Tag: codependency

My Family Is My Greatest Disappointment

Even though my aunt knows I’ve scrubbed my stepmom from my life in an attempt to stop and reverse years of psychological abuse, manipulation, and mind fuckery, it’s a reality she refuses to accept.

HE IS RISEN!

This was the one-line email I woke up to on Easter Sunday. It was from my aunt, my dad’s youngest sibling. Growing up, my cousins and I agreed that she was the cool aunt, the one who took us to the Philadelphia Zoo in the summer and let us drink gallons of Pepsi when our parents weren’t around. But I wasn’t thinking about that when I opened her Easter email; instead, I was silently fuming over who she publicly copied. As I scrolled through the list, my stepmother’s address appeared directly under my dad’s and if I could see hers, that meant she could see mine.

I imagined my aunt sitting in front of her computer screen. She would have entered my dad’s email first, because he’s her oldest brother. Immediately after, she’d insert my stepmother because she’s my dad’s wife. And I had no doubt my email was added under my stepmom’s because my aunt thought of the three of us—my dad, my stepmom, and me—as a family, as if we fell into a ditch and were covered over in cement. But we’re not, and we haven’t been for more than 20 years.

And even though my aunt knows I’ve scrubbed my stepmom from my life in an attempt to stop and reverse years of psychological abuse, manipulation, and mind fuckery, it’s a reality she refuses to accept. As a result, my email address landed, free of charge, in my stepmom’s inbox. Whether she uses it or not is not the issue, it’s that she has it when my aunt knows I don’t want her to.

This wasn’t the first time my aunt casually glossed over a boundary I erected to preserve my health and well-being.

Years ago, there was an incident at my grandmother’s funeral. After the burial, everyone headed back to my aunt’s house for lunch. Both my dad and stepmom were there, and by that point, I’d been estranged from my stepmom for nearly a decade. As I climbed out of the car, my aunt, with camera in hand, corralled the three of us together on the front lawn. Looking at me she pulled her arms apart as if holding an accordion.

“I want a picture of the three of you.”

I looked at her and shook my head, “What?”

“Please.” She said firmly. “I need a picture of the three of you.”

My stepmom stood next to my dad, and I watched as she slowly rolled her shoulders in towards her chest and puffed her bottom lip out like a child on the verge of sticking her thumb in her mouth. Feeling outnumbered, I glared at my aunt, hoping she would give up and back off. But instead, she got angry. In a petulant fit, she slammed her arms down, stomped her right foot, and demanded, “I want a picture.”

At that time, I didn’t know how to defend my boundaries. Saying no or walking away from my aunt at that moment would’ve been a blatant act of disrespect. I didn’t want to offend my aunt, but today I can’t help but wonder why it was okay for her to offend me.

In the end, I did what I felt was the right thing to do; I walked over and stood next to my stepmom. Immediately, my body flared up in protest. My stomach cramped, my hands trembled, and my breath got caught in the back of my throat. My aunt raised her camera and took the shot. I don’t know about my dad or stepmom, but I know I didn’t smile.

Back at my computer, I hit reply (not reply all) and mentally wrestled with my response. I was angry, but I didn’t know what I could tell my aunt about my relationship with my stepmom that I hadn’t already said before. And as my fingertips rested on the keyboard, I acknowledged, for the first time, what I was feeling was beyond anger. It was disappointment.

I wanted to tell my aunt how disappointed I was in her. But then I realized it wasn’t just my aunt who let me down. It’s also my dad, who drank himself stupid, and my brothers, who in their fifth decade of life have yet to kick their drug habits. It’s a cousin who overdosed on heroin, and every uncle who died of alcoholism. It’s all the other addicts I’m related to who through the years traded blowjobs for crack. And it’s every other family member who, like my aunt, continues to look the other way because they don’t have the guts to acknowledge reality. I want to ask my aunt if she’s ever looked at the miserable picture she took of my dad, my stepmom, and me at my grandmother’s funeral and I want to know if she can see the truth now.

As I mulled over my response, I decided the email I wanted to send—about how our family has been my greatest disappointment—wasn’t worth the effort. So, I replied to my aunt with a question I knew she’d be happy to answer.

WHO’S RISEN?

View the original article at thefix.com

6 September 2019
The Joy of Saying YES to the Addict I Love

Karen had to let go of her addicted son in order for them both to heal. Years later, her son is sober, healthy, and helping others. Here is their journey in their own words.

In November 2016 I wrote an article for The Fix titled Saying NO to the Addict I Love, about how hard it is to let go of someone you love who is an addict. You try everything you can to help them, but you only succeed in becoming a bigger part of the problem. At that time, the measures I finally took to change my bad habits were so drastic that I put what little possessions I had left into a storage unit, packed a bag, and left the country. My son, Harry (others call him Harrison), and I had to go our separate ways, and I had to trust that God or the universe or whatever you want to call it would lead us both where we needed to go.

Addicted to Intervening

I landed first in Sucre, Bolivia, one of the most out-of-the-way places I could find on the map that still had decent internet. Once there, the knowledge that I was impotent to do anything ate away at me like parasites. I couldn’t even make a phone call to my son. Guilt wracked my body. Being so far away forced me to see things more clearly. I started to realize that I, too, am an addict of sorts. I am addicted to intervening, to cleaning up messes so I can pretend they aren’t there, to giving and giving, even when it’s detrimental and makes no sense. I simply can’t stop myself.

The withdrawals from this habit were intense. Alone in my small garret room, besides suffering from severe altitude sickness, I sat on my bed at night and compulsively rocked back and forth in mental anguish, sometimes for hours. I began to worry I had some physical ailment but I’ve since learned that this type of rocking is a product of PTSD.

That was the beginning of three years of wandering the globe. I morphed into a digital nomad. During that time I didn’t see my son. Slowly, I learned to let go of those feelings of panic and despair and focus on what fulfilled me. I traveled to places as diverse as Costa Rica and Morocco, and most recently Luxor, Egypt, where I’ve spent the past year.

I started to find gratification in my travels; I’m a writer and kickboxing coach, so I worked on my urban fantasy series and connected with boxing gyms where I’d teach and train. On my terrace in Luxor, I hung the first boxing bag to ever be seen in the West Bank villages and began training girls. I started My World Project, a volunteer program connecting kids in far-flung places through writing and art.

Shortly after I arrived in Luxor last April, I learned Harry was in jail again and facing serious prison time. The familiar feelings of panic and despair washed over me. Resolutely, I took a few deep breaths, put on my gloves, and punched the bag. Martial arts and kickboxing training have saved my life and my sanity on many occasions over the years.

Hope Is a Scary Thing

And then, a few weeks later, the news that Harry had been accepted into the Salvation Army. The upsurge of hope I felt also made me afraid. Hope is a scary thing. Yet, as the days and weeks went by, he seemed to get better and better. When I returned at Christmas, I had the joy of hugging my sober son—my artistic, intelligent son, with the clear blue eyes and the big smile. Few moments have felt as good as that embrace. My son had followed his path and done what he needed to do. I had done the same. And now, here we were.

Three years ago, I hardly would have dared to believe this day would come. Yet I have the joy of saying YES to writing this follow-up piece with him. My son is an incredible human being and my love for him knows no bounds. It is with great pleasure that I turn the story over to him.

*****

Hello, my name is Harrison, and I’m an addict.

From a young age I never felt like life made any sense. Everything hurt, nothing was fun, and being a good kid seemed very dull. I was a reader and a writer and probably thought too deeply and darkly about things.

I will always remember the first time I got loaded: the world seemed to light up around me, nothing hurt, and boring became fun. When I was high or drunk, it was like the weight of the world was lifted from my shoulders. I didn’t care that my father wasn’t really around and that I felt like a black sheep in my home. I didn’t care if kids at school liked me. Nothing really mattered. Soon drugs had become the solution to all my problems. In middle school, I went to school intoxicated, ditched class, and had few friends. Most of my peers hadn’t begun experimenting with drugs and alcohol while I was trying everything under the stars.

Choosing a Life of Crime

As middle school came to end, though, curious minds began to show interest in me and my small circle of friends. We began providing drugs (for a small fee, of course). We went from outcast loners to the most popular kids in our area. Everybody knew who had the dope. It started with small stuff like marijuana and pills, but when somebody wanted to step up their game and try the real thing, well, we had that, too. Slowly but surely I lost the little interest I had in school. I knew what I wanted to do with my life: I was going to be a criminal.

Drugs were my escape and they worked for a while, but a few years later they weren’t even scratching the surface anymore. I was 23, with two daughters, a strung-out girlfriend, and completely lost. All I knew how to do was hustle. L.A. County Jail was a frequent pit stop for me. Every time I got out, I’d say “I’m never coming back here” but shortly afterwards I’d be in that blue get-up, once again behind bars and writing letters to the outside world.

My mother got the worst of it, watching my kids when I was too fucked up and getting thrown out of apartments because the neighbors knew her son was selling drugs.

In and Out of Prison

It got so bad that my mom literally left the country and we stopped talking for a long time. I continued walking the same road, knowing I was hell-bound and not really caring. I kept getting locked up, I was used to it. But my imprisonment didn’t end when they let me out. The world felt dark, cold, and bitter. I began to resent the people around me. In a room full of people—close friends, family, didn’t matter who—I felt alone.

I think I perfected this drugged-up, criminal lifestyle to the best of my ability. I had a cycle: I would get out, hustle some money together, get some stuff like cars, nice clothes, electronics, and even a mobile home one time, and hold onto it until the cops found me. Get locked up and lose everything. Do my time. Get out, and repeat. I was stuck on a weird hamster wheel.

Finally I got sick of it.

The last time I got locked up, I was looking at some serious time. I guess that was around the time my mom was in Egypt. I was withdrawing from heroin again and I was in pain. I knew nobody would answer my calls, so I didn’t bother. I knew I couldn’t make bail, so I didn’t bother. I didn’t want to get out and do the same shit again. So I did something that I never did: I prayed to God and asked for an answer. I asked for him to release me from this strange cycle of anguish that I was trapped in. I asked him to show me how to live.

Now, prior to this, my belief in God was non-existent, but the very next day I got a visit from someone who interviewed me for a rehabilitation program. In order to get in, my paperwork had to be approved by the judge. But when I finally made my way to the courtroom and faced him, it looked like I was going to be denied.

So, before the hammer dropped, I spoke.

Give Me a Chance to Change My Life

“Your Honor, if I get sentenced time in prison, chances are when I get out, I will do the same thing I always do and you or another judge will see me again shortly. Give me a chance to change my life. Allow me to try a different way.”

Miraculously, the judge did a complete turnaround and let me into the program. I’d made a million promises to stay sober before. But this time, the moment I stepped through the door of the Salvation Army, I surrendered. The program was strict and you had to work hard; it was exactly what I needed. Day by day, I changed deeply ingrained habits. They taught me how to live a normal life.

While learning how to actually hustle and work my ass off legally, I learned another very important lesson: Wanting to change will not make anything different. Action is what will make things different. Henri Nouwen’s quote really hit home for me: “You cannot think your way into a new way of living, you have to live your way into a new way of thinking.”

I used to think about changing my life, as if it meant something, and even talk about it. But nothing happened. Then I started actually doing stuff, like my laundry and making my bed—simple stuff—and it changed my mentality. It’s been over a year since I stood in front of that judge and made that promise. And just last month I stood in front of him again, clean and sober, and he congratulated me.

From Criminal to Hero

Today I work in a rehab helping people with the same struggles I know so well. I used to be a criminal, and now I’ve heard people call me a hero. It took a lot before I was ready for recovery, and I don’t know what finally flipped that switch. I wish there were some magic words I could say that would make you understand, but the truth is, back in the day you could have told me anything and I wouldn’t have cared. My experience is what defined me. I used to be the best at being the worst. Now I use my powers for good.

My Mom is proud of me today. Even though my children are on the other side of the country, I’m able to be the best version of me, one day at a time.

Life is good…. Like ACTUALLY good.

View the original article at thefix.com

16 July 2019
Letting Go of Control: How I Stopped Trying to Force Solutions

Recognizing that I am not responsible for and cannot fix other people’s feelings is powerful; it frees up so much space and time for me to do my own healing and growing.

When I was a little girl, I remember becoming so overwhelmed with feelings that I would send myself to my room until I could cry through enough of them to clear my vision. If I got in a fight with someone, I would write an apology note and beg them to take it off my hands. I didn’t seek to understand who was at fault, I only wanted to ease the uncomfortable tension. I was sorry it happened and I wanted to undo it. I needed to erase it, but I could rarely get the resolution I was so desperate for. Adults told me: “Not everyone is ready to resolve a conflict as quickly as you.”

No one told me: “It’s not your responsibility; you cannot fix it.”

I respond too strongly to my perception of others’ reactions. I always wonder if I read physical and social cues too strongly. I consider the presence, the look, and the tone of voice more important than the content of what they’re saying. Maybe I’m right in my assumption, maybe I’m wrong, but if someone doesn’t want to tell me how they’re feeling, I can’t make them.

I have lived the majority of my 32 years on earth in this way: A conflict arises and all I want is for the issue to go away and be resolved immediately. If it isn’t fixed, I feel my world is collapsing and I freak out. I cry and panic and become desperate for resolution. My mother recalls that I was predisposed to such behavior in my very early years. She told me that even as a toddler I had these panicky freak-outs.

I hate the idea of causing hurt feelings, and particularly disappointed feelings, in others. But other people are often more well-adjusted and can handle the blows of disappointment as easily as a ship rises over a large swell. It’s not comfortable, but it’s a normal part of the ups and downs of life. Yet I’ve always handled it like my ship is about to wreck. I know I’ve had feelings of being over-sensitive and disappointed from a very young age. I didn’t want anyone to be mad at me, ever. It’s a part of how I’ve always understood or misunderstood the world.

I never knew any other existence. I didn’t know that I didn’t have to force a solution. I didn’t know how to balance emotions—I didn’t see it as a possibility.

My feelings run deep and the current is disproportionately strong. I am headstrong and emotionally reactive. I struggle with the tendency to overreact, but life is not as dramatic as I make it out to be. There are times when I need to be reminded of the true proportions of what is happening, so I can weigh them against my feelings and try to cut some of the excess heft. I’m not exaggerating my feelings; I feel so intensely and so deeply that learning to balance myself in a world that does not feel this way has been a lifelong challenge.

Imagine a life full of dramatic conflicts, and you can never control the level of your emotions; they always overflow or break the dam. Joy is out of this world happiness and sorrow is the deepest despair. But the ups and downs are consistent and the rocking from one to the other is comforting because it’s familiar. Then, after decades of this you begin to feel different. It’s not overnight and it isn’t that the pendulum has stopped the perpetual swinging. But you feel different, as if now there’s more light than dark. You realize you can feel angry or anxious or sad without flooding or sinking.

That’s me, right now. I feel generally content and I don’t know what to do with it. The mellow ups and downs of a content – even happy — life feel too safe. Part of me is waiting for the next massive swell. Of course, something will happen, that’s life, but this normalcy that feels so good can sometimes feel so strange. It’s like waking up in a new home and forgetting, for a moment, that you moved there.

I still struggle with feeling responsible for everyone’s feelings. And the feelings I have are not just imaginary: I might sometimes actually be left out, or I might sense someone else’s sorrow. Someone might dislike me and I might realize it. When I sense tension, it might not be a delusion, but my awareness of it doesn’t mean I’m responsible for it (or for fixing it). Making someone like me isn’t my job. I am not here to be an emotional sounding board for everyone who is suffering.

Recognizing that I am not responsible for and cannot fix other people’s feelings is powerful; it frees up so much space and time for me to do my own healing and growing.

My life was so filled with panic and fear; that panic of needing to resolve the issue immediately. I felt that way in any interpersonal conflict, whether real or imagined. I had to force a solution. I felt as if my worth was intrinsically tied to the other person’s acceptance of me. This set the stage for an abusive relationship where the other person never validated me, which further reinforced my own negative self-image.

I have been discovering my own sense of serenity over the last five years. I started going to therapy and then to a psychiatrist and then to a 12-step program followed by two other step groups. The combination of these different sources of support has changed my life. I don’t feel such intense panic over real or imagined conflict with others. I still feel anxious sometimes, but my response is much healthier. I am becoming more capable of controlling my behavior and my reactions, even when the feelings linger. I can usually put my well-being first and don’t follow through when I get the impulse to explain and rationalize my behavior to others.

You can’t change other people; you can only do something about your own perspective. I always had the capacity to do that, I just hadn’t acquired the coping tools to handle my own feelings and respond to others.

View the original article at thefix.com

6 June 2019
How to live with an addict

Fatigue makes everything more difficult

Since my son’s birth, one and a half years ago, I have not had one decent night’s sleep. He wakes three to four times a night, screaming. Regardless of what time he goes to bed, he wakes at five am. I am a morning person. When my daughter was small, I used to wake an hour before her, so I could have time to myself, organize, and start my day. This small routine is what helped be more productive. With my son, this has been impossible, and almost every day has been a challenge. I go to sleep with him, exhausted, and wake long before I even want to, to him jumping on top of me. I am tired more, finding the mental focus to work has been difficult, and time alone has been almost impossible.

By the grace of God, two nights in a row my son slept through the night. The second day, I woke up before him, went downstairs and got everything ready before he awoke. I settled into my home office to check some work emails and when I turned around he was happily running into towards me smiling and saying, “Momma.” After the warmest hug, he sat still at breakfast with his sister and fed himself! Later, when I took him to the store, something I usually tried to avoid, he fell asleep I was able to shop in peace. While I was waiting on line, the man behind me struck up a conversation about all the organic and healthy food he saw in my cart. He turned out to be an extremely generous man who owned an entire ranch helping families in crisis, housing more than forty troubled children. He actually lived around the corner from me and I didn’t know it. What an inspirational conversation we had. The rest of the day was more of the same.

Then I realized something. If every night was difficult and sleep was sparse, it was going to affect my health, my mood, my behavior, my outlook, and my ability to be productive. Somehow I made it work, knowing it was a temporary situation and because of the love I have for my child.

Negativity precipitates negativity

I mentally pressed rewind and went back four years. At that time, I was not sleeping because I was up worried most nights when my husband would not come home. You see, codependency and control issues are often difficult to distinguish. I was taking care of a little girl on my own, my husband was bringing drugs into my home, and we were slowly going into financial ruin.

Every time I would try to be positive, something bad would happen. I was in a vicious cycle but I did not know it. Negativity precipitates negativity. The more negative thoughts, behavior,and events that entered my life, the more negativity I attracted. If there was positive in my life, I could not see it or attract it.

Getting ready for change

When I had my moment of clarity and I realized I was sick of my life the way it was, I made a change. Letting go of my addict husband was a process that helped me. I started going to meetings for families like mine, I sought a therapist, I mentally left my husband, and then shortly after, physically.

I started to let a little positive in each day. I made myself read positive affirmations daily. I interviewed for a job opportunity I really wanted and got the job. My father happened to be retiring the same time. I had to work again full time to be the sole supporter of my daughter, and he offered to take on a bigger role and help take care of my child. I reconnected with friends I had lost touch with who helped nurse me back to life. Everything started to come together in a way that forced, even the once skeptical me, to believe was some divine synchronicity.

How to live with an addict: change the focus

When you are caught in the cycle of addiction, life may seem hopeless. If you decide to stop talking to the addict, or stay in their life, either way, you can still make a choice to silence the negative and accentuate the positive. Once you start looking for the positive things about you, and your life, you will start to find them. Once you find them, more will become attracted to you. Eventually you will be taking the emphasis off of the negativity of the addict’s behavior and focus on what is positive within you.

Living with an addict questions

Do you still have questions or want to share your situation with us? Please leave us a message in the comments section below. We do our best to respond to all questions personally and promptly.

View the original article at addictionblog.org

7 May 2019
How to live with an addict

Fatigue makes everything more difficult

Since my son’s birth, one and a half years ago, I have not had one decent night’s sleep. He wakes three to four times a night, screaming. Regardless of what time he goes to bed, he wakes at five am. I am a morning person. When my daughter was small, I used to wake an hour before her, so I could have time to myself, organize, and start my day. This small routine is what helped be more productive. With my son, this has been impossible, and almost every day has been a challenge. I go to sleep with him, exhausted, and wake long before I even want to, to him jumping on top of me. I am tired more, finding the mental focus to work has been difficult, and time alone has been almost impossible.

By the grace of God, two nights in a row my son slept through the night. The second day, I woke up before him, went downstairs and got everything ready before he awoke. I settled into my home office to check some work emails and when I turned around he was happily running into towards me smiling and saying, “Momma.” After the warmest hug, he sat still at breakfast with his sister and fed himself! Later, when I took him to the store, something I usually tried to avoid, he fell asleep I was able to shop in peace. While I was waiting on line, the man behind me struck up a conversation about all the organic and healthy food he saw in my cart. He turned out to be an extremely generous man who owned an entire ranch helping families in crisis, housing more than forty troubled children. He actually lived around the corner from me and I didn’t know it. What an inspirational conversation we had. The rest of the day was more of the same.

Then I realized something. If every night was difficult and sleep was sparse, it was going to affect my health, my mood, my behavior, my outlook, and my ability to be productive. Somehow I made it work, knowing it was a temporary situation and because of the love I have for my child.

Negativity precipitates negativity

I mentally pressed rewind and went back four years. At that time, I was not sleeping because I was up worried most nights when my husband would not come home. You see, codependency and control issues are often difficult to distinguish. I was taking care of a little girl on my own, my husband was bringing drugs into my home, and we were slowly going into financial ruin.

Every time I would try to be positive, something bad would happen. I was in a vicious cycle but I did not know it. Negativity precipitates negativity. The more negative thoughts, behavior,and events that entered my life, the more negativity I attracted. If there was positive in my life, I could not see it or attract it.

Getting ready for change

When I had my moment of clarity and I realized I was sick of my life the way it was, I made a change. Letting go of my addict husband was a process that helped me. I started going to meetings for families like mine, I sought a therapist, I mentally left my husband, and then shortly after, physically.

I started to let a little positive in each day. I made myself read positive affirmations daily. I interviewed for a job opportunity I really wanted and got the job. My father happened to be retiring the same time. I had to work again full time to be the sole supporter of my daughter, and he offered to take on a bigger role and help take care of my child. I reconnected with friends I had lost touch with who helped nurse me back to life. Everything started to come together in a way that forced, even the once skeptical me, to believe was some divine synchronicity.

How to live with an addict: change the focus

When you are caught in the cycle of addiction, life may seem hopeless. If you decide to stop talking to the addict, or stay in their life, either way, you can still make a choice to silence the negative and accentuate the positive. Once you start looking for the positive things about you, and your life, you will start to find them. Once you find them, more will become attracted to you. Eventually you will be taking the emphasis off of the negativity of the addict’s behavior and focus on what is positive within you.

Living with an addict questions

Do you still have questions or want to share your situation with us? Please leave us a message in the comments section below. We do our best to respond to all questions personally and promptly.

View the original article at addictionblog.org

7 May 2019
Should I leave my addict or alcoholic partner?
The secret of a long life is knowing when it’s time to go – Michelle Shocked

If you are in a relationship with an addict, when should you leave your partner or when should you stay and treat codependent behaviors? We explore the meaning of co-addiction here, what you can do about it, and how to take action. Then, we invite your questions about personal situations at the end.

When to leave an addict or alcoholic

From the very moment an addict mistreats you, abuses you (verbally or physically), stays out all night, gets high in front of you or your children, steals, or continually treats you in a way that is out of character, it is time to leave. However, this is easier said than done. And co-addiction recovery is really unique to each person. So, even in the face of these difficulties, when should you start changing yourself?

What keeps you from leaving?

Some co-addicts believe that by being the voice of reason in an unhealthy relationship, they may be able to help the addict recover, and a healthy relationship will be restored. More than likely, many forms of help have been attempted, to no avail. When living with an addict, the emotional harm endured by the co-addict, and/or, their children, may be far more damaging than the absence of the addict would be. Consequently, the addict’s recovery may be delayed because their partner is always around to pick up the pieces.

So what’s the number one reason people stay in a relationship with an addict or alcohol?

Fear.

In fact, it is only fear that drives a person to stay in a relationship they know deep down is extremely unhealthy. Most decisions made by an enabler are rooted in fear. The reality is, no fear of what will happen, is any worse than what is happening in their everyday lives. But in a co-addictive relationship, the co-addict may fear many things:
- fear for the life of the addict—for what will happen if they are not there to save them
- fear the addict will feel abandoned
- fear that there is not enough money to leave
- fear that the addict will not love them anymore,
- fear of being alone
- fear of having to be a single parent
- or fear that if they leave they will not be able to control the addict’s behavior
A co-addict may even fear that if they leave, they won’t be there to see the addict get better, and the recovering addict will reject them because they left. There are always many things to fear.

When will the co-addict be ready?

If the co-addict is unhappy with their partner’s behavior, due to the influence of alcohol or drugs, chances are their life is unmanageable. The only question in knowing when it is time to leave is; when will the co-addict be ready? When a co-addict fully grasps the harm being done to them and/or children living with the addict, and they make a conscious decision to break the cycle—that is the right time to leave.

Every single person must live out the cycle of co-addiction in their own time. Some may stay in a situation because they believe it is not that bad or they will be worse off without the addict. It is amazing what a co-addict will learn to live with or without. The fear can become crippling, and in many cases it takes a catastrophic event for the co-addict to wake up, and decide they are ready to leave.

Moving beyond fear and leaving an addict

The famous adage, “feel the fear…and do it anyway” by Susan Jeffers, Ph.D., is a concept helpful in moving beyond the fear. Fear may never subside, but that is no excuse to stay in an unhealthy situation. With most new experiences there is a fear of the unknown. When addictive behavior begins, it can be very frightening for the co-addict, and though fears remain, somehow the co-addict learns to adjust. There will be initial fears that surface when leaving the addict, but theywill learn to adjust just the same.

More than likely boundaries and promises have already been broken between the addict and co-addict. A co-addict must come to a point where they are sick and tired of being sick and tired. Knowing when it is time to leave is an individual choice; but by putting the fear aside, hopefully they will be able to come to that point a lot sooner.

View the original article at addictionblog.org
6 May 2019
Taking Care of an Addict? 5 Tips to Love Yourself First

This article is short on purpose.

The tips herein are straight from experience. And, the advice offered is practical and straight forward. If you have any questions, or would like to chat with the author, please send us a comment at the end of the page. Amanda extends her compassion to our readers, and often respond to personal comments within a few days of notification.

Does This Sound Familiar?

I am in love with an addict and I try to do anything I can to make sure they are okay.

If this statement sounds like you, then it is clear that you are not putting yourself first in your own life. Most of us who are in love with an addict are people who are used to being people pleasers and taking care of others. This role for some people starts before they fall in love with an addict. It can seem normal and feel comfortable to choose a spouse or loved one that needs so much of your time and attention because most co-addicts are caretakers by nature.

In order to break the cycle, you must do the following;

1. Admit that you are a co-addict and codependent.

2. Acknowledge and affirm that you want to change.

3. Find a support person, this can be a trusted friend, therapist or support group that will hold you accountable to this change you want to make.

4. Write a list of all of the things you do for the addict that you know you should not be doing and then make a list of things that you know you should be doing for yourself.

5. Start with the first thing on each list and work on them simultaneously. Do not move on to the next point on either list until you have completed successfully the prior action step.

When it becomes second nature to take care of someone else’s needs before your own, it may take time and practice to undo those impulses. It is important that you take one action step from each list and work on them together so that you have one action that you should not be doing and replace it with something that you know you should be doing. It can be the simplest of tasks.

For example, from list one, you can stop checking your phone at night for calls from the addict who has not come home and from list two, you could do five minutes of meditation instead. The purpose here is to replace one habit and replace it with a positive action that is rooted in self-love and self-care.

Take Care of Yourself First (Instead of the Addict)

The most important part of loving yourself first is admitting that you are NOT doing it. If you can have a real and honest dialogue with your inner self, then you can start taking the action steps. It is the most empowering feeling to start the process and give you the attention and love you deserve. It can be scary to let go but it will start to feel very good to release the illusion of control you have over the addict and start to take control back of the only thing you can in your life—and that is you!

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6 November 2018