The "Push/Pull"

Yesterday in marriage counseling I said the same line I've been saying since I was 15 years old.
I used to say it to my Dad, now I say it to my husband,
"No matter what I do, it's not enough for you."
This is not a coincidence and it's not my husband's fault.
This the fuel for my eating disorder.
This one tiny belief has propelled waves of suffering to beat me down.
They come with the consistency of an entire ocean.  They never get tired.  They never stop.
For me, there will never be enough.
This can either be a beautiful truth, or a terrifying reality.

This searching for "enough" implies a stopping place.
It is the frantic grasp for enough food, and the binge which follows.
Upon awakening from the auto-pilot-hand-to-mouth, I see how destructive this need is.
So I vow to have no needs, and thus starve the beast out of me.
I lash at it with all the whips self-loathing has to offer.  I want it to bleed and die.
But the "it" is me.  And I will never win this way.

I've read books which separate the eating disorder and try to kill it.
They say ED is the enemy.
I do not believe this, and mine is not named ED she is named Lydia.
Lydia is not separate from me.  When I type her name, I do not feel a threat or a hatred.
I feel an urge to hold her, as I hold Pepper when she wakes up in the middle of the night, afraid.

In the end, I am simply afraid of my own humanity.

Andrew kissing my imperfection on our wedding day

After marriage counseling, we went to Coldstone for ice cream.
Only I didn't eat any.
Andrew is used to this behavior from me.
"Are you sure you don't want any?"
"Yes.  I'm sure."
"Okay."
He doesn't pressure me.
He doesn't evaluate my body or my food intake.
He doesn't believe I am not enough.
It is just the opposite.
He tells me everyday,
"You look great.  You don't need to change a thing."
In actual words, he tells me this.
To which I respond,
"You can tell me that everyday.  I will never get tired of hearing it."

We love each imperfectly, that is true.
We fight over how full the garbage can needs to be before it's emptied.
We fight about how promptly the oil ought to be changed in the car.
We disagree about where my shoes belong after I take them off.
I play too much, and he plays too little.
But in this push/pull I learn to love.

It is so slow to leave me - this seeking of "enough."
I am finding that I do not need it.
I only need grace to fill in the cracks as I walk forward.
For me, there will never be enough.
This is as beautiful as I allow it to be.

the push/pull in action