A working theory of body dysmorphia

My experience through body dysmorphia

In three dances

First: “Death is the first dance, eternal”

It was pain that set it all in motion
Lighting loud, cackling pain

It started with a pop
like a champagne bottle
a lumbar disk moved out of place
and pain came bubbling out

Waves of pain, 
splashing
soaking 
everything

Every step,
like wet socks.

Brushing my teeth
laughing
coughing
even laying down
was wet with pain 

I felt limited
and frustrated 

I felt useless

But mostly, I felt pain.


I was told to do yoga
and it helped

I felt more like myself.

I could move again.
Laugh again.

But still 
I felt pain.


I took up swimming, after 
and soon, also running

and in time,
just some of the days

I felt
no pain

I felt whole again.

I felt able
and swift.


I loved swimming
even at five a.m. when the water was cold

I could think.
It was quiet.

I felt graceful
and calm.


I hated running.
It was all about push.

I wanted to stop.

My body screamed
and I ignored it
and it kept going

an agonizing perpetual motion machine.

I hated the burn
and the hustle.

But still

I felt 
no pain
if I didn’t miss training

so I wanted to get better.

And this is how it found me
the iron path

my savior 
and my shackle

Powerlifting.

My body shook at the thought 
of breaking, 
again.

But a friend preached:
this was the way

to run faster laps,
to slide through the water
like a dolphin 

and I was converted.

I read a very complicated book
about pushing things over my head
without breaking in half.
It became my Bible.

I watched videos
on how to lift twice my body weight off the floor
without my disk popping off again.
They became my preachers.

And I went to Mass.

I loved it 

so much
I stopped swimming
and I stopped running.

Lifting was brief,
five sets of five
three days a week.

No early alarms
No cold water

It was all push.
There was no burn and no hustle
and there was no pain

Soon
Something changed inside

I stopped feeling like I might break

this new feeling
It surged from within me

I felt 
no pain

and where the pain used to be
I felt 

strong.