My own worst critic

I looked into the mirror and the reflection that stared back at me was distorted. All I could do was cry, pull into my own shell, and try to go unnoticed or act out, be a rebel and pretend I wasn’t me, because anything was better than living in a body I loathed.

For as long as I can remember, I have disliked my body. I know what you are thinking; most women don’t like something about themselves. But it wasn’t just one thing for me. I existed in a body that felt and appeared to me to be flawed beyond repair. I couldn’t see what others saw. Every flaw shone bright as if illuminated with neon lights. Even worse was the feeling of inadequacy in other areas, i.e. school and sports which accompanied my body image issues. I just thought I wasn’t good enough as a human being. So, I retreated. I became a shadow of myself. As a child, my parents thought I was just shy and so I became. I played the part, and let others take center stage so I could fade into the background. As I matured, I battled self-consciousness and events that would trigger this sense of ugliness and distortion. My reaction was always retreat, cry and punish myself for being not good enough.

The Struggle is Real

To some it may seem shallow, but for many, it is a legitimate psychological disorder known as Body Dysmorphic Disorder (from herein referred to as BDD). The textbook definition of BDD is “a mental illness involving obsessive focus on a perceived flaw in appearance. The flaw can be minor or imagined. But the person may spend hours a day trying to fix it. People with this disorder may frequently examine their appearance in a mirror or constantly compare themselves with others and avoid social situations.” (Source: Mayo Clinic) In my case, I was always comparing my body to the popular, pretty girls, the current pop culture princesses and the image of perfection I had created in my mind. In middle school, I was the only girl not developing and I was “too skinny”, and my “shyness” was perceived as snobbishness and self-centeredness, by those exact girls idolized. I was bullied and called names, but I hid it all from my family, for fear of being a disappointment. In high school my obsession turned to needing to be skinnier to keep up and fit in. I was getting more interested in pursuing dance, but I wasn’t blessed with the long, lean, lithe body of a ballerina. I was told I didn’t have the right body. This is when I turned to diet pills, restricted eating and experimenting with purging. I remember listening to conversations of the popular girls and how they made themselves throw up…I tried it all. I restricted my meals, and only ate dinner. At school I would take five diet pills (appetite suppressants) and drink only a diet soda for lunch every day for a year. From the age of 12-16, I went through a major bout of what I now know was depression and anxiety because of these issues. In this time I found fitness and lifting weights as a way to distract me from everything, and a way to channel my obsession with my perceived imperfections. Thankfully, over the following few years, until I was 21, I was able to temper the obsession. I think in part because I found comfort in the people I surrounded myself with, especially in college. For the first time in my life didn’t feel ugly or fat or inadequate. I fit in and I was happy just being me. I could get lost on stage as a dancer, and not think that people were looking at me and judging me negatively. I was free.

The cycle continues…

I began restricting my eating again when I came to the realization that I was in an unhappy and unhealthy marriage in 2005. This time I paired it with alcohol abuse and over-exercising. I was punishing myself for getting into the marriage. Not knowing whom to confide in, I retreated. I reunited with the only way I could control the chaos in my life. I went from a very healthy and muscular, 140lbs, to a sickly 120lbs and had social anxiety so debilitating that I couldn’t get dressed to leave the house and I couldn’t be in public without being drunk. On my frame, I looked emaciated. I was miserable. My inability to communicate my depression and what was happening in my life brought me to a breaking point. I wanted to die and was drawn to even riskier behavior during my divorce. I decided that I would just be a disappointment and a failure and just end it.

A turning point

Then I met my savior. The man I now call my husband saved me from myself. He loved me from the moment we met. I was a disaster, but he SAW ME. He made me feel beautiful and alive for the first time in my life. He forgave my “craziness” and encouraged me to follow my passions. My BDD took a backseat. I was 27.

The words, “I never want kids so I don’t ruin my abs,” actually came out of my mouth whenever we talked about having kids. This was my BDD subtly resurrecting. But, then I got pregnant. Shockingly, my BDD was held at bay by my infatuation with our unborn child. I LOVED my pregnant body. I led a very fit pregnancy, working out and training clients until the day before he came into the world. I still gained a healthy 40lbs, but I was more than happy to have the extra weight for my baby to grow. My new curves and thicker limbs didn’t bother me. Although my body was quite literally distorted from its usual state, I didn’t see it that way. I felt beautiful. I bounced back fairly quickly, getting back to my healthy pre-pregnancy weight within 6 months.

The BDD didn’t resurface until after the birth of our second son in 2010, but it was mild. I would pinch at myself and say I was gross. I would change clothes a thousand times before settling, and sometimes would cry