4장
Body Image and the Prison of Perfectionism
Baek's relationship with her body underwent a seismic shift during middle school, triggered by two seemingly minor incidents that would have lasting repercussions: her sister's casual criticism of her arms and an anonymous online comment calling her fat. These moments, though brief, became watershed events that launched her into a complex and multifaceted struggle with body image. Rather than mere dissatisfaction, she developed an intricate system of self-criticism, meticulously categorizing body parts and creating detailed hierarchies of perceived flaws that went far beyond simple binary distinctions of "fat" or "thin."
The weight loss imperative followed her relentlessly through different life stages, proving particularly resistant to logical reasoning or actual achievement. Even after reaching her target weight, the goalposts would shift, revealing the psychological nature of the struggle. During therapy sessions, she discovered disturbing patterns: scoring alarmingly high on eating disorder assessments, experiencing periods of complete loss of control over eating habits, and falling into stress-induced binge eating cycles. Most revealing was how these body image issues served as a tangible proxy for deeper emotional turmoil - when facing career setbacks, relationship difficulties, or general feelings of inadequacy, her body became the convenient battlefield where she could wage war against her perceived failures.
Her psychiatrist's approach highlighted the complexity of the situation, advocating for gradual behavioral modifications rather than dramatic dietary restrictions. He prescribed specific vitamins to address the physical toll of chronic dieting on cellular aging, while emphasizing a crucial distinction: despite her weight falling within normal medical parameters, her drive for thinness was rooted in psychological rather than health-related concerns. This separation between actual health needs and aesthetic desires became a critical tool in understanding the true nature of her struggle.
The obsession with body perfection emerged as a powerful metaphor for her broader perfectionist tendencies. Just as a five-pound weight loss would immediately spawn a new, lower target weight, professional achievements would instantly generate more demanding goals, and relationship milestones would raise the bar for future connections. This pattern revealed how body image issues were merely one manifestation of a deeper perfectionist mindset that touched every aspect of her life. The pursuit of an ever-receding ideal weight paralleled her chase of impossible standards in career, relationships, and personal growth, creating a self-perpetuating cycle of dissatisfaction that both fed and was fed by her depression.
This interplay between body image and broader perfectionist tendencies created a particularly insidious trap - each attempt to "fix" her body through strict dieting or excessive exercise would temporarily alleviate anxiety, only to strengthen the underlying belief that happiness and self-worth were conditional on achieving perfect physical appearance.
5장
The Invisible Wounds of Self-Harm
"I needed a wound I could see," Baek confesses after a severe depressive episode leads her to cut her arm multiple times with a knife. This powerful statement encapsulates a paradoxical aspect of depression-the desire to transform invisible emotional pain into visible physical wounds. For Baek, self-harm functions as a way to externalize her internal suffering, making it tangible and therefore somehow more legitimate. The physical manifestation of her pain serves as concrete evidence of her struggle, validating feelings that otherwise seem abstract and impossible to communicate.
During a particularly difficult Sunday, overwhelmed by depressive thoughts, she stays in bed consuming biscuits, beer, and makgeolli (Korean rice wine). The combination of alcohol and isolation intensifies her emotional turmoil, creating a dangerous spiral of negative thoughts. The urge to self-harm becomes overwhelming, and after cutting herself, she experiences a strange relief - a temporary respite from the crushing weight of her depression. This moment illustrates the complex relationship between physical and emotional pain, where one form of suffering temporarily masks the other.
Later, she goes to the roof and contemplates falling, not afraid of heights but of the pain from falling. The distinction is crucial - it's not death she seeks but an escape from her emotional agony. She realizes she could accidentally fall if drunk enough-a frightening recognition of how close she is to the edge. This awareness of her vulnerability, particularly when her judgment is impaired by alcohol, represents a critical moment of self-reflection about the dangerous intersection of substance use and suicidal ideation.
When her partner discovers her wounds and applies ointment, the physical care becomes a stand-in for the emotional care she struggles to ask for directly. This tender moment reveals how self-harm can sometimes function as an indirect plea for help, creating opportunities for connection when words fail. The act of treating her wounds becomes a metaphor for the emotional healing she desperately needs but finds difficult to request.
The next morning, repulsed by sunlight (which also aggravates her eczema), she calls her psychiatrist, who recommends hospitalization. Though she initially agrees, she ultimately rejects it after her partner suggests it might increase her stress. This decision highlights the complex barriers to seeking professional help, including fear of institutionalization and the influence of well-meaning but potentially misguided advice from loved ones.
What's particularly nuanced about Baek's exploration of self-harm is her recognition that it might actually be her struggle to survive-a paradoxical release valve for her overwhelming death wish. Though unhealthy, harming herself provides momentary relief when crying and drinking aren't enough, making her hope tomorrow might improve. The physical pain serves as an anchor to the present moment, temporarily drowning out thoughts of suicide. This complex understanding moves beyond simplistic narratives about self-harm as merely attention-seeking or suicidal behavior, revealing it as a desperate attempt to manage overwhelming emotions when healthier coping mechanisms seem inaccessible. Her experience illuminates how self-harm can function as both a symptom of deep psychological distress and a maladaptive survival mechanism.
6장
Living Between Life and Death
Baek exists in a liminal space-neither fully committed to living nor to dying. This in-between state forms the core of her struggle with depression. "Because I fear both living and dying," she explains, capturing the paralyzing contradiction that defines her existence. This isn't mere indecision but a profound existential dilemma-living hurts too much, but she fears death's finality.
Sitting idle at home on sick leave, she experiences the passage of time through light, children's play, and spring breezes. These moments of sensory awareness become small anchors to life even as death thoughts persist. She contemplates her self-harm, initially fearing it's a step toward suicide but wondering if it's actually her struggle to survive-a paradoxical release valve for her overwhelming death wish.
Her days alternate between bearable and unbearable, with her condition seemingly predetermined from the moment she wakes. The unpredictability of her mental state adds another layer of suffering-she never knows whether tomorrow will bring relief or intensified pain. This uncertainty makes planning for the future nearly impossible, trapping her further in the present moment regardless of how painful it might be.
What shifts this dynamic is a car accident where she crashes into a truck while driving. Though physically unharmed, the incident profoundly alters her perspective. Having previously fantasized about crashing while driving, the reality of the experience makes her think "it's not my time to die" and feel grateful. The accident helps her appreciate her partner's concern and realize she should live in the present.
Her psychiatrist notes that experiencing near-death after wishing for it showed her the consequences-that things don't just end there. This brush with mortality becomes a turning point, helping her recognize that her previous worries were luxuries compared to what could have happened. The accident makes everything she'd taken for granted suddenly seem clear and true, providing a new lens through which to view her life.
7장
Finding My Voice in a World of Noise
One of Baek's most persistent struggles is maintaining her authentic self in social situations. She vividly describes the exhausting effort of being overly friendly and accommodating with new people, putting on performances that leave her emotionally and physically depleted. From excessive nodding in meetings to crafting perfectly worded emails that take hours to compose, these social gymnastics consume her energy. After meeting an author she deeply admires at a literary event, she questions why she put on such an elaborate performance while they remained polite but naturally themselves, speaking candidly about their work without apparent anxiety.
Her psychiatrist helps her understand that everyone makes social efforts initially - it's a universal human experience rather than her personal flaw. They explore how even seemingly confident people adjust their behavior in new situations, but the key difference is in the intensity and sustainability of these adjustments. Her natural approachability, her psychiatrist suggests, could be viewed as a strength rather than a weakness, particularly in professional settings where building rapport is valuable. They discuss how relationships naturally evolve from formal to comfortable as trust builds, using examples from her own friendships that started formally but grew into genuine connections.
Baek shares a pivotal breakthrough when she reconnected with a high school friend after five years of silence. Instead of maintaining her usual passive stance, she finally expressed how her friend's repeated critical comments about her weight had deeply hurt her during their teenage years. Her psychiatrist praises this honest confrontation as significant growth, showing she can now process hurt responsibly rather than resorting to her typical pattern of quietly cutting people off. This marks an important shift from passive accommodation to assertive communication, demonstrating her developing emotional maturity.
She realizes her excessive politeness stems from deep-seated fear of rejection, instilled from childhood experiences when she learned to be obsequious out of fear of ostracism. Growing up in a community where social harmony was prized above individual expression, she internalized the belief that perfect agreeability was the only path to acceptance. Though she acknowledges she'll never fully escape her fear of being resented, she increasingly longs for freedom from this exhausting facade. The constant smiling, the fawning emails, the perfect social media responses crafted to avoid any possible offense - when it becomes too much, she needs permission to stop and simply exist as herself.
This journey toward authentic self-expression represents a crucial aspect of her healing process. Rather than maintaining the appearance of being "good" when she doesn't believe she is, she's learning to accept all parts of herself - even the less pleasant ones. She's beginning to understand that authentic relationships can only be built on honest expression, not perfect performance. Though it's taken her until age thirty to realize this fundamental truth, she's starting to embrace even this self-criticism as part of who she is, recognizing that her journey to authenticity is itself a form of growth.
8장
The Gradual Path to Self-Acceptance
Healing from depression isn't a dramatic transformation but a series of small, often imperceptible shifts that accumulate over time. Baek notices this gradual improvement in various aspects of her life-she's less depressed, rarely bedridden, has redefined "normal days" from bad to good, exercises more, sleeps better, thinks more flexibly, has fewer suicidal thoughts, and drinks less. While some days still present challenges, she finds herself better equipped to handle them. Her progress manifests in practical ways: she can now maintain a regular sleep schedule, prepare meals for herself, and engage in social activities without overwhelming anxiety.
Her psychiatrist helps her understand that all versions of herself are valid-she wasn't "incorrect" before, just sick. This perspective allows her to integrate her past self into her current identity rather than rejecting it entirely. He introduces the concept of self-compassion, explaining that just as we wouldn't blame someone for having a physical illness, we shouldn't blame ourselves for mental health struggles. He suggests she may have strong parts alongside weak ones, comparing it to how some body parts are more sensitive to tattoo pain than others. This analogy helps her understand that vulnerability in certain areas doesn't diminish her overall strength.
Baek's thinking patterns have evolved significantly. Instead of occasionally thinking "I really like myself today," she now only occasionally thinks "I don't think I like myself today," showing that self-acceptance has become her default state. This shift is reflected in her daily journal entries, which have transformed from lists of self-criticism to more balanced reflections on both challenges and achievements. Her diet camp experience has made her less lethargic, and tackling previously neglected tasks leaves fewer opportunities for depression to take hold. She begins to recognize how physical well-being and mental health are interconnected.
Her thinking has become more flexible as she tries to stop generalizing or judging the whole by a small part. She practices this new mindset through specific exercises: when faced with a setback, she consciously lists three things that are going well. However, she still struggles with being easily influenced and experiencing extreme emotional swings. She's learned to identify triggers and developed coping strategies, such as taking breaks during overwhelming situations or practicing breathing exercises. She wants to find the best "user manual" for her life without exhausting herself by rushing too quickly, understanding that sustainable change requires patience and self-compassion.
This gradual improvement culminates in a profound realization: "I've confined myself to the wastelands within me for too long, ignoring the 'geographies rich with green and blue' that also exist inside me." This metaphor beautifully captures her expanding self-perception-acknowledging not just her struggles but also her strengths, not just her pain but also her potential for joy. She begins to see herself as a complex landscape, where difficult terrain exists alongside areas of beauty and growth. This new perspective allows her to embrace both her vulnerability and resilience, understanding that they are not contradictory but complementary aspects of her identity.
9장
Living With-Not Despite-Our Scars
In the final stages of her therapy journey, Baek comes to a profound realization: some emptiness cannot and need not be filled. These are natural emotions everyone experiences that must be embraced like scars-visible reminders of past wounds that have healed but left their mark. This acceptance marks a significant shift from her earlier perspective that all negative emotions needed to be eliminated.
Antidepressants have moderated her emotional extremes, making both rage and joy shorter and shallower. Though her depression has lessened, her personality hasn't fundamentally changed, nor has she simply "become happy." She still experiences boredom, helplessness, and emptiness throughout her days. The difference is that she no longer views these feelings as enemies to be vanquished but as natural parts of the human experience.
There was a time when Baek hated being seen so intensely that she would cover herself even when alone, wore dark glasses indoors, and desperately wished to be anyone but herself. The greatest benefit from her treatment and publishing this book has been learning not to hate herself. She now accepts the fragments of herself that she perceives and tries to stop her self-directed cruelty.
This journey from self-hatred to self-acceptance doesn't mean she's achieved perfect happiness or eliminated all negative emotions. Instead, it represents a more nuanced relationship with herself-one that acknowledges both strengths and weaknesses, both joy and sorrow. She wonders if accepting negative emotions might make embracing positive ones easier too, questioning whether her world could become more beautiful and pleasant, with bright moments taking up more space in her future.
Baek's story offers no neat resolution or miracle cure for depression. Instead, it presents a messy, contradictory, but ultimately hopeful portrait of learning to live with mental illness rather than being defined by it. She hopes for a future where mental health treatment becomes normalized and not stigmatized, where psychological wounds are treated with the same seriousness as physical ones-a future where wanting to die and wanting to eat tteokbokki can coexist without shame.
