Well, lots of things. But one of the biggest is that if you're codependent, you rarely know you're in a codependent relationship. Because you're codependend. It's a real catch-22.
I had no idea that I've lived my whole life in codependent relationships. My parents, who are lovely people, are in codependent relationship. And guess what? So were both sets of their parents. I learned that that's what relationships look like, and then went out and found me some relationships that felt the same - or at least similar.
So how do you know when you're in a codependent relationship? It's all about the eggshells. And the cringing. Depending on which role you're playing. I've only ever been on the accomodating side, so I can speak best about the eggshells.
The Eggshells
For most (okay, all) of my life, I've tried to stay out of the way of my dad. At the end of the day, the question was, did he have a good day? That answer was an accurate predictor of whether or not my mom and I had a good day. If he was in a good mood, life was good, and we were happy. If he was in a bad mood, life sucked, and we scampered away and did everything in our power to move his internal needle back toward happy. Or at least we avoided anything that we knew would be an issue. The overall feeling was that of walking on eggshells. There was a baseline requirement that you pass all conversations, decisions, and behaviors through the litmus test of "what will dad think?" before acting on it.
It was so ingrained that none of us realized that this isn't ideal. We just thought and talked about it as if everyone goes around with a certain amount of "moodiness" and it's smart to try and avoid making it worse. Except that neither my mom or I were really allowed to have reciprocal amounts of moodiness. And if we did (like say, having a normal amount of hormone and true-emotion induced crying in one's teenage years), it was clear that it distressed my dad, and therefore was to be avoided.
The Cringing
There are serious drawbacks to being the other role in a codependent relationship, too. Namely, who wants to be an asshole to the ones they love? Who wants to feel like they're always the one in charge, the one responsible for everyone else, the one who can't take real help or express any of their emotions? Who wants to see people recoil and cringe?
I imagine that being the dominant one in a codependent relationship is highly isolating. It must be lonely. The feeling of remorse that comes along with realizations that you've crossed the line and the frustration that goes with never being able to open up or be vulnerable cannot be fun.
The Familiarity (pun most definitely intended)
I saw this dynamic played out in all my model relationships: my grandparents, my parents, and most of my friends parents. We routinely discussed who's dad was "meaner" - an argument I gladly lost, though I was usually runner-up. And I decided early on that it would be my goal in life not to be the dick in my relationship when I grew up.
It was a goal I focused on so tightly that I didn't realize I was flinging myself full-on into the abyss of "she who gets walked all over". More importantly, I didn't realize that there was a wholy different option: A relationship in which NEITHER person was a dick, or got walked all over.
What I called "chemistry" in my romantic relationships (and also in my friendships) turned out to be a recognition of that same pattern. My boyfriends "felt like home". They gave me that same sense of walking on eggshells - that coppery, pit-of-your-stomach nausea; that performance anxiety; that feeling that if I only were the best at something they would finally give me compliments and begin "being there" for me.
We all do this. Equate chemistry and love with the primal, non-logical brain response we have to relationships that mimic our parental ones. For better or worse. No matter how great your parents are (and mine are pretty phenomenal in many ways), there's always going to be a danger zone. And until you realize what it is, put a name on it, and decide to conciously act in a way that prevents recreating it - you're doomed to repeat those mistakes in a sad, ineffectual attempt to right them.
The great thing is that, at least for me, once I recognized what was happening, and once I had a real live person in front of me who could demonstrate that there was another option - it became so easy to step away from my old habits.
The Beau is also from a long line of codependent relationships and he did a great job of building his first marriage on that premise, too. We were both the one doing all of the accomodating. What's amazingly helpful about this is that he and I are doing all the hard work of re-framing our lives and understanding why we did what we did, together. He can hold up the mirror for me in a way that lacks all judgment because he's been there, too. I can point out reactions he has to his dad because I've had them, too!
And along the way, we're healing each other.
I don't mean to imply that any codependent relationship should be nullified and exited, posthaste. Because there are lots of codependent relationships that just need some conscious healing, some movement back toward the center, a recognition that things could be a little better. I marvel that such intelligent people could be completely blind to these ideas and he and I were, and I hope that by talking through some of our revelations here, I can not only help myself, but help any of you who find this hitting close to home, too.
Do you feel like you're walking on eggshells? Does any of this sound familiar?
