Have you ever wondered how you ended up where you are in life? Have you ever asked; How did I get here? Why did this happen to me? When will it all end? Have you ever wanted to just fall off the face of the earth? I did.
There was a time in my life when I just begged God to let me die. Truthfully, a few times. I hated my life, I hated who I was, I hated the thought of facing yet another day of faking it. My life was not a pretty place to be. It was wracked with fear, guilt, shame, self-loathing, depression and complete, utter insanity. It was ugly and I was blind to the truth of how I ended up where I was.
I had to face the harsh reality; I was the cause. I could not blame the people in my life, the things that happened to me, or even God. I was where I was because of the choices I had made. I, and I alone, was responsible.
No one really knew the depths of my despair. I was so good at concealing my pain. I lived to make sure everyone around me was happy, that their needs were met, that life was as easy as possible for them. As far as I was concerned, my life and happiness did not matter, theirs did. What I did not understand at the time was that I was desperately trying to find my happiness and joy through others and what I could do for them. Disappointment and self-loathing ran deeper through my soul as I failed. It was not my responsibility to run their lives, to fix everything for them or to make life easier for them, but I did not understand that.
There was no “me”. I could not tell you what “I” liked because it depended on what they liked. I had no favorite color, food, movie or music.
In 2004, my life began unraveling. The happy-go-lucky façade was being stripped away from me day by day, until one day, the massive structure of denial I had built, imploded. The fallout was like a slow motion movie that dumped debris on me for several months.
In July of 2005, I began an amazing journey of healing and self-discovery. Yes, I am the statistic. I was thirty-nine years old and had no idea of who I truly was. I didn’t know because I didn’t want to know. I did not like “me” enough to care to know. Over the years, that attitude did not serve me well and very early on, my life was catapulted into chaos.
Today, I love and respect who I am. Codependency is a tough road and there is, in my opinion, no complete recovery. It does not just disappear. It is a daily struggle but as time goes by, staying healthy and loving myself has gotten easier.