Codependency, Generational Brokenness, And Well Digging

Not to be dramatic or anything… I’ve been weary for some time now and I wasn’t sure if that was just going to be my new thing, or if maybe there might be a break in the weariness at some point. Like a soul-ful, somewhat lasting, seasonal BREAK. We talk about seasons, and I’m just over here wondering when this weary season will end, LOL.

Maybe life is just wearisome when you’re trying to actually be awake instead of just living through the motions of being alive.

2018 was the dissolution of my married life which then launched me into a weariness I didn't believe I’d survive. Sometimes I still feel that way.

But honestly, I did survive it.

I spent lots of time digging deep into myself, studying my Enneagram type, going through Mending The Soul, attending support/healing groups, going to weekly counseling.

I began understanding on a new level my “conditioning” — that is: my learned core beliefs about myself and about others, my coping mechanisms (both healthy and unhealthy), and habit behaviors (how we respond to emotions and the environment around us).

We could call all this self-awareness, which it most definitely is and I most definitely am, but only so much can happen by being self-aware.

I’m realizing now that I have to do a lot more to actually unlearn the unhealthy pieces of my “conditioning,” I hadn’t made nearly the progress I thought I did a year ago…and then I started dating the best looking man God ever did make (why does he have to be so sexy and beautiful and charming anyways??) and now here I am again:

weary.

I’ve been weary awhile now, though.

Our relationship had the most honeymoon phase a honeymoon phase ever did have.

Sure, there were red flags and concerns and some really abnormal landmarks, but it didn’t matter much, because I had never felt so emotionally seen/cared for/cherished/valued during those first couple months. Sincerely and truly. We legitimately have fun together, like a lot of fun, and our kids are all beautiful so it seemed magical and fairytale like on the good days.

Without getting into unnecessary details, we can sum up the bulk of our relationship as unhealthy, lots of betrayal, and zero boundaries.

You know something I learned real hardcore is not to write publicly during those honeymoon phase months. Because what a mess.

The amount of messages BOTH he and I have received since breaking up is…hmmm..how can I put this? I guess it’s just like…do the math, people. If we broke up, we broke up, and what isn’t public information out in the world of Instagram and my blog, isn’t information you need. Being asked constantly and reminded how beautiful and perfect we appeared to be does. not. help.

The messages asking me all the questions and making all the statements plain hurt. They hurt a lot. I am grieving, there are so many layers and complexities to this, and maybe one day I will feel like I can breathe from it, but right now the questions are exhausting.

I learned again — as I did after my divorce — that I am REALLY REALLY GOOD at writing blog posts and articles directly after a huge blow up that seemed mostly repaired.

What I’m trying to say is, there will be weeks and even months of disconnection and hurt happening, me repressing and not having the courage to be fully honest about how I’m feeling — this will lead to an inherent blow up, and then a forced + partial reconcile/repair conversation.

And then I write an article about how amazing we are repairing.

I don’t do this on purpose, I think it’s one of my coping mechanisms — to mark those winning conversations that I know are marks of health, but are so few and far between that I have to cling onto them with the hope they become more frequent and typical and consistent.

Codependency. It’s a bish. One I was sure I didn’t struggle with, but over the last two years I see that I definitely do, it just looks differently than I was told it would.

I recognize that my codependency looks very much like ignoring myself, not staying true to myself, diminishing my actual emotional/mental/spiritual/physical needs and boundaries in order to ensure the other person in the relationship is comfortable and not as bothered as maybe they should be to meet me where I’m at.

It’s me saying I am going to be your ride or die, even though riding with you is going to kill me.

My codependency looks like having no boundaries (or unhealthy boundaries I exist in) — from my point of view, it feels like I’m being selfless and gracious and loving unconditionally, believing + hoping the best for the other person (because that’s what love does in the famous Corinthians verse).

But when I pull back from the picture and look it square in the face I see that it is actually the opposite. It is a deep-seated pride in me saying that I am so strong and so above you, that nothing will phase me, and you can actually do whatever you want in this relationship and quite literally ignore my needs…I will be here still. I will put up with any thing even at the expense of my whole beautiful self. I will numb myself, repress myself, stop enjoying much of life, BUT I WILL BE HERE NEXT TO YOU DAMMIT.

The two adult relationships I’ve been in (my marriage and the last dating one) were completely different on so many levels, but the outcome of their failing was the same: I am weary and shattered-hearted + mourning. Now I definitely don’t care to ever risk a real relationship again. I cannot imagine opening myself up to someone, to trusting, to pouring myself out and into a “partner” or desiring to being poured into by one… which is a place I never thought I’d find myself.

These kinds of devastating break ups aren’t happening to me because bad things just happen to me, they exist in my life because I have not created healthy boundaries. Periodt.

It’s been over two months since my “break up” and for a few weeks in there we attempted to talk and hang out a bit, see if we can figure this out right here and right now, but it became clear real fast that I am not healthy. We have to distance ourselves from each other so our individual issues don’t morph to become our issues (again). I cannot not take on his issues when we talk every day or are in the same space. I cannot not take on his grief and pain and instability, carry it around with me all day and all night — it is heavy and it’s not mine to carry or fix, but man is that hard.

We both have a lot to figure out individually, and when we are in communication I literally drop all my own stuff to figure out (all the stuff that needs to heal) and try to figure out his stuff and fix it all and want to help all the things and blah blah blah. I cannot not.

God created boundaries — when He said to let the sun go down and the darkness fall, that was a boundary between night and day. When He created the ocean meeting the land, that was a boundary.

Jesus respected boundaries, He created boundaries, He broke boundaries. It’s all over the New Testament.

For me, right now, navigating boundaries feels exhausting. Breaking through and creating the right boundaries feels impossible.

I am a firm believer in generational trauma/sin/brokenness/struggle/stronghold/whatever you want to call it.

Years ago when I was in high school and then into college, I got all pumped up and stoked to break through boundaries, to tear down generational bondages, to create new healthy and life-giving boundaries. I wanted to leave a legacy of bondage-breaking for my kids. I wanted certain and specific traumas and brokenness to stop with me. I. Was. Ready.

There is a long line of unhealthy marriages and intimate relationships in my family. A long, long line. Divorce yes, and also just super unhealthy relationships.

The cost of breaking this kind of bondage — of breaking these boundaries and creating healthy ones — is heavy. It’s wearisome. It is easier to dream about doing this kind of legacy work, instead of actually doing it. This is the kind of legacy that is invisible, that doesn’t get a lot of applaud or thanks, that isn’t super measurable.

Now I get weary just thinking about how much self-control and soul-work it is going to take in the coming months and years to break this pattern so engrained into me.

Last night after my kids fell asleep, I stood there watching their chests rise and fall. Their faces were so soft, their souls clearly at rest. Don’t ya just wanna smooch them.

I kept thinking, “I owe it to them to do this the right way. I owe it to them to not get back into a relationship I wouldn’t want them to model.” Their dad and I aren’t together and I would hate myself to be in a relationship with another man and continue to model unhealthy dysfunction.

Because that’s the thing: I will pass these patterns and traumas and strongholds right down to them if I don’t do the weary work of breaking this bondage. If I don’t loose the chains tied to me through generational patterns, I’ll be passing the same chains right off to my boys.

And what a tragedy that would be, especially since I am so well aware of these specific patterns. Traumas. Habits. Conditioning.

For a time I was a huge fan of making sure people knew that they didn’t have to raise their hands in worship and say cliche things like “He will calm my storm” or whatever when in the thick of suffering — because so much of our Christian culture is cliche sayings thrown at one another. I felt like a rebel saying these things. But I had discovered oceans of grace to just be right where I was at in my grief … what I see now, looking back, is that my heart was still in a posture of worship.

I may not be walking around declaring that He will calm my storm — because I don’t know if He will or if I expect Him to while on earth — but I am walking around noting that He is with me. Thanking Him for being near me, through all my mess and heartache.

I will worship when I’m weary, because He is with me. I’m not talking about fancy worship — I’m talking about the quiet and stillness, crying to Him instead of reaching back out to him (which I don’t do perfectly), knowing He is with me even in my darkest hours, and trusting He won’t leave me. Trusting He is enough.

I will worship when I’m weary, because honestly? weariness makes me desparate for Him.

Here is something:

Demons tremble when we worship. When we get weary and turn to things that don’t fulfill or heal us, the enemy doesn’t care. When we distract ourselves with Netflix, Instagram scrolling, alcohol, sex, whatever it is… the enemy has no work to do. But he trembles when we worship, when we call on His name, when we love and serve and forgive others.

Those years ago when I bravely wanted to break all those chains and generational traumas, I was claiming myself a trailblazer. I didn’t realize that it was going to be hard. Or that it wouldn’t just happen.

When we decide to be a trail blazer, weary is a part of the responsibility, and we don’t get to give up because we’re weary. This wasn’t supposed to be easy, because when we break through these — generational curses — the floodgates will be opening up for others in ways they wouldn’t have opened before.

How can I make it so that no one else, especially my kids and grandkids, don’t have to go through what I’m going through right now? How can I ensure that these unhealthy patterns engrained in me end here?

I have learned to function within the (unhealthy) boundaries that my insecurities and fears have created. These were learned early on, passed down to me silently.

I lived lots of years before even realizing I was bound.

These “boundaries” keep me silent about what hurts me within a relationship, out of fear of sounding too sensitive or weak or just plain too much to deal with.

These boundaries make me dismiss my feelings and instincts, shove away the intuition telling me to pay attention to the red flags — these “boundaries” put me in the box of the All Forgiving + Understanding Person (which we could dive into about how this is also a facade) and disregard me as a person needing security (emotionally and spiritually).

I don’t know if I’m making sense to anyone except myself, but that’s okay — I’m processing out loud on the pages of the internet.

We out here diggin a well, I think.

God is digging into me right now, and it hurts.

It feels like my whole life is in shambles, but really He is simply digging.

He is digging past the rocky soil, the hard ground of my anxiety, fears, self-hatred, lack of good boundaries, etcetera etcetera and reaching deeper to hit fresh water.

He isn’t trying to crush me, even though it feels like it — He is trying to create boundaries. Striking my courage, striking healing, striking the belief that “no weapon formed against me will prosper.”

There is water underneath all our pain — Living Water. The kind we drink and never thirst again.

If you study the process of digging a well, once you strike the water you have to create a boundary to make sure the water stays pure.

And…we gotta dig deep enough to make sure the water doesn’t run dry.

This season..this long lasting season of weariness and upheaval and disappointment…it is about breaking the unhealthy boundaries of the dirt in order to create the healthy boundaries that allows pure water to spring up.

Digging wells within ourselves will make us weary…I’m so grateful He is with me.