When My Hair Broke Me: A Glimpse Into Living With Body Dysmorphia

I’ve written about my struggles with body dysmorphia before. Usually, those blogs come from a place of reflection—when I’m already on the other side of the storm. I’m upbeat. Hopeful. Sometimes even proud. But this one… this one is different.

Because I’m in it right now.

It hit me earlier this week. Out of nowhere. I decided to wear my hair curly instead of straight—a small change by most standards. But for me, it was enough to send me spiraling. What started as a harmless switch in my appearance quickly turned into an emotional landslide. I looked in the mirror and didn’t recognize myself. Not in the “fun makeover” kind of way, but in the “who is that and why do I feel so uncomfortable in my own skin?” kind of way.

The twist in all of this? I’ve lived with this disorder since middle school—long before I even had a name for it. I wasn’t officially diagnosed with Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD) until I was 17. Before then, I just assumed I was broken. Too fixated on my flaws. Too vain. Too sensitive. Too much.

Now, years later, I understand that BDD isn’t about vanity at all. It’s a legitimate mental health condition, recognized by professionals and validated by countless others who experience it. And yet, that knowledge doesn’t always shield me when an episode creeps in. I wish I could predict them. I wish my brain gave me some kind of warning system—an alert that says, “Hey, you’re about to not feel like yourself. Prepare accordingly.” But it never does. I go to bed feeling okay and wake up wondering why I feel so off, so irritable, so anxious, so… not enough.

According to the Mayo Clinic, BDD involves an obsessive focus on a perceived flaw in appearance—often something so small that others can’t even see it. For many of us, hair becomes one of those obsessive focal points. It’s not just hair—it’s control, identity, worthiness. So, when I changed it—even slightly—it felt like I had lost all control over how I see myself, how others might see me, and who I believe I am.

It’s amazing how quickly your entire outlook on life can shift over something as simple as a hairstyle. But that’s what this disorder does. It distorts reality. It lies. It convinces you that you are hideous, defective, unlovable—even if no one else sees it.

And when I’m in this place, everything feels hard. Socializing? Nope. Filming content? Forget it. Getting dressed? A war. Going to the gym? A spiral of self-loathing thoughts. I become consumed with a need to fix what I can’t even accurately perceive. I check mirrors constantly. I avoid people. I replay conversations and photos. I want someone to tell me I look okay, but I don’t believe them when they do.

So, here I am. Sitting with the discomfort. Trying not to avoid the mirror, but also not obsess over it. I’m reminding myself that this will pass, like it always does. That my worth isn’t determined by how my hair looks today—or any day. That this one episode doesn’t erase all the progress I’ve made. That I am still me, even when I feel like a stranger to myself.

I’m writing this not because I have a solution, but because I want to be honest about the moments when I don’t. If you’re reading this and you’ve felt something similar—if your appearance has ever dictated your ability to feel okay—I see you. I get it. You’re not alone. And no, you’re not broken.

Sometimes healing means sharing the parts of the story we’re still living through.

Thanks for being here with me in this part of mine.

If you or someone you know is struggling with BDD or any mental health concern, please reach out to a trusted provider or mental health professional. You deserve support.