If we were all hanging out in my office drinking coffee and chit chatting you might get a bit bored and start examining my bookshelves. (I always do that when I go to someone’s office.) In the top left corner of my bookcases for at least two shelves are books on codependency. I believe I own all books with the “c” word in the title.
You might turn to me and say, “Hey, you have a lot of books on codependency.” If you don’t know me well you would assume this is my professional library, a necessary essential for a pastor of a recovery community. There is some truth to that. But there is a truth that runs deeper than my commitment to professional skill sharpening.
I have a lot of issues related to my own codependency. I first began studying the concept of codependency in the 1980’s when one of my three brothers went into treatment for massive cocaine, etc. addictions. He was in Atlanta, I was in Richmond – my codependent ways were limited as a result of distance and the treatment center policies (good call on their part). BUT when I was able to talk with someone on staff to inquire as to how I might best serve my brother, I was told, “Get yourself to a meeting.”
“An AA meeting so that I might understand his needs better?” I replied.
“Hell no, lady, you need a meeting FOR YOU,” she shot back with a frankness I appreciated. I was ready. I had known for a long time that something wasn’t quite right with me. It was time for me to deal with my “issues”. I was a mom to a bright precocious toddler, pregnant with a second child, and married to the man of my dreams. No longer living with my family of origin, I was beginning to realize that physical escape into my own new adult life didn’t cure all that ailed me. Anxiety was my constant companion and she seemed out of place within the safety of the home Pete and I were working to build. Something was off and I was incentivized to try to do better in my own marriage and with our children. I had grown up feeling powerless while given responsibilities beyond my developmental capacity. I felt like I had been a child without a childhood. When I actually became an adult I was shocked to realize I lacked skill sets other adults seemed to possess and apply with ease. I realized I had some sharply honed coping skills that were no longer serving me as well as they had when I was 14. I went to meetings (secretly); I got some counseling (not enough because I have trust issues ☺); I entered the world of recovery.
I became obsessed with the concept of codependency; I realize more with each passing year that knowing about it and actually recovering from it are two different animals. In preparation for this class I skimmed all my old books and a few new ones that had previously escaped my attention. Frankly, some left me frustrated. Several argued about whether or not codependency, like substance use disorder, is a disease or not. A lot of the material felt repetitious and vaguely unsatisfying. I have acquired over the years a wealth of experience and capacity to recognize all those “signs” of codependency that experts speak of ad nauseum. But am I less codependent? Is my congregation? I dunno. Don’t get me wrong – there is plenty to learn from and appreciate in these materials. But my experience – both personal and professional – has taught me that however you categorize it the signs and symptoms that plague those of us who have accepted the moniker of “codependent” is extremely difficult to eradicate from daily life. Today I think of codependency as symptomatic of deep wounding and intractable practices that were at one time necessary for survival; I think we sufferers need healing that goes beyond a change in our behavior.
My brother’s addiction did not cause my “codependency issues”, it was just one of those final straws that broke my back and self-will. Our family system was a mess, we had generations of trauma tumbling around us and we had limited outside influence as we had been a family on the move – rolling stones gathering no moss as my dad moved from job to job as my mother continued to hope that a change of venue would somehow, miraculously, help my father keep his pants on. It only worked insofar as it kept us without dissenting voices or even supportive ones to speak into our family system and help us figure out that something was broken that would require a lot of intervention to begin even a modicum of healing.
With that background in mind, rather than trying to come up with and argue over lengthy texts written on the definition of codependency and what we all must do to overcome it – here are some descriptions that I think speak about it. I will be quoting from Kristina Wandzilak and Constance Curry’s book “The Lost Years” and commentating on my interpretation of what is being said as we go along. It’s a great book and I highly recommend it. The story is basically told in the voice of Kristina (the daughter who struggles with a Substance Use Disorder) and Constance (mom). It chronicles their harrowing journey through addiction and into recovery. Picking up on page 91, we begin to get the first glimpses of Mom’s movement from a place of fighting for Kristina’s life into a place of detached acceptance. Notice here that it wasn’t until page 91 out of 270 that the first hint of daylight eeks through the terror of active addiction. How does she get to this point? There were some clues:
Constance’s husband (Kristina’s father) was an alcoholic who got sober in the middle of this story but his sobriety did not “fix everything”.
MOM: I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when Reed quit drinking, but it was a difficult and frightening time. During this tense time, he wanted dinner right at six. One time I was a few minutes late. Reed came out and grabbed me out of the car by my wrist. He raged about dinner not being ready. I was so humiliated and ashamed that my children would see their parents this way. He stood over me and pressured me to get dinner ready and on the table as quickly as possible. Afterward he went back to bed. I asked him to go to A.A. or let me take him to a doctor, but he refused. Even though he was no longer drinking, it was clear he needed help. And so did I. p.80 The Lost Years
For those of us who struggle with codependency, it is easy to see how our loved one’s SUD highlights our codependent ways. I would point out that most of us are trained in the fine art of codependent living for many years, not simply as the result of our spouse’s or children’s or second cousin’s SUD. There is usually a history, a multi-generational aspect to the problem.
Codependency is not something that is cured in a weekend retreat. It is a set of coping skills and symptoms that we acquire over a lifetime, often supported by culture and family (who doesn’t love a codependent when we need rescuing?). It’ll take way more support than we think is reasonable over a much longer period of time than makes sense to us to manage it in a reasonable and healthier manner.
MOM: I could no longer live this way. In trying to save one child, I was losing myself and all four of my children. P.83.
Acceptance. Some moments of clarity when MOM is moving beyond our obsession with Kristina and gaining awareness about the price being paid by herself and the other children in the family. When I ask families about how the SUDs issue in their family is affecting others, they often say things like, “Oh not at all. No one else is aware.” Or “Thank God my other children are doing well, in fact, they are practically perfect compared to _______.” This is the face of denial from a sufferer of codependency. Constance could not stay there anymore; her vision was clearing and a fog was lifting.
MOM: I was hungry for support and understanding, but as we were leaving the facility, the counselor pulled me aside and said, “You don’t only have a drug problem, you have a family problem.” I said, “I know I have a family problem, please help us.” P.86
Please help. Two beautiful words. Underused. And, let’s be honest. Sometimes it is challenging to find the help we need as families. Some of us work a couple of jobs because we have spouses who are under-functioning or treatment expenses have wiped out our 401(k). It makes it challenging to find the energy to go looking for help for us when our search for help for the OTHER is so time consuming.
MOM: I needed to find some peace, so I went to church later that day and said the Serenity Prayer from the Twelve Step program over and over. I tried breathing to calm myself. One minute I’d give her up to God, and the next I would take her back. Finally, feeling very humble and hopeless, I gave her over to God for a final time. Accepting that I was completely powerless, a wave of relief rushed over me and a weight lifted from me. When I got up to leave, I faced the world with a lighter heart. The acceptance of my limitation gave me the courage to go on. P. 91-92
I woke up on the morning of my daughter’s eighteenth birthday with my heart twisted. I did not know if she was warm or hungry, lonely or dead. Now, if she was alive, she was an adult. Our legal responsibility for her was over. To my surprise, I felt relief. No longer could we send her away or make her come home or tell her what to do. If she didn’t want to graduate or work or be responsible, it wasn’t our problem. Her life was officially her own. As I was making breakfast, I wondered what I would say to her if I saw her again. P.102
When that day came Constance knew what to do. She drew a boundary. This kind of boundary is typical of what we talk through and coach families about as a way to manage codependency issues. I know some people have a certain “thing” they go to in situations like this, which might include: kick them out of the house, refuse to talk to them when they are impaired, cut off their cell phones, etc. At various times all of these actions may be appropriate. We need to talk these issues constantly and perhaps with more nuance than I could find in those books. Why? Because confused, missing or rigid boundaries are commonly found in families struggling with SUD. Here’s how Constance did it, which is not to say that this is the only way to draw a boundary. And, FYI, there is no boundary that guarantees recovery as an outcome.
MOM: I would not ignore my needs to make room for her, or anyone, again. What she did from here on would be her choice. I told her that treatment was always available, and that was all I could do. P.104
Constance found her voice. But for the purpose of this class, please note that she found more than just her voice. She found her INTERNAL boundary. She found WHAT SHE WAS AND WAS NOT WILLING TO DO ANYMORE. To me, this is extremely important and very distinctive from the conversations (all useful) that we have about what a codependent versus non-codependent response looks like. It seems to me that when we discover this internal sense of self, this “knowing” about who we are, what we want, how we want to live – we do indeed end up drawing boundaries that others can see and experience. But it is profoundly different when it comes from a place of making decisions based on our own beliefs, values, needs and wants than as a tool to get someone else to adhere to our beliefs, values, needs and wants. When this happens, we find that our application of boundaries extends beyond our obsession with our dependent and moves into other relationships in our lives – ones that perhaps were equally codependent, but we were distracted from paying attention to in the past.
MOM: In the past, when my husband was drinking and he got angry and aggressive with me, I wanted to curl up in the corner of the room like a turtle in its shell. I would feel beaten in the stomach. I would tell myself not to fight back because I didn’t want my children to see two people acting out-of-control. Instead, I showed them how to be passive…I allowed myself to be battered and belittled in front of my children, So, of course, they never ended up coming to me for protection, because I was unable to protect myself. When my husband stopped drinking, I became more courageous. I prayed for a clear way out. I talked to my friends and the MODAS, and the answer to my prayer came in the form of a jury summons. I sat on a jury for six weeks, and learned I could be fully occupied during the day and still get everyone where they needed to go and do all that needed to be done. After that I decided, with a lot of support, to get a job at a clothing store so I could earn a little spending money and regain some confidence…At work, I was respected and appreciated. I loved being around people and dressing up for work….Even though Reed had quit drinking, he and I were growing farther apart. When Kristina was at home, Reed and I had had something to agree on. Something to pull us together. Once Kristina was gone, we no longer had that common ground. One day I came home late from work to a husband who was raging about some unimportant issue. I remember standing in the kitchen wanting to scream or pull out my hair or kick something, but instead I walked out of the house to catch my breath and I just kept walking. …The more I walked, the quieter my head became. My anger and frustration and hopelessness lessened with each step I took. I felt paralyzed in my home and my life, but while I was walking I felt a strange, seductive kind of power, and when I arrived back home I felt more at peace than I had felt in a long time…From that day forward, at least once a day, up into the hills I’d go. I’d talk about my problems to myself, sometimes out loud. Then I’d turn around, and on the way down, I would talk about all the blessings in my life. I’d feel whole again and able to cope….Ultimately, Reed and I could not agree on anything. I was changing so much and he was not. I missed Kristina, but the truth was that home was more bearable without her. I loved her, but with her came incredible pain and chaos. I never wanted addiction in my world again. Al-Anon, the MODAS, and walking became a way of life for me. I knew that I wanted to get better, and over time, I came to accept that my family was very dysfunctional, and that the only person I could change was me. P.109-111
Notice that Constance had not only an addicted daughter but she also had a husband with an alcohol problem. It turns out that as she sought help for working with Kristina, it changed the marriage relationship as well. Although healthy recovery means giving up the expectation that we can change others, as Constance changed, it did impact her family.
MOM: She’d call every so often. The phone calls were short, but at least she was alive and I had one more chance to offer her treatment. Sometimes she would ask to come home, crying and begging, and it broke my heart, but I’d say, “No, not until you go to treatment.” I had to say no. It didn’t make sense to have her home for a visit or a night. P.133
Why did it no longer make sense to have Kristina “pop in” for a visit? As all of us know, points of contact with our beloved SUD sufferers brings at least a momentary relief when we can see that they are still alive and breathing. Constance is learning is that taking the next appropriately boundaried next right step is NOT ABOUT MANAGING HER ANXIETY; she has learned to do that in other ways – Al Anon, MODAS, and walking – to name three. This newer better boundaried Mom is able to think beyond her anxiety and consider what is best for the entire family. She has learned how to manage her anxiety without using manipulation and control. This is an extremely necessary step toward healing.
MOM: through the twelve steps of Al-Anon, therapy, and a lot of work, I finally began to let go of so many expectations. My life got profoundly better. Recovery is so amazing because the anger holds on until it fades to grief, and grief becomes acceptance and finally comes to a bright new way of being. I slept better, laughed louder, and even went on a vacation or two with the girls…One Sunday night, after my son had left and the girls were in bed, I noticed that it had been a long time since Kristina had even come up in conversation. I knew then what it meant to have the “detachment” they talked about in Al-Anon. When I was new to the program, that term sounded so cold and distant to me, but now I understood. It was more like standing back and watching things happen without needing to react or control the outcome. I could love my children without liking all their choices. With detachment, I could simply allow my children to live their lives. Detachment was the freedom and peace I had worked so hard to achieve. With or without Kristina, life would be good again. I still missed her sometimes, but her addiction no longer ran my life. P. 137
Eventually, Kristina goes into treatment but the 28 day initial stay did little to alter her mood or reactions to her family – this is exactly as it should be. 28 days is a good start, not a miracle cure. Kristina was ready to leave and packs her bags, anticipating that her cooperation would elicit a willingness on the part of her mom to allow her back home. This did not happen. Constance stated her boundary clearly, offered her financial support and then abruptly left the meeting when Kristina began to rage. Below is Kristina’s moment of clarity…
Kristina: It was then that reality hit me. For the first time in my life it became clear to me that I had done this to myself, and that there was no one coming to save me or take care of me. There was no one coming to bring me home. I had to live for me, stay sober for me, and make the choice to save my own life. P.170
It would be awesome if all families got these results. That does not necessarily happen. But remember – on that particular day, neither Kristina, Constance or the treatment gurus had any idea what Kristina’s outcome would be. What Constance did know was how to go about living her reasonably happy life regardless of Kristina’s results. This is what happens when someone owns their own story, develops a sense of self and decides to live the life they want, rather than spend time demanding that other people live the life they want for them.
For a much more detailed account, read “The Lost Years”. It is a page turner.
