On Valentines Day my dad announced his transition to hospice care. The next day my husband and I separated.
Two months later I finally chose to seek medical attention.
I could write a hundred thousand words on those two months. And the lead up to them. And...But no, let's keep it as simple as possible. All you need to know is that I cried until I hallucinated, until my eyes went black, until small blisters and slight callouses formed where I wiped away the tears hour after hour. It was not easy, and it was the culmination of two years of absolute and total Hell. I cried every day for thirty, forty, and then fifty days. I stopped eating and lost fifteen pounds in that first month. I suddenly developed highlights in my hair, a loss of color. My nails began to suffer from stress/malnutrition, to the point that one fingernail and one toenail have started to fall off.
Yet I didn't want to even admit the possibility of depression. Going to the therapist was hard.
So...codependency is a thing. Lizzie suggested it was a part of my struggle roughly seven years ago and I refused to consider it.
Raised in a dysfunctional household, I didn't know any other way to be. Surrounded by sick parents in their twisted environment, one in which fear and danger was taken for granted, I carried that expectation with me into my adulthood. I expected it from my friends, and created a social network of emergency and panic that sustained my worldview during the brief periods of respite from family.
And I created this blog.
And I fed my obsession.
Codependency is characterized by obsession, by the way. As I read Codependent No More (as prescribed by my doctor), I was confused by Melody Beattie's repeated use of the phrase, "person or problem." Sure, I'd been obsessed with a person before, but problem? How can a problem possibly provide the feedback to sustain a real-life obsession? How can an individual really find self-worth and happiness in a problem?
Debt. Debt had been my obsession. I'd lost myself to debt payment, sacrificed everything to it, found my worth in its demise, and as it dwindled...my meaning dwindled. My writing stopped. I made the final payment and it felt like my life ended. And that's about the time everything else in my life - barely manageable up to that point - went totally to Hell.
Obviously I'm not saying debt payment is bad. I'm saying that I struggle with personality traits that made it easy to lose myself to this otherwise good and noble process. And I'm saying that I only recently found myself, and I'm only just now working out who Maya is, who Tread Softly is, and who I will become. I want to keep up this blog, and I miss you guys, but I also need you to know the truth. This has been a blog about spending, lifestyle, sustainability, subversion, and Total Financial Freedom. But it has also been a blog about a codependent relationship, my codependent relationship with debt.
Moving forward, if I'm able to, I'd like to talk about having a healthy relationship with money. I'm committed to becoming healthy again, maybe for the first time. I'd like to help others with the same struggle. I don't know what that looks like. I don't know what will change or stay the same. But I do know that freedom is more possible today than ever before.
