Co-dependence 101

“Hi. I’m Melissa. And I struggle with co-dependence.”

Just typing the hyphen there between the “co” and the “depend” makes me twitchy. Do we really need the hyphen? And the people who prefer to say co-dependency? Like the word needs an extra syllable? Oh, Lord.

Some day, when I go to heaven and hang out with other twitchy people who care too deeply about punctuation and grammar, we will meet the actual Usage Police, who will nod sagely as all of us twitchies and say, “Well done, good and faithful servants.”

Until then, I press on.

Back to co-dependence.

Once upon a time, I went to two twelve-step meetings a week, one a tiny little group struggling together on Friday nights, and the other, a huge collection of folks who shared their wisdom with me on Wednesdays. When the world seemed particularly out of control, I hit up a Saturday meeting, too. I read Courage to Change morning, noon, and night, every day, without fail. I went to conferences and speaker events. I joined a support group, got a sponsor, starting seeing a counselor—and when my church began a recovery program, I was recruited to lead a women’s group. And eventually I became a sponsor myself.

Yet, damn it all, I still wrestle with co-dependence.

Before I dive into why this is on my mind, I want to say two things:

One, Al-Anon saved my life. Period. Those folks pulled me down off the ledge and pointed my feet toward wellness. No bones about it.

Second, I am better. When I went to my first Al-Anon meeting, I weighed 192 pounds (I am five feet, two inches tall, so you see why this was a problem). Several times a day, I fell into a sobbing heap on my bathroom floor. I could not sleep. And I was livid—so angry that people flinched at the words that came out of my mouth. People I love.

Now I weigh 128 pounds (I like 125 better, but that’s a post for another day). My friends gripe that I don’t have more time to hang out with them, so I assume I am nicer than I used to be. I sleep about six hours at a stretch, wake up for an hour or two, and then sleep until the sun comes up. Not perfect, but since I’m not pacing in my living room at 2:00 a.m., I’m happy. I cry once in a while, especially when I see Jesus in someone’s face, but these tears usually come with a smile.

See? Better.

And yet.

A couple of weeks ago, Matt and I went to a sweet little deal our church is hosting on Monday nights called Sixty Minute Seminars. Over the summer, experts in topics such as anxiety, depression, and addiction talk for one hour. Just one. The week co-dependence hit the docket, we gave each other the serious face. “Should we go?” “I don’t know. Do you think we should go?” “I think I might like to go. Are you okay with that? I mean, if you’re not, we can skip it.” “No, I like this idea. As long as you want to, too, we should go.”

This is the terrain of the co-dependent marriage.

So we went. We two, who have been out of intense recovery for the last five years or so, went, mostly out of curiosity (are we really all better?), but also out of fear (are we really all better?).

Surprise, surprise. We are better. But we are not all better.

The speaker, Chris Burns, has about a bajillion years of recovery under his belt, but he openly confesses he still wrestles. This immediately upped his street cred with me. In his talk, he clearly defined the term co-dependence, mostly relying on two experts in the field, Melodie Beatty and Robert Subby, but he also offered plenty of personal stories.

I’ve heard a talk or two on co-dependence. On the spectrum from “What the heck was that?” to “Oh, thank heavens, I’m not alone,” Chris’s ranked way up there in the land of extremely helpful. It is for this reason that I am going to share my notes here from his talk. (Caveat: I’m sure I’m missing key things Chris said. I am both sincerely sorry and also willing to let it go. See? Better.)

Here are some things Chris said:

Co-dependence is obsessing over controlling someone else’s behavior to the point that my own life is out of control.

Here’s what that has looked like for me: Calling my late husband’s phone every ten minutes, all night long, when he was on business trips, panicked that he wasn’t answering. My fear was that he was out drinking. I was generally right, but a healthy person, knowing that she has to teach one hundred and fifty teenagers the next day, would leave this in God’s hands, rub some lavender on her feet, and go to sleep.

Here’s what that can look like for me now: Replaying conversations in my head over and over, never pausing on the things I said that were helpful or kind, but instead sifting through my words until I find something to pick at, something to worry over, something that might have caused unintended offense. This game is best played at two o’clock in the morning.

Another thing Chris said: A question to ask myself when I get a little caught up in “helping” others: Do I want to help that person for them? Or for me?

Ouch. Just ouch.

So where does co-dependence come from? Why do some of us suffer from this emotional state?

It seems that, in our families of origin, there were unspoken rules.  Because little kids are smart and they catch on quickly, they figure out they must obey these unspoken rules—or suffer the consequences. The rules are:

1. It’s not okay to talk about problems.
2. It’s not okay to talk about or express feelings openly.
3. Never address relationship issues directly. (For example, if I’m upset about my dad’s smoking, I can whisper about it to my brother, but certainly not my dad himself.)
4. Always be strong, always be good, always be perfect.
5. Don’t be selfish. (The insidious harm here is that kids learn to care for themselves after others’ needs are met, and they also see they can’t ask for help when they need it.)
6. Do as I say, not as I do.
7. It’s not okay to play.
8. Don’t rock the boat.

If a child lives in a home where, perhaps, four or more of these unspoken rules existed, that child is likely to grow up co-dependent.

Matt and I talked about this list on the car ride home. I said, “I think I’m seven for eight. You?” He replied, “Possibly all eight.”

Prolonged exposure to these eight dysfunctional rules causes a child to believe them, to internalize them, to agree with them. They think they must in order to survive.

But if, as an adult, I keep behaving according to these rules, my life will implode. (Side note: Matt and I have five siblings between us. They grew up in the same households we did. They don’t seem co-dependent at all. Go figure.)

The good news is, these rules are learned. So they can be unlearned. I am living proof. I have not achieved perfection, and I never will. In fact, as I look at this list of rules, I’m pretty sure I’m still living by numbers one, two, three, and four, at least some of the time. But really and truly, there is hope.

Okay, so how does one know if she is a co-dependent adult? Five thoughts on that:

• There is difficulty with self-esteem. Most self-esteem comes from comparisons to others, which leaves a person feeling either superior or defeated.
• There is difficulty setting boundaries. People who do this often end up feeling used or taken advantage of.
• There is difficulty understanding one’s reality. Co-dependent adults have a hard time being self-reflective.
• There is difficulty acknowledging wants and needs.
• There is difficulty expressing oneself moderately. In other words, everything is black-and-white, perfect-or-ruined, the best day ever or a total bust.

All of this begs the question … What do I do if I think I might be co-dependent? In the strongest possible terms, I would say to anyone who asked me this question, GET HELP NOW. Although I believe it is possible to recover from co-dependence, I’m ninety-nine percent positive no one can do it alone. And one hundred percent positive it’s a miserable way to live.

Tons of counselors are superb—and some are not, so do your homework. The same is true with recovery and twelve-step programs. Find good Al-Anon or Co-Da meetings and go to them often. Believe that there is a good and gracious God and that you can trust Him to take better care of the people you worry over than you can.

Sever unhealthy relationships indefinitely.

Take naps. Friend, this carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders is exhausting. You need rest.

Eat delicious, nourishing  food.

Buy yourself flowers.

Tell the loving people you know that you are struggling. Lock arms with the ones who nod and say, “Oh, I hear you. Let’s go for a walk.”

Sing.

Pray.

Above all, know you are loved as you are, not for what you say or do.

As you are. All day, every day.

And for this lesson above all others, I believe co-dependence has been one of the greatest blessing of my life. To know I am loved?

All better.