If I'm honest about what the past has taught me, it's very much that we are whatever we think we are. In a nutshell our thoughts affect how we view everything and will shape our following behaviours and life path. Our genes, families and other relationships, our experiences, our sensitivity, are also just some of what shapes us. The minute we come into the world our brain like a sponge will start absorbing information from the messages around us, our characters begin to develop, our sense of identity. In an ideal world we would have a wealth of love, support and encouragement to become the best we can and know that regardless of academic abilities or appearance, were bloody great just as we are. But this isn't an ideal world and even those blessed with idyllic beginnings find life tough and suffer from low self esteem.

In retrospect my low self esteem was very prevalent from a young age. I'm at first school being examined routinely by the school nurse. I'm stood there naked and then suddenly I'm sobbing uncontrollably because I felt so ashamed of my naked body. I wonder now how such a young girl can be so acutely aware and so desperately ashamed of her appearance all at once. Well each and every one of us has a different story and this is a little of mine.

I've always been extremely sensitive and this made me struggle through life. The early years were difficult for me because home life was slightly unsettled and in truth I had a desperate need to feel loved and accepted which is something I often didn't feel at all. I was growing up with a black cloud over my head and just felt as though I didn't belong anywhere. To me it seems clear why I came to not really care or know myself, to head into life with a mental illness and be sat shaking before a doctor in the Priory Hospital telling him how ugly I felt I was and how I couldn't cope with my life anymore.

If I blame my upbringing I feel as though I'm placing the blame, perhaps unfairly on those unable to give their side of the story. It helped me a long time ago to realize that this is an imperfect world and that it is better to not take our experiences too seriously but instead try extracting something good from them. So, I like to think that when a girl at school shouted out in the playground for everyone to keep away from me or catch the skinny disease, rather than dwell and evoke the pull in my heart, instead I see it for what it was, immaturity, ignorance, the past. I realize I can't control things others may say or do but I certainly can distance myself and hold my head up high, understand how often the things people say or do that hurt us are rarely anything to do personally with us but everything to do with a struggle in them.

I remember trying to get ready for school, the issues of trying to make myself look 'Normal.' I would shut myself away and just stare at the mirror wondering what was wrong with me. Photographs scared the hell out of me, I just thought I looked so ugly and I couldn't figure out why I was popular with the boys at school or in my area when I looked this way. My preoccupation with my looks became more extreme and my school work, everything in fact suffered. In the end I dropped out of school at fifteen and became housebound for about one year. I truly believed I was too hideous to be seen. In that time I was glued to the mirror and was completely mixed up in odd behaviours in order to disguise the monster I felt I really was. I still could cry just thinking back to this time now; it was the loneliest and most painful place to be. I wanted someone to know how much I suffered but I was desperately ashamed of myself for being me and feeling like this. Pretty much I decided that yes, Emma was this useless waste of space devoid of a personality and future!

I was sixteen and met a really nice guy that I went on to have a relationship with. There I was put on a pedestal and for a short while I felt a boost in my confidence. I moved to London and started work and we got a flat, people begun to compliment me on my appearance a lot too, even suggesting I try modelling. So for years I lived in a parallel universe it felt where I thrived outside on the buzz of being considered attractive. At home however I was drawn to the mirror, I'd be pacing round with a mirror in my hand at every opportunity trying to see how I looked in different lighting and angles, always coming to the conclusion  that I was a mess. I'd pick at every blemish on my skin, I'd shut myself away in the bathroom for long grooming sessions and come out tearful and angry and wanting literally to die because I couldn't cope looking the way I felt. I hated myself with a passion and life was all about hiding the monster I felt I was from everyone. It was time consuming and soul destroying and before long I lost everything after finally having a breakdown, perhaps one of many. Along the way I think all the positive attention became a downfall because it fuelled a distorted belief that looking a certain way made you lovable and accepted. I was in a vicious circle of needing to control how I looked at every moment for fear of the real monster being found out.

I was about nineteen when I read an article about a lady who suffered with a condition called Body Dysmorphic Disorder. The heading struck me straightaway. 'I feel too ugly to live.' I read the article in tears and with elation. Firstly I wasn't the only one going through this hell, but what I suffered with was actually a recognized disorder. Yes, I'd just realized I had a mental illness but it felt great! In a way I thought knowing I had this illness deep down would be enough to help me cope. Unfortunately all the will power in the world couldn't curb the anxiety over my appearance and time and time again I'd make myself physically ill with the struggle of it, often ending up curled up in bed with a throbbing head and feeling absolutely sick and in despair.

I see myself now looking back working in different jobs, living in different places, I see the tears over and over and all the little things I'm avoiding such as having my photograph taken, days or nights out, or going to the hairdressers because I can't face my reflection. I see myself trapped and isolated and tired of not being true to myself. I'm going from one extreme to another, I'm floundering and drowning silently, nobody understands. I feel as though I'm on autopilot,  I'm trying to do and say the right things but there are never any feelings or meaning behind any of it. In a nutshell I felt I didn't know who I was and probably never did.

I felt I couldn't take anymore, I'd said it over and over to myself but somehow I'm stronger than I think and I do take more. There was no specific day I woke up and decided I needed to change, I just felt that complete nothing feeling inside and wanted to feel filled up within. It didn't matter what anyone said or thought about me because I didn't feel the same way.

Medication, Therapy, Self help books, a Spiritual Healer, Prayer, I tried it all. One minute I felt as though I was managing and then another time I'd secretly feel suicidal and wonder if I had the strength to push on. Perhaps it is useful to know that symptoms of the disorder often wax and wane and highs and lows are something we find we have to be aware of and deal with properly.

I went from sobbing my heart out on the floor with the pain of wanting to leave my body, to becoming someone who finally realized her worth. Perhaps it might help to suggest I cannot claim to live a BDD free existence, people do, and I am not one of them. My BDD is something I have learnt to manage and accept quietly as a part of my identity. I don't mean I'm going to introduce myself like 'Hi I'm Emma and I've got BDD.' I'm Emma and actually there are many aspects of my personality which could be labelled but really shouldn't because I like to think of myself more fluidly. But I'm certainly aware that I'm prone to obsessing and worrying over my appearance and that by accepting this disposition it enables me to keep it in check.

At thirty two I have found myself married with a lovely home, gorgeous dog, three chickens, and what I can only describe as a blessed life. It is not perfect, of cause not, but I never thought I'd ever get this far or ever be so fortunate. I am a late learner in many things because low self esteem/BDD held me back in so many ways but finally I learnt to swim and drive and go regularly to those bloody hairdressers. In fact pushing myself daily is what life is really all about and ultimately what helps build on your self esteem. There are many very basic things that can really help you, simply eating well and getting regular exercise, hobbies/interests, and developing good healthy friendships. I also find that my surroundings are hugely important so making your space/home tidy and beautiful can have such a positive effect on your mood. Having clear boundaries is another, being able to stand up to yourself and others, also putting in place coping mechanisms for when you don't feel as though you are coping. If I feel myself struggling then I might go to bed with a nice bar of chocolate, cuddle up to the dog and read a book or watch something funny on TV. I might light candles and soak in the bath or if home alone blast out some music and dance like Beyonce, well try. If I feel like not going out, I go out, if I drift to the mirror, I ask myself what I could be doing instead that would ultimately be more productive. Sometimes I might have to admit defeat and speak with my doctor again, no shame there at all!

All in all I am what I am and every day I'm still pretty much learning not only about life but about myself. The funny thing is that people always say the older you get the more accepting of yourself you become. I figured that was a load of rubbish but actually, it's not. I seem to have more clarity and respect for my imperfections or maybe I'm just more realistic and able to see through the illusions and smoke screens that are all around us. So for now it's onwards and upwards and I wish sincerely everyone the best on their own journey.

Emma