It’s funny – I was cornered in my counselor’s office by another patient. I say it’s funny, because I recognize why this happens – I listen. In listening, I can become very much a part of whomever’s problem because of that charming sideline of being a product of years of abuse. I know what it’s like not to be heard or valued. I’m more likely to give someone an ear – which leads to hearts, because of empathy. Or, more accurately, co dependence.
This isn’t a post I’ve been mulling over in the shower. There hasn’t been a lot of time to really spend in calm thought this week, and I profoundly hope that the heavens, Fates, sinners or lose ions get their act together. Baby, I am fried. Cooked. Skewered. Put a fork in me, I’m done. In short, forgive my ramblings.
I adore my bestie. We’ve had ups and downs; good and bad; incredibly silly and somber, and deep conversations. She has so much love to give, such a deep heart, and so much wisdom in one containment unit. I am usually blown away by her power, which naturally, she doesn’t see. She’s a product of narcissistic and abusive parenting, narcissistic spouses and let’s not forget sexual abuse. Codependency has been one of her life’s pillars for… ever.
I’m not writing this to rat her out, btw. I’m trying to sort out my issues, because I do love her, and sometimes not stepping in is harder than stepping in. I’m… twisting in the wind here.
Rough layout is she lives next door to her odious parents. Her husband has been chronically ill for almost a decade, and is too pigheaded to die. (Well, he did once and the fool surgeon brought him back.) She’s battling a kind of poverty that I know too well, with low self esteem, a job that isn’t strong on praise (bugger customer service!) and debts out the yippee-kai-yay. Of course there is depression, frustration and despair, because she truly can’t see her way clear. Too enmeshed in the emotional trauma and harassment that is every moment of her day. She’s better than she was, but it’s still bad.
Last fall, she finally saw a doctor about a lady health issue, and was advised at that time to have a procedure. She put it off, and off, and off… and is now getting ready for a significant surgery. If she’s damned lucky, there won’t be cancerous cells.
She’s got pets. Stairs. She’s going to have to eat. Laundry, dishes, housecleaning and shopping will have to be done. Her husband can’t even be bothered to let the 3 dogs he’s brought into the home, out into the yard. He doesn’t care if they crap in the house. Her mother and father can’t see past their own stash of beer to see what’s going on in the world. She is, for all intents and purposes alone on this.
I stopped talking to her for almost a year because I was so utterly disgusted and fed up with how everything in her life revolved around her husband, his schemes and his health. I still try not to engage her on that, because she can find a lawyer who deals in domestic abuse, to get rid of the parasite. She’s too tired, and I totally understand that, having been there. But, I know it can be gotten through. It must be gotten through.
If I go and help her out, there is the financial on both of us, plus the issue that I just *might* be tempted to leave marbles at the top of the stairs. *Might* as I am more likely to kill myself on them (or at least sprain the hell out of something) than anyone else in the household. He is loathsome – incredibly vile, stagnant and toxic. If she can’t boot him out of the house, she feels she’ll be tormented by him while in recovery. It’s a fair call. I will not be in the same space as him – which wouldn’t be very restful either.
Co dependency. It’s that feeling that you are the only one who can take the reins and lead someone to a solution. I can see multiple options – some more legal than others. I can (and have) stood toe to toe with this jackass and had it out. Not one of my finer moments (and I’m not just referring to his funk). It’s my mother whinging about being an “old lady” who is being “taken advantage of”. It’s a million little acts of interpreting the tone, words and context to find some validation in my being here. If I can save her, then I have value.
Greaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat…. It’s all in a Venn Diagram, with 3 circles, because 2 wouldn’t be complex enough. Sadly, it’s also on point. I need to be needed. I am aware of this, but there’s insecurity tucked in there from all that conditioning I received in my life. Alcoholics and children of narcissistic parents played a huge role in that conditioning, also giving me the illusion that it’s normal to be or try to use manipulation. Gossip, a fine tool in the hands of the twisters of truth, steps into the spotlight. Shake this mess well, with little to no positive reinforcement, and you’ve got co dependency. This IS my life. And it’s my bestie’s. It’s why we understand each other so much, and can speak frankly on a number of topics. One of us has always “been there”.
In an ideal world, he buggers off somewhere (lip of an active volcano), she has surgery, recovers in clean, restful home with all the help she needs. I think needs is the critical word here. She feels better, and (if he survives the volcanic adventure) divorces him and moves on with her life. It IS her life. Not her parents’. Not her husband’s hers. I could help make some of it happen, I’m pretty sure of it. (I might be slightly over estimating my exorcism skills as well.) I could certainly help. I know the city, I’m a fair cook, I’ve been through some whippy fun surgical events.
But if I do it for her, what inner strength does she develop and learn to use?
Under my skin 