I agree that the word "codependent" can strike fear in the common man. I grew up with one understanding of it, and two good friends have two totally different definitions. Beatty's book describes that it's different for everyone's interpretation.
I think of it as this- am I living the life I want to live, seeking the happiness I deserve? Or have I acquired a set of behaviors that aren't serving me well (or that I'm not proud of)? If I've done it as a result of relationships I'm trying to "make work", then the shoe fits. And darn it because I don't like that color.
I never controlled his drinking. I never dumped his alcohol, never checked his breath, never checked pockets, scoffed at purchases or searched for hidden alcohol. I never played detective to unearth his affair...because that was all his business and I had to decide if I was okay with it or believe his lies. He quit drinking more times than I can count. I quietly supported, removed alcohol from the house when asked, didn't judge when he failed. I never belittled, never bothered him a bit about it. (And he still blamed me by the way, sometimes because I "didn't care", other times because I wouldn't engage and "he drank because he was lonely", or "the house is chaotic"... the list goes on. He was furious that I wouldn't own this issue.)
Through the years of his behavior I detached and didn't control the drinking, learned I couldn't expect emotional support because he couldn't give it, and accepted that I could deal with that...yay me.
In a recent conversation with a friend I realized the above was due to the blessing of some counseling in my teens that "I am only responsible for my own behavior and happiness, not others. They own their own happiness."
So I'm not codependent. I'm not trying to control things. (Sounds great, right? Keep reading.)
BUT.
I slowly accepted a lot of abuse and control from him...not realizing how it slowly escalated as he progressed. I claimed I was living and letting live, but I was slowly becoming afraid to draw the right lines to truly demand my own happiness, and the lines were first bent, then broken. I became a people pleaser, I accepted the blame, guilt, projection and gaslighting that came my way because I was a "good, supportive wife" and it was "better for the kids", and "he was so broken". I couldn't expect him to do any better. I thought it was my job to love him through it all and hold this family together whether he wanted it or not.
And I struggled with leaving for my own sanity or happiness, because it "wasn't that bad" and "marriage is work" and "this is what better or worse means". I don't believe in divorce (this was HARD for me).
And to all that I say bull$hit.
Marriage books don't do justice here. A marriage to an active addict is a one-way give (with no "take"). And healthy people can't keep giving and giving without sacrificing themselves (and maybe others) in a big way. IMO, unless the addict enters recovery relatively early, the relationship is a dance with an inevitable ending. For those truly working recovery, it can be a different story. But that relies on the addict, it has nothing to do with the spouse, parent, etc.
My pastor told me- God doesn't like divorce, but he never intended self-sacrifice. Think carefully about what God really wants for YOUR life.
So I don't care what it's called. It ain't healthy. And I've been there whether I like it or not. And I'm going to work darn hard to teach my kids a better way, to see it early on.
Perhaps we should relabel...
After talking about God, can I say I prefer to label my condition FUBAR?
Lol...