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Codependently Yours
     
    Copyright 2012 Maria Becchio
     
    Cover Image Copyright Galifax | Dreamstime.com
     
     
    Codependently Yours
     
    by
     
    Maria Becchio
     
     
     
    “Amy? I’ve been doing some reading, and I think you’re codependent.”
    As best friends go, Freddy and I really couldn’t be a better match. He is obsessed with self-help . And – having helped himself to the point where he has deemed himself not to need any further help – he now gets his kicks from sifting through the wreckage of my life. Weekly. Sometimes daily.
    “Codependent? Right...” I say, sipping my peppermint tea, feigning interest. What was it last week? Ah, yes, last week, I had abandonment issues.
    Freddy was nodding while bringing his coffee to his lips. “Yeah. Apparently, codependency is very common in those who’ve experienced dysfunction in the family.” He paused here for dramatic effect, eyeing me warily. The reference to dysfunction, at least, was on the money. We both knew that when it came to my family, dysfunctional severely under-described the situation.
    By now, Freddy had returned to scanning through the bunch of notes he'd taken. I, meanwhile, was giving all this some serious thought. Codependency . Common in those who’ve experienced dysfunction... So far, so plausible. But if it were true, if I were codependent, who was I codependent well, with ? I paused in my intense scrutiny of the tablecloth, and lifted my lashes just enough to steal a glance at Freddy. My heart pumped out the little battery of rapid beats it liked to perform whenever I let myself acknowledge Freddy's extreme loveliness.
    Freddy, oblivious, flashed me his best-pals kind of smile – and my heart caved. To him, I was just this goofy girl with abandonment and codependency issues. To me, he was… Well, he was the boy I loved. Loved .  I had never actually articulated it to myself – clearly I needed to add state-of-denial to my growing list of issues – but yes, I was in love with him. And I knew I should tell him this, because if nothing else he would probably stop quizzing me about boyfriends – or the lack thereof – and with luck it would probably mean he'd stop psychoanalyzing me. But I also knew our friendship wouldn’t survive it. My love for Freddy was unrequited. I got that. And I had to live with that, or–.
    I paused mid-thought, because he was studying me quite intently at that moment. More than a little uncomfortable, held there in his cobalt blue eyes, I threw what remained of my amaretto biscuit at him. Partly to break his scrutiny, partly to distract myself from my own racing heart.
    Without warning, the sky cracked open and a deluge of rain began to spatter the parked cars outside our café . "You don't agree with this codependency business?" Freddy was saying, delving into his satchel and hauling out a pile of papers. "No matter, I have the supporting evidence." He shuf fled his paperwork. A n interrogation was about to commence. I sighed, playing along as always.
    "So," he said, "just answer the following. A simple yes or no will suffice." I raised a brow at him. "And Amy?"
    "Mmm ?"
    "Be honest."
    "OK, I'll try."
    "Do you feel compelled to take care of other people’s feelings, needs, and well-being?
    I straightened in my seat and levelled my gaze at him to indicate compliance. "Yes."
    "Do you feel compelled to help people solve their problems?"
    "Sort of. I guess."
    "Do you feel safest and most comfortable when you are giving to others?"
    "No, not– "
    "Liar. Are you often unable to stop talking, thinking and worrying about other people and their problems?"
    " Fine. OK. Yes."
    "Do you leave bad relationships only to form new ones that don't work, either?"
    Relationships . Something was going wrong. I tried to speak, tried to answer – I really did. But I had to suspend all efforts. There was a more pressing situation to divert my energies to. Like, stopping the tears that had sprung into my eyes.
    "Amy…" His