Backstory

A little bit about myself...

My name is Jake and as of right now I'm 21, though I'm soon 22. I'm a gay guy living in Marin County and aside from what happens inside my head, my life is relatively normal. I have friends, I play video games, I love weird movies, I love spending time with my dog, I love just relaxing out in nature, and I love my music with a crazy passion.

But inside, it's not so normal. Unfortunately, I'm perfectly sane, so every crazy fucking thing that happens in my head, I'm 100% aware of. I have three diagnosis: OCD, BDD, and Hypochondria. While I think it's safe to say all of these are related, they're all entirely different monsters. As you might guess, I have a strange thought process that really makes no sense to even myself.

It all started when I was seven years old. I came down with a particularly horrible case of Strep Throat - of course, we live in a modern industrialized country, so this itself was not an issue. But shortly after, strange things started occurring with me. I became deathly afraid of bacteria, and it's ever looming presence. As a young child, it was quite confusing to me as to why I suddenly was possessed with such intense fear. But it didn't matter. If you wanted to touch me, you had to wash your hands. And I had to wash mine, many times over.

I didn't know it back then but it was the start of a very long and arduous journey.

Over the years, my OCD changed shape and form. I always justified it as a normal way of thinking, that everyone had things like this they dealt with. And then at around 15 I discovered drugs and things went spiraling out of control.

Very soon, I became fearful of the sun. I was afraid it would cause skin cancer, and that it's reflection off metallic surfaces would blind me permanently. I was terrified to share this information, as I thought I was schizophrenic, and was relatively sure that I was genuinely insane. Little did I know, my self-awareness of the insanity of these thoughts is what separated me from actually being crazy, but unfortunately, the cause of my suffering as well.

BDD came along very soon after. I was with my friend one day when she accidently broke my nose by bumping her head into my nose. At first, it didn't really bother me, but within a few months, I was spending hours looking in the mirror at my nose. And then, another incident. A not-so-great friend through a rather large and heavy portable phone at my nose, breaking it in the same place, yet again.

From there on out, my nose became my obsession. To me, it was cleary, very very clear how disgusting my nose was. Today, my nose retains the causal of that incident; my nose is noticeably asymmetrical, clearly having been broken before. And as the way BDD works, soon it started devouring any confidence I had.

By 17, I was terrified of going outdoors and being seen by people. Any minor glance from someone was evidence they noticed my nose and how ugly it made me. And then came my obsession with my skin. Soon, I was convinced I had wrinkles all over my face.

A trip to the dermatologist revealed some strange news. He told me very sternly, "I am not going to give you anything for your skin; it would be unethical. What I am going to give you is serious advice you need to take to heart: You need to see a psychologist, and you need to see one soon."

Of course, my brain justified this as a lie. BDD has a funny way of doing these things; the question "Is this flaw really there and really that gross?" is almost always met with "No, what are you talking about?" - but BDD is very smart, and extremely tricky. The immediate next thought in what I imagine to be every BDD sufferers head is "They are lying to me to make me feel better."

So long story short, I was 5150'ed for several reasons, but it was necessary. I became diagnosed with OCD, and shortly after, BDD.

That was 5 years ago.

I have no gotten better in any way what-so-ever since then... I have found truly amazing distractions: relationships, pot, friends, video games, etc...

But it remains, I am no further along in my life than I was 5 years ago. I have wasted 5 years of my life avoiding something I can never escape. I am almost 22, and have done nothing with my life. But this is the time I stop. This is the time I get better.

I have devised a plan for recovery - it starts out rather simple.

The first three steps are:

1. Get a job
2. Interview for a better job
3. Attain better job.

I completed step one; I work at a movie theater I used to work at. It was very very easy for me to do so as I have many friends there. But I can't live on the money I make there. I am a trained and decently skilled bartender, and it is my full intention to have a bartending job by summer's end. I know I could easily get one, but I lack one major factor: confidence.

I am a serious pussy when it comes to interviews - I can't do them. Not because I feel like I'm incapable of getting the job, or because I feel like I'm not qualified - I'm terrified of being judged physically.

And soon, the first entry in my journey will be posted here, and the journey will begin...

The Mirror Is Lying To Me

Hi, welcome to my (for now) simple blog. In case you didn't know, this blog is being created to document my journey of recovery from Body Dysmorphic Disorder (from here on out, BDD.) It was quite a shock and disappointment to me when I searched for a patient-driven blog on this subject and found nothing. Perhaps the stigma involved is too much for some people to handle. Or more likely, perhaps it is terrifying for those suffering from BDD to show their face on the internet. I know, for me at least, it is terrifying.

I woke up today feeling particularly horrible. I stumbled from my half-drunken sleep to the bathroom and did the great taboo - I looked, for probably 45 minutes, in the mirror. It's an interesting experience that someone without BDD could probably never truly understand, but it's my goal to make it as understandable as possible. It's a complex problem. Why, having a fascination with self-hatred for our appearances, do we torture ourselves so?

Looking in the mirror is certainly not going to change the way we look. Yet still, we endure this sick self-inflicted pain only to come to the conclusion that we are hideous. It's extremely confusing to live in a world where you possibly have no idea what you really look like. The reality in our heads is that we are ugly - no one could ever find us attractive. Why seek out affection when we know it is unattainable? It's almost a form of insanity, but to us, it's very real.

After sufficiently destroying any good feelings I had this morning, I walked back into my room and sat down, alone, spinning out mentally, thinking very deeply about the implications of what it means to be ugly. I cried for about half an hour, until the crying had ran it's course. I don't enjoy crying, but I feel so helpless - so disadvantaged. There are many things you can change about yourself, but your appearance is not one of them.

But that is the key: I can't change my appearance. I am stuck looking the way I do. What I can do, however, is change my brain. It is disheartening, but I came to accept today that maybe I will never find myself attractive. So many people, of varying attractiveness, live completely normal lives, full of confidence, self-assured and knowing they are worth everything that comes to them.

But as much as that really truly blows, it's the first step to recovery.

And at the suggestion of my therapist, I have decided to document my journey. Maybe no one will ever read this blog, and that's totally ok. It's not about viewership, or popularity, or anything of marginal importance like that.

It's about exposing myself to life on life's terms, and being ok with that. As I said, there may never come a day I am happy with my appearance... but in the end, all I can do is play with the cards I've been dealt. No amount of crying or self-pity will change my life. The only thing that can change my life is changing my views on life.

And I sincerely hope, that if anyone out there reads this, BDD or not, that they can gain a greater understanding of this bizarre mental illness, which remains largely absent in popular media. And my greatest hope, is that I succeed, and those out there that know the deep, deadening, seemingly endless pain that BDD causes, can see that it truly can be done.