Today I sat at my coffee shop thinking hard about my last relationship. That “Am I codependent or in love?” question kept poking my brain. Felt like crap realizing I couldn’t tell the difference for years. So I grabbed my notebook and dug into my own mess.
Spotting My Mess
Started replaying fights with my ex. Every damn time they had a bad day, I’d drop everything—work, friends, sleep—to “fix” it. Made myself dizzy running circles around their moods. Felt like I’d get struck by lightning if I said “no.” Wrote it down cold: Warning Sign 1: I put their fires out before mine, every single time. My needs? Buried under their drama.
The “Helping” Trap
Scrolled through old texts—cringed hard. My thumbs were always flying: “Did you eat?” “Call me when you’re sad!” “I’ll handle that bill!” Felt noble then. Now? Pathetic. I’d morph into a 24/7 therapist/maid/bank. Even when drained dry, I’d whisper, “But they NEED me.” Truth hit: Warning Sign 2: I called it love when it was just me being a doormat. Real love doesn’t scrap your spine.
Silence & Seething
Remembered swallowing anger like cheap pills. They’d cancel plans last minute? “It’s fine!” They flirt at the bar? “I trust you!” Played the “chill partner” till my guts twisted. Why? Fear. Fear they’d bolt if I flinched. Outcome? I became a ghost in my own life. Warning Sign 3: My voice vanished to keep them cozy.
Facing My Reflection
Dumped cold water on my face in the cafe bathroom. Stared into the mirror. Saw exhaustion. Saw years lost playing therapist to partners who gave crumbs. Real love doesn’t make you feel like a hollow puppet. Closed my notebook. Did three things right there:
- Deleted my ex’s number—again.
- Texted my best friend: “Call me out if I act like a doormat.”
- Bought a damn muffin just because I wanted one.
Walked home lighter. Codependency isn’t love—it’s fear wearing a mask. Spotting this crap early? Lifesaver.
