NLD, Body, and Security
Trigger Warning: This chapter discusses sexual abuse, body insecurity, and chronic pain.
The Intersection of NLD, Trauma, and Body Image
Have you ever felt insecure about your body because of sexual abuse, a learning challenge, or both? For me, the answer is an emphatic yes. My struggles with weight are tied to chronic migraines, Nonverbal Learning Disability (NLD), and the lasting impact of sexual abuse. These experiences are tangled together—each one feeding into the others in ways that have shaped my sense of self, my health, and my feelings of safety.
NLD makes me hyperaware of what others might think of me. If someone looks at me and thinks I’m overweight, a part of me starts to believe it instantly. On top of that, my visual-spatial and gross motor challenges make exercise more intimidating than enjoyable. If I’m constantly focused on not tripping, not falling, or not injuring myself, the joy of movement disappears.
Finding Joy in Movement
When an activity comes naturally—like hiking, running, or skiing—it’s a different story. I’ve been doing those for years, often with my family and friends, which makes them fun. Surfing, however, is another challenge. With my NLD, timing my movements on a surfboard while waves roll underneath is exhausting. Add paddling against the water, watching for sharks or stingrays, and trying to breathe, and it’s not the carefree experience it is for my brother.
Visual-Spatial Challenges with Food
Visual-spatial difficulties also affect how I eat. It can be hard for me to judge a proper portion size of pasta, bread, or vegetables. Without help, I might eat too much—or too little. I often ask my mom to check my plate. Watching her portion food helps me learn so that when I live on my own, I can do it correctly. Still, the old saying is true—sometimes your eyes are bigger than your stomach.
Pace and Patience
Another layer of NLD is a naturally slower pace, both mentally and physically. This makes learning new exercises harder. If an activity feels clumsy or awkward, it’s harder to stay motivated. I find myself asking: Why am I doing this if I’m not enjoying it?
The fear of injury, improper form, or simply being slower than others can make me dread physical activity. Add to that the emotional struggles NLD can bring, and the challenge compounds.
The Protective Weight
Sexual abuse added another complicated dimension to my relationship with my body. After the abuse, I began using weight gain as a form of protection—subconsciously believing that if I were “unattractive,” I’d be safe from harm. This coping mechanism has happened four times in my life, each time adding about forty pounds.
It’s a belief rooted in fear, but it’s not the truth. Gaining weight doesn’t guarantee safety—it just adds another layer of physical and emotional difficulty. There are other, healthier ways to protect myself.
Speaking Out
When I disclosed my abuse at age twelve, I was afraid I’d get in trouble because of the manipulation from my cousin. But I wasn’t the one who was punished—he was. Realizing it wasn’t my fault was a turning point.
Still, the emotional residue remained. The “little girl” inside me still thought gaining weight was the best way to stay safe. Even years later, those thoughts resurfaced in unexpected ways—especially when dating.
Dating and Standing Up for Myself
Recently, I started dating again. One man—let’s call him Sam—told me he was pro-life, even in cases of rape. This was shortly after Roe v. Wade was overturned. I explained my own experience and why I’m pro-choice: because it’s a woman’s body and her decision. His position didn’t change, but neither did mine. I refused to compromise my beliefs or let someone manipulate me like a past partner once did.
Another time, a con artist from my past reappeared on Facebook with a disguised account. Recognizing the pattern, I blocked him immediately and told my family. That experience taught me the importance of trusting my instincts and protecting my emotional health.
Emotional Pain and Physical Health
Whether from trauma, toxic relationships, or chronic migraines, emotional upheaval often shows up physically. For me, it usually means weight gain. Stopping my migraine medication after three years was another challenge—my pain returned, but I worked with my doctor to find what did help. Now, my migraine days have been cut in half, which is a huge improvement.
Living with chronic pain, emotional trauma, and a learning disability is a balancing act. It’s easy to lose yourself in the struggle, but I’ve learned it’s possible to manage it—with help. Support from family, friends, and therapy is essential. No one should have to do this alone.
Choosing a Different Path
This time, I caught myself halfway through another 40-pound weight gain. I realized I was falling back into the old pattern of “protecting” myself through weight—and I chose to stop. My safety doesn’t depend on my size.
Yes, I can exercise and enjoy it. Yes, it’s okay to ask for help. Asking for help is a strength, not a weakness. When someone helps you, you learn how to help yourself—and you’re in a better position to help others in the future.
A Call to Action
If you have someone in your life who’s struggling, check in with them. Offer to listen, portion food together, be their workout buddy, or help cover therapy costs. Even a small act can make a huge difference. And someday, they may be the one who helps you in return.
Resources & Connection
Website: livingwithnld.com
Facebook & Instagram: Living with NLD
Email: livingwithnld@gmail.com
If you know someone with NLD who might want to share their story, I’d love to hear from you. I may not be an expert, but I have the lived experience—and that’s worth sharing.
