recoveryfrombdd.com.