Co-Dependency

On tumblr, I read a post detailing what co-dependency is. It was enthralling, because it listed out exactly what I fell into several years ago. Before I enumerate the criteria that struck me so, allow me to share the definition I read: "an unhealthy form of love. It is where my need to take care of you compromises or harms my quality of life."
I immediately thought of all the ways my actions in the past could be categorized this way, which falls in line with the following criteria.

• I feel good about myself when you like and approve of me.
I remember having a conversation in the car with my dad, who was pretty upset with me. I'd made some bad choices involving a girl, and he finally asked why she mattered so much to me. I responded, "she makes me happy." Her approval was what I lived for, and a lot of the things I said and did were unconsciously done in such a way as to foster that confirmation from her. My self-esteem was directly tied to how she took care of it, like a fledgling fire in the rain.

• Your problems and concerns disturb my peace of mind.
I've only ever really hated one person, and that was a burden I carried for years. It was only two years ago that I laid that grudge down, and embraced forgiveness. That person never wronged me, but they deeply wounded the person I loved. I think there was a part of me determined to hate him forever, because his actions had such a lasting effect on my significant other. I'm not the type to hate anybody, but I despised this person.
I also fell into the age-old trap of "my life is great, and yours is awful, so I must feel guilty." When I didn't indulge in self-hate, I was wrapped up in my lovers problems, which were immense. I broke myself on them, like a wave against a cliff.

• A lot of my mental energy is focused on helping and rescuing you (either solving your problems or relieving your pain).
I don't think it's necessary to explain how this applies to me. Ever since meeting that person, I have spent a lot of my time thinking about how to rescue people. I became wrapped up relieving pain, to the point where when it felt like I had no options, when I couldn't relive that pain, all I could do was share that pain, and wallow in it, and drown myself in it, too.

• My self-esteem is boosted by solving your problems or helping to relieve your pain.
There is not a doubt in my mind that for a time, what I was worth was directly tied to what I was doing for her. I put her as the most valuable thing in all of existence, so whenever I did anything for her, it was like worshipping a goddess.

• I set aside my own interests, hobbies and goals as I’d rather spend my time doing what interests you.
I actually remember thinking one day, where will I study? My answer was simply, "wherever she does." I was willing to not go on a mission, delay an education so we could get married immediately, do whatever it took. I wanted to have the same hobbies and interests. I wanted to be the same, and I didn't care for anything in my life that didn't overlap with her.

• I feel how you look, how you behave, and what you achieve (or do not achieve) reflects on me – and is a judgment of me.
I almost passed this one over, but then I realized that I allowed every negative thing about you to be a reflection of myself. If anything bad happened, it was because I failed to prevent it. Every flaw was an oversight on my part, and every weakness a failure to spend enough effort bolstering you. On the other hand, when you were happy nothing else mattered, in spite of how I was.

• I’ve lost touch with feelings as I’m totally consumed with how you feel, and how your feelings are changing.
This is a scary one, because it's accurate. I subsidized my feelings to make space for hers. I would feel what she felt. And while that's necessary for empathy, it's only necessary to a certain extent. I went overboard, like I often do, and ended up being an unhealthy shadow of her emotions. "How do I feel about it? I don't know, I feel whatever you feel about it."

• I don’t really know what I want any more – as I’m so wrapped up in you, and what you want.
I realized this one was true years ago, when I realized that there wasn't really anything special I wanted to study in college, no job I wanted to pursue, no dreams beyond those involving spending the rest of my life with her. My wants were to be with her, to adore her, to protect her, to love and be loved by her. I want you to be successful, to be happy, to get what you want. And I followed what I perceived to be that through to the bitter end.

• The hopes and dreams for the future are all tied to you.
How many times do I have to say it? My hopes and dreams were of marriage, of a family, of spending a life together. I was such a mess because I had no hopes or dreams after we were over. Maybe that's why I did what I did so quickly.

• My fear of rejection or abandonment by you determines how I act and what I say.
Because all of my everything was tied to her, and because I wanted to be like her, I went along with her ways. I didn't disagree, or argue, because I didn't want her to think that I was different, that I needed to be replaced.

•  My fear of upsetting or making you mad determines how I act and what I say.
And I am so weak for that. 

• I use giving as a way to feel safe and secure in my relationship with you.
I felt worthwhile while I was doing something for you. It made me feel like a decent person. I escaped feelings of worthlessness and self-destruction through you, through what I did for her. However deeply I craved her affection and approval, I wanted to be a giver because at least then I would know that I was doing something, that I wasn't a worthless leach, absorbing precious time and thought form something transcendently above me.
In spite of that, I don't think I ever gave enough to feel safe and secure. That relied on you.

• I value your opinions more than my own opinions, and am willing to sacrifice my personal values to be accepted and valued by you.
Some of my biggest mistakes are tied in to this one. Swearing, dropping plans to serve a mission, a "crisis" of faith, considering the drug scene, cutting, being willing to sneak out (though I never did), were all feelings brought on because I wanted to be like her, so I would know she would accept me. I tried to listen to her music, like her things, be like her so that I could be accepted. I wanted to be accepted even though I believed that I couldn't be valued.
Also, her opinion was the apex of wisdom, and her thought on something was the final say. I didn't want to challenge that because I believed that she was worth more than me. It was that simple.

Interestingly, I've always remembered something she observed in a journal. She wrote that I seemed so fragile, like she was holding glass in her hands. She said that it felt like I would shatter if she made one wrong move. At the time I saw it as a sign of both my pain and trust in her, and while I worried about the burden on her, I didn't see how it reflected a joint issue. Now I realize that's a clear sign of co-dependency. I was dependent on her opinions, her attitudes, her emotions, her words and actions, which meant that she controlled how I felt and acted and thought, whether she wanted to or not. I wouldn't wish that on anyone now, and I wished I could've seen and understood. I should have recognized the danger of co-dependence for both of us.
I think it's clear that I fell into a co-dependent pattern. Neither of us recognized it at the time, but looking back, I see so many signs. I asked her to write a poem for me to use in an English project, and she wrote this about us:

He doesn't see how much he gives her
His worth seems like dirt to give her
He wants to give her the world in her hand
She wants to show him the worth of a man
Razor Blades & Broken Trust
Parade around a world of dust
One small boy lost in his pain
No more worth he seems to gain

This poem is intensely personal. I have a hard time reading it, and I don't share it. It's a glimpse into my soul, and in spite of how open I am, I guard her sketches of my heartstrings. Those a personal, because they represent more than me -- they represent the part of me that was bonded to another person. However hard I try, that's not something I can recreate. That part of me is almost like a child -- a combination of two people. It's not something I can present in different ways, or try to explain away. It's there, and there's nothing I can or want to do about it.