Real Life Matters

“The opposite of spontaneity is depression. If this is true, then there must be one hell of a lot of depressed adult children co-dependents walking around out there. Worse yet, most of them probably don’t even know it. Who are these amiable-looking sleep-walkers? I call them the smiling depressed.”^[1]Subby, Robert C.. Lost In The Shuffle: The Co-Dependent Reality (pp. 35-36). Health Communications Inc. Kindle Edition.

This morning, the humidity blanketed Freja and me during our early morning walk. Oh, how we both appreciated air conditioning when we got back inside! Freja lapped up a quick drink from her water bowl, jumped up on the couch, did her usual spin, plopped down, and fell fast asleep. Her muzzle reveals her age of eleven years, with its abundant white shoots nestled in her smiling brown chin. These days, Freja is mostly oblivious to the frequent arrival and departure of UPS or Amazon trucks. Age has brought us here. When she was a young pupper, she would never miss a potential threat on the street, much less on our front porch, where it seems every day one driver or another deposits a package from REI or Amazon.

Like Freja, I have been noticing that there is nothing really bothering me these days. Things are so different now. Growing up in my family was an uneasy experience. My dad’s part-time employment as a minister/counselor, combined with my mom’s work as a school nurse, somehow never seemed to cover all of our expenses. At the end of the month, we always seemed to come up short. Money was constantly on everbody’s mind, but we never talked openly about it. Instead, I witnessed our troubles first-hand in suffocating silence. Our crabby, chain-smoking optometrist, Dr. Leonard Spickler, wouldn’t budge when my mom tried to negotiate a post-dated check for soft contact lenses. He crossed his arms and said, “Mrs. Anderson, I am not a bank.” I felt like crawling under the nearest rock. My parents borrowed money from members of our church and relatives more than once, which was humiliating. Even though these burdens were not mine to bear, more than anything else, as a kid I wanted to please anyone and everyone. So I took on these burdens personally.

Being a member of a co-dependent family system meant that I was my family and my family was me. There were no boundaries and to me there was no difference. I was ashamed of my family, so I was ashamed of myself. I blamed my family, so I blamed myself. I didn’t like my family, so I didn’t like myself.^[2]Subby, Robert C.. Lost In The Shuffle: The Co-Dependent Reality (p. 114). Health Communications Inc. Kindle Edition.

Going by outward appearances, everyone other than our family seemed to be prospering. Our ten-year old car was the only clunker in the church parking lot. I went over to my buddy’s house after church and noticed that his sock drawer would barely close — so many socks! In the meantime, my parents compensated for their worldly challenges by focusing on the successes of their children, especially their only begotten son – me. To show you what I mean, here is an excerpt from the church bulletin at Dearborn Covenant Church from 1979, where my dad served as one of the pastors:

More than anything else, I hated Sunday mornings. Before and after church, my mom would detail my accomplishments in front of everyone. I just stood there, trapped. My mom and dad were proud of me, which was natural. But there was something icky oozing below the surface with my mom. Her delight in me crossed an invisible, sacred line. I could feel her identity merging into mine. My successes became her successes. My accomplishments became her accomplishments. I despised the pressure of her impossible expectations. It felt like steam building in Chernobyl Reactor No. 4 right before it exploded.

In this country we have some dangerous myths about children. One of the most prevalent and destructive is the myth that children are resilient. What tripe! I have a difficult time believing that children are not damaged by the dysfunctional behaviors of their parents. Things like abandonment, neglect, rejection or other forms of abuse leave lasting scars. Animal studies have produced abundant evidence supporting the notion that physical touch, emotional comfort and other forms of parental nurturing are essential ingredients in the promotion of normal growth and development. These same ingredients are also essential for us humans.^[3]Subby, Robert C.. Lost In The Shuffle: The Co-Dependent Reality (p. 60). Health Communications Inc. Kindle Edition.

My purpose in life seemed like it was to fulfill my mom’s needs. Statements of love from Ingrid were more accurately statements of her needs. I have thanked God many times for my first grade teacher, Mrs. Frances Baker. She somehow managed to imbue within me a level of self-acceptance. Ingrid’s confidence was all about her. I did not want to be paraded at church on Sundays like a show horse. All I wanted was for someone to look into my eyes, smile and give me a honey crisp apple to munch on in peace – without needing to jump over anything.^[4]After publishing this post, a honey crisp apple in a brown bag addressed to “Tim” arrived mysteriously on our front porch. It was beautiful and delicious. I munched it in peace.

In a tactical move designed to protect myself from my mom, I learned in adolescence to stop sharing anything of relevance in my life with her. I was desperate to feel separate from her and experience an autonomous sense of self. I became pleasing and successful on the outside. On the inside, however, I felt an emptiness and rage that can only be understood by someone whose personal boundaries have been violated. Rather than learning to have genuine, loving relationships, I learned to use others for personal gain, mirroring the very dysfunction I learned from my mom, which she, too, learned somewhere along the line. More than anything, I wanted to be accepted. I was, however, terrified of being vulnerable, especially with myself.

You see, without a healthy, accepting and loving relationship within yourself, there is no room for self-actualization or a clear identity. For the practicing co-dependent there is only a kind of co-dependent pseudo-identity that is based on what you do, who you know, how much you make, where you live, or what religion you are. The co-dependent identity is an identity formed from the outside in, instead of from the inside out. As a result the individual becomes dependent on the outside realities in order to compensate for what is lacking on the inside. ^[5]Subby, Robert C.. Lost In The Shuffle: The Co-Dependent Reality (p. 65). Health Communications Inc. Kindle Edition.

In case you can identify any of this, it is never too late to begin or continue your journey of personal recovery. There is every reason to be optimistic. Here are some tips about how to recover from the icky, and get your life back:

1. Take one thing at a time. Recovery is a process that begins by starting where you are and by taking care of first things first. If you are an alcoholic, a bulimic, an anorexic, a workaholic, a gambling addict, an over eater, or a relationship addict, then start by getting help to take care of that issue first. Take time to end the addiction. Take time to get off your primary drug of choice. How long will it take? Perhaps one or two years, but remember: These will not be years spent in drudgery and self-denial, but they will be years filled with learning a new way of life, building healthy relationships and laying the foundation for self-actualization.

2. Remember that no one recovers alone from co-dependency. If you are isolated and have no support system, then you must take steps to seek one out. Find a counselor, a therapy group or a self-help program that can help you find your way out of dependency and co-dependency.

3. Stay with your new-found support system. Be consistent and tenacious about calling on them for help.

4. Focus on building trust in others’ ability to help you. Trusting relationships are essential to facing the many risks of change. Trust them and you will begin to trust in yourself.

5. Move at a pace that you feel comfortable with. This means you don’t have to do everything according to some ideal schedule of recovery. It means that you don’t have to do everything at once. This does not mean writing your own program, but simply means taking on only what you believe you can handle, given your resources. Your support system would be an excellent place to check out how realistic you are being about change. Recovery does not happen like a lightning bolt. Recovery is a process, and takes place in increments over time.

6. You have the right to say “No.” If it feels like the wrong thing to do, don’t do it. This is your recovery, not someone else’s. So when in doubt, check it out. Healthy systems of support will allow you the time and offer you the opportunity to prepare for change.

7. Put yourself first on the list of people to consider in the process of change. This does not give license to ignore the needs of others, but serves as a reminder to be, above all, considerate to yourself. Again, your support network will help you make decisions in a balanced and caring way. Let them help you explore the options.

8. Change often makes others react with hurt, fear, anger and resentment. You are part of a system and when you change, it puts strain on the system — others feel the stress. But remember that you are responsible to yourself first and others second. You can care about them without having to take care of them. Children may be the greatest challenge for you to face in this respect.

9. Take time to celebrate your successes, no matter how small.

10. Put more energy into loving yourself than you do in trying to love others. Learning how to love yourself is at the heart of learning how to love others in a healthy way.

11. Your feelings are okay — your reaction to them may not be. Learn to make this distinction. Healthy systems of support will validate your feelings and will offer you guidance on how to constructively deal with them.

12. No one recovers perfectly. Human beings sometimes make mistakes and fail. Healthy systems of support allow for mistakes.

13. Never take more than 50 percent of the responsibility in any relationship with other adults.

14. Try to avoid focusing on the problems of others and try to avoid solving their problems for them. Don’t waste time taking their inventories, mulling over their moral lapses and making tallies of their undesirable traits.

15. When you don’t know the answer to something, admit that you don’t know. When you want to know the answer, if there is one, ask someone who does know. And when you need help to do something, ask for it.

16. Don’t assume that others understand or care about what you want or need.

17. Remember to take time to rest and play.

18. Eat when you feel hungry, and sleep when you feel tired.

19. Share your feelings and problems in a safe place. Grieve your losses, but don’t grieve interminably — don’t become defined by your grief and dependent upon it. And be as understanding with yourself as you are with others.

20. Be true to yourself, above all, and remember wherever you go, there you will be.^[6]Subby, Robert C.. Lost In The Shuffle: The Co-Dependent Reality (pp. 131-134). Health Communications Inc. Kindle Edition.

The trail of recovery has many twists and turns. The destination seems to get closer, but always feels a bit out of reach, much like climbing a mountain, one switchback at a time. This is perfectly normal.

I encourage you to reach out and share your journey with safe people in your life. Company is essential on the trail.