The Mirror Lies (And So Does My Mind).

You tell me I look fine.You say it with such confidence,like your eyes see the truthand mine are just... broken.But that's the thing about body dysmorphia:It doesn't matter what you see.It doesn't matter what the mirror shows.My brain has already decidedthat something is wrong,and no amount of reassurancewill convince it otherwise. You don't understand.You think it's vanity.You think I'm fishing for complimentswhen I say I hate how I look.You think I'm being dramaticwhen I avoid cameras,when I change outfits seven times before leaving the house,when I cancel plans because I "don't feel pretty enough."But this isn't about wanting attention.It's about the war happening inside my headevery time I catch my reflection.It's about seeing flaws that consume meflaws you say aren't even there.But they are there.To me, they're everywhere.In every photo.Every mirror.Every window I pass.Every time I compare myself to someone elseand lose.Every. Single. Time. Do you know what it's liketo look in the mirrorand genuinely not recognize yourself?To see a stranger staring backsomeone distorted,someone ugly,someone you'd do anything to escape from?That's dysmorphia.It's not "I wish I looked different."It's "I am genuinely convincedthat I am hideous,deformed,unlovable,and everyone who says otherwise is lying to me."You tell me to "just stop looking in the mirror."As if that would help.As if I could just... not think about it.But I don't need a mirror to hate my body.I feel it in the way my clothes fit.I feel it when I'm sitting,standing,walking,existing in a body that feels wrong. I know exactly which angles hide the parts I hate.I know how to pose,how to edit,how to filter myself into somethingslightly more acceptable.And even theneven when the photo looks "good"I still see the flaws.Still pick myself apart.Still think,"If I could just change this one thing,maybe I'd finally be okay."But it's never one thing.It's always something else.Fix my skin? Now it's my nose.Fix my nose? Now it's my body.Lose weight? Now I'm "too skinny" in the wrong places.Gain weight? Now I'm "too big" everywhere.There's no winning. There's no version of methat my brain will accept.You say beauty is subjective.You say I'm being too hard on myself.You say, "You're beautiful, you just can't see it."And maybe you're right.Maybe I can't see it.But that doesn't make the pain any less real.Reassurance doesn't fix dysmorphia.Compliments don't rewire my brain.You telling me I'm prettydoesn't undo years of tearing myself apart.It doesn't stop the obsessive thoughts.It doesn't stop me from checking my reflectiontwenty times a day,searching for proof that I'm as ugly as I feel.It doesn't stop the comparisonsscrolling through Instagram,seeing people who look effortless,flawless,perfect,and wondering what genetic lottery I lostto end up looking like this.It doesn't stop me from avoiding social situationsbecause I don't want people to see me. From declining invitationsbecause I "don't have anything to wear"(translation: nothing makes me look acceptable).From deleting photoswhere everyone else looks greatbut I look like a before picture.This is exhausting.Living in a body you hate is exhausting.Constantly monitoring yourself is exhausting.Trying to explain to peoplethat this isn't something you can just "get over"is exhausting.But here's what I need you to understand:I can't just stop caring.I've tried.I've tried the "self-love" affirmations.I've tried avoiding mirrors.I've tried therapy.I've tried reminding myself that "beauty is subjective"and "looks don't matter"and "everyone is their own worst critic."And maybe all of that is true.But it doesn't stop my brainfrom telling me I'm uglya hundred times a day.It doesn't stop the anxietythat grips me every time I have to be seen.It doesn't stop me from wishingI could just... disappear.Or better yet,wake up in a different body.One that doesn't feel like a prison.One I don't have to edit,hide,or apologize for. So no,your reassurance doesn't fix it.But that doesn't mean I don't need kindness.It doesn't mean I don't need patience.It doesn't mean I don't need you to stop saying"You look fine"and start saying"I'm sorry you're struggling with this."Because dysmorphia isn't logical.You can't logic me out of it.You can't convince me I'm wrongwhen my brain has spent yearsbuilding this narrative.But you can sit with me in it.You can stop minimizing it.You can stop treating it like vanityor insecurityor something I'll "grow out of."This is real.This is painful.This is something I fight every single day.And I'm tired.I'm tired of hating myself.I'm tired of the filters.I'm tired of the comparisons.I'm tired of feeling like I'll never be enoughno matter how much I change. But here's the thing:I'm also tired of letting my brain win.I'm tired of giving dysmorphiathis much power over my life.I'm tired of hiding,of shrinking,of letting the fear of being seenkeep me from showing up.So I'm done.Not "cured."Not "fixed."Not suddenly confident and self-loving.But done letting this control me.I don't know if I'll ever look in the mirrorand like what I see.But maybe that's not the goal.Maybe the goal is just to existwithout apologizing for taking up space.To post the photoeven if I hate how I look in it.To leave the houseeven if I don't feel "pretty enough."To stop waiting for the day I'm finally acceptableand start living anyway.Because here's the truth:The standard I'm chasing doesn't exist.It's a moving target.A photoshopped illusion.A lie sold to us by peoplewho profit off our insecurity. And I'm done chasing it.I'm done shrinking myselfto fit into someone else's idea of beautiful.I'm done hating my bodyfor not looking like a model,a filter,a fantasy.My body isn't the problem.The world that taught me to hate it is.And I can't change the world.But I can stop letting it win.So this is me.Dysmorphic.Struggling.Still fighting my brain most days.But refusing to hide anymore.Not because I suddenly love myself.But because I'm tired of giving hatredthis much of my life.I deserve to exist.Even if I don't feel pretty.Even if I never meet the standard.Even if my brain still lies to me.I deserve to be here.And so do you.❤️

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