I have not had anything to say in a while. Or at least not a way to say what it is I need to say...or even a way to access that in my brain....
One thing that anorexia strips away is the ability to connect with people. When I was in PHP, I was essentially gone from my family in both mind and body. On the one or two evenings a week I was home, it was as if I was in another universe.... Completely and totally isolated from my husband and children; the people I loved and were once my world. Anthony says he didn't even know me.
We recently moved closer to work for Anthony, closer to treatment for me, and well, closer to everything. My children are in a much better school system, we are in a great area, and our house is perfect for us. It could not have been a better decision. I have no regrets.
I don't always give my husband the credit he deserves, or express how very much I love him. He is my best friend. He was the one who was there when everything came crashing down; when people scattered like ducks frightened when unfamiliarity approaches. I don't blame them really- who wants to follow someone into the darkness of something they don't understand? And even if they do understand, who wants to remember that piece of themselves?
When I met him, I knew he was a person I wanted to know more. His blue eyes drew me in. Have you ever met someone that you just KNEW was kind? Someone who didn't need to sell themselves with all their accomplishments or even their personality traits or the life they have lived....someone whose heart you could just FEEL? That's what my first conversation with Anthony was like. And in very short succession, we fell in love, we got married, we had three children. We lived happily ever after, right?
Wrong. We had more early struggles and stressors than most marriages could endure. The mortgage industry collapsed and we went broke. Simultaneously I had three back to back pregnancies. My husband frustrated the hell out of me....get a job, was my response. His response was to keep embarking on these business ventures that ended badly. It took me a while to recognize he was depressed- all he had worked for had been stripped away and he was trying to get it all back in an instant. Except it didn't work out that way, and I was frustrated. I should have understood, I really should have, given my history. I should have understood that his worth till that moment had been defined by how much money he made. Growing up with financial struggles, and deciding that he would be successful career-wise and have a nice lifestyle- that was how he measured success. We have slowly gotten out of this hole- by taking the baby steps he didn't want to, and finally making his way back into the mortgage business and building his own branch.
My husband is a wonderful person. Person. As on the inside. As something that cannot be measured by financial success and cannot be bought. He took care of me when I was ill. He loves his children. He stayed home with four kids all by himself for three months while I was hospitalized. He remembers little things- like bringing me home a coffee when he is out, like taking the kids to the park so I can have a break, like doing laundry for a family of seven.... I realize these are actions he takes, but what is obvious is that his reason is that he loves us. Unconditionally. I see where he gets this- it was obvious from the first time I met his mom that she loves him deeply.
Last night he was telling me more about all that he wants for me....all that he needs to prove, all about how living in this house and having happy children who love their school is so motivating. All of this is fine and good. But it is not all there is. He is also a father, a husband, a son. He is so much more than a paycheck. He is a man that cuddles with his son every night while he falls asleep. He is a man who enjoys co-sleeping with his babies and connecting with his kids. And he is a man I can see in the eyes and big goofy grin of my three year old boy.
And so I said something I have heard a million times before, that is essentially the eating disorder treatment mantra.....
"You are enough."
He continued talking about goals and how much more he could be..........
And I repeated, with tears in my eyes, "YOU are enough. Just you. Only you. Imagine our son, Dylan. Would you look into his eyes and tell him he is worthy once he makes some money?"
No, of course not. We would not put those expectations on our son because his sweet, beautiful soul is enough.
And we are all enough. This isn't a measure of a number on a scale or how disciplined we are with food, or how "successful" we are. It is not a measure of worldly achievements.
You are enough. You are so much more than enough.
