I feel so lucky and blessed to have found CoDA

My name is Marguerite and I am a recovering codependent. I feel so lucky and
blessed to have found CoDA. I feel that my HP led me here, when I had no place
else to go. For the first time in years, I feel hope and a sense of certainty
that things are going to be okay, and that I am really, really okay, too.

It hit me just a few weeks ago, as I sat alone, crouched in
my own home with all the lights off, hiding.  I felt helpless and things
felt out of control. The police had called to tell me to leave my house, because
in his suicidal/homicidal mixed state, my former husband, who is Bi-polar, might
harm me. They were looking for him to pick him up after his psychiatrist called
them because of a suicide note he had sent.  He often had really
destructive rages in the past. 

I realized that because of our marriage and his illness, I
had isolated myself from people to the extent that I had no one left to call. My
embarrassment about his behavior had caused me to cut off everyone else. I guess
I was a classic codependent. It was an old pattern: I had been isolated as a
child by my schizophrenic mother, and had no friends until I ran away from home
in my teens.  I could tolerate almost any behavior, because I didn’t feel
much of what was going on in me.  I had felt trapped, responsible and
loyal.

But now I was legally free, and yet I had forgotten how to
interact with normal people in a healthy way. I was so alone. I was used to
being on edge all the time, anticipating his moods, and taking care of him. Our
marriage had gone from a traditional one – he worked, I worked part time and
pursued my art – to his inability to hold a job, and me supporting us all with
full time work plus extra consulting. And all the time, he told me how
inadequate, how disappointing I was. I got very strong, but I also gave up most
of myself to take care of him, the medical bills, his emotional needs and the
girls. I forgot who I was, my dreams, my talents, and my abilities. I gave up my
life to take care of his.

By the time I finally admitted, with the help of his
psychiatrists, that he would not get better, I had pretty much worn myself away.
Less than six months after the divorce was final, while he was still trying to
stay in touch and get support from me, I really fell apart.  Diagnosed with
clinical depression, I went on medication, began to isolate more, and withdrew
from everyone but the doctors. I lost my clients, many friends – oh, I had
been very good at helping them, too! And I felt lost. That was about all I could
feel.

One day, my doctor suggested a book, and I bought
it. Since then, I’ve read them all, but for a while it was all intellectual.
Sitting in the dark, feeling that this was ME here in this situation really
opened my eyes to where I was and how I was treating myself.  I finally
figured out I had to get help, reach out, find some support and begin sharing to
heal and grow. So, here I am. I guess it will be a long road, but I think it’s
the right one.

Marguerite