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At its worst, BDD made me feel like an amorphous alien blob of flesh and body parts whose loosely formed features wouldn’t stay in their own distinct shape when I didn’t pay attention. I believed that I spread to fit my clothing no matter the shape or size, like jelly in mould, so that garments would fit tight to my formless body, or worse, create a bulge. The areas of concern were broad ranging. Depending on the day it might be my hair, my body shape and size, or my face. I remember likening myself to a Picasso, feeling that my facial features were ‘all over the place’, and that ‘I look like I’ve been hit by a bus’. That one was a particularly nasty judgement that really took me into despair. The only parts of my body that I liked were my feet, hands, forearms and ears.

I was hyper aware of how I looked from different angles, making public and group situations extremely difficult, I couldn’t effectively control my body for all the angles needed at any given time. I’d be facing someone trying to focus on how I look to them, and on the conversation, whilst frantically worrying about how I look to someone else passing by! Just walking to and from work became a huge ordeal, with every person that walked towards me sending a spasm of shame through my body for fear of what they could see when they looked at me. Holding back tears, thoughts spiralling way out of control, and hyperventilating until I reached somewhere ‘safe’ was a daily experience.

The feeling of people looking at me ‘noticing how ugly I was’, brought about a set of physical symptoms. I became instantly hot and flushed, breathless, and panicked. Often parts of my body would begin to really hurt, like a hot and painful lower back, or sore legs or arms. I don’t know how but the thoughts, and perhaps the associated tension, quickly brought on this physical pain. I would often become bloated if the area of concern in that moment was my tummy. If my top wasn’t baggy enough I would be concerned that my tummy contours could be seen against the clothing, and this mental anxiety would trigger painful physical bloating that made me completely unable to focus on anything else.

I first sought professional help when I was at university age 21 and received some low cost counselling for what I thought was general depression. But I didn’t have the words to describe what I was experiencing and I didn’t know that BDD was even a thing. So the cycle of insufficient short term attempts at counselling continued for a number of years with a variety of practitioners. I was around 27 years old before a psychologist raised the possibility of me experiencing BDD and started treating me with CBT for BDD. At first I didn’t fully believe I had BDD, but I was happy for my emotional pain to be taken seriously and to receive specialist support. The belief I held was ‘I’m just ugly, and this psychologist, seeing this to be true and unable to resolve my appearance, is just trying to make me happy by telling me it’s a mental problem instead’ I was afraid that if the work was successful I’d end up living my life like someone whose appearance wasn’t deficient, and make a huge fool of myself by not being aware of my true ugliness.

Finding a support group was the real game changer. I still needed to work one to one in therapy but meeting others experiencing the exact same concerns and behaviours was eye opening. It helped me begin to accept that I might actually have this thing called BDD. The way we would all describe certain experiences almost verbatim made it hard to deny that a common thread linked us together.

I cope with challenges now by separating myself from the BDD, seeing it as something ‘other’ that tricks me into feeling and believing certain things that aren’t helpful. Maybe BDD is a bit like the opposite of ‘rose tinted glasses’. If I hear myself making unfair judgments in the mirror, I take off my BDD tinted glasses, and try really hard to adjust my vision back to reality. Blink a few times, step back and get some distance, look in a different mirror with natural lighting, or just simply walk away and do something else. I stop engaging with the thoughts because I know that ruminating and looking closer will not help at all.

I feel most proud of a recent experience I had, that I didn’t even notice until after the event, and that in itself is the beauty of it. I was going out to a gallery for an evening event, mingling and art etc.. the sort of thing that can terrify me. I had to wear what I had on from the day, which was not a good outfit, and I had to do my makeup in super low lighting. I expected to feel wretched when I got there, I promised myself I’d show my face and then head off as soon as I felt too uncomfortable. Skip forward 2 or 3 days, sitting in my car, and the realisation hit me hard!… a smile crept onto my face as I realised that I don’t even remember thinking about my appearance the whole evening at the gallery. When I arrived I asked my friend if I had panda eyes from doing my makeup in low light, she responded that I did a little bit but not that bad. And somehow that was enough for me. I stayed a couple of hours, I chatted and laughed and met new people. I didn’t hold my body at weird angles, or think about how I looked from behind. It was an incredible moment of realisation that filled my body with happiness and hope. If I can do that once, surely I can do it again!

I still have difficulties with BDD at times, but on the whole I am able to move through life without the constant knot of unworthiness in my chest. I am beginning to experience myself as more than my appearance. When I think I look crap it doesn’t have to stop me from enjoying the day or leaving the house, because I now know for certain that the image I conjure up with my BDD eyes is way worse than reality. I trust that even at my worst, I still just look like a human, a perfectly imperfect human just like all the others. So I don’t have to get hot and sweaty walking down the highstreet, because as it turns out I don’t actually look like an amorphous alien blob.

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.