I've read that it's common for adult children of addicts to end up in co-dependent relationships with someone who repeats the same patterns/abuse as their parents. I've just begun to realise that I've done exactly that. How do you go from realisation to action? Just getting here has taken most of my adult life and I'm just so tired. Has anyone else been in this situation? Or found a way to break free? Thanks to anyone who reads or replies.
My dynamic with my heroin-addicted parents is the classic role-reversal: me trying to look after myself, my handicapped sibling and both of them. I love and hate my parents. I have immense empathy for the abused children they once were and the traumatised, addicted adults they became. I understand that they never intended to harm me and only did so because they were unable to care for themselves in the most basic ways. But I also have so much helpless anger and resentment towards them.
As a deeply lonely, depressed teenager I ended up in a relationship with a much older man (I was 16, he was 26) from another country. He was my first boyfriend and first love. My parents let me go live with him abroad shortly after we met online. I thought it was the best thing that ever happened to me at the time, but as an adult looking back, I'm furious with them for allowing it. He and I argued a lot because of his drinking, which made me feel confused, frightened and alone. He was often back late from the pub, leaving me alone in his flat. At times he was so drunk he wet the bed in his sleep. One time, he smashed a wall in a drunken rage. I was unhappy, but I had no idea what a normal, healthy relationship or lifestyle looked like. It was easy for him to convince me that his drinking wasn't out of control (I don't drink at all and only had my far worse parents for comparison). Eventually, we moved back to my native country.
You'll be unsurprised to hear that I married him. He doesn't do drugs, but he is probably what you'd call a high-functioning alcoholic. Like my parents, he lies to me about his substance abuse, makes false promises to change, refuses treatment, etc. Like my parents, he doesn't work and has no income. Like them, he often stays up all night and finds it very difficult to stick to any routines. Like my dad, he spends the entire day in front of the computer. And like my parents, he is essentially a good, kind, decent person who has serious trauma of his own. I have no doubt that he cares for me, but like my parents, he is unable to take care of me or himself. Once again, I'm the healthier person responsible for keeping everything afloat.
I remember feeling so worthless growing up, knowing my parents would always prioritise their drugs over me and my well-being. I once told my mom that I don't believe addicts are capable of loving someone. She told me I was wrong and cruel to say so. But was I? Isn't honesty, accountability, and some degree of selflessness essential to a loving relationship? In my experience, addicts are unable to provide any of those things.
This is a classic example of the sick dynamic I've carried with me into my marriage: Last night, my husband offered to go and buy me some chocolate as a snack after dinner - I asked if he felt tempted to drink and if that was the real reason he wanted to go out - he acted hurt and I apologised for "being paranoid".
Of course, I knew all along that he was going out for the booze and that the chocolate was just an excuse. But I wanted so much to be wrong. How do you stop being an enabler as an adult child of addicts? How do you stop putting yourself in a situation where the addict must choose between you and their addiction, knowing what their choice will be, but hoping so much that they will choose you, so that you will finally feel loved?
The older I get, the more protective I feel towards that lost child I once was (and still am on the inside). I'm only now beginning to face the reality that I can't blame my parents or my husband for not taking care of me anymore. I'm an adult; I need to learn to love myself and take care of myself. If this had happened to a friend, I would tell her to get away while she can. And yet I know I'll almost certainly stay.
My dynamic with my heroin-addicted parents is the classic role-reversal: me trying to look after myself, my handicapped sibling and both of them. I love and hate my parents. I have immense empathy for the abused children they once were and the traumatised, addicted adults they became. I understand that they never intended to harm me and only did so because they were unable to care for themselves in the most basic ways. But I also have so much helpless anger and resentment towards them.
As a deeply lonely, depressed teenager I ended up in a relationship with a much older man (I was 16, he was 26) from another country. He was my first boyfriend and first love. My parents let me go live with him abroad shortly after we met online. I thought it was the best thing that ever happened to me at the time, but as an adult looking back, I'm furious with them for allowing it. He and I argued a lot because of his drinking, which made me feel confused, frightened and alone. He was often back late from the pub, leaving me alone in his flat. At times he was so drunk he wet the bed in his sleep. One time, he smashed a wall in a drunken rage. I was unhappy, but I had no idea what a normal, healthy relationship or lifestyle looked like. It was easy for him to convince me that his drinking wasn't out of control (I don't drink at all and only had my far worse parents for comparison). Eventually, we moved back to my native country.
You'll be unsurprised to hear that I married him. He doesn't do drugs, but he is probably what you'd call a high-functioning alcoholic. Like my parents, he lies to me about his substance abuse, makes false promises to change, refuses treatment, etc. Like my parents, he doesn't work and has no income. Like them, he often stays up all night and finds it very difficult to stick to any routines. Like my dad, he spends the entire day in front of the computer. And like my parents, he is essentially a good, kind, decent person who has serious trauma of his own. I have no doubt that he cares for me, but like my parents, he is unable to take care of me or himself. Once again, I'm the healthier person responsible for keeping everything afloat.
I remember feeling so worthless growing up, knowing my parents would always prioritise their drugs over me and my well-being. I once told my mom that I don't believe addicts are capable of loving someone. She told me I was wrong and cruel to say so. But was I? Isn't honesty, accountability, and some degree of selflessness essential to a loving relationship? In my experience, addicts are unable to provide any of those things.
This is a classic example of the sick dynamic I've carried with me into my marriage: Last night, my husband offered to go and buy me some chocolate as a snack after dinner - I asked if he felt tempted to drink and if that was the real reason he wanted to go out - he acted hurt and I apologised for "being paranoid".
Of course, I knew all along that he was going out for the booze and that the chocolate was just an excuse. But I wanted so much to be wrong. How do you stop being an enabler as an adult child of addicts? How do you stop putting yourself in a situation where the addict must choose between you and their addiction, knowing what their choice will be, but hoping so much that they will choose you, so that you will finally feel loved?
The older I get, the more protective I feel towards that lost child I once was (and still am on the inside). I'm only now beginning to face the reality that I can't blame my parents or my husband for not taking care of me anymore. I'm an adult; I need to learn to love myself and take care of myself. If this had happened to a friend, I would tell her to get away while she can. And yet I know I'll almost certainly stay.