Here are the lessons one man has learned and others he is still working on.
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“You’re needy. You have mommy issues. You need something you didn’t get as a child.” Those were tough words to bite down on. Chewing and swallowing was next to impossible.
I’ve struggled with co-dependence for a long time; and while it may make relationships exciting, it makes them just as difficult at the same time. The honeymoon phase is intense, fast and exhilarating; however, when that’s over, the fights and problems are numerous and intense. Sometimes fights transpire to remind yourself that a relationship still exists. As you can imagine, it makes breakups even more painful, borderline intolerable. I’m usually good at getting out before then, but sometimes that just doesn’t happen.
My dad was a quiet, stern-looking yet fun loving man who lived a life of regret for having dropped out of high school to pursue a great paying career for the woman he loves and the promise of starting a family.
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I don’t know if it started by watching my matriarchal family or the fairytale romances portrayed in Hollywood, but for as long as I can remember, I’ve always wanted a girlfriend. In my childhood, family hubs were based around the kitchens of each of my grandmothers and after they both passed away in high school, it quickly evolved to circle around my own home, with my mother at the perch. She was the eldest sister of her siblings; super busy, very bubbly and she truly was the keystone to the family (extended and immediate.) The funny thing about a keystone is that once it’s gone from the arch, everything either crumbles or is just waiting for inevitable destruction.
There are two things that come from this:
- You learn quickly that a strong female is a desirable trait.
- You’re tricked into believing that having a strong female in your life is a necessity to have structure and strength as a man in a heterosexual relationship.
My dad was a quiet, stern-looking yet fun loving man who lived a life of regret for having dropped out of high school to pursue a great paying career for the woman he loves and the promise of starting a family. Although my Dad is very capable, intelligent and logical, his role (interpreted by me) is best illustrated by his nickname for my mom: “the boss.” My parents’ early dating stories include talks about my mom being my dad’s “muse” when he was one of the only Filipino immigrants on the high school basketball team. The general theme revolved around a man finding a woman and dedicating everything to her. I personally think it’s beautiful.
It may come across as me not accepting my faults as if I am blaming my relationship difficulties on some Freudian Oedipus complex. In reality, it is something I grew up to understand as a male role in a romantic relationship.
Who am I? The man that was with her. The person I wanted to be? To be the man she wanted and needed.
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Even while I write all this, I’m here staring at one of my favorite quotes by E. E. Cummings: “Unless you love someone, nothing else makes sense.” Although beautiful, it shrouds the horrible reliance on an external source for personal meaning.
I have grown old enough to be aware of my problems, but I often find myself falling into the old patterns of attaching my self-worth and image to being desired by my current girlfriend. This is a problem. No one can handle that sort of responsibility. Nor should they. Most people have a difficult time handling their own self-worth and image, let alone someone else’s.
After a breakup, it’s easy getting tied up in thinking, “what was/is wrong with me?” or grasping onto the reasons why it was their fault entirely. Either of which is counterproductive and resists change or moving on. Staying objective and accepting what happened comes and goes in waves. How you experience those waves are up to you. Whether you let them toss you, turn you and drown you, or letting yourself float and have them carry you to the next place and enjoying the surface for what it is.
Here I am, after a breakup, trying to pick up the pieces and trying as hard as I can to figure out my definition of who I am, what my new goals are and the person who I want to be. All of those things were so firmly attached to her. Who am I? The man that was with her. The person I wanted to be? To be the man she wanted and needed. My goals? Didn’t matter, I would make it work, as long as it was where ever she was. Of course, you learn a lot about the person you want to be from being with someone, but until recently, I was convinced that I couldn’t be that person unless I was actually with her. Foolish, I know.
Imagine this: In a champagne glass pyramid, you are the top of the pyramid and those you love and care about are below; you could only fill others’ cups when yours is overflowing with the intoxicating, effervescent goodness. Self-fulfillment is an everlasting champagne bottle. Your role modeling is what empowers your loved ones and allows you to give without taking from yourself. If the top isn’t being filled with the bottle, you have no other choice but to empty yours in order to fill others’. Interestingly, you convince yourself that you are a giving person, and you’re completely okay with giving. You’re giving because you have learned that giving to that person is who you are, because you love them. Losing sight that “it’s only best to give from a surplus.” Blinded by the fact that your “giving” is actually just a pseudo selfless way of filling that void of your co-dependency. Forgetting that your co-dependency and “giving” is really a selfish pressure on your partner that leaves them filled with shame that they can’t match the energy that you put into them.
With two half empty glasses desperately trying to fill each other, you’re forced to take turns alternating between emptiness and being full to the brim.
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Yes. I’m guilty of this. Very guilty of this.
So what does that mean now? The person who loved this full glass is now left staring at an empty glass. You’re no longer the person they loved all because you gave it all to the point where you lost yourself.
This realization? It’s really still just starting to grow. It’s delicate. It needs nurturing. It’s easily trampled by old patterns and to the addiction of intense “love;” The crave for oxytocin, endorphins, and all those other feel-good brain chemicals.
True love is supposed to come from two whole people, to create an abundance and overflow. With two half empty glasses desperately trying to fill each other, you’re forced to take turns alternating between emptiness and being full to the brim; you’re bound to spill or leave your shared liquid flat and lackluster. By that time, there are usually only a few things to do: choke it down and resent the aftertaste or throw it away. Both of which leaves you with two empty glasses, mourning the missed chance of enjoying something when it was great.
Now as a (recovering) co-dependent male I’m trying these lessons:
- You learn quickly that a strong female is a desirable trait.
- You’re tricked into believing that having a strong female in your life is a necessity to have structure and strength as a male.
- My definition as a man is not based on the partner who chooses to be with me.
- Filling my own glass to overflow.
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Photo: GettyImages
Great article Raymond! I especially like “How you experience those waves are up to you. Whether you let them toss you, turn you and drown you, or letting yourself float and have them carry you to the next place and enjoying the surface for what it is.” I hope you are enjoying the surface for what it is.