How I Got Better Looking 🦚

Disclaimer: 

Everything I share here is meant to be educational and reflective, based on my own experiences and perspectives. It is not professional advice or mental health treatment. Reading this site does not create a therapy or professional relationship. If something you read here resonates with you, that’s wonderful — but please remember it’s not a substitute for working with a licensed professional. If you ever feel like you need support, I encourage you to reach out to a trusted therapist, counselor, or doctor. And if you’re in crisis, please call 988 (in the U.S.) or your local emergency number right away.

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking — what kind of self-absorbed chick writes a post called this? Haha, fair. But stick with me.

This isn’t a post about contouring or filters or how to find your perfect light. It’s a post about the power of perception, early installed beliefs, and how healing changes what — and how — we see.

The Original Belief: “You’re So Ugly”

As a kid with a mom who had Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), my early environment was emotionally volatile and confusing. It’s unfortunately common for parents with BPD to project their own pain outward — often villainizing or devaluing their children.

My mom told me things like,

“You are so ugly, I’m embarrassed you’re my kid.”“Why can’t you be pretty like your sister?”

And when you hear that enough times, it becomes truth.

My sister, having absorbed the same family system dynamics, believed it too — that I was the “ugly one” and she was the “pretty one.” Through childhood and even high school, she would point out everything wrong with my appearance. So I grew up with what felt like a factual belief: I am ugly.

Living Under That Spell

I carried that belief like a scar under my skin. I tried to “fix” what I could — makeup, clothes, later even plastic surgery — but no matter what I changed on the outside, I still couldn’t look at my whole face in the mirror.

If I had to look, I would only focus on one small area: an eye while applying mascara, a cheekbone when blending blush. I literally could not take in my own reflection. I know this sounds nuts, but for almost four decades, I hadn't looked at my entire face in the mirror.

And, of course, I constantly scanned the world for confirmation of my belief — and I found it. That’s what the mind does when it’s been trained to see through the lens of shame.

I remember a guy I dated in my 20s saying,

“You’re like a stock car… you don’t look like much, but when you get off the line, you’re way ahead of the rest.”

Looking back, he might have meant it as a compliment, or maybe not — but my brain only heard the part that fit the belief: I'm ugly.

The “I Feel Pretty” Moment

There’s this movie I love called I Feel Pretty with Amy Schumer. She hits her head, believes she’s beautiful, and starts living like she is — confident, alive, magnetic. Her world shifts to reflect her new internal reality.

Lately, I’ve been living my own version of that movie.

Since I have been microdosing psilocybin, I’ve noticed something strange: I look better.

One day I turned to my husband and said,

“I know this sounds weird, but am I getting better looking… like in the past few months?”

He looked at me, smiled, and said,

“No, you look the same.”

And that’s when it clicked.

I wasn’t suddenly prettier — I was finally seeing myself without distortion. For the first time in my life, I could look at my entire face in the mirror — all at once — without flinching.

The Science Behind Seeing Differently

How exactly did this change? What is the science behind it?

I was in talk therapy for nearly twenty years, and while it gave me insight, the deep self-hatred didn’t really shift until I combined psilocybin microdosing for three months, ketamine-assisted therapy over two years, EMDR, and a deeper commitment to living ethically and mindfully through Buddhist psychology.

Psilocybin works primarily by activating serotonin 2A receptors in the brain, which quiet the default mode network—the region tied to rigid self-referential thinking—and increase communication between brain areas that don’t usually interact. This loosening of old neural patterns creates a state of heightened neuroplasticity, allowing long-held self-beliefs to reorganize.

Similarly, ketamine-assisted psychotherapy works by modulating glutamate and NMDA receptor activity, rapidly increasing synaptic plasticity and reducing depressive rumination. This opens a window of emotional flexibility that makes it easier to revisit and reprocess painful memories without collapsing back into them.

During this time, I also engaged in Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR), which helps the brain reprocess traumatic memories by pairing bilateral stimulation with new, adaptive beliefs. Over time, this allowed my nervous system to release the old emotional charge connected to the belief “I am ugly.”

And grounding all of it was my daily practice of Buddhist psychology—cultivating mindfulness, compassion, and ethical living. The principles of Buddhist cognitive training teach us to observe thoughts and emotions without attachment, creating space between perception and reaction.

So while nothing about my physical appearance has changed, the way my brain processes myself has. The old neural loops of shame have quieted. My perceptual filter has softened. I’m no longer seeing myself through the lens of trauma—but through awareness, compassion, and connection.

Healing Changes What We See

Trauma warps perception. It plants beliefs that become filters through which we interpret everything — our worth, our bodies, our relationships, the world.

When those filters begin to dissolve through real healing — EMDR, IFS, ketamine, mindfulness, compassion — we don’t just feel different; we literally see differently.

So, did I actually get better looking? No. But I did get more whole — and that, it turns out, is the most beautiful thing there is. Healing doesn’t change your face—it changes the eyes that see it

What belief about yourself have you mistaken for fact?

On the journey,

Erika Baum, LPCC, NCC