I run away from everything. In the last (almost) four years, it has seemed like there is almost nothing too big for me to run from.
Here’s the test: am I going to have to take responsibility? Admit fault? Will I have to be vulnerable, talk about my deficits, or parts of my past? Well then, I just won’t. I’ll lie, hide, run, do anything to avoid the emotion. I can lie without a second thought if it means that I won’t have to acknowledge difficult emotion.
The habit snuck up on me, really. It started so simply: I can’t call into work and tell them that I’m too depressed to get out of bed, so I actually have food poisoning. It might be a couple days.
Oh, shoot, I just spent $1,000 on things that I thought would make me feel better and now I can’t pay off my credit card. (Wait, what credit card?)
No, seriously. I’m asking. What do I do when someone doesn’t want my help?
I tweeted about Anxiety Erica’s post on codependency last week, not only because I think it’s a great post but also because I think it talks about codependency in an unexpected way. It was a post that I could really relate to and one that has really stuck with me. Here’s the point in her post where I had my ‘Aha!’ moment:
Most people have this notion that codependency means you’re "addicted" to each other in a relationship, but it can mean that you’re addicted to helping. Always the cheerleader, encourager, or even mother in any relationship, you are the healer. They come to you for solace, comfort, and contentment.
I do that. I’ve always done that. My siblings (and parents) have bugged me for ‘mothering’ them for as long as I can remember, and so have friends.