Awakening from Co-Dependency

For years, I told myself I was simply an empath, and that maybe this was just the price to pay.

Early on in my separation, I realized just how co-dependent I am. Even in the midst of my own stuff, I felt, at times, overwhelmed by the sadness, the loss, and the grief of my spouse and my children.

At times, I wondered where I was in the mix and when I would give myself permission to feel my own feelings.

A classic co-dependent.

Another way of saying this? I assume excessive responsibility for the emotions of others — and particularly those closest to me: family, friends, and even colleagues. And with that, my own emotions take a back seat.

As I started to pay attention to this long-term dynamic, I began to see not only how much responsibility I took for other people’s emotional states, but how much my own mood was swayed by the experience of others. For years, I told myself I was simply an empath, and that maybe this was just the price to pay.

But now, in my 40s — a mother of two, a creative entrepreneur, a daughter, and a friend — I see how much energy I waste, and how much disconnect I feel when I can be positive, even uplifted, only to then be pulled down by someone else’s descent on their own emotional roller coaster.

If I looked at that person, I’d call them ungrounded, disconnected, removed from a strong sense of self.

And that person has been me.

Facing this and admitting the profound effect this has had on me has been tough. Growth, my friends, is not for the weary or the weak.

Now, my practice is not about emotional perfection but about moment-to-moment awareness. It’s about noticing when my vehicle veers off the road from the lane of caring compassion into the gutters of over-responsibility.

It’s noticing when my mood turns quickly from enthusiasm to doom and gloom. It’s my practice of daily meditation to access a realistic internal state that I can identify — and a reminder that while I can be curious and care about the perspectives of those around me, I do not have to abandon myself and my own emotional well-being in the process. I do not have to expect the worst nor prepare for it.

As always, I cultivate the things in my life that keep me steady — and, frankly, happy: dance, workouts, good music, great conversation, awesome humans, good books, yummy and healthy food, nature, and my dog.

I am aware of my tendencies, and as someone close to me frequently reminds me, I must be kind to myself.

Within that kindness, I can see myself (and others) more clearly. I can care deeply without taking over emotionally. I can hold my own self and state as a treasure and see where someone else’s emotions and needs are their own.

This awareness feels good to me — and new.

And very, very important.