My Road Beyond The Codependent Divorce

Balboa Press

Chapter One

That spaghetti dinner seemed to last for hours. Steven was clueless. I could tell. His usual silence spoke volumes. He did that when he was angry and disapproved of something I had said. He simply withdrew. I knew Steven assumed the argument we had earlier would eventually blow over, and that soon the dysfunctional balance our relationship had become would be restored.

I was preparing dinner when Steven came home from one of his sessions with his therapist Alice. I was standing at the kitchen sink and straining the spaghetti. I turned towards him when he approached me from behind. He looked angry and his body was tense. Our three babies were on the couch, zoning out in front of the television, doing their best to distract themselves from the impending chaos that was about to unfold a few feet from them. Steam was rising up out of the sink and moistening the back of my t-shirt as Steven began to speak.

"Alice said I don't have to change if I don't want to. So I am not going to change. If you're not happy—you change. And you know what's gonna happen if you keep this shit up Lisa? We're gonna end up getting a divorce because you won't drop this crazy bullshit of yours. Everything is about your feelings, your feelings, your feelings. Ya think most people are happy these days? Nobody is happy these days Lisa. The kind of marriage you want doesn't even exist. But I am warning you ... if you don't stop going to this whacko therapist Ed, and if you don't stop reading these self help books, we're gonna wind up getting a divorce. Is that what you want Lisa? You want to get divorced, huh, huh, huh, well do ya?" Steven prodded, his voice growing more intimidating with every syllable.

Chapter Two

Month's prior to this showdown I had approached Steven and told him I was unhappy in our marriage. In response, he told me that he thought I was crazy and that I needed to see a shrink.

"Look how you live Lisa. How can you not be happy? There must be something wrong with you. Even your own family thinks you're crazy. You should go see a doctor or something and get your head examined."

Desperate to please my husband, as well as to finally find out once and for all whether or not I really was nuts, I called and scheduled an appointment with a therapist named Ed.

"Why are you here?" Ed asked at our first meeting.

"My husband says I am crazy," I replied.

"Do you think you're crazy Lisa?" he asked.

"I'm not sure. All I know is I'm not happy."

"What would make you happy?"

"I don't feel like my husband and I are on the same page. When I try to talk to him about how I feel, he always tells me I have no right to feel the way I do. He tells me that life shouldn't be about the way I feel. He tells me I should be happy I live in a big house, and that he doesn't cheat on me, and that we have three healthy children. He makes me feel like I don't matter, and yet I worry everyday about how to make his life easier. And when something is bothering him, I am always there for him. So when he calls me names like whacko, psycho, or when he ignores me or says that I am a negative person, it hurts. I feel like he is a stranger to me, but yet he is so happy with the way things are, so I wonder if maybe I am crazy sometimes," I said.

"I didn't ask you what made you unhappy Lisa. I asked you what would make you happy," Ed asked.

If my mind was butter, his questions were like a sharp hot knife. As I sat still in my chair, I could feel my thoughts slowing down, and my attention being raised.

"Is there any alcoholism in your family Lisa?"

"My parents don't drink," I replied.

"Listen to my question and answer the question I am asking. Is there any history of alcoholism in your family?"

"Yes. Both sets of my grandparents were alcoholics, and both of my mothers brothers are alcoholics too, but my parents aren't alcoholics," I said.

"I don't remember asking you if your parents were alcoholics," Ed pushed.

"Yes, there is alcoholism in my family," I said.

After a few more questions, and banter back and forth my therapist leaned back in his chair and began to explain what he thought was going on with me.

"I've got some good news and some bad news for you Lisa." Ed said as he knotted his fingers behind his head and stretching to lean back in his chair.

"The good news is you're not crazy. The bad news is you are however co-dependent. Your family has a long history of alcoholism. Your parents are adult children of alcoholics, which is why they were attracted to one another in the first place. More often than not adult children are unaware at how deeply affected they are by their parents alcoholism. Your life is the result of the way you think, and the way you think is the result of your childhood programming, and your programming is the result of whatever your parents programming was. In order for you to truly figure this all out, you'll need to go back to where you began. You have a long road ahead of you, but there is hope. If we can get you to change your thoughts, we can change your life," he said.

Unsure of what his diagnosis meant, but certain I had no place else to turn, I made the decision to commit myself to learning all I could about this thing called codependency. My life was falling apart around me, and I was discovering how few coping skills I had to handle the strain of shattered dreams. My only hope was that my therapist was right and I wasn't crazy.

Immediately following my first therapy session I bought the book called Codependent No More by Melody Beattie. While reading the opening chapter, I felt an unfamiliar feeling rising within my chest. With every sentence my heart seemed to pick up its pace. As if the sentiments expressed had been plucked out of my mind, my being felt mysteriously at home. Spooked by the oddity of suddenly feeling at home, at one point I slammed the book shut. This author knew me, and deeper she understood me. Feeling known was as terrifying as it was welcoming.

As I continued reading about the nature and root causes of codependency, I began to comprehend the idea that if I didn't give up, I would one day be free of this insidious psychological disposition. I wondered who I might be once I stopped blaming others for my unhappiness, and I once and for all, took ownership over my right to be happy. Too tired of what my life had become, I forged ahead hoping that Steven would be as excited about changing our lives for the better as I was.

Within a few days of reading Codependent No More, my eyes had already begun to shed their distorted lenses. Although it was still very early in my recovery, I had faith that my therapy sessions, coupled with what I was learning on my own time about codependency, would one day pay off, and I would eventually live a healthier life. The most difficult aspect of my early recovery was learning to accept that the ones I loved, including Steven, didn't have to change. Even more difficult to learn to accept, was the idea that I didn't have to worry about how the ones that I loved felt about my decision to change my life. So ingrained with the sense that everything I did, felt, or thought needed to be approved by others, learning to detangle my mind from its childhood programming, made my mind feel as if it was in mental boot camp.

Chapter Three

My...