Co-Independency: Taking Those First Step Into the Dark

I pulled in the parking lot of Delicate Arch in Arches National Park just after 11 PM.   It was dark, I mean pitch black dark.  Siri told me there should at least be a sliver of moon, but even that scant light was missing.  As I stepped out of my truck I was admittedly rather anxious about this hike. Other than a set of glowing eyes of some creature that caught my headlight as I pulled in, I was completely alone.  I was having serious second thoughts about the wisdom of my decision to make the 3 mile solo night hike to this iconic state symbol.  Not only did the infamy of my past outdoor adventures cross my mind, but it was frankly scary.  Anything could be out there – are there any moose in this park?  Yet, I felt like I had something to prove to myself; not some physical accomplishment to achieve, but as an emotional demon to slay. 

It was about 18 months ago at the start of my second round of marriage counseling, “You are codependent,” was the counselor’s verdict. ‘Codependent!?!’ I though.  ‘What a load of bull!  I don’t need nobody.’  Which, as all of you grammarians might appreciate about a double negative, means that I do need someone. I wanted to deny this, to tell her she was wrong.  I was perfectly fine, it’s the woman I am married to that was the problem.  Then she handed me several pages of a hastily photocopied book.  I skimmed the off skew text on the page and found… myself.

There they were, 19 points identifying some characteristics of codependency.  Such as:

“I bolster my self-esteem by solving your problems and relieving your pain.”

“I focused my mental attention on solving your problems or relieving your pain.”

“My good feelings about who I am stem from being liked by you and receiving approval from you.”

“I am not aware of how I feel. I’m aware of how you feel.”

“I find it easier to give in and comply with others than to express my own wants and needs.”

“I sometimes feel sorry for myself, feeling no one understands.”

Dang!  It was like an X-ray mirror showing inside my soul.   I wasn’t perfect.  In fact, I had some stuff to fix.  It’s a lousy feeling when you think you have things figured out but you’re doing things so wrong that it actually has a name and chapter in a relationship counseling book.  Still, I know it was true, I couldn’t be happy unless she was happy.  ‘If mom ain’t happy, ain’t nobody happy’ was an article of faith in my marriage.  This made thing particularly rough when your spouse suffers from depression.  So to be happy I spent many a futile year trying to make someone else happy first (or at least appear happy) so that I can be happy too.  This leads to all kinds to of bad relationship habits.  

I could even see myself doing it right then and there during our session. I wasn’t willing to express my feelings openly. I kept them hidden, under control, under my power. Even with my marriage on the brink, I didn’t say what I truly thought of my wife; my hurt, my anger, my feeling. I told her exactly what she wanted to hear, or at least wat I thought she wanted to hear hoping that if I gave her enough, she would want me.  Well if you follow my blog, you know how that ended for this now single father. Act I closed, Act II now opens.

So what would I make of myself? Would I repeat some of the same mistakes or learn from them? Maybe a little bit of both.  What’s learning without doing it wrong along the way a few times? The good thing about codependency is that it’s a bit like having bad breath. Once you realize you have it, it’s not too difficult to address, though it takes some scrubbing.  

1. Recognize you have a problem.  See yourself where you are at the moment. Stop denying it.  Smell your own breath as it were.
2. Realize that you cannot change others, only yourself.  I picture myself trying to brush someone else’s teeth; kind of creepy actually.
3. Understand yourself and work through your own issues.  Find what makes YOU happy.
4. Learn to be okay with yourself and BY YOURSELF.

As I stood in the dark parking lot looking into the inky black that I was contemplating entering, I knew this was something I wanted to do for myself, not for anyone else.  I know that adventure makes ME happy.  Step 3 accomplished.  I love it; even when things go horribly wrong.  I guess that is part of the fun (after the fact, of course).  Yet standing in the way of things like this that make happy are fear and apathy and comfort.  It is hard to take that first step into the dark… literally in this case.  But the only way to face these challenges, these improvements, these adventures is to take that first step.

So pulling on my pack and putting on a head lamp, I set off into the dark all alone.  Yes, it was a bit creepy.  I admittedly did suddenly swing my flashlight looking left and right to see if anything was looking back.  But step by step I pushed into the night until just before arriving at the arch I heard voices. There were other adventurers who had made their way up to the arch at night to take picture or just look at the stars.  We introduced ourselves to one another, shared food, and gave photography tips over the next two hours as we looked up at the star having a grand time in an unlikely setting.  That emptiness and loneliness I felt at the start of my hike was gone. It was replace the sense of accomplishment and of camaraderie.  One I would have never experienced had I been too afraid to get my truck in the dark alone, both literally and figuratively.  An evening to be remembered; solo, but never truly alone.