Body Dysmorphic Disorder
As I go along this fun road of life God has given me, I have been reflecting. As I mentioned in an earlier post, I can't remember a time in my life that I actually felt like I was good enough.
I remember when I first moved to NC over 5 years ago, my goal was to get here and get skinny. I'm not joking that was my goal. I wanted to come back for my first visit and shock everyone with how great I looked. I got down to 127lbs (which is great for some people, but not someone with my frame). My clothes hung off my body, my bones were shooting out, and I beamed when I saw that number on the scale. I hadn't been that small since middle school. So, there I was 23-24 years old weighing less than I did as a 13 year old.
Everyone told me how fantastic I looked. Everyone commented on my new body. I never felt better. My dad told me I looked too thin, and I thought it was the most amazing compliment of my life. I soaked it all up and went back to NC and continued to monitor every little thing that touched my lips. Even then, I wasn't satisfied with myself. I still saw imperfections.
As all diets do, that one eventually came to an end and I started to "normalize" again. My body is not built to maintain that weight (at least maintain it and be happy with eating something other than 1 cup of special k for 3 meals a day).
I remember feeling so defeated as the scale "tipped" at 136 for my friend's wedding day that I was a bridesmaid in. I had to wear a size 6 dress and was devastated. I hated the way I looked. Which obviously started my struggle all over again (binge eating cycles are fun!).
It makes me sad now, I look back on photos of myself and can't imagine how I felt anything less than great. I looked great. I never believed anyone who told me that. I was constantly comparing myself to the next person rather than looking at myself as healthy and happy. I was fixated on the fact that I got down to 127 once, I could certainly do it again. My jeans eventually went up to a size 8 and I knew that meant fat. All these numbers drove me to insanity. It wouldn't matter how I felt, if I got on that scale and saw a number I wasn't happy with, my day was ruined.
I went so far as to take Rx medication to suppress my appetite. I would literally spend $100/month on this medicine just to keep me skinny. The first month I went back and weighed in I had lost 10lbs. The doctor was amazed at my "progress" - I still felt fat.
Now, at my highest weight of my life, I struggle to see the beauty still. My sweet and supportive fiance assures me that what I see is not what everyone else sees. I'm starting to get it now. When I look back at old photos, less and less I find myself being envious over my past self, and just being sad with what I have done to myself and my body. I do my best to get ready every day and look as best as I can, because every day I have made it a goal to tell myself one thing I like- even if I have to fake it. Honestly, most days it's impossible to silence my inner critic. The scale may not rule me anymore (only because it was taken away from me) but the numbers and sizes still do. I even obsess with the number of weeks leading up to my wedding.
I'm getting there, though. Recovery for this is in steps that I feel are even smaller than baby steps. I'm sad at the girl I was before, never perfect enough. I am sad at the girl I still am, but at least I'm trying my best to overcome.
I know this blog has quickly turned into a blog less about "me" and more about my eating disorder, but if you want the honest truth, it's truly what consumes my life these days. You are getting the most real version of "me" you've ever gotten.
I remember when I first moved to NC over 5 years ago, my goal was to get here and get skinny. I'm not joking that was my goal. I wanted to come back for my first visit and shock everyone with how great I looked. I got down to 127lbs (which is great for some people, but not someone with my frame). My clothes hung off my body, my bones were shooting out, and I beamed when I saw that number on the scale. I hadn't been that small since middle school. So, there I was 23-24 years old weighing less than I did as a 13 year old.
Everyone told me how fantastic I looked. Everyone commented on my new body. I never felt better. My dad told me I looked too thin, and I thought it was the most amazing compliment of my life. I soaked it all up and went back to NC and continued to monitor every little thing that touched my lips. Even then, I wasn't satisfied with myself. I still saw imperfections.
As all diets do, that one eventually came to an end and I started to "normalize" again. My body is not built to maintain that weight (at least maintain it and be happy with eating something other than 1 cup of special k for 3 meals a day).
I remember feeling so defeated as the scale "tipped" at 136 for my friend's wedding day that I was a bridesmaid in. I had to wear a size 6 dress and was devastated. I hated the way I looked. Which obviously started my struggle all over again (binge eating cycles are fun!).
It makes me sad now, I look back on photos of myself and can't imagine how I felt anything less than great. I looked great. I never believed anyone who told me that. I was constantly comparing myself to the next person rather than looking at myself as healthy and happy. I was fixated on the fact that I got down to 127 once, I could certainly do it again. My jeans eventually went up to a size 8 and I knew that meant fat. All these numbers drove me to insanity. It wouldn't matter how I felt, if I got on that scale and saw a number I wasn't happy with, my day was ruined.
I went so far as to take Rx medication to suppress my appetite. I would literally spend $100/month on this medicine just to keep me skinny. The first month I went back and weighed in I had lost 10lbs. The doctor was amazed at my "progress" - I still felt fat.
Now, at my highest weight of my life, I struggle to see the beauty still. My sweet and supportive fiance assures me that what I see is not what everyone else sees. I'm starting to get it now. When I look back at old photos, less and less I find myself being envious over my past self, and just being sad with what I have done to myself and my body. I do my best to get ready every day and look as best as I can, because every day I have made it a goal to tell myself one thing I like- even if I have to fake it. Honestly, most days it's impossible to silence my inner critic. The scale may not rule me anymore (only because it was taken away from me) but the numbers and sizes still do. I even obsess with the number of weeks leading up to my wedding.
I'm getting there, though. Recovery for this is in steps that I feel are even smaller than baby steps. I'm sad at the girl I was before, never perfect enough. I am sad at the girl I still am, but at least I'm trying my best to overcome.
I know this blog has quickly turned into a blog less about "me" and more about my eating disorder, but if you want the honest truth, it's truly what consumes my life these days. You are getting the most real version of "me" you've ever gotten.
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