When Love Collides with Worry…again and again

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It’s time for the grand release into the wild. But love collided with worry. I couldn’t possibly carry this out.

Visual Poetry by Dorothy C. LeBlanc

I am quick to love, and I think that is good. I am also quick to worry, and I don’t consider that to be an asset. But on those all too frequent occasions when love and worry collide, especially where my children are involved, nobody wins. My name is Dorothy and I am a codependent.

I will give you a very non-academic description of codependency, for those of you who are lucky enough to be unfamiliar with the word. Unable to “let go” of those I love, I dutifully carry the challenges of my children in my hands, or in what my therapist describes as my backpack, in an effort to unburden them of their load.

A wise therapist taught me the concept a well-packed backpack. She explained to me that everyone has one to carry as they make their way in the world. In my backpack should be all the things that are my responsibility. That said, a codependent will often remove things from a loved one’s personal backpack, telling themselves it is an act of love – but in all actuality, it is a control mechanism designed to “make life more manageable” for your loved one. That’s enough background. Let me continue with my story.

I have always been the one carrying a backpack that includes the burdens and difficulties of those I love, smooshed in with my own stuff, and this became quite evident as I raised my two sons. I ‘had their back’ – by filling my backpack with the odds and ends of life that would trouble them – telling myself that behavior was the action of a mother who truly knows – and loves – her children. I wish I had known in the 1990s what I know now…

Okay, now I realize that the love/worry collision has much more to do with my own mental illnesses than with motherly love. My inability to turn loose of a thought – my obsessive compulsive disorder – compounds my fears and anxieties with every breath. Add to that an imagination that knows no bounds, and suddenly I have become overtaken by this exhausting reality that seems to hold me hostage. Depression is standing in line to take its place in the mental melee.

Did I mention that I keep a smile on my face, a lilt in my voice, and encouraging words flowing from my mouth, at least 90% of the time? I never wanted to own my peculiar thought patterns and reactions, much less put them on display. I hid my OCD, anxiety and depression until they finally rose to the surface, like that splinter that you just can’t remove from your finger. Suddenly it is front and center, you can examine it, determine its origin, and deal with it.

And deal with it I did! I finally got the help I dearly needed, and I am grateful. I receive meds and participate in talk therapy. I have had some really great moments since my treatments began, but I still struggle at times. In truth, I am on the edge of that emotional cliff again right now, feeling the weight of the hardships of my now-grown sons that I have shoved yet again into my personal backpack. I’ve lost a part of myself, but not forever!

I actually feel much better having shared this with you all on this platform. I hope today will be the day that I unpack my backpack, and only put back what is mine to carry. Thank you all for the opportunity to be a part of your writing community. I truly have plenty of room in my pack for writing, for self-expression, for gaining clarity, for sharing, and for learning and growing through the journaling, poetry and art that you all bring to the table. With my gratitude for your inclusion of me on this platform, I offer you peace, love and many blessings. dorothy