Codependency Might Not Be What You Think

How I realized I was codependent, and what I did to start to heal.

One of the things I’ve learned while healing from domestic violence is that codependency is less neediness and not being able to do anything on your own and more shielding everyone from the consequences of their own actions at your own expense all the time.

Growing up in an unstable household taught me to be useful. To anticipate needs. To read the room. I thought if I tried hard enough, I could earn love.

The belief that I was not worthy of love or respect unless I was constantly serving others was only reinforced by Christianity.

Die to self. Servant heart. Turn the other cheek. Don’t trust your flesh.

All this did was teach me that I was unworthy, that sacrificing your own needs was good, that I shouldn’t listen to my inner voice, and to turn to others for validation and approval.

Looking back, it’s no surprise that I ended up in an abusive marriage. Codependent and an Anxious Attachment style? Oh, hi.

So what is codependency?

Codependency happens when one person, at the expense of their own well-being, sacrifices their needs in order to prioritize the needs and desires of another.

Your self-worth and identity are tied to how useful you can be, from the approval of others, instead of from within yourself. This is how I ended up having a mental breakdown and having this completely radical thought: that I have value because I draw breath, not because of what I can do for other people.

I was conditioned to care way too much about what people thought of me. I realized that I wouldn’t even take advice from these people, and yet somehow their opinions were so heavily weighted that their criticism was crushing.

Not only had I learned to be a people-pleaser, I felt responsible for the feelings of other people. I carefully weighed every decision and thought about how they would feel about it, and not how I would. I constantly chose disappointing myself instead of disappointing others. This led to another radical decision: I’m going to do my best not to hurt anyone’s feelings, but if I do, it’s their responsibility to communicate that, not my responsibility to wonder.

My fear of being unlovable manifested as tolerating and excusing mistreatment and abuse. I enabled my ex-husband’s irresponsible behavior. I tried to curb his growing alcoholism and begged him to treat me like a human being instead of recognizing that he never would and letting him face his own consequences. I assumed more of the responsibilities, cleaning, cooking, budgeting. I told myself that there wasn’t another option— I couldn’t let us become homeless. I rationalized it by telling myself that men are just wired differently and take longer to grow up. Other people reinforced this toxic belief.

I struggled to ask for help. I was so concerned with not being a burden or an inconvenience, that I became hyper-independent. Asking for help felt like a moral failing. I held myself to standards that I would never hold other people to. I struggled with perfectionism.

I struggled to hold the boundaries I set. Because of the dynamics in my relationship, I internalized that setting boundaries made me mean, and having preferences and needs made me hard to love.

So I shrank.

and shrank.

and shrank.

Until I finally couldn’t anymore.

Until I didn’t recognize who I was anymore.

Until I took a life-changing trip with my sister-friend that gave me the distance to start gaining some clarity.

Until I finally said, “I’m done,” and started doing the work to keep this from happening again.