even if you say you aren't that kind of girl; you are

- i'm going to run to the office supply place, do you need anything?

...

- some wine?

- i don't think they sell that in the paperclip aisle.

[sigh]

- maybe cheesecake then? or ice-cream?

20 minutes later.

- I'm making the turn where i can either go home or stop and get ice-cream/wine/cheescake, do you want me to stop?

- .....i don't know....

- make the decision!

- ok. no! i don't need it, i don't want to get fat.

5 minutes later, walking through the door.

- did you get...anything....?

- no. you said you didn't want anything.

- i didn't MEAN it!

- well. i'm going to return these movies. are you sure you don't want something?

- ...i don't know..?

15 minutes later

- i'm at the supermarket, do you want anything?

- no. well, yes. but no. i don't NEED anything.

- and you're not going to ask me why i don't have it when i get home?

- well...yes. i just don't want to get fat. i don't need it.

- ok, then.

- siiiiiiiiigh.

- so you want me to get you something?

- no. i want you to make the decision, so i don't have to and then i can just blame you.


- SIGH.

- so... are you going to get something?

- no. not unless you say the words and tell me what you want.

- well...why don't you just get a treat for the dogs instead...

- ok.

- sigh.

[5 minutes later, a photo text of the frozen dessert aisle arrives]

- you are such a jerk!

- i'm getting ready to leave...last chance.

- no!

10 minutes later, walking through the door.

- did you get me anything?

...


- YES!!!!!!

a co-dependent's purgatory

the all prevailing and incessant need to be liked by others is a life long project for codies. as long as they have breath in their bodies they will exhaust themselves with gifts, entreaties, and more mea culpa than a 747 full of martyrs in order to improve their public opinion poll.

however, the only thing worse than not being liked, is not being able to do anything about it. codies die young, all that self flagellation can bring on a heart attack, no doubt a relief for the even more emotionally drained people in their orbits. their funerals doubtless have a number of resentful and pissed off, over smothered attendees. and all the codie ghost can do is hover around in misery helpess to beg, plead or turn somersaults to change opinions.

age comes after beauty; age is now.

forget internet dating, the increase in support groups around town (sufferers of varicose veins, survivors of botox, dry cleaning addicts) appears to be a conveniant place to self-help, self-actualize, and find someone to take to the sunday matinee. obviously, a codependency meeting might be a better place than say, overeaters anonymous (unless there is an underground cellulite fetish movement going on that i don't know about). certainly if you are looking to be taken care of, there is no better person than a recovering codie needing a "project".

apparently the years of "forgetting" to moisturize and put on sunscreen have caught up with me; my youthful looks are drying up much like my reproductive system. somewhere in the last year, things have changed. i am no longer asked for my ID when i slap down a bottle of "yellow tail" at the booze shop; i am no longer asked why i am tardy when i go to meetings at high schools; school buses have stopped stopping for me.

at tonight's meeting i sat next to the older guy from a couple of weeks (and blogs) ago. we chit chatted. i apologized for not calling and following up on the potential job opportunity he threw my way. after the closing he turned to me and asked if i might want to get coffee some time. he's older! WAY older. i guess i am older than i feel. so this means i have officially "crossed over". like pubic hair; you don't notice it, then suddenly you become old enough to be "older man's young totty".

the whole "being targeted and pursued/having to reject" is not a dynamic i am well versed in, so i tried to respond with kindness; "i think i'm going to pass" or something to that vague effect. of course i did not want to hurt his feelings (nothing if not classic codie) i said i would see him in 2 weeks after the labour day break, and then i made sure to wave at him when he drove out of the car park.

damn, now i can add a couple more adjectives to the ever increasing neurosis; "naive" and "old".

out of boundaries

walking into my weekly "anonymous" meeting i was joking to a fellow codie how there was very little anonymity involved (i had just been accosted last week by the subject of an earlier CODA (codependent's anonymous) blog who i work with; she demanded to know how often i frequented the serenity prayer-fest). a couple of weeks ago i bumped into another anonymous codie in the cous cous aisle at whole foods. he was very polite, pleasant, and appropriate as we parted ways at the pita chip display.

"do you have a college degree?" [mr polite, pleasant, and appropriate said to me, following tonight's meeting]. i don't know if i was more shocked at the randomness of the question, or the truth of my answer (i graduated with my master's 7 years ago; older yes, wisdom is neglibible). he then informed me that he worked for a rather large, global health care company (no name dropping here, but they have their own building, downtown), and they were looking for someone to liase with the london office as apparently the brits and yanks really are western cousins divided by the same language/culture/giant body of water. for the sheer, simple 'this could be an interesting story' factor, i took his number and agreed to call his office at the end of the week. i am not currently seeking employment at this time, however, my friends make up a veritable united nations of backgrounds, so if no donna-karen-dry-cleaned-suit-corporate-expense-account-flying-first-class-on-the-red-eye-to-heathrow pans out for me, i may be able to hook someone else up with a lead.

i am nothing, if not co-dependent.

parallel process

definition: a process in which two or more sequences of activities are going on simultaneously.

no, this is not in reference to the uncanny ability of a group of females, who co-exist in the same space for even a short period (ha!) of time, to synchronize the states of 'irritable' and 'needy'. although i would argue that any male who comes into contact with a regularly ovulating female, will also experience similar shifts in mood and an impoverished sense of self.

it would appear that there are some universal themes that are constant, however i only become aware of them (rather like suddenly noticing the roads are filled with other L-plated novice drivers when learning how to reverse park and master the art of a 3 point turn) if it mirrors my own experience. this evening, i listened to a 'degree of separation friend' who is experiencing relationship stress; his frustration sounded all too familiar, as he had apparently been dating my emotional "twin". nothing like empathizing with someone in pain and concurrently examining your own inventory. bloody karma; so much for geography and running away.

thank god for "universality". definition: the character or state of being universal; existence or prevalence everywhere.

it's nice to know that other people are anxious/angry, changing jobs/significant others, rubbing/picking at baby blankets/shell sweatpants, letting go, and tantrumming along with you.

well. that was a bit bloody awkward...

i have been very open with friends, not to mention random bloggers, that i have been attending weekly codependent's anonymous meetings. i listen, laugh, cringe, shake my head and nod my head; i have never spoken up. i do not "speak UP", i leave that to the baby boomers who's histories are littered with alcoholic fathers, controlling or passive mothers, and physical and sexual abuse. i cannot relate to their stories, but i can relate to their experiences; on how they choose and relate to their families, friends and partners.

today addressed poor communication styles. apparently i am doing an excellent job at communicating poorly on every bullet point; defensiveness, scapegoating, diversion, passive aggressiveness; i could teach classes. mary, our outspoken facilitator, asked the group what were some things people used to fill their "potholes". shouted out was the usual hit parade of; sex, money, food, computers, work, codependence, cell phones, and drugs.

today i spoke up.

"moving".

oh shit. everyone turned around for a (blank) look. sitting at the back is not a good thing when you start volunteering information. mary "rescued" me. my experience was validated just as legitimately as anyone else sitting in that room. she told us that the military "kids" (or adult "kids") on the inpatient unit got the "itch" to move every 3 years to fill their "potholes". she asked who my best friends were growing up. my brother (when not fighting over who used the milk last/had the most crucial piece of lego).

~"moving" families become enmeshed.
~they have no one else constant in their lives apart from each other.
~they accrue grief and loss like interest on a credit card statement.
~they think of their siblings still as children (even when we are 40, errr, 30).
~they have a hard time when siblings find partners and get married; because we think ~that we are the significant other in their lives! (oh god).

so; i found my words. the meeting ended and a woman who had been trying to catch my eye (that i had been avoiding) approached me. she demanded to know where i worked. she looked familiar in that 'former client, grown up' sort of way. i suspiciously asked "why........?" when she confirmed my place of work, she informed me "your my boss, im one of the relief people, so we haven't met, but i recognize your name and when i heard the accent i knew it must be you".

oh. well. its a good thing i didnt share the story about my crack habit.

she smiled and told me that now i would have a face to put with her name when it came time to doing her annual evaluation.

yup.

i'm ready!?

it's easy to know when youre not ready, however transitioning into being "ready" is rather like navigating the moratorium state from adolescent to adult. for some this period can become long and protracted, or is revisited later in mid-life when buying a porsche seems like a splendid idea.

readiness is part intuition, part conscious decision, making it easier for self and others to question, analyze, doubt, rinse and repeat. as children, we feel the uncomfortable tummy grumbles and cry, whine and request food (a behaviour i diligently continue to practice into my 30's). we play hide and seek, counting "ready or not, here i come". graduating from nappies to the potty and then toilet there is the cry of "i'm readeeeeeeee!" to the lucky parent on 'wiping duty' to come and positively reinforce, coo, aaaah and complete the task.

not feeling "ready" can certainly be a way to avoid making a comittment, however decisions as an adult are less physically messy, unless the aforementioned adult has graduated to incontinence knickers. perhaps this is the reason that the progression from pencil, to ink pen with the magic eraser function at school was so exciting. there was always the option to erase the ink; nothing was quite indelible. the smudgeproof and waterproof sharpie then begins to feel like the writing implement of adulthood.

the fact is, a thick stick of charcoal on a big piece of white paper sometimes creates marks you planned, and sometimes not; the implicit "risk" and reward of creativity. often there is an unrecognizable mess, but this generally evolves into 'form' over the next few pages, or sketchbooks. i am beginning to get into my thick head that this is the point at which letting go and having a little faith that, in spite of the messes made, feeling "ready", and deciding "ready", are superceded by favouring neither. i dont know many parents who hovered over the 'early years elimination' with an egg timer harassing an "im finished".

abstinence

addictions are a new and exciting way to add a little drama to both your, and your loved one's lives. irrespective of the form, booze, relationships, star wars action figure collectibles, they are as difficult to eradicate as a fresh outbreak of gonnorhea (so i've heard). there is a multi pronged approach for treating addictions, one of which is abstinence; the first darth vadar leads to a moving parts jabba on the toilet.

i am mildly uncomfortable with the concept of abstinence (isn't that just "avoiding", and shouldn't i be working on my avoiding issues?!). abstinence means not re-exposing yourself to the source or the triggers- where do i sign up for my lobotomy? abstaining feels like giving up a big chunk of the time you spent being a certain entity and identity, which is fine for the not so healthy stuff, but it feels a waste to throw the baby out too. it is easy to perseverate on the negative to self, doing so to your addiction feels like a betrayal of loyalty, its not the whole truth, not all was bad, i wouldnt have been as addicted for as long if there wasn't some positive re-enforcement, right?

addiction

it is hard to raise your hand and acknowledge the truth. lies feel so much easier, denial is safe.
geography is temporary.
drama is energy.
anger feels good, it is real, it is emotion, it is something concrete to respond to.
anger is scary.
so is reality.

where do you go from here with what's left?

please like me-anon

i attended my first CODA meeting with 2 friends, however i will not disclose their identities due to issues of confidentiality, let's just say they are both in mental health and both ride bikes. we arrived late, so any chances of sneaking in unnoticed and anonymously were crushed. the room was wall to wall people pleasers, wall to wall baby boomer people pleasers. and us.

the group were in the middle of reading out the 12 steps, i was really hoping for it not to turn into a touchy feely "nurture-your-inner-child-you-are-unique-and-beautiful-fest", this is what i do to other people after all, im damned if im going to have someone do that to me! my friend spotted her next door neighbour, i saw a familiar face, but couldn't place him, it could have been worse, thankfully there was no tea and coffee "sooooo, what brings you to co-dependents anonymous?" social time following the meeting (we flew out of there to the nearest liquor store).

as expected, there were some interesting characters; a trio of sisters working through their mother issues (their mother was in her late 80's), another woman who prefaced her comment with "this is only my second meeting and will probably be my last because what im going to say will really piss people off" (she was right, that statement did), the sister who wanted to share a positive story of hope because when she tried to manipulate and guilt her brother into ponying up $150 for a b-day gift for their mother (even though he wouldn't be in attendance), she didn't get mad at him on the phone, instead she bottled it up that he set a limit with her rather than responding to her guilt, good show! and finally the co-dependent who must be getting tetanus from those nail punctures in her palms who announced that she was "the most severely" co-dependent...and i'm severely pregnant.

however, despite the age gap, the varied family systems issues (lots of substance abuse), we three elbowed, giggled and raised eyebrows at each other because we heard ourselves in many pieces of the stories. the custom designed bumper sticker melind-err had given me before the meeting was eerily appropriate: "im low maintenance, just tell me you love me" (it will not be going on my bumper).

co-dependents R us

there is nothing like the sting of learning something about yourself that you have routinely put on other people and have therefore successfully managed to ignore. the "c" word is not a dirty one, we are all somewhere on the continuum, simply by being human. i have stated numerous times that the field of mental health draws all kinds of wounded nutcases to pop their cognitive and psychoanalytic knuckles at, the "other" nutcases that is.

1) we all need to be needed by others, but it is generally not acceptable, or terribly effective, to assume others are helpless and therefore give yourself permission to go barreling into their personal lives and "fix" them, therefore proving the necessity of your presence. this approach can lead to some very pissed off friends and partners, or people who actually enjoy being routinely rescued from themselves.

2) no one likes a martyr. unless you're a young french woman named joan, or a man of the cloth, self sacrifice is not part of your job description. those (of us) who carry this role to include helping second cousins twice removed former college roomate's move house, while baking a pie for the dog sitter who is sick, are really more preoccupied with these behaviours being acknowledged and recognized by others than simply helping.

3) when taking responsibility for helping others problem solve or feel better is the only focus and source of identity, it leaves that individual with as much substance as the wicked witch after she has had water chucked at her.

no longer is it acceptable to whine "but i was only trying to help", a recipe for resentment and 3 course meal of anger is imminent. the struggle to stand by and watch others struggle who CAN is perhaps harder, but if you never allow yourself to practice doing something for yourself, like picking out what you want to wear (even if its rainboots and a sun dress), changing a tyre, or making a life decision, then you become known as the local statue of liberty "come all ye who are sick, wounded..." or start filling out your application to grad school to become a therapist.