Category Archives: codependency

May 19, 2014

Refocusing

By Steve Hauptman
Fourth in the series
Notes on Recovery
 
Our need to refocus comes from realizing the real reason we try to control stuff:
We’re trying to control how we feel.
We’re especially trying to manage anxiety.
Think about it.  What scares you most?  Criticism?  Failure?  Rejection?  Abandonment?  Humiliation?  Physical pain or discomfort?
That’s what you feel most compelled to control.
Compulsive means anxiety-driven.   Whenever I act like a control addict – for example,
~ hide my real self from other people,
~ hide my true feelings from myself,
~ try to impress, coerce or manipulate others,
~ insist things be done my way,
~ caretake friends or family members,
~ worry endlessly about the future, or
~ try to make my environment just as I want it to be
– I’m being driven by some anxiety about what will happen if I don’t do these things.
Recovery means finding another way to manage this anxiety.
Which is where refocusing comes in.
When I refocus, I shift my attention from Out There to In Here.  I redefine the problem from some external trigger (X looks mad) to my own reaction (I’m scared of X).
I  step back from that reaction and realize that, to feel safe again, I really don’t need to control X.  I just need to change my reaction.  If I can do that, X’s anger stops being a problem.
Changing my reaction to stuff is what allows me to stop trying to control it.
Next: The three questions

* * *

Previous posts in this series:
(A sort of preface:) Tricky
1. Bottom 
2. Power
3. Plan B

 

 

 

8 Comments | posted in (4) law of alternatives, addiction to control, anxiety and control, codependency, control, control addiction, personal development, personal growth, recovery

November 15, 2012

Knife

By Steve Hauptman

.

* * *

Since feeling out of control

is uncomfortable,

it makes me seek more control.

.

The more I seek control,

the more sensitive I become

to control issues.

.

The more sensitive I become

to control issues, the more often

I feel out of control.

.

Which makes me

uncomfortable.

.

Since feeling out of control

is uncomfortable, it makes me…

.

You know.

2 Comments | posted in adult children of alcoholics, anxiety and control, codependency, control, control addiction, personal development, personal growth

September 22, 2012

The split-level relationship

By Steve Hauptman

There are two questions with which you must struggle if you want a healthy relationship:

How can I have you without losing me?

How can I have me without losing you?

You can’t really answer these questions, just struggle with them.

But it’s the struggling that matters.

Why?

Because they represent two essential needs each of us brings to any relationship:

Connection and freedom.

Acceptance by another person, and self-acceptance.

A real partner, and at the same time, a real self.

Most people I know are convinced you can’t have both at the same time.

Most came from families — alcoholic, abusive or otherwise dysfunctional — unable to teach them to balance connection with freedom.

What they learned instead was that having one meant losing the other.  That winning love and approval from parents, for example, meant sacrificing important parts of themselves, like the freedom to express feelings or take care of their own needs.

The family that raised us is where each of us learned our own personal answer to the two questions. And the answer we learned grew into a crucial (though mostly unconscious) part of our basic view of life and relationships, what I call our Plan A.  

Some of us decide, “Since I can’t have both, I’ll have me, and to hell with you.”  Shrinks call this the narcissistic answer.

Others decide, “Since I can’t have both, I’ll have you, and to hell with me.” This is the infamous codependent answer.

So the narcissistic partner says “Me first,” and the codependent replies, “Yes, dear.”

And the two personality types end up together with stunning regularity.  (Remember Archie and Edith Bunker?)

Watching such couples interact, one is struck by their predictability.  In every situation the narcissist finds some way to say “Me first,” and the codependent to reply “Yes, dear.”  It’s as if long ago they sat down and signed a contract.

Which in a way they did.

Their complementary answers to the two questions probably account, in large part, for why they felt attracted to each other.

In any case, the vast majority of couples I see for couples counseling follow this pattern — so many that I felt the need to give them their own name.

I call them split-level relationships.

Split-level relationships work for a while, but almost always break down.  Eventually one or both partners realize they’re not getting what they need.

Codependents usually notice first.  When that partner is female this can lead to the syndrome called the Walk-Away Wife.

But narcissists tend to be unhappy too. They often complain of loneliness, lack of connection to their codependent partner, or an absence of respect or affection.  They may feel impatient, frustrated, irritated, resentful. Sometimes they drink, drug, overeat, rage or cheat, and then feel bad about that.

All this happens because split-level relationship is inherently unhealthy.

Familiar, sure.  Comfortable, even, in the way the predictable may come to feel.

But not healthy.  The unbalanced answers on which a split-level relationship is based simply cannot fill the emotional needs of two adults.  So both partners end up feeling deprived, often without understanding why.

What does recovery for such a couple look like?

Put simply, a sort of role reversal.

Codependent partners must develop courage and practice standing up, asserting themselves.  Narcissistic partners must develop empathy and practice stepping down, giving instead of grabbing.

Easy?  No.  Not easy for either of them.

Just necessary to life on the same level.

10 Comments | posted in addiction to control, adult children of alcoholics, alcoholic family, codependency, control, control addiction, intimacy, parenting problems and control, personal development, personal growth, recovery

July 25, 2012

Addict

By Steve Hauptman

(Bert speaking.)

I’ve been addicted to control for as long as I can remember.

That is, for as long as I can remember I’ve been trying to force reality — people, places, things, even myself — to match the pictures in my head of how I want reality to be.

I do this constantly.

I do it unconsciously.  Which means I usually don’t know when I’m doing it.

And I do it compulsively.  Which means I get really really anxious when I can’t get control.

I expect to stay an addict until I die.

Yes, I’m in recovery.  But that just means I’m less controlled by my need for control than I used to be, just as recovering alcoholics are less controlled by their need to drink.  They’ll always be alcoholics, though, and I’ll always be a control addict.

I’ll always feel this urge to control stuff.  Even when I know it’s crazy to try.

It’s crazy, I’ve learned, because control is largely an illusion.

Sure,  it’s not always an illusion.  If I pour sugar in my coffee the coffee gets sweeter.  If I pull the steering wheel to the right my car will reliably turn right.

But the world is larger than sugar and steering wheels.  And the truth is that, beyond these concrete ways of changing my immediate circumstances, much of my controlling operates more on the level of wishful thinking.

Why?  Because most of my controlling is an attempt to control feelings and relationships.

And feelings have no steering wheel.  And in relationships sugar doesn’t always work.

Let me explain.

Say I have a feeling I don’t want.  Say I feel inadequate.  But it’s uncomfortable to feel that, and I also worry that if you see that I feel inadequate you may agree with me, which would make me feel worse.  So I hide my feeling, from you and from myself.  I work hard at presenting myself as adequate, even superior. (For an example, see “Bert’s mask.”)  And let’s say it works: I convince you I’m superior.  I have successfully controlled your perception of me.

Do I feel better?

Not so much.

At least, not for long.  Why?  Because I know it’s an act, a pretense.  I’ve basically fooled you about me, and I can’t forget that.  So whatever approval I get from you is essentially meaningless.  And I end up feeling both inadequate and phony.

See how that works?

Another example:

Say I’m mad at you, but afraid to show it.  I’m scared you might get mad back at me, which would make me unhappy.

So I hide my anger from you.  I bury it.

But overcontrolling feelings tends to be bad for me.  Feelings are meant to be expressed, not contained.  Released, not stored up.  So burying my anger makes me uncomfortable.  Constipated.  Pressured.  Uneasy.  Anxious.  And when I do it long and habitually enough, I get depressed.  I.e., chronically unhappy.

How’s that for irony?

Why doesn’t control work better in the realms of feeling and relationships?

Because at the heart of this addiction lies an annoying but inescapable paradox:

The more control I need, the less in control I feel.

* * *

 

1 Comment | posted in (1) law of addiction, anxiety and control, codependency, control, control addiction, depression and control, parenting problems and control, personal development, personal growth, recovery

May 30, 2012

Hang a left

By Steve Hauptman

It’s her first appointment, and she’s crying. 

“I feel so stuck,” she says.

I pass the tissues.   “How so?” I ask.

She tells me. 

Her husband bowls every Wednesday, golfs weekends, watches tv each night until bed.  Never talks to her, never compliments her, hasn’t taken her out to dinner in years.  Expects sex regardless. 

“Regardless of what?” I ask. 

“How I feel about it,” she says.

She has two teenagers, whom she serves as cook, laundress, chambermaid, tutor, therapist, referee and chauffeur.  On Mother’s Day they gave her a World’s Greatest Mom card from Wal-Mart, then spent the day with friends.

Her parents are in from Florida.  They visit frequently without asking, stay a week at a time, and criticize everything from her haircut to her parenting.  (I jot critical parents on a mental note card, file it away for a later session.) 

Her best friend is recently divorced, and calls her nightly either to exult or to mourn her new freedom, depending on how her last date went.  (“And do you ever call her?”  “What for?” she asks, without irony.)

Her mood’s been sliding downhill for years.   She sleeps badly.  Feels tired.  Feels alone.  Feels sad.  Cries.

“Ever take a day off?” I ask.

“No.”

“Ever take a nap?”

“No.”

“Have any hobbies?”

“No.”

“Have any friends or family who aren’t totally self-involved?”

She half-smiles.  “No.”

“Ever tried therapy?”

“I didn’t see how it could help,” she says.  “Can it?”

“Yes,” I say.

“How?” she asks.

“By teaching you to drive,” I say.

She looks puzzled. 

“Imagine someone who learned to drive a car without ever being  taught how to make a left turn.  So whenever they go out all they can do is turn right.  What would happen to them?”

She frowns.  “They’d go in a circle.”

“Exactly.  That’s what you’re doing now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Think of all the choices you make in a day.  Now think of each choice as a fork in the road.  When you put others first, you turn right.  When you put yourself first, you turn left. 

“When was the last time you made a left turn?”

Her eyes widen.  She thinks.

“I don’t make those,” she says finally.

“Right,” I say.  “You’re driving in circles.  It’s why you feel stuck.”

“And therapy can teach me to turn left?”

I nod.  I’m expecting the next question. 

“But isn’t that selfish?”

“Yes,” I said.  “What’s your objection to selfishness?”

I’ve asked that question hundreds of times.  No one has a good answer. 

“It’s just…bad.”

“That’s what everyone says,” I say.  “I suppose some believe it.  But most people use it to convince others to put them first.  The most selfish people I know tend to be the first to condemn selfishness in others. 

“Me, I think of it as a survival skill.   Selfishness is essential, at least some of the time.  If you don’t take care of yourself, who will?”

“Well, this isn’t working.”  She blows her nose.   “I guess I should hang a left once in a while.  But my family won’t like it.”

“Probably not.  You’ll have to train them.”

“How?”

“We’ll talk details later.  But it amounts to putting yourself first and letting them adapt to it.” 

“And that works?”

“Sure,” I said.  “Look how well it’s worked for your husband, your kids and your parents.”

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* * *

 

 

Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin as self-neglecting.

~ Shakespeare, Henry V

 

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* * * 

Some of us give because we can’t not give.  It’s our way of getting by in the world. 

At least if I give, the thinking goes, others will like me.  Better yet, they may even come to need me.  Then I won’t be so alone in the world.

Giving becomes a kind of barter to belong — a bid for love, rather than an expression of it.

~ From “Healthy selfishness” at daily.om.

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* * *

I think it unhealthy to not know the things you like and the things you want.

I think if you do not allow yourself to know them and to exercise adequate levels of self-care by satisfying those wants and needs in ways that make you feel good you will find unhealthy and unsatisfying behaviors that you do in order to be safe.

The relationship will become toxic and cycle through predictable patterns of acting out, failure and disappointment.

Selfish behaviors that take advantage of or hurt someone else are not what I am describing.  Behaviors that are done in service of the health of the self are self-ish.

~ From “The concept of healthy selfishness in therapy” by Brett Newcomb.

* * *

4 Comments | posted in codependency, communication problems, control, control - detachment vs, control addiction, enmeshment stage, parenting problems and control, personal development, personal growth, self-care

May 20, 2012

The Uncomfort Zone

By Steve Hauptman

There’s a place in your life that’s neither light nor dark, warm nor cold, where things don’t quite work but where you stay because it’s familiar.

You stay because you know this place like the back of your hand, every dark corner, every lump in the carpet, every draft. 

You stay because you can find your away around it with your eyes closed. Which, in fact, is just what you do.

There’s pain here, but it’s the dull, tolerable kind.  The kind you know well.  The kind you’ve known forever.  The kind you cling to rather than risk something worse.  

That’s the signpost up ahead.

Next stop: the Uncomfort Zone.

* * *

Albert, 58, has been married three times.  His first two marriages ended in acrimonious divorce.  His third marriage is two years old, and his wife recently ended their couples counseling in tearful frustration.   Albert continues in therapy without her.  He reports their life has deteriorated into a series of hurtful arguments alternating with long silences.  Last week she told him she’d leave if she had someplace to go.  I ask how he thinks our work together is going.  “Really well,” he says.  “It’s very interesting.  I feel like I’m learning a lot.”

* * *

Barry, 38, sits on my sofa with his wife Beth.  They are new clients.  I ask why they’ve come.  Beth tells me Barry’s individual therapist thinks couples work is necessary.  “What led you to individual therapy?” I ask Barry.  He frowns.  “I have issues,” he says.  “You drink, and you play video games, and that’s all you do,” the wife says.   Barry frowns harder.  “Do you have a problem with alcohol?” I ask Barry.  “I have issues,” he repeats.  The wall appears impenetrable.  After twenty minutes I suggest Barry wait outside while I talk to Beth alone.  He brightens, stands and walks quickly to the door.  Then he turns back to his wife.  “Can I borrow your iPad?” he asks.

* * *

Carly, 43 and a social worker, is more depressed this week than last.  Last week she was more depressed than the week before.  This slide began last year, with her transfer out of the counseling job she loved into an administrative job she hates, under a supervisor she considers an idiot.  Now she visits her doctor monthly to request tweaks of her medication.  Asked what’s depressing her, she shrugs: “No idea.”   I tell her that I think what she needs is work — real, meaningful work she enjoys, that brings out the best in her and makes her feel valuable.  I suggest she network, go on interviews, or consider private practice.  I also suggest she pursue the hobbies — cooking, dancing, yoga — she once used to feed and express herself.  She shakes her head.  “I’m too tired for any of that now,” she sighs.  “I need to save my energy for the stupid job.”   

* * *

Debbie, 23, is crying.  “You don’t love me,” she tells her boyfriend David, who’s sitting beside her on my sofa looking miserable.  After three months of Debbie complaining of his silence and begging him to be more open with her, David has finally risked telling her about something he dislikes in their relationship.  “I’m not good with words,” he said.   “We never talked in my family.  So when I try I get nervous.  I’m scared to hurt your feelings.  And the more you push me to talk, the scareder I get.”  “Good for you, David,” I say.  “I know how hard that was.”  Debbie wipes her nose with a tissue.  “So you don’t really love me,” she repeats.

* * * 

Eddie, 42, is angry at his son Evan.  “Everything scares him,” he tells me.  “He’s scared to go to school.  Scared he’ll fail Math.  Scared to try out for teams.  Scared to ask a girl out.  What the fuck?”  He shakes his head.  I ask what happens when he tries to talk to Evan, who’s 15.  “What do you think?” Eddie snorts.  “He acts scared of me.”  I ask what Evan’s fear looks like.  “He sort of shrinks into himself.  Gets quiet.  Avoids eye contact.  I can tell he just wants me to shut up and leave him alone.”  “How’s that make you feel?” I ask.  “Furious,” Eddie says.  “I’m his father.  I’m trying to help him.”  “And what do you say?” I ask.  “I say, ‘I’m your father.  I’m trying to help you.  What the fuck?'”

* * * 

We read the world wrong and say that it deceives us.           ~ Rabindrath Tagore

I’ve heard someone say that our problems aren’t the problem; it’s our solutions that are the problem.  ~ Anne Lamott  

When the only tool you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. ~ Abraham Maslow

Only a concerted effort to sort out the specific nature of our personal programming can offer hope of change, of new choices. ~ James Hollis

The significant problems we face cannot be solved at the same level of thinking we were at when we created them. ~ Albert Einstein

 

* * *

 

Overheard at the House:

 

I’m probably addicted to control too.  The way I’ve attempted to control things is to pull further and further within myself and my own world.  I got hurt at work.  Now I don’t work.  I got hurt by friends.  Now I don’t have friends. I’m hurt by family.  So, I’m very careful when I’m with them.  But, I don’t feel safer.  I can’t control myself.  Now, I’m with myself more than ever before!  I don’t think I thought that through…

 

Monkey House. 

Click here ^

and join the conversation.

 

* * *

 

Coming soon:

From the monkeys who brought you 

Bert’s Therapy, The Tribe and Monkey House,

a new cartoon strip about secret thoughts:

 

The Dark

   

Leave a comment | posted in addiction to control, anxiety and control, codependency, communication problems, control, depression and control, narcissism and control, parenting problems and control

May 15, 2012

The tribe: Expectations

By Steve Hauptman

 

Most people feel anxious in group without really understanding why.

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Personally I think it’s because, on some deep level, the group reminds us of our family of origin.

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And we expect it to treat us just as our family did.

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So tell me.  If this group were your family, what would you be expecting now?

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To get hit.

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To get humiliated.

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To be told to shut up.

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To be ignored.

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Pink?  What would you expect?

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All of the above.

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Jeez.

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So you all have good reason to feel anxious in this room.

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But I have to ask Pink:

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How’d you work up the courage to even come here?

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Two beers, half a pizza, and a Vicodin.

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* * *

  

Group therapy. 

In Hebrew. 

“Hello, this is Fear Management. 

“My name is Moni, and I too have a phobia. 

“I have a fear of shouting. 

“You know, a, h, h, h, exclamantion mark, ‘ahhh’!

“At this point I suggest we all tell about ourselves…” 

 

Excerpt from the Israeli TV show “Ktzarim”:  Five troubled people (that description includes the group leader) meet for group therapy.  In Hebrew with English subtitles (2:22).

 

* * *

 

Overheard at the House:

Eventually, and every time, I used to drive my current partner insane with my hang ups and he broke off the relationship….

So I decided only I could change and needed to put my – sorry to be blunt – infantile behaviour aside and choose blind trust, no matter the outcome….

Result: I came to accept that my life is my life and not dependent on anyone else for survival or safety – and in a way I was going to be alone, with or without a partner: it’s part of the human condition….

 

Come. 

Join the conversation. 

Monkey House.

Because we’re all monkeys on this bus.

 

 

 

 

 


Leave a comment | posted in alcoholic family, anger, anxiety, anxiety and control, codependency, codependency, control, control addiction, depression, depression and control, group therapy dynamics, narcissism and control, parenting problems and control, personal development, personal growth, vulnerability

April 11, 2012

Session 41: Gorilla warfare

By Steve Hauptman

Felicia’s pissed at me.

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What about?

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I’m not really sure.

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Monday she said I don’t make enough money.

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Tuesday she complained I’m not home enough.

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Wednesday she called me an “uninvolved father.”

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Thursday she called me a slob.

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Sounds confusing.

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Bet your ass.

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How did you respond?

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Well, let’s see. Tuesday I went in and asked my boss for a raise.

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Wednesday I came home early with flowers.

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Thursday I helped Junior with his science project.

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And Friday I did two loads of laundry and cleaned the bathroom.

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Did it work?

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No.  Now she tells me I’m fat.  What’s going on here?

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Gorilla warfare.

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Don’t you mean “guerilla” warfare?

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No, gorilla.  It’s a control thing.  Your two inner monkeys are battling it out. 

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bert-14

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Happens all the time in split-level relationships.*

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2*What’s this?  Click here.

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One partner seeks satisfaction by complaining or making endless demands on the other.

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The other seeks relief by trying to appease the first.  But it never works.

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Why not?

Because they’re ignoring the real problem, whatever that is.  Pretty common in couples who haven’t learned to talk to each other.

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Well, I hate feeling beat up.  What can I do?

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Less.

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Meaning…

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Give up control.  Stop appeasing her. 

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She’ll get angry.

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She’s already angry.  Same result, less work. 

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Okay.  Anything else?

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Give up control in another way.  Ask what she’s really angry about. 

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She may not know at first. That’s fine. Be patient.  Be curious.  Be brave.  Keep asking.

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That I can’t do.

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Why not?

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She might actually tell me.

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Oh.  Well, in that case…

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There’s always Weight Watchers.

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* * *

Leave a comment | posted in addiction to control, codependency, communication problems, control, control - detachment vs, control addiction, enmeshment stage, parenting problems and control, personal development, personal growth

April 4, 2012

Session 39: Leashed

By Steve Hauptman

There’s something I don’t understand about control addiction.

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What’s that?

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You say everyone is addicted to control?

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Right.

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Doesn’t that mean this “addiction” is really just human nature?

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Well, I’m not sure what “human nature” means.  So I’d put it differently.

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bert

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It’s perfectly normal for human beings to be addicted to control.  It just isn’t healthy. 

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“Normal” and “healthy” aren’t the same thing?

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Oh no.  How many normal people do you know?

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Lots.

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And how many healthy people do you know?

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Hm.  I take your point.

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But I still don’t see what’s “normal” about being a control addict.

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Do you ever worry about the future?

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Of course.

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You’re addicted.  Do you ever fret over the past? 

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Sure.

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You’re addicted.  Ever hide your feelings for fear of how others might react? 

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All the time.

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You’re addicted.  Ever worry about whether people will like or love or accept you?

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Constantly.

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You’re addicted.  Ever lie, or manipulate, or distort the truth to get what you want? 

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Okay, I get it.

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Ever avoid annoying people or uncomfortable situations? 

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I said, I get it.

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Ever plan?  Strategize?  Analyze?  Fantasize?  Agonize?  Dream?  Ruminate?  Obsess? 

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You can stop now.

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Just making my point.  Controlling is so utterly ordinary that most of the time we barely notice we’re doing it. 

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bert-16

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Until it traps us, that is. 

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And how does it trap us?

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Have you ever walked six dogs at the same time?

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No.

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You set out thinking that you’re walking them.  But before long you realize the dogs are walking you.

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Meaning…

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Whatever we try to control controls us.  And the more controlling you are, the more out of control you feel.

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35

* * *

2 Comments | posted in codependency, control, control addiction, personal development, personal growth

November 9, 2011

Session 22: Bull (part 2)

By Steve Hauptman

bert

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Remember when I complimented you on developing some empathy?

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Yeah.

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I may have spoken too soon.

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What the hell is “empathy,” anyway?

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Awareness of another person’s feelings.

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And I lack that.

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Apparently.  But it’s not your fault.

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bert.

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You’re a man.  Most men are trained to be emotional dunderheads.

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“Dunderhead”?

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Emotionally stupid.

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How does that happen?

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Well, we teach men to ignore or hide their feelings…

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bert

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…so they can go to war and go to work and do other stuff that feelings tend to interfere with.

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Because big boys don’t cry.

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Exactly.

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bert 10

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And once you lose touch with your own feelings…

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bert (11)

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…it’s hard to be sensitive to anyone else’s.

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Like a wife’s.

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Yes.

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So she’s right.  I am insensitive to her feelings.

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So it would seem.

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Now I feel like a jerk.

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I wouldn’t say that.  Just think of yourself as…

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bert (15)

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…a bull in a china shop.

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(To be continued.)

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x

* * *

Want more?

Having spent half his life trying to find fulfillment outside himself, he awakens to discover that it has not worked. For the first time in his life, a man may turn inward for answers.

He may begin to realize that his unhappiness is not caused by his failure to find the right woman or the right career, but by who he is and the way he is living his life.

Rather than blame others, he may ask, “How have I caused this to happen? Perhaps I need to change and develop greater self-awareness before I can have a healthy relationship or a satisfying career.”

This is a very difficult and courageous step for a man to take. Having successfully mastered his life on the outside, he is now forced to acknowledge that he needs help to explore difficulties encountered in his inner life.

From Real men do therapy by Jerry Magaro.

* * *

Most men grow up with an emptiness inside them.  Call it father hunger, call it male deprivation, call it personal insecurity, it’s the same emptiness.

When positive masculine energy  — a male mode of feeling — is not modeled from father to son, it creates a vacuum in the souls of men.  And into that vacuum demons pour.

Among other things, they seem to lose the ability to know how to read situations and people correctly.

Richard Rohr, in From wild man to wise man: Reflections on male spirituality.

3 Comments | posted in addiction to control, anxiety and control, codependency, communication problems, control, control addiction, depression and control, feedback, I-statements, intimacy, parenting problems and control, pathologies of control, personal development, vulnerability

October 23, 2011

Session 17: Guilty

By Steve Hauptman

Bad day at work.

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What happened?

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Boss yelled at me.

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And how do you feel?

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Guilty.

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Why’d the boss yell?

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Having a bad day, I guess.  He’s like that.

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So why do you feel guilty?

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I don’t know.

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That’s not guilt you’re feeling.   

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It’s not?

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No.  It’s anger.  Internalized anger often feels like guilt.

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It does?

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Sure.  Anger’s like poison.  If you don’t spit it out at the person who hurt you, it eats away at you and feels like guilt.

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I don’t know about that.  I’ve always been a pretty guilty person.

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4I see.  Tell me, what’s your boss like?

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He’s an asshole.

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How big an asshole?

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Big.

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Big?

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Enormous.

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And how’s it feel, working for an enormous asshole?

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I hate it.  I hate him.  I hate my job.

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th12

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Hate hate hate hate hate hate hate hate.

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therapist (13)

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bert (14)

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How you feeling now?

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Better.  Much better.  Not guilty at all.

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th

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Does that always work?

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When the guilt comes from internalized anger, pretty much.

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bert (17)

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By the way, how’s your marriage going?

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bert (18)

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* * *

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5 Comments | posted in addiction to control, adult children of alcoholics, alcoholic family, anxiety and control, codependency, communication problems, control, control - detachment vs, control addiction, depression and control, enmeshment stage, feedback, feedback, I-statements, intimacy, laws of control, parenting problems and control, personal development, personal growth, practice

July 9, 2010

A gazillion dandelions

By Steve Hauptman

Bert’s on my case about the blog. 

“Too theoretical,” he sniffs.   “Too metaphorical.  You should write about real life.”

“I’m doing the best I can,” I reply.

“I know,” he sighs. 

Then brightens. 

“Hey, give me a turn.  I could tell stories.”

“Not sure I’m ready for that.”

“Come on.”

“No.” 

“Who’s the coward here, anyway?”

“Not yet.”

“Okay,” he sighs.  “But if you’re not careful you’ll lose them.”

“Shut up, Bert.”

“I’m just saying.”

Then this morning something happened and I decided maybe he was right and I should give him his chance.

So here it is, Bert’s first post: 

It’s 94 today and humid.  Went walking anyway.  Have to, heat index notwithstanding.   I need to get my weight under control.

So I’m walking down the street, heat rising off it in waves, and a cop car passes and pulls to the curb fifty yards ahead of me.  Then a second cop car arrives from the opposite direction and does the same thing.

Two cops get out in their blue uniforms and their heavy black belts.

Poor guys, I think.  In this heat.

They cross the street to where a couple stands on a lawn, arguing.

The guy is yelling at the woman.  The woman yells back, waving her arms.  Two little girls stand under a tree in pink sleeveless tops, holding hands and crying. 

Inside me thoughts and impulses spring up, boink boink boink, like cartoon dandelions invading a summer lawn:

(1) I want to about-face and walk back down the street.  Avoid upset.  Reduce anxiety. 

(2) I can’t about-face.  What if someone notices.  What’s his problem?  

(3) I want to go to the two kids.  Sit on the grass.  Calm or distract them somehow.  They stop crying, I’ll feel better.

(4) Can’t do that either.  Dad might punch me.  Mom might scream.  Cops might whip out their handcuffs.   

 (5) I hear my own thoughts.  I get mad.  Handcuffs?  Steve.  Chickenshit.  Seriously.

(6) I get mad at whoever called the cops.  (In full projection mode now.)  Mind your own business, Sir or Madam.  Leave these people alone.  Also, I’m trying to take a walk here.

(7) It occurs to me Sir or Madam is probably scared too.  Why they called.  Calling’s just their version of the about-face I wanted to make.  Officers, please remove this.  Now I regret I got mad at them.

(8) I think of the cops.   What’s it like, standing there, trying to calm angry people in this heat?  Are they trained for this?   How?  Instruction manual?  Rehearsal in a steam room?  And are they screened adequately?  Do more people get shot by police in the summer? 

(9) I notice I’m writing all this down in my head.  Make them see what a control addict sees.

(10) I about-face, walk home to type it out before the heat melts what I’m thinking.

Moment to moment control issues bloom, boink boink boink, like a gazillion dandelions.

3 Comments   |  tags: , | posted in addiction to control, anxiety and control, codependency, control

June 27, 2010

Corduroy

By Steve Hauptman

I  got interested in control accidentally.   I was giving a talk and suddenly realized I didn’t know what I was talking about.

I was a new social worker, six months out of grad school, working for a clinic attached to a rehab on the end of Long Island.  My new boss decided I was the best one to run the weekly Family Education Series, basically a crash course in alcoholism and how it screws up families.  And tonight the topic was codependency.

I knew the topic well enough.  I’d worked as an alcoholism counselor and treated hundreds of codependents.  I could diagnose one in the first five minutes of a conversation. 

But when it came time to prepare this talk I found I couldn’t define the word.  At work we talked about codependency without ever stopping to explain what we meant.   And when I looked into my half-dozen books on the subject I found each defining it in a different way.  One was:

A specific condition characterized by preoccupation and extreme dependence on another person, activity, group, idea, or substance. [1]

Another:

An  emotional, psychological, and behavioral condition that develops as a result of an individual’s prolonged exposure to, and practice of, a set of oppressive rules. [2]

A third:

A multidimensional (physical, mental, emotional and spiritual)condition manifested by any suffering and dysfunction that is associated with or due to focusing on the needs and behavior of others. [3]

A fourth:

A recognizable pattern of personality traits, predictably found within most members of chemically dependent families, which are capable of creating sufficient dysfunction to warrant the diagnosis of Mixed Personality Disorder as outlined in DSM-III [4],

which sent me off to yet another book to learn what the hell that meant.

Finally I came to codependency maven Melody Beattie, who explained that a codependent is simply

a person who has let another person’s behavior affect him or her, and who is obsessed with controlling that person’s behavior. [5]

Fine definition.  Until I noticed it describes just about everyone.

Having no idea which definition would be best to offer my workshop, I cleverly decided to present them all.

So here I am, having just done that.  I’ve distributed a handout with the five definitions on it, and read them aloud, and am now looking at a roomful of confused faces.

A man in a brown corduroy jacket raises his hand.  I nod back.

“So what the hell is codependency?” he asks.

Everyone laughs.

I laugh too.  (Inside I’m thinking Shoot me now.)  Then I shrug and hear myself say, “Addiction to control.”

I am surprised at myself.  I’ve never thought of it this way before. 

But Corduroy starts asking questions, and I find I have answers, and it’s all making a new sort of sense.  I explain that I see codependents as traumatized people convinced their survival depends on controlling the effects of “their” alcoholic’s illness.  So they do things like hide booze and avoid dad at certain times of the day and lie to his boss about why he missed work or to the neighbors about why he fell asleep in the driveway.  From all these experiences they come to depend on control as a way of coping generally, and set about applying it to everything and everyone in their lives, to the point where it makes them sick. 

“Sick how?” Corduroy frowns. 

Mainly anxious and depressed, I tell him.  But also worried, and tense, and irritable, and unable to relax or have fun, or identify and express feelings, or trust anyone, or like themselves.  And self-medicating with food or work or helping other people or whatever else they can think of. 

And now Corduroy is nodding thoughtfully, and so are others in the room, and I know I’m onto something.

(To be continued.)

___________________ 

[1] Sharon Wegscheider-Cruse, ChoiceMaking: For co-dependents, adult children and spirituality seekers (Health Communications, 1985).
 
[2] Robert Subby, Lost in the shuffle: The co-dependent reality, quoted in Whitfield (see below).
 
[3] Charles Whitfield, Co-dependence: Healing the human condition (Health Communications, 1991).  
 
[4] Timmen Cermak, Diagnosing and treating co-dependence (Johnson Institute, 1986).
 
[5] Melody Beattie, Codependent no more (Harper/Hazelden, 1987).
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

4 Comments   |  tags: | posted in codependency, control