I M Perfect lady

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  • I Let Myself Go

    In "Codependent No More," by Melody Beatte, she writes about boundaries.

    ""Set boundaries, but make sure they're our boundaries. The things we are sick of, can't stand, and make threats about, may be clues to some boundaries that we need set. They may also be clues to changes we need to make within ourselves. Mean what we say and say what we mean. People get angry at us for setting boundaries; They CAN'T use us anymore. They may try to help us feel guilty so we will remove our boundary and return to the old system of letting them use or abuse us. Don't feel guilty and don't back down. We can stick to our boundaries and enforce them. Be consistent. We will probably be tested more than once on every boundary we set. People do that to see if we are serious, especially if we haven't meant what we said in the past. As Codependents we have made very empty threats. We lose our credibility then wonder why people don't take us serious. Tell people what our boundaries are once, quietly, in peace. What our level of tolerance, so the pendulum doesn't swing too far to either extreme." Melody

    When we take our boundaries serious, others will as well.  And if you have never said no, no will seem shocking and unloving toward them, for in the past they could depend on your yes or that you would back up and lower your boundary.

    Lowering boundaries, lowers your sense of self. You are pushing your self into being someone you soon will not even recognize.

    Another thing Melody said was,

    "Most of us don't have boundaries. Boundaries are limits that say: "This is how far I shall go. This is what I will or won't do for you. This is what I won't tolerate from you." 

    "Most of us begin relationships with boundaries. We had certain expectations and we entertained certain ideas about what we would or wouldn't' tolerate from those people. Alcoholism and other compulsive disorders laugh in the face of limits. The disease not only push on our boundaries, they boldly step across them. Each time the disease pushes or steps across our limits we give in. We move our boundaries back, giving our disease more room to work. As the disease pushes more, we give more until we are tolerating and doing things we said we would never do. Later, this process of "increased tolerance" of inappropriate behaviors may reverse. We may become totally intolerant of even the most human behaviors. In the beginning we make excuses for the person's inappropriate behavior; toward the end, there is no excuse."

    "Not only do many of us begin tolerating abnormal unhealthy and inappropriate behaviors, we take it one step further; we convince ourselves these behaviors are normal and what we deserve We may become so familiar with verbal abuse and disrespectful treatment that we don't even recognize when these things are happening. But deep inside, an important part of us knows. Our selves know and will tell us if we will listen." MB

    "…compulsive disorders laugh in the face of limits. The disease not only push on our boundaries, they boldly step across them. Each time the disease pushes or steps across our limits we give in. We move our boundaries back, giving our disease more room to work…"

    Who truly knew that our lack of pushing back when they push us is the exact key or in fact makes More room for the abuse to be.  

    While I didn't know it at the time, I can see it plain as day now. 

    It is up to us to set firm boundaries and each time you wobble and get pushed into doing something you don't want to do, you have expanded the area for abuse to play and move and freely be.

    This is the dance of abuse; it pushes and we give up our ground.

    Each time we stay silent, we give up ground.

    Each time we fail to follow through with our threats, "this is the last time…" it wins.

    We are not only playing with abuse; WE are Letting it win.  

    "If you don't stand for something, you will fall for anything."

    Usually, we fall for we love that person, we have a long history, a past and a future we want, so we overlook and blink as they cross another boundary, as we lose ground one more time, as we are pushed back into a place where we are without restraint.

    I guess we do this until…  Until we either go so far back that we lose a sense of life and ourself, or we come bounding back fearlessly taking back our lives.

    And when we do, the pusher of our boundaries are in for a shock…where once we were soft, we are now as hard as a rock.  

    My husband said of me, "You didn't draw your line in the sand, but in cement…"

    I am firm now with boundaries and no amount of guilt on their part will back me up.  I am finally standing up strong…

    What is so hard is that you have to begin however far back you have been pushed, in the low spot of no boundaries…and climb up one step at a time.

    Each time you say what you mean and follow through, you gain a boundary…and with each boundary comes self esteem, or a sense of knowing and loving of self.

    I would cheer me on as they would holler and rail against me.  And I knew, they were testing my waters, to see if I was serious…it was even shocking to me to see just how serious I was.

    I began so far back that I was almost gone, and it was a struggle to undo all the years of relationships without borders, where I flowed into their worlds losing me. I reversed the cycle…I came alive in places where in the past I let myself go.

     

     

     

  • Parents Call Family.

    I came across this paragraph in "Codependent No More" by Melody Beatte. 

    "Codependents are indirect. We don't say what mean, we don't mean what we say.  We don't do this on purpose. We do it because we've learned to communicate this way. At some point, either in our childhood or adult family, we learned it was wrong to talk about problems, express feelings, and express opinions. We've learned it was wrong to directly state what we want and need. It was certainly wrong to say no, and stand for ourselves. An alcoholic (abusive) parent or spouse will be glad to teach these rules; we have been too willing to learn and accept them." MB

    Communicating poorly was taught to us.

    To NOT communicate how we felt was demanded of us, expected of us.  This was dictated by the abusive parent who needed us to not mention how their behavior felt to us.  Or god forbid, speak of it to another person, share our experience, express our feelings… and communicate about abuse.  

    Even the spouse of the abuser will follow the rules.  They too will not talk about the 'problems' and the child then has no adult to which he/she can communicate directly.  

    Direct communication becomes extinct.

    If you communicate directly to these such folks, (abusers and their partners) you will be snuffed out, silenced, tossed to the curb, annihilated from their lives.  They will easily get rid of you so as not to hear a direct communication about a 'problem'.

    Their problem, their abusive behavior, their cover up, their lack of paying attention, their lack of doing nothing, their lacks in allowing abuse to continue on.  They certainly don't want to hear about it OR how it has affected the lives of so many and how it is now trickling down into the next generation. 

    Abuse has its own island, and while we were born upon that island, we can't tell anyone what happened there, how we lived, who was there and what happened…it is like we fell from the sky, but not raised in abuse. 

    Yet we spent the first 18 years of our lives there…and it is as if 'nothing' happened.  As if our early years are meaningless.  Our parents don't want to know that they indeed left a permanent scar

    Our battle scars are wounds that go unhealed, for the very thing we need to heal is forbidden.  We are not allowed treatment.

    Imagine, one parent wounds you and the other refuses to treat you…a child is left on the island unable to communicate, or it will be tossed out to sea, the sea of estrangement.

    And guess what, it matters not how many years pass on, whether you are now married with children, IF you ever dare speak of your life on the Island of Abuse, you will be banished…

    Many feel it is better to live among those on the Island and speak indirectly and without meaning, than to speak their truth and fall into the sea.

    Those are our two damn choices. 

    Pick one.

    The sea of estrangement brought me back to me.

    I still see the Island and hear about the Islanders, their parties and their lives…and in the early days of swimming alone, I longed to go back, but each and every time I considered it, I knew that I would have to leave the new me behind.

    The rules on the Island forbade the use of direct communication or expression of ones feelings or to discuss problems.  If I were to go back, I go back as a voiceless, choiceless, indirect and meaning not what I say girl.  I can't.

    Once you get used to swimming in the sea of freedom and truth, it is impossible to be happy on the Island of Abuse.  

    Which I know is why many parents are scared spit-less for their children to speak up and be direct, for it means they are heading to the open sea…and when they get a taste of being free, they will never return to the dark Island of Abuse. 

    One that the parents call family.

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  • The Grieving Process

    I am rereading Melody Beatte's book, "Codependent No More," and I am very surprised to see how she spends a lot of time on the grieving process.

    She writes,

    ‎"A codependent person or a chemically dependent person may be in many stages of the grief process for several losses, all during the same time. Denial, depression, bargaining, and anger may all come rushing in. We may not know what we're trying to accept. We may not even know we're struggling to accept a situation. We may simply feel like we've gone crazy"

    ‎"We may travel back and forth; from anger to denial, from denial to bargaining, from bargaining back to denial. Regardless of the speed and route we travel through these stages, we must travel through them. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross says it is not only a Normal Process, it is a necessary process, and each stage is necessary. We must ward off the blows of life until we are better prepared to deal with them. We must feel anger and pain and blame until we have gotten them out of our system…" 

     ‎"Grief, like any genuine emotion, is accompanied by certain physical changes and the release of a form of psychic energy. If that energy is not expended in the normal process of grieving, it becomes destructive within a person. Even physical illness can be a penalty for unresolved grief…" Melody

    ‎"Learn the Art of Acceptance. It's a lot of grief"  Melody

    This section in the book has opened my eyes to many things.  First that the five stages of grief don't run in a straight line, nor do they wait their turn, you can actually be flung from one to another in rapid succession AND, we can be processing many losses at one time.

    I can see the road I traveled and why. And I love that she (Elisabeth and Melody) allow us to be in our stages of grief for as long as it takes, that there are no rules, that we will PROCESS that which we need to process in our own time.

    I knew I was grieving, what I failed to appreciate was how many feelings I had repressed that had to be felt, as well as brand new ones that came in.

    Not only did I have to grieve the loss of a father and mother in my past, but had to do so in the present moment as well when they failed to act parental in this moment in time.  AND, to say nothing of processing my loss childhood and me…siblings, religion and all the trappings that go with.

    What I also wasn't truly understanding while I was living it, was that my feelings my feelings were the key to healing.

    She writes,

    "Another problem with repressed feelings is they don't go away. They linger, sometimes growing stronger and causing us to do many peculiar things. We have to stay one step ahead of the feelings, we have to stay busy, we have to do something. We don't dare get quiet and peaceful because we might then feel these emotions. And the feeling might squeak out anyway, causing us to do something we never intended to do; scream at the kids, kick the cat, spill on our favorite dress, or cry at the party. We get stuck in feelings because we are trying to repress them, and like a persistent neighbor, they will not go away until we acknowledge their presence."

    "The big reason for NOT repressing feelings is that emotional withdrawal causes us to lose our positive feelings. We lose the ability to feel.  Sometimes, this may be a welcome relief if the pain becomes too great or too constant, but this in not a good plan for living. We may shut down our deep needs – our need to love and be loved – when we shut down our emotions. We may lose our ability to enjoy sex, the human touch. We may lose the ability to feel close to people, otherwise known as intimacy.  We lose our capacity to enjoy the pleasant things of life."

    "We lose touch with ourselves and our environment. We are no longer in touch with our instincts. We become unaware of what our feelings are telling us and any problems in our environment. We lose the motivating power of feelings.  If we aren't feeling we're probably not examining the thinking that goes with it, and we don't know what our selves are telling us. And if we don't deal with feelings we don't change and we don't grow. We stay stuck."  

    "Feelings may not always be a barrel of gladness, but repressing them can be downright miserable…" Melody

    When I let the gate open to ALL feelings, I was overwhelmed and flooded, lost in the sea of emotions.  I sat for days (really years) and just felt. I wrote and felt, and walked and felt and expressed and swore and hollered and vented. I cried and cried and sorrow poured from me…

    When I finally sat down to feel, I had 40 years worth of feeling to do.

    The past emotions clashed with my present day ones to be felt, and the volume was scary and volatile, I literally thought I was losing my mind, but what I was really doing was coming alive.

    I not only was feeling feelings on the darkest end of the spectrum, but I was at the same time feeling the most exquisite feelings of warmth, joy, peace, love.

    I was moved to tears by beauty.

    While it may be the scariest of rides, this ride through the grieving process, to accept the horrors of life, it also is the gateway into living an authentic feeling life.

    My feelings now are welcome, for I know the cost of repression AND how it really is an act that is futile; for unexpressed emotions never leave you….time travelers they have been called.  

    All you are doing is blocking ALL feelings. If you can't feel the sorrow, you will not be able to feel the love, the peace and the joy.

    I lived blocked, like a block of wood for way too long.  I now celebrate feeling!  It matters not to me what the feelings, are I accept them all.

    This book also offers to me and explanation for so many who are unable to walk in their truth…and feel.  It explains how they are not skipping around the mountain, but trying to hold it back…they can until they can't.  For now, they are not willing to leave that stage of the grieving process.

     

     

  • Grateful for being Detached

    "We cannot begin to work on ourselves, to live our own lives, feel our own feelings, and solve our own problems until we have DETACHED from the object of our obsession. From any experiences (and those of others), it appears that even our Higher Power can't do much with us until we have detached."                        Melody Beatte

    When our choices 'affect' another's happiness there is a codependent relationship…or if we feel unable to do what we want, we are not detached, but connected.

    And the work towards healing is learning how to detach; to make a choice that you know is against what the other wants, but it is for your own happiness, that you begin to work yourself free of this codependency.

    I love that even the Universe is unable to do much with us while we are focused on the happiness and peace of others….while we are neglecting us, so is the Universe.  It honors our free will….and we are using our free will to dance to make others happy…neglecting our own soul.

    I use to be a great jailer of my children's lives, and wanted and needed them to act a certain way for my happiness and peace of mind.

    When I detached from my children, my children did not have to run away to be free…they had a free life in my presence.

    There was nothing they could or could not do that would change the climate inside of me. I was the only person responsible for my feelings…it now seems so hopelessly silly to imagine that old life, and totally debilitating for me, and harshly selfish and cold towards them.

    Neither of us were in control, and both of us needed the other to act a certain way…how incredibly hard to live this way.

    How freeing to just act for me….which leaves you at act for you.  

    I am grateful for being detached.

  • In Peace I walked Free!

    After my last post about the Civil War in abusive homes, I had to look up the meaning of Civil to see what it means to be in a Civil war.

    Civil -polite: polite, but in a way that is cold and formal.
    And then I looked up the combination of the two words, Civil War,

    Civil War – is a war between organized groups within the same nation state or republic or, less commonly, between two countries created from a formerly-united nation.

    The formerly united family is now at war with themselves, brothers against brothers, sisters against sister, children against parents for some of the blind can now see, some of the brainwashed are beginning to think on their own, an awakening is happening, and this causes a war within a war.

    I don’t want to leave the feelings that in this Civil War no peace is found, for it is. Peace is found in no longer remaining silent. Power is replacing the forced politeness…children are rising up and finding their true self, they feel the stirrings of their Spirit.

    They are finding their unused voices, speaking forbidden words and names, identifying the enemy and no longer remaining civil – polite cold and formal.

    They will become warm and informal, perhaps become unconventional and different, they will be marching to their own drums, hearing their own music for the very first time.
    Hearing the stirrings of inner freedom and expression, of passion and of self-awareness, they will fight now to be free from being held prisoner to another.

    This civil war will end for the lucky ones, for the ones who can find the thread of their soul, the inner knowing that their very aliveness depends on them leaving the family, that if they stay they may as well die.

    There wasn’t a moment of hesitation when I left my family, there wasn’t a drop of doubt, for to the depth of my being, I knew I had been one of the living dead and staying there aware would be to be buried alive, for now I knew I was alive but dead.

    What I had found that day back in December of 2004, was a dead me. A me that had no me in it. A me that was full of the definitions from my parents, the beliefs and thoughts of my religion, but there wasn’t but a speck of me there.
    Not a part of me that defined by me, just me.

    I was a body being used by my family and a religion, but I wasn’t alive and now I was aware of it. And once I knew, I could no longer not know. And when you know you are then awake of how asleep you have been.

    And when you are awake, you see the civil war you lived in.

    Imagine being in a war but unaware you are at war. Or even aware that you are scarred and lame due to the battles you unsuccessfully fought.

    A civil war refugee that finds its imperfect self is on the path to perfection.
    “Coming from whence you came…” you should act, be and walk and talk like the walking wounded.

    You are the perfect representation of an abused child. You are the signpost or the poster child for abuse. You have displayed yourself perfectly, the perfectly abused.
    Perfectly abused people act perfectly abused. When you are aware of how abused you are, you can then begin to heal.

    Denying your brokenness is denying your self.

    I found myself in a completely broken state and complete freedom arose, for I no longer had to strive for perfection instead I embraced my imperfections and found them to be perfectly me.

    In agreement with my history I found peace…and the freedom to be myself.

    To walk my walk.

    To talk my talk.

    To be a me I had yet to be.

    An individual, a free spirit, with a clear mind no longer washed by others, in peace I walked free.

    Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose!

  • Steering Our Own Canoes!

    One definition of codependency; Adult children of alcoholics; people in relationships with emotionally or mentally disturbed; people in relationships with chronically ill peoples; parents of children with behavior problems; people in relationships with irresponsible people; professionals – nurses, social workers and others in ‘helping’ occupations.  Even recovering alcoholics noticed they were codependent and perhaps had been long before becoming chemically dependent.

     

    Melody Beatte goes on to write.

     

    “One fairly common denominator was having a relationship personally or professionally, with troubled, needy, or dependent people.  But a second more common denominator seemed to be the unwritten, silent rules that usually develop in the immediate family and set the pace for relationships. These rules prohibit discussion about problems; open expression of feelings; direct, honest communication; realistic expectations, such as being human, vulnerable or imperfect; selfishness; trust in other people and one’s self; playing and having fun; and rocking the delicately balanced family canoe through growth or change – however healthy and beneficial that movement might be.  These rules are common to alcoholic family systems but can emerge in other families too.

     

    Melody’s personal definition is; A codependent person is one who has let another person’s behavior affect him or her, and who is obsessed with controlling that person’s behavior.

                    Melody Beatte

     

    As I sit here 5 ½ years later, I realize that I rocked the family canoe by getting out, I tipped the balance and was seen as crazier than the folks who began steering that canoe long before I was born.

     

    I heard on the radio today, that a family boat is heading down a certain river before a child is born, and our legacy is to pick up an oar and row.

     

    We are taught how to row and in what direction by our parents.  And we don’t start rowing at 18, but at about 1 year old or younger. 

     

    We are taught how to row and where.

     

    It is my opinion that two mentally and emotionally disturbed people were rowing my family’s canoe, and that the only way to save my self was to get out of the boat, and not to just stop rowing.

     

    I was no longer trusting in the elders who steered our family canoe, nor was I going to ride along with the rest, just because we were born in the same boat.

     

    While I couldn’t change the course of the family boat, I could change mine, but in order to do so, I had to jump out.

     

    It is seen as rejection of all who stayed in the boat.

     

    It isn’t seen as healthy or wise, but rather that I have set boundaries to keep them out.

     

    And I guess I have.

     

    I don’t want people in my canoe trying to steer me in a direction I don’t want to go in. 

     

    It has been a long and arduous journey to find the strength and confidence to row myself, to strike out on my own, learning how to row in a direction that is much more healthy than what I was taught.

     

    While the rest may see me as rejecting them, I am only embracing me. 

     

    Embracing my independence, my freedom of choice, my boundaries, and learning what is healthy for me and what causes me pain, what I need to live in peace, love and joy.  Learning how to stay in my canoe and in my business, allowing and honoring each person to ride the river of life as they chose.

    I heartily and cheerfully encourage the rest to jump ship, letting the family’s legacy canoe to finally become empty of dysfunctional codependent folks.  It can happen when one by one each of us begin steering our own canoes!

     

     

     

  • What I Mirrored.

    Continuing on from “Codependent No More” by Melody Beatte, she writes.

     

    “Gradually, I began to climb out of my black abyss.  Along the way, I developed a passionate interest in the subject of codependency.  As a counselor (although I no longer worked full-time in that field, I still considered myself one) and as a writer, my curiosity was provoked. As a “flaming, careening codependent” (a phrase borrowed from an Al-Anon member) who needed help, I also had a personal stake in the subject. What happens to people like me?  How does this happen?  Why?  Most important, what do codependents need to do to feel better?  And stay that way?

     

    I talked to counselors, therapists, and codependents.  I read the few available books on the subject and related topics. I reread the basic – the therapy books that have stood the test of time- looking for ideas that applied.  I went to Al-Anon meetings, a self-help group based on the Twelve Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous but geared toward the person who has been affected by another person’s drinking.

     

    Eventually, I found what I was seeking.  I began to see, understand and change.  My life started working again. Soon, I was conducting another group for codependents at another Minneapolis treatment center. But this time, I had a vague notion of what I was doing.

     

    I still found codependents hostile, controlling, manipulative, indirect, and all the things that I had found them before.  I still saw all the peculiar twists of personality I previously saw.  But, I saw deeper.

     

    I saw people who were hostile; that had felt so much hurt that hostility was their only defense against being crushed again.  They were that angry because anyone who had tolerated what they had would be that angry.

     

    They were controlling because everything around and inside them was out of control. Always, the dam of their lives and the lives threatened to burst and spew harmful consequence on everyone. And nobody but them seemed to notice or care.

     

    I saw people who manipulated because manipulation appeared to be the only way to get anything done.  I worked with people who were indirect because the systems they lived in seemed incapable of tolerating honesty.

     

    I worked with people who thought they were going crazy because they had believed so many lies they didn’t know what reality was.

    I saw people who had gotten so absorbed in other people’s problems they didn’t have time to identify or solve their own.  These were people who had cared so deeply, and often destructively about other people that they had forgotten how to care about themselves. The codependents felt responsible for so much because the people around them felt responsible for so little; they were just picking up the slack.

     

    I saw hurting, confused people who needed comfort, understanding, and information.  I saw victims of alcoholism who didn’t drink but were nonetheless victimized by alcohol.  I saw victims struggling desperately to gain some kind of power over their perpetrators.  They learned from me, and I learned from them.

     

    Soon, I began to subscribe to some new beliefs about codependents. Codependents aren’t crazier or sicker than alcoholics.  But they hurt as much or more. They haven’t cornered the market on agony, but have gone through their pain without the anesthetizing effects of alcohol or other drugs, or the other high states achieved by people with compulsive disorders. And the pain that comes from loving someone who’s in trouble can be profound.

     

    “The chemically dependent partner numbs the feelings and the non-abuser is doubled over in pain – relieved only by anger and occasional fantasies,” wrote Janet Geringer Woititz in an article from the book Co-Dependency, An Emerging Issue.

     

    Codependents are that way sober because they went through what they did sober.

     

    No wonder codependents are so crazy. Who wouldn’t be, after living with the people they’ve lived with?

     

    It’s been difficult for codependents to get the information and practical help they need and deserve. It’s tough enough to convince alcoholics (or other disturbed people) to seek help.  It’s more difficult to convince codependents – those who by comparison look, but don’t feel, normal – that they have problems.

     

    Codependents suffered in the backdrop of the sick person.  If they recovered, they did that in the background too.  Until recently, many counselors (like me) didn’t know what to do to help them.  Some times the codependents were blamed; sometimes they were ignored; sometimes they were expected to magically shape up ( an archaic attitude that has not worked with alcoholics and doesn’t help codependents either.)  Rarely were codependents treated as individuals who needed help to get better. Rarely were they given a personalized recovery program for their problems and their pain.  Yet, by its nature, alcoholism and other compulsive disorders turn everyone affected by the illness into victims- people who need help even if they are not drinking, using other drugs, gambling, overeating, or overdoing a compulsion.”

                    Melody Beatte

     

    What I love is that she sees how the codependents were formed…and in my experience it matches to what I know to be true for me.

     

    I love how she says we suffered sober…for indeed we did…My perpetrator wasn’t an alcoholic, but a sexual predator, yet the outcome is still the same.

     

    My mother’s codependency of my father is what I mirrored.

     

  • Who I Used To Be

    I picked up the book, “Co-Dependent No More,” which was one of the first ‘self help’ books I read in the early days upon learning about my sexual abuse.

     

    Here is what I read in the first few pages….

     

    “Codependents were a necessary nuisance.  They were hostile, controlling, manipulative, indirect, guilt producing, difficult to communicate with, generally disagreeable, sometimes downright hateful, and a hindrance to my compulsion to get high. They  hollered at me, hid my pills, made nasty faces at me, poured my alcohol down the sink, tried to keep me from getting more drug, wanted to know why I was doing this to them, and asked what was wrong with me. But they were always there, ready to rescue me from the self-created disasters.  The codependents in my life didn’t understand me, and the misunderstanding was mutual.  I didn’t understand me, and I didn’t understand them…

     

    My employer at the Minnesota treatment center told me to organize support groups for wives of addicts in the program.

     

    I wasn’t prepared for this task.  I still found codependents hostile, controlling, manipulative, indirect, guilt producing, difficult to communicate with and more.

     

    In my group, I saw people who felt responsible for the entire world, but they refused to take responsibility for leading and living their own lives.

     

    I saw people who constantly gave to others but didn’t know how to receive.  I saw people give until they were angry, exhausted, and emptied of everything.  I saw some give until they gave up.  I even saw one woman give and suffer so much that she died of “old age” and natural causes at age 33.  She was the mother of five children and the wife of an alcoholic who had been sent to prison for the third time.

     

    I worked with women who were experts at taking care of everyone around them, yet these women doubted their ability to take care of themselves.

     

    I saw mere shells of people, racing mindlessly from one activity to another.  I say people-pleasers, martyrs, stoics, tyrants, withering vines, clinging vines, and borrowing from H. Sackler’s line in his play, “The Great White Hope, ” pinched up faces giving off the miseries.”

     

    Most codependents were obsessed with other people. With great precision and detail, they could recite long lists of the addicts deeds and misdeeds: what he or she thought, felt, did, and said; and what he or she didn’t think, feel, do or say.  The codependent knew what the alcoholic or addict should or shouldn’t do.  And they wondered extensively why he or she did or didn’t do it.

     

    Yet these codependents who had such great insight into others couldn’t see themselves.  They didn’t know what they were feeling. They weren’t sure what they thought.  And they didn’t know what , if anything, they could do to solve their problems – if, indeed, they had any problems other than the alcoholic.

     

    It was a formidable group, these codependents.  They were aching, complaining, and trying to control everyone and everything but themselves.  And, except for a few quiet pioneers in family therapy, many counselors (including me) didn’t know how to help them. The chemical dependency field was flourishing, but help focused on the addict. Literature and training on family therapy was scarce.  What did codependents need? What did they want? Weren’t they just an extension of the alcoholic, a visitor to the treatment center?  Why couldn’t they cooperate, instead of always making problems? The alcoholic had an excuse for being crazy – he was drunk.  These significant others had no excuse. They were this way sober.

     

    Soon, I subscribed to two popular beliefs. These crazy codependents (significant others) are sicker than the alcoholics. And no wonder the alcoholic drinks; who wouldn’t with a crazy spouse like that?

     

    By then, I had been sober for a while.  I was beginning to understand myself, but I didn’t understand codependency.  I tried, but couldn’t – until years later, when I became so caught up in the chaos of a few alcoholics that I stopped living my own life.  I stopped thinking.  I stopped feeling positive emotions, and I was left with rage, bitterness, hatred, fear, depression, helplessness, despair and guilt.  At times, I wanted to stop living.  I had no energy. I spent most of my time worrying about people and trying to figure out how to control them.  I couldn’t say no (to anything but fun activities) if my life depended upon it, which it did. My relationships with friends and family members were in shambles.  I felt terribly victimized.  I lost myself and didn’t know how it had happened.  I didn’t know what had happened.  I thought I was going crazy.  And, I thought, shaking a finger at the people around me, it’s their fault.

     

    Sadly, aside from myself, nobody knew how badly I felt.  My problems were my secret.  Unlike alcoholics and other troubled people in my life, I wasn’t going around making big messes and expecting someone else to clean up after me.  In fact, next to the alcoholics, I looked good.  I was so responsible, so dependable. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure I had a problem. I knew I felt miserable, but I didn’t understand why my life wasn’t working.

     

    After floundering in despair for a while, I began to understand.  Like many people who judge others harshly, I realized I had just taken a very long and painful walk in shoes of those I had judged.  I now understood those crazy codependents. I had become one.”    

                Melody Beattie

     

    Now, I understand completely how she knows codependency so well…she has seen it from both sides.  She has used codependents and has been used as a codependent.

     

    What is also so striking in both sides is that while you are in that mode, you don’t know it, and blame the other person, but never look at your self!

     

    You are never the problem, you can’t see yourself, but you can so clearly see the other.  Amazing to see this in her first few pages.

     

    So, not only does the alcoholic or drug addict, have to be able to admit they have a problem, so does the codependent, both have to face their actions, and see themselves in reality.

     

    Simply see themselves and stop looking at others, blaming others, wanting to control others, but just turn all focus on self.

     

    That stops the codependent and makes you independent.

     

    Just re-reading all the colorful terms used to describe a codependent makes me shudder, it is reading who I used to be.

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Who I Used To Be

    I picked up the book, “Co-Dependent No More,” which was one of the first ‘self help’ books I read in the early days upon learning about my sexual abuse.

     

    Here is what I read in the first few pages….

     

    “Codependents were a necessary nuisance.  They were hostile, controlling, manipulative, indirect, guilt producing, difficult to communicate with, generally disagreeable, sometimes downright hateful, and a hindrance to my compulsion to get high. They  hollered at me, hid my pills, made nasty faces at me, poured my alcohol down the sink, tried to keep me from getting more drug, wanted to know why I was doing this to them, and asked what was wrong with me. But they were always there, ready to rescue me from the self-created disasters.  The codependents in my life didn’t understand me, and the misunderstanding was mutual.  I didn’t understand me, and I didn’t understand them…

     

    My employer at the Minnesota treatment center told me to organize support groups for wives of addicts in the program.

     

    I wasn’t prepared for this task.  I still found codependents hostile, controlling, manipulative, indirect, guilt producing, difficult to communicate with and more.

     

    In my group, I saw people who felt responsible for the entire world, but they refused to take responsibility for leading and living their own lives.

     

    I saw people who constantly gave to others but didn’t know how to receive.  I saw people give until they were angry, exhausted, and emptied of everything.  I saw some give until they gave up.  I even saw one woman give and suffer so much that she died of “old age” and natural causes at age 33.  She was the mother of five children and the wife of an alcoholic who had been sent to prison for the third time.

     

    I worked with women who were experts at taking care of everyone around them, yet these women doubted their ability to take care of themselves.

     

    I saw mere shells of people, racing mindlessly from one activity to another.  I say people-pleasers, martyrs, stoics, tyrants, withering vines, clinging vines, and borrowing from H. Sackler’s line in his play, “The Great White Hope, ” pinched up faces giving off the miseries.”

     

    Most codependents were obsessed with other people. With great precision and detail, they could recite long lists of the addicts deeds and misdeeds: what he or she thought, felt, did, and said; and what he or she didn’t think, feel, do or say.  The codependent knew what the alcoholic or addict should or shouldn’t do.  And they wondered extensively why he or she did or didn’t do it.

     

    Yet these codependents who had such great insight into others couldn’t see themselves.  They didn’t know what they were feeling. They weren’t sure what they thought.  And they didn’t know what , if anything, they could do to solve their problems – if, indeed, they had any problems other than the alcoholic.

     

    It was a formidable group, these codependents.  They were aching, complaining, and trying to control everyone and everything but themselves.  And, except for a few quiet pioneers in family therapy, many counselors (including me) didn’t know how to help them. The chemical dependency field was flourishing, but help focused on the addict. Literature and training on family therapy was scarce.  What did codependents need? What did they want? Weren’t they just an extension of the alcoholic, a visitor to the treatment center?  Why couldn’t they cooperate, instead of always making problems? The alcoholic had an excuse for being crazy – he was drunk.  These significant others had no excuse. They were this way sober.

     

    Soon, I subscribed to two popular beliefs. These crazy codependents (significant others) are sicker than the alcoholics. And no wonder the alcoholic drinks; who wouldn’t with a crazy spouse like that?

     

    By then, I had been sober for a while.  I was beginning to understand myself, but I didn’t understand codependency.  I tried, but couldn’t – until years later, when I became so caught up in the chaos of a few alcoholics that I stopped living my own life.  I stopped thinking.  I stopped feeling positive emotions, and I was left with rage, bitterness, hatred, fear, depression, helplessness, despair and guilt.  At times, I wanted to stop living.  I had no energy. I spent most of my time worrying about people and trying to figure out how to control them.  I couldn’t say no (to anything but fun activities) if my life depended upon it, which it did. My relationships with friends and family members were in shambles.  I felt terribly victimized.  I lost myself and didn’t know how it had happened.  I didn’t know what had happened.  I thought I was going crazy.  And, I thought, shaking a finger at the people around me, it’s their fault.

     

    Sadly, aside from myself, nobody knew how badly I felt.  My problems were my secret.  Unlike alcoholics and other troubled people in my life, I wasn’t going around making big messes and expecting someone else to clean up after me.  In fact, next to the alcoholics, I looked good.  I was so responsible, so dependable. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure I had a problem. I knew I felt miserable, but I didn’t understand why my life wasn’t working.

     

    After floundering in despair for a while, I began to understand.  Like many people who judge others harshly, I realized I had just taken a very long and painful walk in shoes of those I had judged.  I now understood those crazy codependents. I had become one.”    

                Melody Beattie

     

    Now, I understand completely how she knows codependency so well…she has seen it from both sides.  She has used codependents and has been used as a codependent.

     

    What is also so striking in both sides is that while you are in that mode, you don’t know it, and blame the other person, but never look at your self!

     

    You are never the problem, you can’t see yourself, but you can so clearly see the other.  Amazing to see this in her first few pages.

     

    So, not only does the alcoholic or drug addict, have to be able to admit they have a problem, so does the codependent, both have to face their actions, and see themselves in reality.

     

    Simply see themselves and stop looking at others, blaming others, wanting to control others, but just turn all focus on self.

     

    That stops the codependent and makes you independent.

     

    Just re-reading all the colorful terms used to describe a codependent makes me shudder, for I was reading about who I used to be.