depression – ADRAINE

Through Eyes That Are Not Mine

To whoever is reading this,

This story might seem like a fable and it’s sad to say that I cannot assure you of its certainty. Maybe I’m just crazy and instead of writing this, I should go see a psychologist or get admitted into an asylum- but I need to tell someone. I need to make sure someone who is not me knows this story, and if you’re reading this, you’re the unlucky one.

I’ll start by saying that I love to ski, especially at night. Though I haven’t gone skiing in over a year, I still miss it. I miss the adrenaline rush that came with going down the trail. I miss the wind howling in my ears. I miss the snow, the cold air numbing my skin, and most of all, I miss the beautiful view.

My mother used to nag about how skiing at night is dangerous, for evil things happen when the sky is dark and the world is asleep. I thought she was a bit superstitious so I made sure to keep my nightly visits to the trail a secret from her and my father. What can I say? From the trail, I could see the millions of stars in the night sky and I could bury my head in the silence and be left alone to my thoughts. It became my favorite thing to do in my favorite place on earth, until the day I bumped into Mel.

I knew Mel from school- a short girl with hair so long, it flowed past her shoulders and eyes that were a light shade of brown. She was the only daughter of a doctor who moved in from outside the town and we were not friends.

Now that I think about it, Mel never had friends at the time. She preferred to remain on her own. Some people thought she was weird, with the way she watched everyone- a smile never crossing her lips. I never wondered why she was like that since I did not know her.

I did not truly know Mel until that night on the trail.

We stood from the snow at the same time, both taking off our helmets and goggles. While I was surprised to see her skiing as late as I did, her bruised face showed no fondness, only anger.

Why was Mel’s face bruised? You may ask. I would not have been able to answer that question if I did not witness it. I remember that day so clearly. I remember the images in the comic book I was reading. I remember the girls picking on Mel on the other side of the class. I remember glancing at them for a brief moment, seeing the look in her eyes, and looking away quickly.

“It’s almost time for class. The teacher will be here soon”, I thought.

“Mother says not to get into trouble for fights that are not mine”, I thought

“We are not friends”, I thought.

Perhaps God was trying to punish me for having those thoughts. Perhaps he wanted to teach me a lesson, but it’s over a year and I am still burdened by it- so I wonder if I was the one who put myself in this hell.

“I’m sorry”, I said to her, though I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for turning a blind eye to the clear bullying she received in the class that day? or bumping into her by mistake that night on the trail. She scoffed as she grabbed her poles from the floor and hurriedly walked past me, her movements- shaky in the snow. I watched as she left the trail.

Sometimes, I wonder if I would have ever looked at that big class of over fifty students and really seen Mel. Would I have even paid her any attention, if we didn’t meet that night?

By the time I got back home, I had forgotten all about her. I snuck into my room through the window and prayed my parents didn’t notice I was gone. When I was done with my homework, I went to the living room to play games with my brother. Then at night, I was brushing my teeth before bed when it happened.

I saw Mel’s reflection in the mirror.

At first, it came as such a surprise that I screamed, alerting my mother who asked if I was okay. I didn’t know what to tell her, that I could see my classmate staring back at me in the mirror? With tears streaming down her cheek and scars that were even more glaring under the bathroom light on her face? That the bathroom she was in wasn’t mine? And that when she moved, I could see where she moved to?

I couldn’t sleep on time from the shock of what I had seen and so it continued to happen, at random times while I was awake. By the time I was tired enough to sleep, I had concluded that I could see through Mel’s eyes.

At school, the next day when I saw her in class, I stood in front of her seat like an idiot- waiting for her to give me a sign that she knew, that something changed for her the previous night after we met on the trail. She looked up at me and frowned slightly, then stood and walked out angrily.

So I made a list of things I learned.

I couldn’t see through Mel’s eyes when we were in the same room, or proximity, like in class or the school’s cafeteria
Seeing what she saw only lasted for about 15 seconds. I timed it multiple times to be sure. Due to the randomness of the whole thing, I couldn’t say for sure when it would happen- but I would lose my sight while I had hers and this was rather inconvenient.
Mel did nothing besides go to class and go back home. She didn’t ski during the day and she never showed up at the trail at night again.
Mel had more scars on other parts of her body than she had on her face.
If I didn’t want to see anymore, all I had to do was close my eyes. This helped during times when I would suddenly gain her sight while she was in the bathroom.
Mel didn’t sleep a lot. At night she would lock her door and push a chair behind it like she was protecting himself from something.

I started to intervene when I noticed Mel was about to get bullied. This didn’t entirely stop it though as I couldn’t be there at all times. I would see the palms from the corner of her eyes right before they met her cheek. I would see fists meet with her face and the view of the floor when blood dropped from her nose. I would see her crying and desperately tending to the scars at night and I would cry, because I couldn’t be with her all the time- and I couldn’t protect her all the time.

That was what I found myself wanting to do- protect Mel. I wish I could have told her, that I could see her pain. Was it pity that suddenly made me want to get closer to her? Perhaps. So one day in class, I took the seat next to hers – since no one was sitting there. Though I could feel the stares of the entire class on my back, I was more intrigued by the frown on her face. I wondered if she gave that to everyone or if she really was that irritated by me.

“So why don’t you come to the trail at night anymore?”, I whispered when the teacher had her back facing us.

Mel took a while to answer but eventually, she said, “because people annoy me”

I knew she was firing a jab at me, but I didn’t mind. Over time, I began to realize I didn’t mind a lot of things when it came to Mel, no matter how irritated she seemed by it. I thought she would get used to having me around- and she did. She got so used to me that we began to share our favorite place in the world.

At night, the trail was cold, but Mel’s hands were warm, the silence was captivating but not as much as her laughter and the night sky was beautiful but not as beautiful as she was.

“Why don’t you ever fight back?”, I asked her once as she struggled to pull off her ski boots after a night on the trail.

She turned to me, “because that would get me into trouble as well”, she said, “and then my father will be invited to the school”

“But isn’t that a good thing?”, I asked, “he could talk to someone”

She looked away, “its not”

“But…”

“Stop thinking about it. I’m fine”, she said, “its getting late. Lets go home”

So we walked, hand in hand. I thought that just by staying by her side and holding her hand, I would be able to show her that she wasn’t alone. We may have been two foolish kids in a big, scary world but I needed her to know that I would be there for her as long as she wanted me to be.

The night I saw Mel’s father for the first time, it was through her eyes while she lay in bed. He was a busy man who worked a lot of shifts at the hospital and he smiled a lot. It wasn’t one of those smiles that made you feel safe or warm around the person, it was the type that made chills run down your spine. When I saw him up close, I remember thinking there was no resemblance between them. He ran his fingers up and down her thigh, that same disgusting smile on his face as he slipped his hand under her shirt.

15 seconds could not pass by any slower and I was in my room again. My heart beat frantically and I was sweating in fear, but it wasn’t my fear- it was Mel’s.

The next day in school, Mel didn’t come until the class had started and so I found it hard to talk to her with the teacher’s attention on us. She looked outside the window with longing in her eyes and I was scared. I was scared because i didn’t know what to say, even if the class ended and i got the chance to talk to her. I didn’t know how I would tell her that I saw, so I took her hand, as I always did- to remind her that I was here, even when she thought she was lost.

You never know what’s going on in a person’s life or why they are the way that they are unless you see the things they see and feel the things they feel- so understand that everyone has their struggles, some even darker than others. It is a lesson I will carry with me for as long as I live, all because I saw through Mel’s eyes.

From the corner of my eye in the classroom, I noticed her glancing between my face and our hands before releasing hers to raise it instead. She asked to be excused to use the restroom. As she walked out, not once did she bother to look at me. Thinking about it now, I wonder what went on in her head then, if I even crossed her mind, if she thought I was as important to her as she was to me or if she was just ashamed to look at me.

15.

Mel’s gaze was on the sky, a flock of birds passed by.

14, 13, 12

Mel walked past a classroom, she waved politely at a teacher who noticed her.

11, 10, 9, 8

Mel made her way towards the back of the school block. I frowned slightly, had she not said she was going to the restroom? Perhaps she wanted to be alone. She glanced behind her. From a little balcony, she had a good view of the football field.

7, 6, 5

Mel looked up to the sky again, her gaze lingering on a dark puffy cloud passing by.

4, 3, 2

She climbed the balcony. Her balance was wobbly.

I stood immediately and ran out of the classroom, ignoring the stares from my classmates and calls from my teacher. The flock of birds was no longer in the sky. It was darkening. It would rain soon. I headed straight for the back of the block, for the little balcony with a view of the football field and my breath was caught in my throat when i couldn’t find her there.

My heart beat anxiously as I climbed to look below the balcony. At first, I thought it was a dream, that my eyes were deceiving me until a loud scream pierced my ears. Realizing that the scream was mine, I fell back to the ground and crawled away from the balcony. My mind refused to believe it but my entire body was shaking.

People gathered and spoke in hushed whispers. I could have been one of them too if I did not know her the way that I did. They say before you die, your entire life flashes before your eyes. I hope that’s not true, for Mel’s sake. I hope she never saw the things I saw through her eyes again as she jumped to her death.

All The Things We Do Not Know

“The earth is breathing, can you hear it?, it’s waiting for you to go out there and dance to that rhythm. Can you hear it?”

I blinked twice. I was eleven. I strained my ears. I could not hear it.

It sounded absurd to think that the earth could breathe and to think that the rhythm of its breathing could carry me from all the wreckage life would throw at me. At the time, it seemed absurd to think that there was more to life than the planned-out societal routine set out for me from birth. It was absurd and ungrateful to think so. How many others had done this before me? They had never heard the earth breathe, nor danced to its music. Why would I be different?

“Just because those before you have forgotten how to use their wings does not mean you must deliberately clip yours to the side. You weren’t made to walk…fly”

I closed my eyes. I felt the wind sing around my ears. I was thirteen. I could not fly.

I sat on the rooftop, watching the sun peel itself off the surface of the earth. There was so much to know yet so much I could not know. The cigarette in between my fingers released wisps of smoke that danced in the air. They were free so they could dance. To dance, I had to be free.

This was the first thing I did not know on time but better late than never. The world has been carefully designed to depress people so much so that even the existence and life of one person could depress another. There are so many things we do not know and I think that’s enough to keep me till the next morning.

They don’t tell you that at some point, home will not feel like home anymore because you weren’t made to sit in a place and conform. You were made to fly and so you were made to explore.

They don’t tell you that it is okay to love people and not be ashamed of it, so when you laugh with a friend and in that moment, you are truly happy, you would rather keep it to yourself than tell anyone you like it.

They don’t tell you that when you see the sunrise for the first time, it’s okay to write poetry about it because everything is worth immortalizing in art, even you as a person.

They don’t tell you that you will sit on a rooftop, with a cigarette in between your fingers, watching your last sunset and ready to fall off the edge when the dark comes. You will think it’s wrong to feel this way just because you’re tired and want something different.

I learned it doesn’t always have to be bitter or stressful. Sometimes, you don’t even have to think. Sometimes, living in the world should feel like you’re drinking tangy orange juice and it burns your tongue a little but it’s sweet, refreshing and you can’t wait to continue dancing to the earth’s breathing right after.

All you have ever been and all you will ever be will be no more than this one life you have. Perhaps, its time to learn how to dance.

Confessions Of A “mentally ill” Nigerian – Case Ten (Depression)

The point of this series is to depict certain struggles which the “mentally ill” people- as they are called, go through while living their lives as average Nigerians in a country that is not enlightened enough when it comes to matters such as these. These are their stories.

CASE TEN – DEPRESSION

According to Wikipedia, Depression is a state of low mood aversion to activity. It can affect a person’s thoughts, behavior, motivation, feelings, and sense of well being.

This contains triggers that may be disturbing to some readers.

My shadow was very different from me. It had a life of its own. Nobody saw it but sometimes when we walked together, it shifted- looming over me as though it were attempting to somehow swallow me.

Every time my shadow swallowed me, it’s like falling into a dark well and I was never sure if u could get out. Over the years, I began to lose hope and in losing hope, I began to feel worthless.

I don’t think you know what it’s like to be in a dark well for too long. You don’t see anything, not even the sun and you can only hear your voice and thoughts.

When your shadow does vomit you and you get out, you don’t know what’s happening anymore, you’ve lost all energy and interest in a world you’re never a part of. I think that about sums it up.

I could never pinpoint exactly how it started or what caused it. How did I get here? I can’t tell an exact memory among those I can remember. It happened with every incremental addition and I think that’s one of the scariest parts. I was like a hot air balloon being held down by multiple ropes and each breaking point was each rope gradually losing it’s hold on me. Slowly, I drifted up into the sky, towards the sun and my burning doom.

Did I ever experience any real joy? I’m not sure. Happiness had always looked like nothing more than a state of mind and my mind was far too exhausted to switch between States constantly. Why? It made no sense when I had friends and family. It made no sense how nothing seemed to work and how I felt trapped and alone.

I smiled even when I was bored. My body was on autopilot and I could watch it move through life. Every day, I went through my mental wardrobe for a face to wear, a face to deceive those around me because I didn’t want to feel like a burden.

That in itself is as exhausting as it sounds and I could never hide all the time. Sometimes, my shadow slipped out to rear its ugly face. I needed to stop hearing the voices too.

I fear that I will never stop being sad. I fear that it will only get worse. I fear that one day, I won’t be as strong as i am now. What i fear the most, is that when i finally give in to my thoughts, it will he because i want to.

As at 2019, 3.9% of Nigeria’s population was said to suffer from depression. It is as serious as any physical ailment but is often termed as one of those feelings that will just ”go away”. It is not.

People who are experiencing depression may feel hopeless and alone. These feelings may then grow into suicidal thoughts.

Anhedonia is a major symptom of depression and it is the inability of a person to experience joy and pleasure.

While feeling sad is a normal reaction to life and the problems that come with it, it cannot be said to be depression unless these feelings become overwhelming, last long and result in physical symptoms.

Untreated depression will only get worse over the years.

Symptoms include; feeling worthless and hopeless, having trouble concentrating, loss of interest in any and everything, suicidal thoughts, overeating and lack of appetite.

Depression can affect people of any age and gender .

There are many possible causes of the disorder.

Depression is treatable but only by professionals and antidepressants can only be prescribed by a doctor.

The nine types of depression all vary according to symptoms:

Major depressive disorder can be characterized by episodes of the symptoms of depression on most days of the week.

Persistent depressive disorder lasts for two years or longer.

Psychotic depression is characterized by certain psychotic symptoms such as paranoia and hallucinations.

Bipolar Disorder is characterized by changes in a person’s mood.

Seasonal affective disorder occurs at the same time every year, during the winter when there is not a lot of sunlight.

Premenstrual dysphoric disorder occurs in women at the start of their period and could leave them feeling depressed and overwhelmed.

Postpartum/Postnatal depression occurs in women as well in the following weeks and months after childbirth.

Atypical Depression means that a person’s depressed mood can be brightened up by positive events.

Situational depression is a response to stressful situations in life.

When it comes to depression, there is a high risk of suicide. This is why it’s important to note the warning signs in people:

People who always talk or think about death.
People who take risks that could be fatal.
People who make comments about feeling dejected and hopeless.
Loss of interest, people who have trouble eating or sleeping.

If you know anyone who may be exhibiting these warning signs or suffering from depression or if you’re feeling overwhelmed currently, Text ‘Help’ to 08181536000, 08181576000 or 08181526000 to access S.T.E.R initiative’s therapy support free of charge.

This brings us to the end of case eight. Don’t forget to like, comment your thoughts and subscribe so you can be the first to know when the rest of the cases are available. Thank you.

Confessions Of A “mentally ill” Nigerian – Case Nine (Eating Disorders)

CASE NINE- EATING DISORDERS

According to Wikipedia, an eating disorder is a mental disorder defined by abnormal eating habits that negatively affect a person’s physical and/or mental health.

Beauty standards. Diet culture. They rule a significant part of the society, whether we choose to accept it or not. We can say it doesn’t matter what a person looks like and that all bodies are beautiful. We can scream it out loud to the world but there are some ears it just doesn’t reach and i think that’s the saddest part- that we can’t save everybody.

Another sad part? People are ignorant. I saw at least three pictures on twitter this week of women whose bodies were shamed in their comment sections. We can talk about how people should be careful what they say- because you never know how much courage it took a person to come out and say “this is me”, “this is what i look like” and you never know just how fragile such courage is. No matter how much we say it, how loud it is, some people just don’t listen and they only realize it when it’s too late.

This doesn’t mean that we should stop saying these things.

But i’ve wavered too much as i was wondering where to start the story. I was born seemingly perfect. Light skin, dove eyes, long hair and a perfect figure- an exact replica of my mother.

She had been obsessed with my weight since i was thirteen and about to enter ss1. I didn’t think there was anything to be obssesed or worried about. I wasn’t fat. I was normal and okay. People often complimented me and spoke about how much they wished they looked like me. As far as i was concerned, that meant i looked great.

But my mother would see something different everytime she felt like my cheeks were filling up or my thighs were getting fatter- and she would start to reduce my food portions. I think it’s funny how it wasn’t an outsider who brought me to this point, or it wasn’t a comment on twitter that made me spiral downwards. It was the one person i thought would love me no matter what i looked like.

When i turned eighteen, i had my pictures taken by a friend of mine who was learning photography and those pictures could have either made or ruined my life, i’m not sure. Anyway, they were on Instagram forty eight hours after they were taken and the response was huge!

Six months later, i did my first shoot. It wasn’t anything major, but it was more of a big deal to my mother than it was to me. She thought i could be the next Agbani Darego. She thought it was my calling.

I thought it was too- because funny enough, I was actually really good at it. The camera loved me and i loved it back but there were standards. I had to be a certain weight and a certain height. That only made my mother’s obsession worse.

The first time i realized something might be wrong was a year later when i got asked to go eat out with friends after a shoot. One person ordered for the whole table and in all the nineteen years of my life, i had never seen so much food on one plate in front of me. One funny part about it was some of the others around me had more food. I tried to eat a little, to stick to the plan i always followed but i only turned into the hulk.

You know how Bruce Banner doesn’t have much control over when he turns into the incredible hulk? And how he looses every single ounce of self control he has? That’s how it is for me once i start eating. I have no control. My mind wants to stop but my body craves everything like it’s been starved for a hundred years.

No one at the table that night spoke about it. I wasn’t sure if they really didn’t notice or if they were pretending not to notice. Even as we said our goodbyes and i went home, I thought about what they must have thought seeing me like that. Then something distracted me from that thought, my body felt slightly heavy and i was uncomfortably full. Considering how much i had eaten at the restaurant, i wasn’t surprised i felt that way- my only fear was that i would add weight.

That would have made my mother angry and most importantly, i would have lost my job. When i got home, i headed for the toilet and without giving the food the chance to digest and add any more fat to my body, i threw it all up.

That was the first out of countless times. Some days i would wake up determined not to eat too much because I didn’t want to turn into the hulk. I didn’t like eating in front of people anymore so i avoided going out to places we would need to eat in with them. And when i failed at avoiding it, i would feel so ashamed after and scared that it had ruined how i looked- so i had to take it out. I had bent my head over the water closet more times than i had sat on it.

Food was my enemy. I didn’t know how that was possible since it was supposed to be good for me- but it was. I didn’t know why it was happening or how to control it and I didn’t know what exactly to tell people. I didn’t want to look like a dramatic attention seeker. When i read online about people with the same problems as me, the responses were all the same. I didn’t want the comments like those i saw on twitter so it was better to stay quiet about it.

What is there to know about Eating Disorders?

There are many types of eating issues. However the three most common types are:

Anorexia Nervosa: This is considered the most deadly and severe because it involves limiting food intake in order to reduce weight. People with this disorder are usually scared of being fat and will go to extreme measures to prevent it from happening.

Bulimia Nervosa: A person with this condition repeatedly eats large amounts of food and then purges it all out. Purging behaviors include using diet pills, forcefully throwing up and over exercising.

Binge Eating Disorder: A person may have episodes of binge eating large and excessive amounts of food, in short periods of time and feeling guilty, ashamed of the weight gain afterwards. The difference between B.E.D and Bulimia is that people with B.E.D do not exhibit any purging behaviors and are usually obese.

Other Types Of Eating Disorders: Besides the top three, there are other types of eating disorders which are not as common. These include:

Muscle Dysmorphia which affects more men than women and is characterized by an obsession with perfect muscles and physique.
Selective eating disorder is picky eating but at an extreme rate.
Avoidant restrictive food intake disorder is avoiding food because of the way the senses perceive it (maybe the color or the way it looks)
Orthorexia Nervosa is an obsession with healthy eating and “pure” food consumption.

What is there to know about eating disorders?

90% of people suffering from eating disorders also struggle with other mental health problems like body dysmorphia, anxiety, obsessive compulsive disorder.
Eating disorders affect people of all ages and gender.
Among issues pertaining to mental health in Nigeria, Eating disorders are mentioned lesser than other disorders and are believed to be just plain old “attention seeking”
Eating disorders like Anorexia affect fertility.
Symptoms of eating disorders include food compensation, purging, over-exercise, rapid weight loss, binge eating or eating little, secretly eating or hiding food- depending on which disorder a person has.
Trying to help people suffering from eating disorders may be met with denial so it is important to be patient.
Recovery is sometimes a life long process. It is important to focus on progress.

This brings us to the end of case nine. Don’t forget to like, comment your thoughts and subscribe so you can be the first to know when the rest of the cases are available. Thank you.

Confessions Of A “mentally ill” Nigerian – Case Eight (Body Dysmorphia)

CASE EIGHT – BODY DYSMORPHIC DISORDER

According to Wikipedia, Body Dysmorphic disorder also known as Body dysmorphia is a mental illness involving obsessive focus on a perceived flaw in appearance. The flaw may be imagined. But the person may spend hours a day trying to fix it. The person may try many cosmetic procedures or exercise to excess.

People stress a lot on the importance of physical health and hardly on how important it is to take care of your mind. Nobody ever thinks of how thoroughly it could affect your perspective on life in general. It’s not just bad health that has the power to kill a person, sometimes the mind can do it all the same.

Here I was standing in front of the mirror and trying to figure out how I could fix myself. My mind ran through all the possibilities. Should I eat more? What could I eat? More fatty foods to increase my weight. I couldn’t stand my aunt and her overbearing comments about how I looked anymore. I mean, she wasn’t wrong but did she have to mention it all that time?

The first time I remember was just before I entered Js1, she asked if I was sick- and what a funny question it was at first, because I hardly get sick. Then she told my mother about how I looked sick and asked if she wasn’t feeding me well. I ate the food my mother gave me. I ate all of it every time because she didn’t like wastage so clearly, the problem wasn’t lack of food.

That night, i stood in front of the mirror to look at myself for the first time and i wondered if i really looked sick.

Another time, we were going out and I just got dressed. I was feeling pretty good about myself and I stood in front of this same mirror and smiled- because I thought my clothes were nice, my hair was nice but as soon as I stepped out of the room, I heard her say, “you’re so skinny, like a broomstick”

I went into the kitchen and took one long stare at the broom, I tried to imagine why I would be compared to something so thin. Surely, it wasn’t that bad. I mean, I know I was straight at the sides, I could wrap my palm around my hands and legs fully but was it that bad? Nobody ever commented on my cousin’s look. I guess she looked normal compared to me.

That night, I stood in front of the mirror to look at myself again and then i went to watch tv, studying the way the girl on the screens looked. They weren’t as skinny as i was. They had a lot more flesh, like my cousin- so they looked normal

I didn’t like to take pictures because at the end of the day, there was no way I would find the courage to let anyone see them. I started to wear bigger clothes. If they couldn’t see me then they couldn’t make comments about me and I started eating more. Asides my three meals a day, I had a lot of in-between snacks and late-night snacks as well. if I told my mother I was hungry for more food, she would give it to me without thinking twice so my daily portions increased as well. Then I would stand in front of that mirror again everyday for two years and with each passing second, minute, day and month, I could see my cheeks coming out more, my thighs getting fatter and I was happy. I was starting to look normal like the girls on tv and my cousin. I was adding weight. I wasn’t a broomstick anymore and I couldn’t wait for my aunty to visit during the next holiday so I could render her speechless.

By the time I was about to enter Js3, I had gotten bigger and I wasn’t exactly straight anymore. My family noticed and when my mother would make a comment, my brothers would say I was only growing up and it was normal. It wasn’t normal, I spent a lot of money I got for my allowance on all the junk food I hid in my wardrobe to eat before I slept at night but it was worth it or so I thought.

On my first day at the new school, I was walking towards my class and a woman called me back, she asked why I wasn’t in class yet. I wasn’t sure if she was a teacher or not but I answered politely and told her I was new and then I told her what class I was really in.

She cocked her head and said, “you’re big for a student in js3”

Big? What did she mean big? And what did “big for a student in Js3” mean? that I was bigger than my peers? She led me to the class and I could see she was right, compared to everyone else, I was not only taller but chubby- too chubby. During break time, while I was walking out of the class, a girl whispered loudly to her friend, “she looks pregnant”. Her tone was bemused but I didn’t see it as joke and when I went home, I took another look in the mirror, I wasn’t as happy as I had been before, my cheeks were out and so was my stomach and my thighs. I couldn’t wrap my palm around my hands and legs like I used to. I had done all of that to be finally happy with myself but it looked like that would never happen.

Here I was standing in front of the mirror and trying to figure out once again how I could fix myself. My mind ran through all the possibilities, I could stop eating so much? Cut back on all the late-night food- but I would just go back to being the broomstick. In the end, there wasn’t a problem with my body, I was the problem. The problem was how I saw myself. I wanted to be normal and perfect like the girls I saw on the Tv. I didn’t like how I looked and I didn’t like who I was.

*Don’t let the mirror lie to you*
*You have always been beautiful*

Anyone can experience dissatisfaction with their bodies but not everyone who experiences this dissatisfaction has body dysmorphia. BDD is a mental disorder that involves an obsession with one’s appearance and perceived flaws. It is only common with more than a hundred thousand cases in Nigeria.

What is there to know?

BDD affects both men and women. 40% of the people with BDD are men and 60% of them are women.
It requires a medical diagnosis.
Anybody of almost any age can have the disorder but it often begins around age 12-13.
BDD often occurs with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
It cannot be cured but treatment can help
Symptoms include: being extremely preoccupied with overall appearance and perceived minor flaws, attempting to hide these perceived flaws, constantly comparing one’s appearance to others, avoiding social situations and seeking cosmetic procedure to “fix flaws” with little satisfaction.
The most common features people tend to get obsessed about are; face, hair, skin, being too small or not big enough.
The causes of this disorder are unclear but certain biological and environmental factors (such as low self esteem and people who are critical of one’s appearance) can increase the risk of it’s development.

This brings us to the end of case eight. Don’t forget to like, comment your thoughts and subscribe so you can be the first to know when the rest of the cases are available. Thank you.

The Ugly Duckling

As a child, you were most likely told the story of the ugly duckling. A tale about a little duck who received much verbal abuse and insults from his own kind and was finally accepted when he matured into a beautiful swan much to his delight.

The ugly duckling was first published in November 11, 1843 by Danish poet and author, Hans Christian Anderson and the story has been said to be ageless as it greatly conveys the same message all through generations. The underlying message being society’s superficiality which the ugly duckling was a product of.

With the inception of the internet, the emphasis and attention given to what people look like and how attractive they are really makes one think Hans, in 1845 saw the future, physical appearances have been proven to have a large impact on the opportunities a person enjoys. They are more likely to be employed and given better terms when it comes to negotiations amongst other perks.

This does not make caring about beauty or appearances a bad thing. The actual problem, in retrospect is the bias that a person experiences when they don’t “look as good” as the other despite what they may have to offer.

Throughout the story of the ugly duckling, there are references that clearly show that the little duckling experienced- to a certain degree- some form of depression, as he was lonely, ridiculed and had a longing ache for acceptance despite being told by it’s mother duck that it was perfect the way it was. Interestingly, the writer, Hans Christian Anderson suffered from depression and other disorders as well so it could be said that this fable had certain dark, symbolic references.

A good support system, just like the mother duck was to the duckling is of great importance when coming across people who are suffering from some form of depression due to public ridicule until they see themselves as the swans that they are.

Expecting to be humiliated once again as he usually is by a group of swans, the ugly duckling approaches them and is accepted. When he glances at his reflection in the pond, he realizes that over the cold thawing winter, he has managed to grow into a beautiful swan.

What does the story of the ugly duckling preach? Acceptance of people for who they truly are? Or is it a reflection of society’streatment and oppression of “ugly” people especially when knowing that this particular trait of theirs is one that they cannot control? When looking around and studying people, what is most noticeable? Their faces? Their bodies? Why so concerned about the looks of others that it feels “disgusting” to look at them?

It is no surprise when people eventually turn to whatever remedies they can fight to fix the ‘ugliness’. Liposuction and implants have become quite popular because everyone wants to be happy and the words ‘ugly’ and ‘happy’ cannot fit in the same sentence without somehow seeming contradictory. What does this mean for the future of our kind? Is there a chance that acceptance will ever be given without certain conditions?