HOLDING A GRUDGE vs. a game of TRUTH OR DARE

I saw this quote today:  "Holding a grudge is like letting someone live rent-free in your head." 

Quite honestly, I read it and passed right on without a second thought.  But, a few minutes later, something began to resonate from somewhere deep inside me and I went back to read it again.  And then, I read it and re-read it.  Slowly something like a chill took over me.  It began in my toes and I could feel the icy realization as it began to chill in my veins. 

I am holding the “mother” of all grudges! 

The truth - I go about my life as it is today letting Cushing’s Disease live rent free in my head.  The fact is, the first tumor that railroaded me was “in my head” and part deux is yet again, “living in my head.”  The irony is not lost on me.  But, irony aside, the fact remains, while I was not able to control whether or not I got Cushing’s, I am able to control whether or not I allow continue to allow Cushing’s to control my life and that re-gained control starts with:  The dare – letting go of the grudge. 

The question for me is I how do I let go?  How do I accept my losses?  How do I come to terms with the “can’ts?”  How do I live a life in a body that is foreign to me?  How to I reassess and figure out who I am when I can’t reconcile what I think with my reality?  How do I let go of the pain?  How do I accept this new truth?  Do I dare?

((((Big long, heavy sigh))))

If I was to be honest with myself, I would have to admit that I might in fact be attached to my grudge.  If I continue in this painful vein of honesty, I would have to admit that as much as I detest the weakness I embody as a result of Cushing’s, I have grown all too accustom to having the “excuse” to fall back on.  I might actually rely on the “out” that I have if I fail at something.  If I can’t keep up the pace on a hike, I can blame Cushing’s for the muscle fatigue and pain.  If my husband is disappointed and I feel guilty and end up crying, I can blame the Cushing’s for the emotional instability and tears. 

((((Cringe))))

If I am honest here, and accept the painful truth, the painful truth is that I have grown all too accustom to the grudge.  That is the truth – a truth that I cannot deny. 

Damn it!  What a realization. 

In the same vein of honesty, I will admit that when I started writing this, I didn’t anticipate this realization.  But, as it turns out, I created my own therapy session.  Interesting.  Turns out analyzing my grudge brought me to my truth.  The question now stands: 

“Do I have the strength and do I dare step away from the crutch of my illness to figure out and possibly redefine who I am today?” 

God help me...I just don't know.  

LOVE THY SELF? I don't think it's possible for me right now!

I am not fond of pictures of myself.  Honestly, I've never been very photogenic.  I attended the "re-shoot" opportunity for all of my school photos.  I, without fail, looked like I was mad or more often then not, I looked like I was about to sneeze.  

Cushing's and the changes that I can't control added another toxic layer to me "photo-self-loathing" issues that I've nurtured all my life.  

That being said, can you imagine the angst and terror that I began to feel when my work recently announced that we would be doing head shots to up put up on our website?  

Being of a certain age, and more importantly, as a woman, (not to mention a self-proclaimed shutter bug) I have managed to figure out what angle, lighting, camera position, stance, color, etc. are most flattering in a photo-op.  So, I was clinging to a small snip-it of hope that I would be able to have a discussion with the photographer and manipulate the small things that I could to possibly - fingers crossed - get a shot that was at least decent.  

The photographer was very insistent on doing things "his" way and presenting "his vision" and so not only was I pissed off, but the photos were terrible.  

When the head shots arrived to the office, I opened them and gasped!  JABA THE HUT was the first thing that came to my mind.  I felt the heat rise in my cheeks and the sting of tears fill my eyes.  I couldn't even look at them.  I closed the window, took a deep breathe and tried to relax, but I felt like someone had slugged me in the gut.  There is something so humiliating to see yourself in a way that is so out of line with the image in your head.  I actually felt ill.  

I used to think that my insecurities were the result of a commercial society that presents unrealistic expectations of what is beautiful.  And while I think that plays a huge role in the way we measure ourselves and the perspective of beauty, the truth is, Cushing's is an ugly disease.  

It attacks our physical personas.  It changes the face and body that peers back at us in the mirror.  Then it takes away the ability to do anything about it with pain and countless physical limitations.  

Recently, my younger brother was looking through pictures with my mom.  He said, (without intended malice), "Wow!  Autumn used to be so pretty...and so skinny!"  

I don't have delusions about my physical changes.  I know I am not the person that I used to be.  I am all too aware of many physical things that I don't like about myself.  But you know what I hate the worst???  I hate that I have forgotten how to love myself for more than just what I look like on the outside. 

An honest assessment of human tendency tells us that we tend to be very influenced by the "candy shell."  The things we purchase, the places we go, the cars we drive, the houses we live in - they all initially appeal to us visually.  It isn't necessarily about persuasion to begin with.  It's about a quick initial response.  If I respond negatively - finding myself ugly, undesirable and repulsive - I am not naive enough to think that others don't make the same assessments and judgments.  And honestly, that hurts!  It cuts deep into my self worth and it leaves a cancerous knot of doubt and self-loathing.  

The question that I pose to myself is:  How can I love something about myself that I loathe so much? And heaven forbid I contemplate these thoughts when I have on a cortisol "high."  That is the perfect storm!  The spiral into despair is close to follow.  

I wish that I could close this particular entry with a personal "call to action" - something that I am going to work on - a goal - a positive plan to help myself....but I can't.  The typical cliche saying make me want to lash out.  "True beauty is on the inside."  BITE ME!    "If you feel beautiful you are."  F#$& OFF! 

This is my personal cross to bear right now in my life, but the problem is I don't know how to move forward.  I can't get over myself.  I can't think of a possible personal characteristic or charm that could battle and win this monster that has changed my physical appearance and left me feeling so terrible about myself.  

DAMN YOU CUSHING'S!