My Body Is A Cage

This is the moment I guess I’m supposed to write about. I was writing a piece last week for Eating Disorder Awareness Week and it got accidentally deleted. I worked for days on finding the right words. Accidentally hit paste instead of copy and by the time I realized what I did, it was too late to recover my work. I posted about my frustration on social media, and some lovely friends suggested that the piece just wasn’t meant to go out into the universe at that time. Now I know why. In this current moment, I am experiencing the most severe humiliation and body shame I have ever felt in my entire life. I have body dysmorphia. I am never able to see my body the way it actually is. When I was younger, that meant no matter how skinny I was, I always looked fat to myself. But now it’s the opposite. I don’t see myself as fat. But after seeing a video of myself, I was mortified to figure out that I am. It’s not just any video. It’s the commercial for the musical I have been working on for the last 6 weeks. The two roles I’m playing are very demanding vocally, acting-wise, emotionally, physically. I also choreographed the show. I have poured my heart and soul and time into this work. But, now I want to run and hide. We open on Friday, with a preview audience on Thursday. And I don’t want to have to face the embarrassment of being this size on stage every night. I’m playing real people, not just a character. And they weren’t this big. I thought I was just the right size! But I am not. And I’m devastated to find that out. 
I feel betrayed. First off, by my body. I have had some health troubles that I suspect may be causing this. I have endometriosis which, for lack of a better description, makes me look pregnant. But there may be some underlying issues that I’m looking to have checked out. On some level, I have an irrational, but very real sense of betrayal by my friends and family. I keep wondering why nobody told me. I wonder why no one seems concerned. I guess that is a sensitive subject. When you tell someone you feel obese, they shoot you down and tell you you’re not. I get it. No one knows how to respond to that. I have to reassure myself that the people I love aren’t lying, they’re just being kind and protective of my feelings. That’s not necessarily what they see when they look at me. I still feel like someone should have cared enough to be honest. 
I have tried just about every diet known to man. I have slayed in the gym, although I must admit that has fallen by the wayside due to chronic fatigue and back pain. I do have a game plan to get moving again. I eat healthier than 90% of people I know. I am active and busy. I am a wellness practitioner, including yoga instruction and nutritional therapy. I feel like no one will want to take health advice from someone who is overweight. But, I’ve also been the anorexic girl. I have been the person that folks tell to eat a cheeseburger. If that person only knew how I wished I could do just that. I’ve been the body justice warrior. I did Burlesque dancing and raised awareness for self love and body positivity. I teach other women how to feel good in their bodies, no matter the size. And here I am, doing the opposite. And I feel terrible! I don’t want my children to learn this from me. But I feel so humiliated that this commercial is what is supposed to draw people into this show. All I see is a fat, ugly woman dancing around in spandex. And now all I can think about is the show opening this week, and the shame I am going to have to feel onstage every night. 
I’m breaking down. I deal with chronic fatigue and pain on a daily basis. But that is nothing compared to the crippling depression and anxiety I am feeling right now. I have had to put costumes back on the rack because they weren’t big enough to fit me. Because of this, we are back to the drawing board and I don’t have costumes for a few scenes in the show yet. Cue more depression and anxiety. This is the shame spiral. A domino effect of the most mortifying kind. And there’s no way out. I can’t get out of this. I’m bound by contract, and the whole show is counting on me. The theater is counting on me. So I have to get up there and do it anyway. At least it’s indicated in the script that I’m “bald and fat.” 
I don’t write all of this for attention or pity and the last thing I need is people telling me how beautiful I am. I write it so that people can get a glimpse into what it’s like every day for someone who suffers from severe body dysmorphia. It is a mental illness. It’s like every mirror is a fun house mirror. No matter which way the distortion goes, you just see your reflection as deformed. And for some other unlucky sufferers, you can add depression and anxiety to that reflection. So, when you look in the mirror, all you see is a monster. You don’t even think it’s you. You don’t recognize yourself. I just know that I don’t feel like myself anymore. I’ve possibly lost sight of who I really am. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to face the humiliation of being on that stage 3-4 days a week. I don’t know if I can handle the paranoia and self doubt of not feeling good enough. I have not felt this insecure about myself in many years. I have worked so hard to not feel this way and encourage other women to not feel this way. Yet, here I am going through it all again.
So, what do I stand to gain from writing this? As with writing any honest piece, it is always to help someone else who might be dealing with this to feel less alone. And maybe if I’m lucky, people will be less judgemental and more gentle. I am playing some very demanding roles, so hopefully they can see me for the character and see past my body. I am terrified. But I have to move past and push through. I have to wipe the tears away, but I’m more likely to let them flow onstage because in reality, I am more like this crazy woman I’m playing than maybe I’d like to admit. I feel like people should know this before I go out there and put myself through this every night. 
If you read all of that, kudos. Thank you. I send you love and gratitude. Namaste.
PS- Pat my hubby on the back if you see him. He is doing everything he can to help me. He has run lines with me, massages my aching bones, and dealt with my horrible mood swings, and still has time to help with my meals and make sure there’s a glass of wine waiting for me. I love you honey. Thank you.