“There is happiness after body dysmorphic disorder.”
In this episode, Sheila Paul reflects on the role that cultural expectations and painful childhood experiences played in her developing body dysmorphic disorder. And she describes how sharing her experiences within the African Caribbean community is helping reduce the shame around mental health issues.
You can download the transcript for this episode here:
BDD is a common mental health condition, but little is known about people’s experiences of seeking help in the UK.
Researchers from UCL would like to hear from those who have sought support for BDD, whether you’ve been able to access treatment or found it hard to. Participants do not need to have a formal BDD diagnosis.
Taking part involves an anonymous online survey which will take about 20 minutes. This will ask about your experiences of seeking support for BDD and accessing treatment.
You will be entered into a prize draw for the chance to win a £20 voucher
You can take part if:
Age 18+
Have experienced appearance related concerns consistent with BDD (diagnosed or not)
Currently living in the UK
Able to read and understand English
If you are interested in finding out more or taking part, follow the link or contact:
emma.dunford20@ucl.ac.uk
This is a doctorate of Clinical Psychology research study
We are honoured to announce the creation and celebration of an inaugural Body Dysmorphic Disorder Awareness Day on September 3, 2026, presented by the the International OCD Foundation and the BDD Foundation. We have exciting plans for the day and among them are a social media campaign that highlights the BDD lived experience voice.
If you have lived experience with BDD and feel comfortable doing so, we would love to invite you to take part in the social media awareness campaign. Hearing directly from people with lived experience can spread hope and help others feel less alone.
If you’d like to participate, we’ve created a short form where you can share as much or as little as feels right to you.
UCL Researchers are seeking adult participants for research on Body Dysmorphic Disorder symptoms.
Body dysmorphic symptoms are thought to exist along a spectrum in the general population, with some not experiencing these at all, while others experience these at a high level. The research team are interested in how these experiences relate to the types of feedback we request from other people about us (e.g. reassurance). Understanding this better has the potential to improve support and aid our understanding of BDD.
Taking part includes a brief 10-15 min online survey, and a chance to win one of five £20 vouchers.
You can take part if:
Age 18+
Fluent in English
Please note that you do not need to experience BDD symptoms or body image concerns in order to participate.
If you are interested in finding out more or taking part, follow the link or contact:
lara.erritt.21@ucl.ac.uk
This is a doctorate of Clinical Psychology research study
“It can feel quite lonely, and scary. I just hope that by sharing my story, it will help someone else.”
Sam Milburn, mum to Jack, is a passionate advocate for more awareness and better access to treatment for BDD. In this episode, she shares her hard-won advice for other parents, including how to navigate the system on behalf of your child while also looking after yourself.
You can download the transcript for this episode here:
“Every mirror, every shop window, every reflective surface became something I had to check, not out of vanity, but out of fear.”
From as far back as I can remember – maybe 12 or 13 – the moment I became aware of my reflection, something inside me shifted. I never saw what other people saw. Every mirror, every shop window, every reflective surface became something I had to check, not out of vanity, but out of fear… fear that it would confirm what I already believed: that I looked wrong, awful, ‘horrendous’.
It wasn’t just feeling ugly, it was an obsession that wrapped itself around me. My hair became the centre of it. Being a redhead in the 2000s, with thick, wild, wavy hair that never did what I wanted, felt like a curse. Everyone wanted pin‑straight hair and thin eyebrows, and I had neither. I remember the first time I used straighteners, the shock of seeing my hair change, the tiny spark of hope, and then the crash that followed when the damage, the greasiness, the separation made me feel even worse. Greasy hair became something I hated with a kind of panic. I felt dirty, ashamed, convinced people would think I was disgusting.
I spent so much money, so much time, chasing the promise of ‘shiny, easy hair’, believing that if I could just fix that one thing, maybe I could finally like myself. But every new shampoo, every treatment, every hopeful delivery turned into disappointment. I hid it from people I lived with because the shame was too much.
At my lowest, BDD made me feel like disappearing. I genuinely believed the world would be better without me, that no one would care because I was ‘so ugly’. I stopped leaving the house unless I absolutely had to. I cancelled plans, made excuses, and hurt friendships without ever telling the truth – that I was terrified of being seen.
I spent hours in front of mirrors. Skin‑picking and hair‑plucking became rituals I couldn’t stop, even when they hurt me. I’d make my skin bleed, scab, and then pick again trying to ‘fix’ it. I carried tweezers everywhere. I felt trapped in a cycle I didn’t choose and couldn’t escape. And the anger I felt toward myself for not being able to stop… it was exhausting.
I look back and see how much time BDD has stolen from me, how many experiences, how much joy, how much life. I’m 40 now, and it took until last year to finally reach a point where I couldn’t keep going like that. I didn’t want to live in that pain anymore. One night, at my lowest, I searched the internet for anything – any story, any person – who might understand. That’s when I found the BDD Foundation and the 20‑week Overcoming BDD programme.
Reading those testimonials… it was the first time in my entire life I felt seen. Truly seen. Every word echoed something I had felt but never been able to explain. The relief of knowing I wasn’t alone was overwhelming. For so long I thought everyone secretly hated themselves and that confidence was something other people pretended to have.
I applied. Speaking to Gem during the screening was the first time I talked to someone who got it. I was grateful, terrified, hopeful. Twenty weeks felt huge. But it turned out to be one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. The group was incredible – no judgement, just understanding, compassion, and connection. By the end, none of us wanted it to stop.
I think a part of me hoped the programme would ‘fix’ me completely, that I’d come out cured. But healing doesn’t work like that. Twenty weeks is a beginning, not an ending. And yet… the change in me is real. The tools I’ve learned, the way I speak to myself now, the tiny moments of peace I never thought I’d feel, they’re proof that I can survive this. That I can get better. That the thoughts in my head aren’t the truth.
It’s not about being beautiful or ugly. It’s about not letting my appearance dictate my entire life. And slowly, slowly – it’s getting better. I’m learning self‑compassion. I’m learning not to punish myself. I’m learning to breathe.
My friends and family have been incredible. They’ll never fully understand, and I wouldn’t want them to, but their support has kept me going. I don’t know where I’d be without them.
Sometimes I wish I could go back and hold my younger self. Tell her she’s safe. Tell her she’s loved. Tell her that one day she’ll find people who understand her, and she’ll start to like herself, even just a little. But I also know that everything I’ve lived through has shaped who I am now.
BDD is cruel. It fills you with guilt and shame – how can someone with a good life be so consumed by how they look? But it’s real, and it’s painful, and it deserves to be talked about. I’m grateful it’s finally being spoken about more openly. And I’m grateful for the BDD Foundation for giving me something I never had before: the feeling of not being alone.
“What you see isn’t the true version of who you are. BDD has taken over your brain.”
Just a couple of years ago, Malise was in a wheelchair after spending three and a half years in hospital being misunderstood and mistreated. Today she is in recovery, volunteering for the BDD Foundation and even training for the Manchester Marathon. She shares the devastating impact of misdiagnosis and how finally receiving the right support changed everything.
You can download the transcript for this episode here:
On 16th May, our incredible 3 Peaks fundraising team are taking on the mountains, one step at a time, to help raise funds for the BDD Foundation. With a collective target of £7500, their efforts will make a huge impact in supporting our work, and the services we offer to those suffering with BDD. THANK YOU, Team! 💙
Meet the Team ⬇️
Rebecca Robinson
I’m both incredibly excited and slightly apprehensive about the 3 peaks challenge. I’m most looking forward to the beautiful scenery, time with great people as well as the sense of accomplishment I will feel upon completion.
As part of my job role as a CBT therapist, I am encouraging people to get comfortable with the uncomfortable and do things that feel challenging. I believe it is important to demonstrate I am willing to do the same and what better wat than to do something in aide of this fantastic charity!
I support people with BDD with CBT therapy, and have provided teaching on this subject for NHS trainee therapists too. It is an area I feel passionate about and really enjoy working with. I have seen people reclaim their life from BDD so want to continue to instil the hope that overcoming BDD is possible.
Most my training at the moment involves increasing my distance with running as well as going to HIT classes at the gym. The 3 peaks team did a practice hike up Watlington Hill and are potentially planning a trip to Snowdonia at the start of next year.
I’m really excited to be taking part in the National Three Peaks Challenge for the BDD Foundation in 2026. This is the first big fundraising challenge that I’ve signed up for and I’m so pleased to be taking on this epic challenge to help raise funds for such an incredible charity.
Working as a psychotherapist is a real privilege and provides unique insights into how debilitating mental health conditions such as Body Dysmorphic Disorder can be. I’ve seen first-hand how the BDD Foundation provides invaluable support, advocacy and advice for patients, professionals and loved ones – and know how important this money will be to help them in continuing to do such vital work.
The prospect of climbing the 3 tallest mountains in the UK consecutively and all within a 24 hour period is a rather daunting prospect (especially for someone with very limited hiking experience!) but I’m really looking forward to the challenge so please donate what you can and wish me the best of luck.
It has been very fulfilling to hold the role as Chair of the BDD Foundation for the past 11 years. As a Cognitive Behaviour Therapist with a special interest in BDD, I have witnessed the inspiring courage and perseverence of those living with BDD, particularly when engaging in exposure challenges in treatment.
I am proud to support the BDDF and of course, hope we can help raise some funds and awareness along the way.
I’ve never done anything like this before, so I’m training hard!
Until a few months ago, I had never heard of Body Dysmorphic Disorder. Although I don’t work in therapy, I think this says a fair bit about how this isn’t highlighted widely enough as I didn’t know about any of it until my partner said she was doing the three peaks challenge and I wanted to get involved.
Living at the bottom or Barnet Hill for most of my life, I feel fully prepared for the uphill struggle of the three peaks. I’m a enthusiastic amateur runner so regular hill reps along with a marathon this past December and a series of half marathon training runs should stand me in good stead.
My potential highlights for the challenge are going to be the snacks, the overall challenge and (most importantly) leaving work early at 12.30 on the Friday to make it up to the start line in Fort William.
In my work as a mental health practitioner, I see how incredibly tough life can be for those living with Body Dysmorphic Disorder, a condition that’s still so misunderstood.
I’m taking on this hike because I’m determined to help shine a light on BDD and raise the funds needed for proper, specialist support. It’s about more than just the miles; it’s about showing people they aren’t alone and helping to break down the shame that often stops them from reaching out.
Every donation goes directly towards life-changing resources, and I’d be so grateful if you could help me support this brilliant charity.
UCL Researchers are seeking male participants who worry about the size, definition or tone of their muscles. They are exploring symptoms of Muscle Dysmorphia, how symptoms might relate to the sex assigned at birth, and experiences in social settings.
Taking part includes a brief 15 min online survey, and a chance to win one of ten £25 vouchers.
You can take part if:
You identify as male
You worry about your body and self-identify as having BDD or muscle dysmorphia
Age 18+
Fluent in English
If you are interested in finding out more or taking part, follow the link or contact:
amelia.peck.23@ucl.ac.uk
chloe.andrews@ucl.ac.uk
This is a doctorate of Clinical Psychology research study
For much of the time Mark Brown lived with BDD – around 30 years – he looked as if he was functioning from the outside. But inside he was living under what he calls “a dome of shame and disgust”. Now, after lots of hard work and therapy, he says he’s much more present in his life and his old life with BDD feels like a distant memory.
You can download the transcript for this episode here: