This is going to be a bit of an unorganized train of thought, so please bare with me. I'm still processing all of this.

I've struggled with my body image for my entire life. It's been almost an obsession. Ever since I was a teenager, I have spent large parts of my day looking over myself in the mirror. I've had to stare at my face in the rear view mirror while driving. I've had to turn and look at my reflection in every single store window that I've passed. At work or with friends I've often found myself pulling out my phone to look at myself in the selfie camera. I'd never take any pictures -- I hated all of them -- but it was like a portable mirror. It's been agonizing. I've gone through diet and exercise binges more times than I can count. I'd run so much that my legs and joints would begin to ache. I've lost and gained absurd amounts of weight multiple times in just the last three years.

I remember a night two years ago in particular that was particularly hard. I was a summer Resident assistant in a dorm at my university, and while the entire building was staffed, only two of the floors had residents -- the rest were set aside to rent out to conferences. I had my own room for the first time in years, and the bathroom was built into the bedroom. The room was sized for three, and the floor had 50 rooms, but for the most part only I and one other person were up there. None of my friends were in town, so I spent most of my time by myself in an over-sized room in an empty dorm. It was oppressive, and my body image concerns exploded. This one particular night, I was up until well past three in the morning staring at myself shirtless in the mirror. I'd go sit at my computer and play some games, only to feel the compulsion to get up and do it again. I spent hours just sitting there, staring at myself -- revolted by what I saw. I had a couple of panic attacks. It's not as bad today, but I still do it. I'll get up multiple times a day, pretend to use the bathroom, and then spend that time just gawking at myself in the mirror. Sometimes I'll weigh myself a few times a day, too.

I finally sought help this last December. My girlfriend of one year had left me, and I felt utterly worthless. I was spending those long hours in front of a mirror over and over again. It didn't help that by that point, the relationship and the pandemic caused me to gain back all of the weight that I had previously lost. By sheer chance, the therapist I saw for anxiety was a specialist in eating disorders, and she first diagnosed me with Binge Eating disorder and we've been working on that since the start of February. Yesterday, she amended that diagnosis to include Body Dysmorphic Disorder because of my compulsive tendencies.

I'm relieved to finally be getting treatment, but I also feel weird and anxious about all of this. I'm the only male patient that my therapist has, and I'm going to be the only man in the eating disorder support group that I'll be starting soon. Most of the resources that I've found and my therapist had available were oriented towards women, and that stigma makes it really difficult to discuss it with anyone. I also find myself constantly doubting my diagnoses, and falling back into unconscious dietary restriction or extreme exercise. I've been obsessing about numbers. It's like I'm fighting back against the notion that there's something wrong with me so that I can go right back to restriction.

I feel kind of stuck in this by myself. I don't really have a support system outside of therapy. All of this is honestly stressful and confusing.