Hello, my name is Fernanda, or at least that’s the name I intend to use here. I have lived with Body Integrity Dysphoria (BIID) for many years. I am married to a woman, and we have a daughter. I have felt this way for as long as I can remember, since childhood.

At first, when I was a child, I thought it was more of a sexual issue than a physical one. Over time, however, the discomfort became clearer: the strange sensations, the inability to look at my leg, the sadness, and the constant judgment for wanting to amputate a perfectly healthy limb. It was a long journey to understand that what I felt had a name and that there were other people like me. At the same time, it was frightening to read comments on articles about BIID and see how people refer to us as freaks.

I have been in therapy for some time. I once had a crisis at work and felt the need to talk to someone, which led to a breakdown during a session with my psychologist. Surprisingly, she reacted well. We talked about several alternative therapies, and I even explored spirituality, but the answers felt vague and incomplete.

Later, I tried a new psychologist who attempted to implant the idea of a sexual trauma, claiming that someone had tried to “help” me in childhood and that this was why I rejected my left leg. My mind was spinning, because I had no memory of any such event, yet for a while I tried to believe that this explanation might be true.

Eventually, I returned to my current psychologist, who has done more for me simply by being understanding. Still, the truth is that she doesn’t really know how to deal with BIID. I am from Brazil, and here this subject is barely acknowledged. Our country still trivializes disability and often turns it into jokes, as if people with disabilities were something to be laughed at. As a result, people like us are labeled as “crazy,” which goes against basic moral and ethical principles.

I have always had great difficulty in relationships because, sexually, I would sometimes have crying spells and couldn’t explain why. My relationships lasted, but my sex life often became a form of torture. There were moments when I disliked having certain parts of my leg touched, and I couldn’t explain the reason, so I would simply panic.

When I started my current relationship, my wife—who was my girlfriend at the time—began to notice my moments of sadness and anxiety. I also experience leg pain that sometimes doesn’t go away, and this happened frequently enough that she eventually realized something was wrong.

When she understood that I was happy with her and wanted to marry her, she felt it was only fair to know that she was committing to someone who, given the opportunity, would choose to amputate her left leg in the future. It wouldn’t have been fair to hide that from her. To my surprise, telling her about BIID significantly improved my life. Of course, it was only after about three years of marriage that we were able to talk about it openly, anywhere and without fear.

My wife tries to reassure me that, at some point, either something will happen and I will lose my leg due to fate—bad luck or perhaps good—or that I will be able to choose amputation myself.

More than that, she helps me deal with the pain and discomfort. She is always present, a true companion when the waves overwhelm me, respecting my silences, giving me massages, and helping me ground myself again. She is truly my greatest blessing.

Today, we live trying to structure our lives around the belief that one day all of this will change. As she says, that day will be our happiest one, when we will finally be able to sleep without anguish or sadness.

I feel deep compassion for everyone who lives with something that affects both the soul and the body so profoundly, and even more compassion for those who face it without support.

I hope that, someday, everyone can find the peace they so deeply desire.