Now that I have recognized that I share nearly all of the characteristics of codependency, I'm in recovery with that and looking for freedom.
And I'm having a difficult time saying "I'm Peter and I'm codependent."
I was talking with a Facebook friend yesterday about this and realized that alcoholism and drug addiction have a certain cultural legacy, a rough and tumble almost-glamour, and are also tied up in male gender performance in particular ways. Of course, it may well be that only an alcoholic would think it's tough, or cool, or poetic, or rakish but charming, or whatever, to be an alcoholic. And through some series of miracles, recovery from alcoholism and drug addiction has actually gained cultural cred and lots of very cool people are getting sober.
But codependency? Not tough. Not glamorous. No swagger in it at all, as a matter of fact. So here I am encountering shame over this realization, and the phrase "I'm Peter and I'm codependent" is not by any means just tripping off my tongue.
And it also seems bound up in gender performance. Real men are supposed to be strong, independent, assertive and decisive. Right?
There are no popular culture depictions of down and out codependents who are scruffy but lovable and feeling suicidal over a breakup but who go into treatment and find healthy love or God or whatever and are set free. Especially, no depictions of rough and tumble codependent men incapable of setting boundaries or letting go of trying to control everyone around them who courageously face their codependent demons and ride off into the sunset. Not that I am aware of.
It's funny how the ego gets involved in the identity formulas of forms of suffering, disease and recovery. No one wants to appear weak, needy, pathetic, hopelessly enmeshed in toxic relationships, insanely attached, etc. These are not glamorous or impressive appearances in any way. In a lot of storytelling, these are simply regrettable, darkly humorous or even dangerous flaws of pathetic or tragic characters.
But it's also true that the depictions of alcoholism and drug addiction in our stories tend to lean toward glamorization, even when intentions are to show how horrifying addiction is. There are very few brutally honest portrayals of the late stage alcoholic. Even at meetings, one can often hear people (unintentionally?) gussying up their awful last days.
Nobody escapes being wounded. We are all wounded people, whether physically, emotionally, mentally, or spiritually. The main question is not, 'How can we hide our wounds?' so we don't have to be embarrassed, but 'How can we put our woundedness in the service of others?' When our wounds cease to be a source of shame, and become a source of healing, we have become wounded healers.
ReplyDelete--Henri Nouwen
Charles Bukowski's poem "Help Wanted" depicts a "rough and tumble codependent (man) incapable of setting boundaries or letting go of trying to control everyone around them." Only toward the very end of his life did Bukowski courageously face his demons, welcoming "shots of peace, tattered shards of happiness." He writes "and finally I discovered real feelings of others, unheralded, like lately, like this morning, as I was leaving, for the track, I saw my wife in bed there (not forgetting centuries of the living and the dead and the dying, the pyramids, Mozart dead but his music still there in the room, weeds growing, the earth turning, the toteboard waiting for me) I saw the shape of my wife's head, she so still, I ached for her life, just being there under the covers."
ReplyDeleteHis poem "Help Wanted" portrays his earlier years when he was "hard as granite, when he leered at the sun, and trusted no man and especially no woman."
Help Wanted
divine grace of
circumstance--
the knife is back
again,
my radio sings to me;
drunk, I phone women in distant places--
I speak, not knowing what I am
saying; I listen, I hear a voice,
but when I put the phone down
it is only a phone
and the walls look at
me.
all these women, holy jesus,
all these women everywhere
some of them are pissing
some of them are plotting
some of them are cooking beans
holy jesus
send me the one who is pissing
I need somebody to pull the
knife out
age 20 to 60
no experience necessary
will
train.
--Charles Bukowski