“But, You Are a Beautiful Person on the Inside.”

((sigh))

There are few strings of words, while individually benign, that can cut so deep, cause more pain or leave such lasting scars than these nine words:

“But, you are a beautiful person on the inside.”

No matter what the intention, the simple fact is that the implication is that someone is not physically beautiful.  I contend that you can’t string those words together without knowing that you are causing pain.  The words slice quick and deep and once they’ve cut, there is no way to ignore it.  Just like a serious wound the effects are long lasting and rarely completely erased. 

This recently happened to me.  Someone I didn’t expect to lash-out, struck me with this statement.  It was so painful to hear that I actually flinched.  I felt as though someone broke my heart into two pieces and then slugged me in the gut.  It was in the midst of a serious conversation and I find that I keep trying to justify the statement for them.  I keep telling myself things like:  “In the context of the conversation, they were just expressing their love of who I am as the most important thing.” 

Shortly after this statement was made in our conversation, I was asked to share “what I wanted.” The first thing that popped into my mind and out of my mouth was, “I can tell you what I don’t want…I don’t want to be the girl who is pretty on the inside.”   I felt the tears well up and sting my eyes and choke my throat and I watched as the realization of what those words had done to me resonated.  Honestly, there was less gratification from calling them out on the pain they caused me than I thought there would be.  The truth is, I was really hurt…still am. 

In this same exchange, I was devastated to find out that I was “pitied!”  That was a bitter pill to swallow, too.  I don’t want pity.  I want empathy.  To me, pity denotes that a person feels superior to me and I can’t equate my misfortune with this disease that I have no control of to mean that I am less of a person than anyone else.     

As I reflect on this awful disease and what it does to a person, I can’t help but wonder how it escapes another empathetic human being’s attention that I am already devastated as it is from the effects that I can’t control.  When I hear the frustration in the voice of a loved one and statements of rage like, “This disease sucks!” I am almost dumbfounded by the insensitivity.  REALLY?!?  You don’t think that I know that?  “I” am living this F’d up life.  The pain, the anguish, the destruction of body and soul, the helplessness, those are MY realities.  I am quite clear how badly this disease sucks.  I’m living it!  EVERY SECOND and I am offended and astounded that you think you are worse off than me in this whole scenario. 

Now, I want to be clear that I do not doubt that it is supremely difficult to support and love a Cushie.  I don’t have any delusions about the fact that we are miserable, difficult people who are caught in a special hell on earth.  This disease tramples the self-assurance of the most secure people.  It robs hope from the most positive of individuals.  It takes all of what we have and keeps on sucking the life right out of us.  But it is happening to ME and I resent that anyone who isn’t walking in my shoes can complain or question what I am enduring. 

I am rambling here, but the point that I am so desperately trying to make is …well…I don’t know that I am trying to even make a point.  I’m just expressing the pain and hurt that I can’t seem to let go of.  The logical side of my brain tells me that I am uber sensitive to this kind of emotional pain as this disease wreaks havoc on my hormones and body.  It is a slippery slope from keeping my head up and maintaining to the pits of despair.  It is within those pits, in my moments of pure exhaustion…the moments that I have no resistance to the negative effects of this disease on not only my body, but my mind, heart and soul.  I find then that I can easily focus on what I’ve lost and the enormity of what I still could potentially lose...And I am sad. 

I hope that others around me can continue to show me empathy…not pity...and know that I am (with or without this disease) a beautiful person inside and out.  

Most of all, I hope that "I" can remember that and show myself some empathy!