I'm a Giver.

Today I'm pondering my compulsion to make people need me. I'm a giver. Or, as it is termed, a caretaker. To me, that sounds like a very nice label. But apparently being a caretaker can also mean that you are crazy codependent. Like I said, I keep discovering new things about my flaws. I would like to stop these discoveries now. I have plenty to work on, thank you. Hopefully I've hit the bottom of the defect bucket here.

I have known for a while that I am a caretaker. I guess I just got a larger, better picture of what a caretaker was this weekend. I read the classic, Codependent No More. It's mostly aimed towards family and loved ones of alcoholics and people with other addictions and compulsions. I do have an alcoholic for a friend, and I definitely learned some things about how to deal with him. But I also found certain concepts in the book that resonated strongly with me that were part of me long before his alcoholism was part of my list of stressors.

I admit it, I really, really want to feel needed. To me, this has never seemed to be an unhealthy thing. I think where it becomes unhealthy is where I have myself convinced, in a deep down place that I'm not always consciously aware of, that if I'm not needed I serve no purpose as a friend. And if I'm not keeping them tied to me by filling an essential need, they are going to forget about me, or replace me, and leave. I can even look back on friendships and support this theory in a way that makes it hard to convince myself I'm not right. Mind you, my saner friends can tell me why I'm wrong. But I am currently not able to easily come up with a reason this thinking is silly. I know, in my more rational moments, that it is....

Ah, having consulted The Book, apparently it has to do with the fact that I feel that I am only worth something if I am caretaking. Also, apparently I dislike myself enough that I don't think it's right to take myself into account. Because, you know, that would be selfish.

So I had a really good, self-exploring weekend, where I read this book and took a mini-vacation that helped me remember who I am a little. And then today, returning home, my crazy self was here to greet me. I am struggling to remember the things I read in the book. But I did have a realization. Coolgirl is in a new relationship.That's not the realization, just hang with me for a second here. It's really annoying, because she's so distracted and has no time for me. Except that's not really true. In relative terms, she has far less time for me than she did Before. In my effort to learn how to communicate my feelings, I told her how I was feeling. I told her I was missing her, and really want some of her time. As a result of this and other conversations, she's been trying to check in with me with texts and emails, pretty much daily. She has made a point of fitting me in. She's still busy, and we haven't been able to spend the amount of time together that I would like, but for legitimate reasons. Here's where my crazy kicks in. My inner dialogue says, yes, she called me today. And texted me back. But why didn't she call me on Friday to tell me about her bad day, instead of waiting until Saturday? I mean, I only got a text on Friday, and she didn't mention her stress. Rational me will interject here and point out that, um, I am CRAZY.

But I actually got a step further in my inner dialogue tonight. Because, according to the aforementioned book, I should stop abusing myself so much for my feelings. I'm allowed to have them, regardless of if they are reasonable or not. It's identifying them, and figuring out where they come from that is key. So I should probably stop calling myself crazy. But that's a topic for another day. Instead of trying to find a way to make the yucky feeling go away NOW, I examined it. Look at me with the healthy moment. I realized that at least part of the issue really has nothing to do with how much time she is spending with me. It has to do with my fear that she's replaced me. She doesn't need me for some of the support she was going to me for before. Really, she is super strong and healthy and has loads of friends, so she doesn't NEED me at all. So the big mystifying thing to me is why we are friends. What does she get from it? I'm really stumped with this one. And I am really panicked. I catch myself trying to find ways to fill a need for her. And it hurts me when she doesn't need me. This is the part where it gets all tangley and confusing to me. Because, when you are having a bad day, don't you call your most valued friends? I would call her. I want her to want to call me. Sometimes she does, but it's almost more like she's trying to include me than that I am needed. For the most part now, she is calling me simply out of consideration for my feelings. She doesn't need anything. She just heard me when I told her how I felt, and she is being a good friend. It feels terribly lopsided to me. She's trying to meet MY need. But I don't have anything to give her. Because she is mostly filling her needs other ways. All healthy-like. So what is holding her to this friendship? Something seems to be. I have to say, in my less neurotic moments, when I look at all the conversations we have had about my feelings lately, and I realize that she not only listened, and gave much needed perspective, but she also HEARD me and adjusted her behavior accordingly, because my feelings are important to her, even if she thinks I need to calm down. From not making fun of certain things I'm sensitive about, to calling and texting me more when I know she's not typically one who would, she has been more sensitive to my feelings than I would have ever felt justified to expect. Which makes me adore her all the more. I know why I'm friends with her. She's amazing. I have no idea why she's friends with me. I do know that she told me I need to trust that she's not going anywhere. And I do trust her. So why can't I calm the heck down?