When Codependence Collides with Hyper-Independence

I was a happy, healthy, adored baby. Fortunate in the extreme.

I was also sensitive to loud sounds, smells, bright light and tactile things like clothing and dirt, as well as energy and especially, emotions. When a child is extra-sensitive, they become very alert and observant.

It wasn’t too much of a leap for ‘little me’ to associate the ability to control my environment, including the people in it, with feeling better. One simple trick I learned was that giving a smile meant receiving a smile. Smiles feel good right? Smiles mean people are looking at me and that feels reassuring. Only trouble was, smile in public at a stranger, and they might see it as an invitation to come closer, then… complete overwhelm and tears.

I learned by toddlerhood to be wary of strangers and keep my smiles to myself. I was still cheery with known adults. In fact my main coping strategy was to appear happy and calm at all times. No trouble, no fuss. And this was doable when all was consistent, predictable and quiet. Then my younger brother came along. Babies are loud. A couple of years later, Mum went off to university (70’s women’s libber that she was) and that meant creche and babysitters. Now this, I couldn’t countenance.

Tantrums prevailed. Meltdowns if you please.

Throughout childhood, tears would spring forth at regular intervals, often with barely perceptible cause. The man came too close, the dog jumped up, Mum shrieked at a cockroach, baby brother grabbed my hair, the music was too loud. Even as an 11-year-old attending a house disco with kids from the children’s home my mum worked at, my response to being asked to dance by an older boy, was to dissolve into tears. It was embarrassing to be unable to control it.

I had a lively, expressive mum, an energetic, cheeky brother and an introverted, unreadable dad. Being smiley and ‘fine’ was best. Being sensitive wore everyone out. I slowly learned to keep things more to myself, contain the big feelings more effectively and use outlets like dancing, singing, writing, reading, sport and friendship to process daily life.

From the outside, my family looked super-functional and I looked happy and successful. As we all know, sometimes the truth is a little more complex.

A little codependence anyone?

Codependence involves holding a very ‘other-focused’ perspective. My eternal question as a child was, “Are they okay?” This was primarily focused on my mum because she was our main caregiver but it would apply to whoever I was around; friends, neighbours, teachers, animals, grandparents, the lady at the supermarket checkout. Anyone really. Even people on TV.

My theory was that if I monitored other people’s states and moods and did my best to contribute to their ‘okayness’, then I would feel safe. Of course, the potential I had to impact my mother’s mood was greater than the person at the shop counter, so my efforts were appropriately moderated.

At its trickiest, codependence makes us so focused on other people’s wellbeing that we forget how to look after our own. Our sense of emotional safety dwells in the displayed contentedness of the people closest to us. “Are they okay?” becomes our daily mantra and gets in the way of true connection because there are only fleeting moments when we judge these people to be okay enough, for us to risk approaching them with our needs.

It becomes a one-sided interaction, and it’s not because they don’t care, it’s because we’re so caught up in our perceptions of how we, often erroneously, think they’re feeling, that we abandon ourselves. It’s draining to the extreme.

We get exhausted. We blame, feel abandoned. We feel like the more capable, mature human because we believe we’re more empathic, caring and perceptive. They usually have no idea what’s going on; “Why is she so tense and distant?”

Then add a spoonful of hyper-independence

I was around 12 when I moved into hyper-independence. I was still operating in a codependent way, I just introduced a new mode of self-protection. And hey, just in case I’m not expressing this well, this is no sob story. I had a really good childhood. I just happen to be autistic and highly empathic with it.

Becoming more self-contained and less communicative made it easier for me to monitor everyone else and caused me less pain. It’s no accident this happened as puberty kicked off. It’s in many ways a natural rite of passage. I just think it happened a little earlier for me than was ideal.

Hyper-independence says, “I don’t need anyone. I’m fine”. It doesn't mean we don’t socialise, participate in our community, have good friends or partners. It simply means we keep people at arm’s length. Our relationships are more superficial, less authentic and deep. We expect less, so we give less and naturally, get less. We cultivate a mask of ‘fineness’, “Yes thanks, I’m fine, how are you?” We go into hiding when things are hard and we smile our way through relationship challenges, thinking all along, it’s okay, I can just leave this relationship. I don’t need them.

We fear being truly seen because we haven’t had a lot of practice at being messy, needy or vulnerable. It’s easier to be a flight risk than it is to endure someone seeing us as ‘hard work’. We accept breadcrumbs in romantic relationships when we could be demanding the whole damn loaf.

From breadcrumbs to every delicious slice

At 23 I married my high school boyfriend, who I’d broken up with three times in the year before we got engaged. He was my safe person because we got along well as friends and he was nothing if not predictable and calm. What was missing was affection, emotional connection and support. And I guess it suited me to a point. I got to be the one who managed our emotional connection, called the shots and demanded he step up or else! What I eventually worked out was that he couldn’t and that I needed to cut my losses and move on.

I swung quickly into a new romance and then, after a slightly chaotic and messy time of confusion and cutting loose in that first year of my separation, new guy and I moved in together. Say what?! Hey, we were 25 and in love.

This new relationship was everything I didn’t have in my short-lived marriage. But still and still… and still to this day, I’m navigating my codependence/hyper-independence internal battle. We’ve been together for 30 years and our bond is strong but gosh, I have a knack of overthinking and overcomplicating shit.

Where I’m at now is appreciating I need time alone, freedom to make my own decisions and space to express myself authentically. What I also know, is that it’s safe to rely on this man for emotional support, that I’m not responsible for his feelings and that sometimes we need to have proper grown-up chats about what each of us are feeling. I’m getting better at asking direct questions instead of making assumptions, and stepping away from psychologizing him. Ooh that’s hard with my analytical brain. It’s a work in progress for sure.

If this happens to resonate and you’d like to receive some counselling support with me, take a look at my online calendar HERE to book a free chat or grab an appointment.