BDD

I have body dismorphic disorder and it sucks. I’ve been really feeling it. I was 120 pounds and am now at 135 feeling like an elephant. I don’t judge other people, but I judge myself. Walking the line between hating me and loving me. I’ve been trying not to overeat but my stomach has been hurting and I workout. I want smcosmetic surgeries, but of course we are all too poor to get that, so we live hating ourselves. This leads to dissociation, a soul moving around in a body they hate. Does the body deserve punishment? Pain? Because it’s fat and messed up from fibromyalgia. I’d rather have a healthy body that didn’t overeat at a younger age, but I was dumb back then.

How do you deal? Fry my hair, full my lips, I used to starve myself. Picking skin off. Not a sexy elephant. I was so depressed I wanted to kill myself for being fat when I was younger. I am so terrified of going there again. I’m afraid of what I’d do to myself. No one respects you when you’re fat. Unless you’re on you’re game no one even pays attention to you.

I remember

You. Slightly taller than me, yelling at me from the drivers seat about how I need to act in front of your friends. You said you loved me, but that I was embarrassing. You ignored my feelings when I got upset and belittled my problems in favor of yours. Because I was in cymbalta, you said I was crazy. But you were the one who got abused first. You had your obsessive compulsions when it came to personal hygiene. You said I was slutty because I liked sex. You, trying to look tough in front of other people with your red mustang. You who is still married and is separated from your children, which also causes you pain. I would always try to walk away when you ignored my feelings, but you didn’t want me to. You did chase after me after a while. I would get so angry at you that I’d rather sleep in my car. You who didn’t give a shit when I started panicking, you left. You who is paranoid about your safety, you needed that gun.

You who threatened to give out those photos I trusted you with. Threatening to tell everyone I’m crazy, and ruin my reputation. You who told me I better change. You held my wrist so hard it bruised with your thumbprint but I never showed anyone. Screaming at me at 4 am. Those panic attacks that were so bad I threw up. You scared me. You messed me up so bad that my nervous system isn’t normal anymore. That I needed therapy. You, who abused me.

Fibromyalgia is bullshit. I would like to speak to the manager about a return.

A list of things that aren’t mentioned by people (in general, not all) when describing what being chronically ill or disabled entails:

Having to change your diet so much and not being able to eat certain things that you sometimes go days without having a proper meal because you can’t eat more than a yoghurt cup

Having shorten names for things around the house because of how much you need them to help (I have a bucket named “Bucky” ((yes after Bucky Barnes)) for when I need to throw up but I can’t get out of bed)

Dealing with people asking if “you’re better?” when you have a good day

Developing depression (or having depression worsen) due to the frustration and pain and lack of info from doctors

Struggling to stay on top of your work, whether it’s at school or a business

Having a script you type every time you need to tell your teachers/employer that you can’t come in due to severe symptoms

Knowing people at your doctors office or local pharmacy because of how often you need new medication

Having an underlying fear of developing an opioid addiction/other types of medicine addiction because of how much pain you’re in and needing the pain relief

Coming home and collapsing due to exhaustion because doing basic day to day activities feel like running the Boston Marathon

Not being able to do the things you love because you physically can’t anymore

Having needles being in your arm because of how many blood tests you get becomes second nature

Telling people “it’s ok” when you’re in pain because there’s nothing you can do about it anymore

Feel free to add on

My life in one meme

I Believe My Nervous System has Evolved Into a Deeply Disturbed System

“Depression, anxiety, eating disorders, trauma - these are just a few examples of the forces that can lead to this tornado of pain.” - Lady Gaga at ELLE’s Women in Hollywood event, 2018.

When someone asks how you’re really feeling

Me making healthy people uncomfortable by being accepting and open about my chronic illnesses

I make jokes about my medical issues because it’s easier than facing the fact that I’ll be living in severe pain the rest of my life.

So much this

Being a spoonie means going from “Wow, I really could build a life that would work for me!” To “Fuck I’ve been pushing myself too hard and now I can’t get out of bed and am questioning if I can even keep up with what I had going” in like, 12 hours. 

Being Optimistic with chronic illness like:

I’m feelin this

Sorry

All I can do is complain about things, is this bratty millennial life? Sorry. I wish life wasn’t so expensive. I wish I hadn’t dated that boy that abused me and gave me fibro. I’m sorry I’m. Of an optimist, but I inherited OCD and depression. One doc thought I had bipolar, because of my risk taking when I was younger. The pain brings me down. My arm was hurting so bad, and my back yesterday. If it weren’t for drugs I could be dead. It’s that bad. I thought I wanted to die when I was young but now it’s worse.

Here I am doing superficial stuff to make myself feel better. I know this happiness is temporary, being pretty. But I’ll hold on to it while I can. What else can I do?

Life isn’t as much about me anymore, as it’s about avoiding and controlling pain. This is fibromyalgia. And it sucks. And there is no cure. Something is wrong with my nerves, maybe my brain

Happiness

I’m sorry coworker and everyone that disagrees, but happiness is not a choice. Believe me, I have many reasons to be happy. It’s not that I want to be depressed, but without meds, it’s my default mode.

Makes me feel sluggish and tired, unmotivated. I could go Unmedicated, but I wouldn’t take care of myself. What’s the point, the world is going to end anyways, and I have very low self esteem. But I know I should do what I can for people while I am here. I just get stuck on depressing thoughts and can’t turn myself around without help

Believe me I don’t want to be this way. It was inherited. I know, my mom still has a hard time doing anything except working. That brings down my mood too. Because of all these factors, this is who I am. It wasn’t a choice.

Peeling my skin away is t what I want to do, but it’s a compulsive habit I can’t get away from. Parties are scary, so is work sometimes because I become paranoid around people. I don’t know why. Abuse does weird shit to you, believe me. When I got to 100 pounds, it’s not that I want to look so skinny, it’s just my fear of being fat controls me.

I was fat for almost 20 years. Nobody liked me in high school, I was awkward and careless. Once I lost the weight I felt like people noticed me, treated me better. Some of the attention I got wasn’t for the better. But attention is what attention is. And I like it. So going back to when I was lonely, I was so depressed and wanted to kill myself. I did hurt myself for a long time with sharp objects. This fuels my fear. A need to be as perfect as I can.

I also want to say drug abuse isnt a choice either. I don’t want believe my dad chose alcohol over me, that hurts. I want to think his body had a craving based on his genetics. He did originally choose to drink, I know that. But sometimes people push you to shrink, and for me it can be hard to say no. I’m a people pleaser, which can make saying no hard. But maybe I’m wrong and don’t want to believe.

I don’t think my celexa is 100% working because I’m struggling sometimes. I tried another drug but I was not sleeping with it, and I didn’t feel like me. So I don’t know what to do.