I had to have a little talk with myself recently. I was doing fine. Felt good about things. But everyone around me seemed to be in a crisis. Melting down. Dealing with some pretty big stuff. It wasn’t long before I wasn’t doing so well. Because I let myself get pulled in. I began to carry their heaviness with me.

Don’t get me wrong. It’s important to be able to feel with others. To be a support person that is compassionate. But having lived so many years in an unhealthy codependent relationship, it doesn’t take much for me to get pulled into unhealthy old habits.

I had to pull myself aside and verbalize to the little girl that is always and forever a part of who I am, that she doesn’t need to carry their heavy things. She doesn’t need to fix anything for them. It’s okay for her to live her own life right now. To find things that make her happy even if those around her are not. She does not need them to be okay in order to be okay herself.

what codependency can look like

In a codependent relationship, one person looks to the other to provide care or support that should come from within, or from a therapist, doctor, or someone else. Or it could be something so unrealistic that no human could ever provide. Whatever the case, the other person may need to be needed. Or simply need them to be okay. So he does whatever it takes, to help them be okay. In this way, they both need each other to be needy. They feed off each other’s neediness. It may “work” but it’s dysfunctional and damaging.

Far too often, these unhealthy relationships are fashioned and sustained in tight-knit religious communities. People praise the caregiver for their sacrifice, uphold them as a model of love and service. To the point where they completely forget that their life matters too. That their hopes and dreams have meaning and are worth pursuing.

When religion encourages the starving of the human soul in order to “serve” another, religious trauma merges with emotional trauma and something beautiful in the human psyche is chopped into bits and thrown out as garbage. Divine brushstrokes meant to invoke smiles and joy are equated with selfishness.

Children as caregivers

I’ve been a caregiver for as long as I can remember. I needed to be needed and I needed those around me to be okay. So I did everything I could to help them be okay. Others praised and admired me for it. In fact, I don’t think I was noticed much unless I was serving others.

In an article on Children as Caregivers, LeAne Austin says

Children generally tend to be self-focused. With the addition of the illness or disability, that focus necessarily and abruptly changes to one of helping others. Rather than indulging in their usual enjoyable activities, they may decline invitations for age-appropriate activities because they need to “go home and help mom” or whoever they are assisting at home. This increased sense of responsibility, though somewhat overdeveloped due to the unique situation in which they have been placed, overtakes the drive to seek personal enjoyment.

LeAne Austin

Learning to be a child

I didn’t know how to be a child. And, quite honestly, my faith community praised me for it. So I sacrificed more. I gave up things I wanted so everyone else in my life could be happy. Eventually, I equated god’s love with needing to sacrifice. Divine love meant pain.

It’s taken years of therapy and healing, to fully realize that my life truly matters. That my longings, hopes, and dreams have divine sparks in them instead of selfishness. My worth has absolutely nothing to do with my service and sacrifices. I no longer equate god’s love with needing to sacrifice. It’s more like needing to bake or laugh. Walk in the leaves or climb a mountain.

So, somewhere in the middle of everyone else having a crisis, I stepped back. I asked everyone leave for a while. Built a fire and sat outside with a cup of coffee and a stack of books. I reclined in my lawn chair and watched the leaves tango under an indigo sky. I called someone I loved who understood my feelings completely. And the wind whispered my name as it scampered by. It danced with the smoke as what was old and useless burned up. It blew the mosquitos away and whistled ever so softly round the corners of the house. God was in the wind and in the fire, in the clay of my coffee cup and pages of my book. In all that was lovely and breathtaking, even in me.

Maybe I still equate god’s love with needing to sacrifice – the bullshit and the codependency. The belief system that led me to slaughter things that were lovely inside of me. Burn it all down till there are no acts of service to admire me for. No sacrifices to bring me praise. Just a curly-haired barefoot girl with a heart that is kind and a dream to explore this beautiful world.

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