Codependency is a learned behaviour, an unmet need shrouded in uncertainty. I’d suffered many a loss in love, only to later discover that i had wanted to be chosen more so than I desired to be happy or in love. I held onto such guttural rage bred out of heartache, the loss of an imagined future, scores left unsettled. The sting truly came from rejection- that old buried wound of feeling unwanted. I can’t recall a time it didn’t silently fester and intermittently scream. The weight of the pain was too heavy to share so I tucked it in next to the repressed intellectual part of me that predictively knew it was both valid and entirely irrational. I carried it until convinced it was fully understood. I was months into it when a friend reached out to say they had spent the night crying and eating sedatives - they pushed and pulled until their partner found someone else- leaving them with a betrayal wound that almost demanded they sexualize themself for attention and validation of still feeling worthy of the thing they weren’t even sure they wanted. I am fascinated when attractive women do this because like anyone else in the thick of it- the rejection wound feels uniquely my own. I’d given it meaning that tied into my deepest insecurities, the extra weight on my body, the unwanted androgyny, my toughness resulting from this perpetual feeling of being used and discarded. It was rooted so deeply that it grew with me, becoming a part of who I am, and yet it always stems from who we know relationally and not who we are. It gets transmitted like an infection from the unhealed emotional wounds of others. Isn’t it strange how lonely we all are in such a shared experience. I’d read, “ I’m not angry at them, I’m angry that I keep thinking of them before considering myself”, on a strangers instagram post one day when I was doom scrolling. It hit me like a ton of bricks. I’d wondered why they refused to heal, why addictions mattered more than me, why I deserved such unkindness and who was replacing me that somehow must be better. I hadn’t considered that comparing myself to other women who for all I know didn’t even exist, was irreverent because we were still talking about a man who was incapable of loving me. I was mad that I hadn’t honoured what I deserved, I wasn’t taking accountability of choosing someone in active addiction because it was familiar- it’s not like I hadn’t delved into the work of Carl Jung. I knew.
The comfort of discomfort comes naturally in codependency - over time you develop such a thick skin for tolerating less than, accepting crossed boundaries, holding space and waiting for someone to meet you in the place of hard earned personal growth and eventually climbing down the ladder to try and drag them up , only to get stuck and frustrated. I found my rage subsided when I shifted focus from the person walking away to the person who was always strong enough to weather a storm- me.
Creating a child was maturing me. I didn’t seek attention nor did I want it. I couldn’t bury my feelings in ways that normally left me numb, I didn’t long for fantasies or get lost in limerence. Instead I let a lifelong facade fall to the ground. I broke character of being the strong one, of being fine, I didn’t try to express the messy emotions through high risk behaviours or acts of defiance. It was all a bit played out by now. I found the courage to say, “ I’ve been crying, I’ve been losing sleep, I’m frightened to be alone”
Not so someone could rush in and save me, not to replace what I had lost but to be ok with parts of me that I had presumed were weak, broken or shameful, parts which stung for far too long with betrayal trauma, unhealthy attachments, addictions and self worth and esteem issues. I realized it was likely the most relatable and inspiring thing about me because no matter how many times I’d repeated the pattern, I somehow always found treasured wisdom within the pain, I always pushed on, stood tall and showed up for myself. There’s true authenticity and vulnerability in our grief as well as empowerment in the ways we build ourselves back up out of nothing. Instead of isolating with my imperfections, I emerged despite them and became more social, more connected , outgoing and even celebrated.
I’m not racing to find a distraction from the confusion of it all. I sat in the passenger seat next to the man who hurt me and he quietly said, “ I don’t know how to heal, tell me how to heal”
It’s relational. You’ve got to care for yourself in ways you wish others would care for you, to set an example. You need to choose courage in the face of fear, to sit instead of run, you’ve got to converse with the things that gnaw at you, get to know them intimately rather than drown them out. You’ve got to accept that your wounds are pathogens and find ways to nurse them back to health instead of bleeding on everything around you.
Addiction is codependency, hyper independence is fear
Only when you can say the hardest thing you can ever imagine saying will you be free.
Everyone I know is struggling with their relationship to themselves, I hope this is a reminder to love yourself even if there are parts of you that you don’t like.