Addictions and Childhood Abuse: Codependency and my Life (Part II)

I received several responses from folks eager to hear what specifically I struggled with and how I am coping and continue to overcome my nemesis – Co-Dependency. I had every intention on sharing openly with everyone I was just laying the ground-work for those more unfamiliar with the term.

I can honestly say that I was introduced to this term over 13 years ago while in therapy. I moved there because of my Aunt who I struggled with constantly never realizing that this was what I was facing. While talking one day about the many problems I faced in relating to others the therapist first used the term to describe the problem. Of course at the time I had no idea what she was talking about. All I thought was, 

“Great, another issue I now have to face! Will the trauma from childhood ever end!?”

I remember her giving me a book called “Facing Co-Dependency” by Pia Melody in 2003, it was the year of her release. I really was reluctant and actually stubborn about learning anything about it. After a few sessions I did manage to read some of the book and quickly dismissed it as something I did not struggled with. Either I just was blind about my habits or wasn’t ready to accept the fact that this term “Co-Dependency” was the very culprit, the root of ALL my problems in every major relationship/friendship I ever formed. 

I wish my eyes would have been open and that I was ready back then. I have been in torment for the past 11 years facing the tragedy of my brother’s death; the relocating over 1500 miles; new obstacles; new failed friendships; and failure with my career. I did however; manage to write my personal memoir on Childhood abuse through it all. But as of late I have lost my job again, and lost a significant friendship in my life. I have been forced to my knees countless times praying and praying out of desperation and despair for direction, enlightenment, healing, finances, reconciliation – you name it! This all could have been avoided if only I had embraced the book and recognized the illness that was in my life back then.

In pain and grief I did much soul searching to find meaning to my losses and the state of my life. One day while looking at my bookshelf a book jumped out at me. This book has stayed unopened and unread for many years… unfortunately. BUT that day, I pulled it off the shelf, dusted the cover off and sat down at my desk to muse over it. That book was an illuminating torch searing my very soul. It was the LIGHT, the REASON, the ROOT as to why I always lose the people I love and the Jobs I love working at. That book was the very book my therapist gave to me 11 years earlier. I wish I would have read its pages then because in that course of time I have lost my relationship with my aunt, lost 3 very good jobs and lost a very significant friendship with one of the ladies from my book, one who is mentioned in my acknowledgements. This friend who I adored and helped me with the greatest accomplishment I have done thus far was now gone! 

This friend and I have known each other 9 years. We started off as great friends and it was an immediate void that filled my lonely heart. It was not in a sexual way, as I am completely heterosexual, but in an emotional way. She showed me friendship, love and compassion those things I was in desperate need of. We had deep, meaningful talks about everything and her youthfulness and honesty were addicting to be around. At the time, I tried too hard and wanted too much from her. She is the mother of two young girls and at that time in our life we both worked for the same Company, she was married and I was still coping from my brother’s death a year and a half earlier. Our friendship grew but it also became very strained and unhealthy quick. Just like all the others that ever mattered to me! Soon afterwards the friendship dissolved. It was very painful for me. However, I did bounce back and move on, moving out of the area. I was not co-dependent with her then, but I was well on my way and neither her nor I, had any idea about the “Monster” I was fighting!

I refer to this “Monster” in my book “Shards of Glass” the chapter entitled: “Monster’s in my Closet.” At the age of 5, I knew of this “Monster!” And even when I was writing my memoir, This “Monster” still haunted me. It would take me 40 more years of battling, heartbreak and loss to come to an understanding and realization of my Demon and how it was destroying my life! It would take me almost taking my life before The Lord shined down and enlightened me on what that “Monster” truly was – the “Monster of Co-Dependency!”

But in order to understand where I am currently in my recovery and healing, I must first focus in on, where it started and how it manifested itself so unhealthily for years not just with this current friendship.

Through counseling and group therapy I have since learned what the root of the condition is for me. It may not be the same for others who suffer from Co-Dependency but it is a by-product of dysfunctional families. For me, my interpersonal relationships, the Co-dependent behavior I exhibit was learned by watching and imitating other family members. Co-Dependency is usually rooted in a person’s childhood and the treatment for me involved exploring mine and the deep seeded roots. Co-Dependency is an addiction! It is an addiction to people or relationships and it is a silent killer. It almost killed me!

In digging deep into the past I realized that although my father was the abuser, my mother played a significant role as well in shaping me for a Co-Dependent lifestyle. She fought and protected me every way she could from my father’s violent and drunken rampages but the one thing I did not receive from her was affection and love. The kind of affection and love where your mom holds you in her arms for what seems like an eternity and gently consoles and comforts you. A place where you feel warm and safe, loved unconditionally. I was never loved conditionally or unconditionally by my father. So there was a void there and with my mom fighting for her life and ours, she had nothing to give us in the way of nurturing. Yes, she made sure we were fed, had nice clothes and took a bath. But I needed more!! So very much more; more comfort, more love, more affection, more security, more affirmation and it never came. It is not my mom’s fault but rather the fault of the dysfunctional-ism that ran rampant in our family. 

I am a kid who learned to heal my own pain. Maybe not in a functional/healthy way, but I had to learn how to “Self-Soothe” myself and find ways to get my needs met anyway or through anyone I could. I had no one to teach me healthy relating and interactions. My interactions were filled with screaming, violence, pain, fear and misery. I learned to relate and interact trying desperately to have my needs met as a 5 year old, entering kindergarten. What I learned in those early years, those patterns of unhealthy relating and finding my worth and care in others, carried with me all throughout my life. In many ways I relate as an ADULT to adults the same way an emotionally abused and deprived 5 year old does and those methods of relating are not socially accepted and are certainly not understood by anyone.

I was placed in situations where there was tragedy and trauma, dealing with situations and emotions far beyond my ability to comprehend. I was molded for co-dependency before I was five by being expected and counted on to do things my parents should have been doing. I would be responsible for watching my younger siblings, running errands, going grocery shopping, protecting my mom etc. Responsibilities well beyond my years of performing but I did! I developed an over developed sense of responsibility for my mom and my siblings that would later filter into my meaningful relationships and friendships. 

Suffering from Co-Dependency I would latch on to a particular person who represented something I did or desperately did not receive from my parents as a child. The friendship would start out great until I started to become Co-Dependent upon them and then unhealthy patterns of relating would set in. Unrealistic expectations and desperate tactics of manipulation, control, unrealistic giving and anger would soon overcome the friendship and it would come crashing down. I was then left with such a tremendous void! That horrible feeling of rejection and abandonment would come flooding in and then I would feel an emptiness and feeling of despair so overwhelming I was barely able to function. This would be a repeated pattern, over and over, causing so much additional pain and agony in my life. I would not seek out these people/friendships but they would just occur in my life and before I knew what was happening I would be in a vicious cycle of relating again.

I could not wait to move when I graduated from high school. I felt that many “ex-friends” of mine thought I was weird and totally insane. Because of this condemnation, shame and guilt I would move several times in my life to several different states to start over - to escape the past messes I left behind in relationships. I would first move to Virginia Beach, then after a failed job/friendships and loss to Ohio, (Where I first learned of Co-Dependency and when my brother was killed); and then to Florida; where I didn’t know anyone hoping and praying that the “Monster” would not follow but it did every time!

Co-dependency is a learned behavior that can be passed down from one generation to another. It is an emotional and behavioral condition that affects an individual’s ability to have a healthy, mutually satisfying relationship. It is also known as “relationship addiction” because people with codependency often form or maintain relationships that are one-sided, emotionally destructive and/or abusive. 

Don’t worry there is more to this story and more in-depth sharing on how and why I even recognized this in my life.

“I am fighting this monster one day at a time and I encourage you to come with me on my journey.”

I will leave you with this from the Tibetan Book of Living and Dying on dying and pain:

“Whatever you do, don’t try and escape from your pain, but be with it. Because the attempt to escape from pain is what creates more pain.”

Abuse Author: “Shards of Glass” https://www.amazon.com/author/cwseymore

Preface to My Memoir "Shards of Glass"

PREFACE This project all started when THE question was asked by a dear friend of mine … Were you ever Raped? My snap, knee jerk reply was “NO ‘Just’ molested.” Like THAT was OK? We later joked about the denial. My response seemed ‘funny’. While I have shared with my close friends snap shots of my past, and certain stories or memories that had come to mind, none had directly asked me that question before. I remember driving home from her house, which was a good hour and a half drive. My mind raced into the wee hours of the night. The person who asked me that was once a dear friend. On the night of that infamous question, I had paid her a surprise visit with a Christmas gift for her children. I had not been actively in her life, as a close friend, for over three years. My friend and I met through work, and formed a deep friendship that later crumbled; compliments of my childhood, my suppressed emotions, ingrained and insane coping skills. Three years later, almost to the day, and after dedicated prayers to the Lord for reconciliation, we reconnected and our friendship was restored! The Lord does answer prayers, so be careful what you pray for. “I was only praying for reconciliation in our friendship, not to write a damn book!” Based upon memories and dreams I have had over the years, I found myself answering the question, via text, that had been asked in our conversation a few weeks before. Her reaction was not what I had hoped for; it scared her away once again. It was not what I shared that pushed her back; it was because she felt so badly about it. When she pulled away again though, I was left with one of my most dreaded emotions, REJECTION. I felt she had abandoned me because of what I had shared and that she thought I was some weird, messed up person. I was angry because I finally thought I had shared the right memories and had been rejected for it. I had kept quiet about my memories for years — not wanting to remember, forcing the images back down deep within and only recalling “Snap Shots”. The next few weeks were some of my darkest. I was already months into being unemployed, feeling desperate and with no direction. I was on my knees praying to God for deliverance, direction, strength, peace, reconciliation with friends, basically for everything and anything. I spent those weeks doing some heavy soul searching and being as honest with myself as I have ever been. God was there in the midst, as my previous employer was fighting me on unemployment. I had no money, saw no future, and had no friends in arms reach. A desperate state of being I’ll tell you. God answered yet again… I received my unemployment and they paid me retroactively, which relieved a lot of stress. I did not know at the time that God was also about to answer a few other requests and send me on a journey of blind faith. During that time the Lord showed me more love and peace than I had ever known! Three days later, I went to a baby shower close to where Marivel lived, so I decided that I was going to try one last time with my friend. I wanted to tell her that I was not the same person she knew a few years earlier. I remember pulling up to her house and just sitting in the driveway and praying. When I walked up to her door, I prayed,“Lord please prepare her heart for what I have to say”. When she opened the door I was shaking, I was so nervous. Needless to say, we picked back up where we left off, three years prior. We laughed, cried and drank a glass of wine. She wanted to know more about my past so I told her story after story of the horrific pain and anguish I went through. I shared with her everything I could remember at the time. She was deeply moved and said to me, “you need to write a book”. I told her my story is like so many others, it’s not that different. She then said something that changed my whole perspective. She said, “I have never known anyone with a story like yours. I have never had anyone share what you have shared with me. You read about similar struggles or see movies about them but seldom to you personally know someone or are friends with someone with this kind of story.” She was not the first person who ever suggested to me that I should write a book but she will be the last! I have known for years that the story of my childhood needed to be used somehow to help others. I have felt something in my spirit that said I needed to write a book. When those thoughts would come to the forefront, I would just dismiss them and go back on about my life. When Marivel said it that night, after three years of no friendship and hardly any contact, it struck a nerve so deep. I know it was the Lord’s gentle nudge and a confirmation to what I already knew in my heart I had to do. After that conversation, I knew completely how the Lord had used her in my life. I was encouraged, on January 28, 2013 to officially post on my Facebook page. “I am going to write a book! Detailing things from my traumatic childhood! After years of knowing I should do this, and after the wise words of a dear friend and much prayer, I will start this journey and trust that God will use it for HIS purpose and the healing of others!” This book is a journey into my world. Through the terrified eyes of a child, I will share the pain and torment inflicted on my family and me; by my father... Nobody was left unscathed. My research for this book comes from the countless books I have read on the subject, endless counseling sessions and through my best recollections of childhood. The events that happened in my childhood coupled with the tragedy upon tragedies that my family experienced has made me an expert on my pain and the struggles that I have carried for forty four years of my life. After leaving my friend’s house that night, I wished I would have told her the truth right then, but I was scared to give life to my memories. Speaking them or writing them makes it real! Was what I shared with her really the truth or my vibrant imagination? I started to try to remember and recount if my father had ever raped me. I know I was molested; severely abused physically and mentally tormented. Some of these memories, I know without any doubt happened. Those memories are so vivid I feel like I am right there and it is happening all over again. I can see the images; I recognize the surroundings and hear the words, and feel the physical pain. There are some thoughts that only come in snapshots or flashbacks. I recall all of my dreams. They are graphic and have lots of detail. Those dreams wake me up from a deep sleep and in a cold sweat. When I awake, I am overwhelmed with relief when I realize it was only in my dreams and not actually happening again. When I dream those dreams, it helps me put the pieces of the puzzle together. Even as I write these words though, I am still unsure. I hope that through the course of this journey I will find that the account I gave her was what actually happened. Better still would be that my father will eventually admit to all that he did, and that in doing so fill in the empty gaps that self-preservation just will not allow me to remember completely. But that one question, “Were you raped” still resounds in my thoughts and has sent my memories into overdrive. I am so frustrated because I know what I know, but at the same time, I do not know. I think it happened, have the images that prove it did, but I do not have the 100% cognitive recollection to substantiate it. “Was I just dreaming it, or did it really happen?” I trust Marivel was right, and that this is something people will identify with; be moved by, touched and healed through reading. I do not write this to hurt my father, to disgrace his name, out of anger or to get back at him. I have sincerely made my peace and have forgiven him for the past because I have come to realize that he too, was a victim of generational abuse, and his actions were a direct reaction to things he experienced himself as a child. That does not dismiss what he did and how he emotionally, physically and permanently altered the childhoods of four little children. “I do not write this for fame or fortune. I write this to be obedient to the Lord and what I know to be His inner voice in my spirit. I write this because as I was figuring out who I was and why I acted, felt and thought the way I did, it was so comforting and reassuring to read my struggles in someone else’s book and know that I am not ALONE. That yes, others out there have experienced the same or very similar experiences and have overcome all the illness that comes with being an adult survivor of experiencing spousal, sexual, physical and emotional abuse. I write this to be a legacy as I have no kids of my own nor do I think I will ever. I write this to finally share that inner horror that I have been held a prisoner in for so very long. I write this to end the cycle in our family of abuse and destructiveness. I write this for my healing and to have no secrets anymore! I write this to be used by someone else to experience freedom and peace. This book is not a self-help book with intellectual facts and studies on the effects of child abuse. I am not a professional writer nor do I claim to be an expert on abuse, stolen innocence, fear or trauma. This is simply a memoir of my childhood and most importantly my PAST, what I endured, how I tried to cope, how I failed but most importantly that I survived and how the Lord is continuing to heal me day by day. The day this is published will be the day my life is once again, forever altered!”