Breaking Free from the Chains of Co-dependency

Around two decades ago, and a couple of years into my new career as a massage and beauty therapist, I happened to go through a traumatic and ruinous split with my daughter’s father.

I would often shudder when I reflected on how I had overshared ugly private details of this breakup with my clients. I had zero self-awareness in how much to hold back or when to 'just stop talking'. Part of this was being a new therapist, and so nerves would take over; still, my clients were open and like-minded, and feeling I was surfing their wavelength, I wore my heart on my sleeve.

And even though I have to remind myself of how my most recent therapist gently reassured me: “You didn’t know any better at the time,” I feel some remorse about the fact that I hadn’t comprehended where I ended, and others began. And what I mean by that is, I had no idea about boundaries.

During one of my therapy sessions, my therapist, when I was least expecting it, told me I was co-dependent, and that this was no surprise, what with my dysfunctional upbringing and the unhealthy family dynamics that came with that.

I was taken aback and sat, stunned, at his diagnosis, particularly in my mind that I had spent years, on and off, alone without the desire or need to find a partner. This was my only understanding of what being a co-dependent meant: excessive desire to have or be with a partner.

Yet, co-dependency has so much more to do with the relationship we have with our sense of self: the fact that we don’t have one — our mind is unconsciously always serving others.

The traits of co-dependency are fundamentally, in my mind, created by a lack of boundaries. This lack is portrayed in how we have difficulty in identifying what our emotions are because our sense of self is frayed at the edges. We struggle to make decisions because it’s never been about us, so we people-please and have low self-esteem, and put the needs of others before our own. It feels more natural, or innate, because that is how we had to be as children—with our wounded parents.

As I started to get my head around how I had been acting out from this survival coping mechanism (often formed in childhood), I felt somehow empowered; empowered to make changes, to build self-compassion, and to start to think about myself and what I needed.

Holding boundaries, if you can imagine, is like having property lines, fences, or lines in the sand. These lines determine your limits in how you wish to be treated by others and yourself, and the behaviours that you will or will not put up with. Boundaries are about protection, respect, and balance.

I was not only oversharing my historic breakup, but even in the years that followed that turbulent time, with new trials and tribulations: a bad relationship, a mouldy home, lack of money, and unfulfillment. I would not only overshare with family and friends but also publish random social media posts for my friends to see.

This left me feeling not only vulnerable but also inadvertently misrepresented, and both of these left me stuck in a victim mindset. This vulnerability mirrored my being a victim in my childhood, yet I hadn’t understood as an adult: I had the choice to be free of neglect, but I was still living that story. I often wondered why I hadn’t sensed any respect from family members, and at times, people in authority. Yet, how can people respect you if you don’t respect yourself? They must, at times, intuitively sense that something is off, although in certain scenarios, our vulnerability triggers other people's vulnerability.

I was brought up by wounded adult children, whose love was conditional based on how they felt that day, according to their coping mechanisms and insecurities. They weren’t able to emotionally regulate and were unable to show comfort, although my mother was a little softer. Being allowed to be my authentic self and share my true feelings wasn’t comfortable to them; their needs were more important to manage than mine.

From leaving home as a young teenager and the decades after, I unconsciously accepted abuse and allowed appalling treatment to suffocate my path. I reflect on the thirteen years I rented a severely damp and mouldy flat because the rent was manageable compared to the escalating rent in my region. I let my then-landlady get away with so much damage: furniture, personal items and health. And even though I sent countless emails over the years to the managing agents, I didn’t become angry enough against her uncaring responses. Co-dependents don’t get angry; they are passive-aggressive.

All those years, I would more often move into the fawn response, which goes hand in hand with co-dependency. Both co-dependency traits and the fawn trauma response look like the following when it comes to how we act in our day-to-day transactions and relationships:

People pleasing

Difficulty saying no

Having poor boundaries

Feeling responsible for other people’s moods

We prioritise other people’s needs above our own, and do anything to avoid conflict, even by staying in unhealthy relationships, and sadly, accepting negative and abusive behaviour.

With co-dependency, we feel the need to justify our reasons and answers; we overshare, and the guilt and anxiety we feel from saying no is exhausting.

In the last year, I believe through my creative writing journey, along with sharing vulnerable memoirs, I have been starting to burrow under the layers of my inherited wounded paradigm. There can be so much self-doubt in the ‘presenting of who we are’ through our work to the audience, and yet, the more courageous we become in allowing ourselves to accept and honour what we create, the more it strengthens the connection to the relationship we have with ourselves.

Building new boundaries will no doubt affect other family members and loved ones, as it is strange for them to contemplate our new and unusual lines in the sand. One of my siblings happened to react negatively to my saying no and openly attacked me in a family group chat. I’m aware that it was because of their hurt at my perceived rejection of the family, and yet, it felt unfairly disproportionate, particularly to how I have seen other siblings decline events over the years, for that to be fully accepted, and not mine.

I was unable to sleep that night and felt confused, questioning myself if I was a 'bad person'. I dreamt about terrifying tarantulas crawling over another sibling, and even in my dream, I was aware I would have a heart attack if those terrifying spiders came near me.

The following morning, I spoke with self-compassion, reminding myself that my boundaries are still new and fragile — the cement is still drying! I knew I was ‘allowed’ to say no, that this was healthy — the new reclaimed version of me. I am not responsible for someone else’s perspective or triggers, although I will remember to be kind. I recall how much I respect people who have those clear and strong edges of self. It makes sense — you can feel it!

I have lived with so much anxiety, and I hadn’t contemplated that so much of this anxiety was not only addictive, but an adopted survival skill from my childhood. Was I good enough if I didn’t do what my family expected me to do, because of their triggers?

I was people-pleasing and scared stiff to say ‘no’, especially to the siblings who are more critical and open about who has let them down in the family. I have been privy to every name being called out, and so I know I am on that list. We carry our childhood hurts into our adulthood; they just hide or project onto other people!

This pressure for me is perfectly displayed in Christmas gift buying. The mental torture I feel is more about unconsciously needing not to be judged by my family’s unconscious standards; their expectations of how they feel worthy and loved, in the receiving of a gift. If there’s no gift, it’s a rejection or a projection.

In a way, it reminds me of conditional love, mimicking how we were loved through our childhood. The times I hadn’t bought gifts, for whatever reason, I’ve sensed siblings’ disapproval. Yet, I am aware more and more now that it’s their wounds and triggers kicking in, just as mine were in my sensitivity towards being accepted.

Co-dependency is a common survival skill, and can stem from dysfunctional relationships in childhood. I wrote this piece hoping to resonate with you, and I want you to know you’re not alone in your anxieties. Co-dependency traits are insidious and hide behind so many layers and guises. I hope, somehow, you can recognise your story with the examples I have shared. Calling it out for what it is and seeing that it stems from our inner child is a game-changer.

God bless

“Many co-dependents, at some time in their lives, were true victims of someone’s abuse, neglect, abandonment, alcoholism, or any number of situations that can victimise people. We were, at some time, truly helpless to protect ourselves or solve our problems. Something came our way, something we didn’t ask for, and it hurt us terribly. That is sad, truly sad. But an even sadder fact is that many of us co-dependents began to see ourselves as victims. Our painful history repeats itself. As caretakers, we allow people to victimise us, and we participate in our victimisation by perpetually rescuing people. Rescuing or caretaking is not an act of love.”

— Melody Beattie, Co-Dependent No More

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