Living With Body Dysmorphic Disorder

Lea Walker

Description

Lea Walker first caught the public eye when she appeared on Channel 4's Big Brother programme in 2006. Her outgoing personality, surgery enhanced figure and outspoken manner kept audiences glued to their screens but behind the smiles she was hiding a long history of eating disorders, abusive relationships and unhappiness. As well as trying to come to terms with a history of violence, a failed marriage and life as a single parent, Lea has faced a continuous battle with her distorted body image. It is only recently, that she has managed to emerge triumphant from the trauma of the past and find the inner strength to finally lay her demons to rest. Living with BDD is more than a biography. It is a touching and honest account of one woman's struggle to come to terms with the crushing low self esteem and dysfunctional body image that have dominated her life. By telling her story, Lea hopes that she may be able to help others to face up to their own personal nightmares. She is living proof that there is no problem so great that it cannot be overcome.

Informations

• Publié par: Andrews UK
• Date de parution: 08 juillet 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781907792359
• Langue: English

Extrait

Title Page
Living With
Body Dysmorphic Disorder
LEA WALKER
&
Janet Lee
Publisher Information
First published in 2008 by
Apex Publishing Ltd
PO Box 7086
Clacton on Sea
Essex
CO15 5WN
Digital Edition converted and published by
Andrews UK Limited 2010
www.andrewsuk.com
Copyright © 2008 by Lea Walker
The author has asserted her moral rights
All rights reserved. This book is sold subject to the condition that no part of this book is to be reproduced, in any shape or form. Or by way of trade, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser, without prior permission of the copyright holder.
Editor: Kim Kimber
Production Manager: Chris Cowlin
Cover Design: Siobhan Smith
Publishers Note: The views and opinions expressed in this publication are those of the author and are not necessarily those of Apex Publishing Ltd
Copyright: Every attempt has been made to contact the relevant copyright holders, Apex Publishing Ltd would be grateful if the appropriate people contact us on: 01255 428500 or [e-mail]
Dedications
by Lea Walker
For my mum and H, Jade, Jane and Richard. And to all the people out there with good hearts.
by Janet Lee:
Dedicated to Alex Lee, my partner/soul mate for 26 years, for his unwavering support and humour.



Chapter 1
My Life as a Little Girl
What was it Forrest Gump said?
“Life is like a box of chocolates.”
To me, well no it’s not. It’s like a pint of milk.
One day it’s OK, the next it’s like cat sick in a bottle.
I should have been a poet don’t you think?
In my book I’ll be touching on a few issues like bullying, weight gain and weight loss, abusive relationships, cosmetic surgery and of course body dysmorphic disorder (BDD).
I hope when you read this book that you find the determination to just say ‘fuck it, I’m going to live my life for me and nobody else’ because you don’t ever have to be what you don’t want to be.
You will, and can be, happy no matter what. But you do have to take control and you will, because you are strong enough to do it.
This isn’t an autobiography as such.
I’m writing this book (well some of it as I’m not the brightest of sparks so I’m having someone help me) with the hope of giving you an insight into the day-to-day life of a sufferer of BDD, which looking back I have had from the age of about six.
I wanted to try and write it myself so it’s coming from my heart and no one else can do that.
Body dysmorphic disorder is a self-hatred, a loathing of yourself pretty shite actually if you happen to be a sufferer.
Even if you are not a sufferer I guarantee you will know someone who is.
I was born on 11th September, 1970 in Nottingham to my mum Doreen and me dad Cliff.
I’m the youngest of four. My eldest brother’s name is Kevin who is 21 years older than me, then Robert (20 years older), and Darryl (five years older).
Me poor mam was 40 when she had me and thought she was in her ‘change’ (menopause for those of you who don’t know what that is).
Christ, what a shock, thinking you’re in the change and then you give birth.
But to make it even worse for me poor mam and dad, she gave birth to me.
I’m not just saying this, but God almighty I was one UGLY baby. I’d say it was a mix up between me and the placenta, and the placenta was nicer to look at, but they threw the wrong one away.
My dad wanted to call me Donna Michelle.
But no, my bloody brother Darryl wanted to call me Lisa Michelle. So of course, that’s what I got called. So thanks broth’ for that one.
When I was a little girl my Mammar and Gang Gang (my grandparents) called me Lealea and I liked that, so kept it instead of Lisa.
I always associate the name Lisa as being in trouble because that’s what my dad would shout.
“Lisa! Get in here!”
Or “Lisa! Get down these bleeding stairs NOW!”
Or I associate the name with my teachers shouting.
“Lisa! Are you stupid?”
Or “Lisa! Stand in the corner!”
“Lisa! Hands out!” Which meant either a ruler or cane and sometimes a slipper.
Now can you see why I’m not too keen on that name?
Guess I’m going to have to start at the beginning with my dad, who I feel in some ways has made me the person I am today. It’s appropriate I start right back with the man who has turned me into me, craving the love of a man, which never happened.
If I had had the love of my dad, the cuddles and kisses, then I personally don’t think I would be the person I am today: craving love, wanting to be accepted, wanting to be made a fuss of, wanting to be told I am not a bad person and finding it difficult to be with a straight man.
So here I go …
My dad Cliff was in the navy from the age of 15. When he left the navy he became a miner in Nottingham. He worked at all different pits: Babbington, Newstead, Calverton and Gedling. He did work bloody hard though.
We lived on a pit road in a pit house. We weren’t brought up in squalor but we didn’t have much money at all and were looked down on in the area even though our home was quite nice.
We didn’t have much, but we were grateful for what we had. I didn’t have everything I would have liked, but dad did his best working on the pit face.
The north is famous for its lace, textiles, fishermen, docklands and mining industry. But miners were paid a quarter of the wages of those working in other industries.
Perhaps that’s why us northerners think differently and are a lot harder than other folk. They are grateful for what they have and don’t take things for granted. A lot of us northerners have been dragged up; but I have never met a weak northern person because they are more likely to be told: “Now stop it. Pull yourself together, pack it in.”
But I’ve met a lot of weak southerners. Northern folk are certainly not given as much as those in the south when it comes to job opportunities and pay, but we all have good hearts.
Despite their difficulties mum and dad still managed to buy their pit house.
A lot of my friends grew up in bigger houses and went on holidays abroad. But we could never afford that. But we would be content with a break in a caravan or at Butlins.
My mum is Doreen. She used to be called ‘the Duchess’ by people on our road because she looked so beautiful. We lived in a pit house, and most of the wives looked like pit wives, but my mum looked really posh because she was so beautiful; she looked just like Grace Kelly or Liz Taylor.
Everyone else called her ‘Doo Doo’.
I wouldn’t say my brothers were notorious, but they had a reputation for being fighters and took no messing from anyone. They were brought up in the 1950s and ‘60s – the era of mods and rockers.
Like my mum and dad, my brothers could always look after themselves – and they protected others.
I can remember when I was a little girl, one of my first memories was the ‘nougat man’ who used to be at the top of the hill where we lived every weekend, ringing a bell and selling 2p worth of nougats to us kids.
In Nottingham we always have the ‘Goose Fair’, a travelling fair which visits every October.
I can clearly remember coming home from the fair when I was about five or six to the terrible shock of dad sitting in his chair covered in blood. His head had been crushed, his teeth pushed through his lip and he was covered in stitches. Dad was a mess. Loads of neighbours were there and mum was crying.
Dad had been in a pit accident and been trapped underground when the mine collapsed.
He had saved a neighbour’s life in the accident.
But it broke my heart to see him looking like that and to see mum in tears.
I remember going to infant school crying and telling my teacher Mrs Burrows (who was like a second mum to me) that I was frightened daddy was going to die.
Pits were collapsing all the time and dad was involved in many accidents.
But he had a family to support, so he went back to work and mum took a cleaning job in the main offices of Esso. Me and my brother Darryl stayed at Mama and Gang Gang’s.
On school holidays I used to love it when dad took us to the pit to collect his wages on a Friday.
Dad would take me and Darryl for a cup of tea and a bacon sandwich with tomato sauce at the pit cafeteria. I would have fried bread in drippin’ yuk! That would be the highlight of our week.
Me and Darryl would sit in the changing rooms where the miners would strip off when they came out of the pit. They were walking round with pitch black faces and white bums, completely stark naked!
Christ Almighty! Can you imagine that happening nowadays?
They were just the happiest days: school holidays and spending time with my dad and going to the pit.
I remember being really upset when dad wouldn’t let me go with him once as punishment for being naughty.
I sat at home with mum eating celery soup and dried bread – thinking of my brother eating his bacon sandwich (though I don’t eat meat any more. The thought of eating meat nowadays makes me feel physically sick).
I was devastated that my dad took Darryl and didn’t take me. I was jealous because my brother had gone and he would be spending time with my dad while I was stuck at home. Dad wasn’t around much, so whatever time we did have I used to like spending it with him.
I know dad loved us. He loved my mum, he really did, but he had a lot of affairs. My mum just wasn’t dad’s soul mate – though my dad might have been mum’s. You can love people in a different way or you can love them properly and be ‘in lo