Nothing More, Nothing Less

As a kid, I never thought I was enough. I was always trying to be liked and accepted, never quite feeling good enough. 

As an adult, I know I am good enough—but when I don’t feel accepted for who I am, the child inside still gets confused.

I slow things down and have one of our heart-to-heart talks—the kind I always wanted with my dad—but never quite got.

The Question 

I lean in and ask the child: What’s the question no one ever seemed to hear?

I listen, and all I hear are the words, "Nothing more. Nothing less."

So I ask the child, "Tell me—what is it you want more of, the thing that's so hard to say?"

The Answer

Without hesitation, the child replies, "Love—that's all I want. I only feel loved if I do what others want. I try so hard to be a good boy—but it‘s never enough.“

Quickly responding, I say, "I hear you, little one. You are me now—the man you grew up to be. Yes, you are loved—and always have been. The adults in your life didn't always know how to show it to you in the unconditional way that you always deserved."

Seeing his bright eyes looking up at me, I add, "Love isn’t something you have to earn by being perfect. That's part of being human. We can’t change the past, but we have an opportunity to make a correction now—if we can find the strength in our Core to do so.“

The Dream

I fall asleep with these words, trusting they will help me see what I need to see.

I dream that I’m working with a surgeon and her team. I'm showing them a shoe I devised to protect my foot and help it heal—while still letting me move around. We talk about how surgery can also happen psychologically, using some of the same principles they draw on to repair the body.

It feels like we are all on the same team, as they seem to appreciate how much I value them as people—beyond their surgical skill. They see that what I’m offering comes not only from knowledge—but from the heart. It feels like transformation is in the air.

The Transformation 

The next thing that happens is that the surgeon and her team are working diligently, applying what I’m saying to their work. She asks me questions or points things out from time to time.

I'm amazed. They are coming up with a procedure that seems like it will be a breakthrough in their work—and our lives.

I wake up to the light in a bright room, looking at my bandaged foot and feeling glad it’s over—not realizing that the pain is just beginning.

Later, when the bandages are removed, I look more closely. My foot looks gross, but I wonder about the mysteries lying beneath—as my wife sits beside me, holding my hand, feeling my heart.

The Surgeon's Note

Today, I received an email from the hospital saying I had a new report in my portal from my surgeon. Immediately, I open it and labor through the technical language.

Then I feel her heart when she writes: "In spite of repeated efforts, I was not satisfied there was enough bone to assure the plate on the big toe would be secure. So I added a graft to the bone along with some screws to keep it in place."

As I read the doctor’s words, I pause—grateful for her skill and determination to get it right—to stand behind her work and what she believes in—even when I couldn’t.

I tear up, knowing that a part of someone else’s body is helping mine to heal—and move forward.

Sometimes, what we need isn’t strength from within, but a gift from another—something to hold us together until we’re ready to walk on our own.

And maybe I had also helped the surgeon and her team move forward with this challenge and others in some way.

As I read more closely, I notice that she also used some of my own bone in the grafting mix—using that which was hampering my movement to aid in my healing.

The Awakening 

I woke up this morning to the light inside—and the words: That's love. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

Pondering the surgeon's heart and the graft of bone from someone else's body, I close my eyes and imagine them walking forward with me until I am strong enough to do so on my own.  

The words that rise up are: The most important surgery is in our hearts. It's the knowing that no matter what happens to us, we are still whole—becoming the person we were always meant to be. 

Now it's my turn to give back—with kindness and patience. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

Sometimes, as in my case, less is more. Just a quiet hug and thank you—to show that I stand behind those who can stand up for what they believe in, as well as others who are on a path to do so—but don't know it yet, or are looking in the wrong direction.

We can all offer the gifts of body and Self to ourselves and others—today and every day.

Comments or questions? Email me at mcecilvt@aol.com. Feel free to share these words—and this blog—with anyone you hold, or long to be held by, in the light of invisibility.

Dr. Cecil is a licensed psychologist, certified AEDP supervisor, approved EMDR consultant, and senior CSRT consultant. He specializes in treating complex relational, developmental, and transgenerational trauma, bringing therapy to life through heartfelt stories and images of connection and healing that emerge from the light of invisibility.