On Being the Recovering Needy Friend

I'm still in my lil' cocoon lately, and I'm frustrated because so many people around me have needed support that I can't really just hide the way I'd ultimately like to. I should likely develop stronger boundaries, and there are definitely some people and times where I strongly hold a stop sign and tell them that I'll get to them when I get to them. But I just wanna hide quietly, is that too much to ask? But I feel like I'll always extend myself in ways that I wish I sometimes wouldn't, all because I know what it's like to need a strong ear. And I was blessed to have many of them in my life. A lot of people aren't so lucky tho.

I look back and cringe at many decisions I made in life. I don't want to blame anyone or anything, but thinking about it now, pretty sure that my childhood had a lot to do with it. I never felt secure and I sought it out where ever I could, as I got older. If someone felt safe and familiar, I clung to them for dear life. What I have going for me and my former neediness is that at least I was always willing to give what I asked. But looking back I can still own that I was probably a lot to handle.

It's ironic what ultimately became my wakeup call. When I left my old job during the pandemic, and it was time to get it cracking again, I applied for a job at a rehab for women. I'd considered that position my dream job. I was able to work with women who were addicted to drugs and alcohol, with the ultimate goal being to reunite many of those women with their children, who were mostly taken by DFCS. What could be better than that, right?

Well, long story short, that job became one of the most toxic environments that I have ever existed in. But I gotta acknowledge, working in substance abuse ended up being one of the best things to ever happen to me. Because while we forced our clients to own their shit, I caught some of the blowback and was forced to own my shit as well. I realized that while I never had a big issue with drugs or alcohol, I realized that I had far deeper codependency than I'd realized. I also learned that I had a bit of an unhealthy attachment to men. And I still kinda do.

Another thing that kind of helped around the time was that I'd really started to work on my books, which made me look deep into myself on my own spirituality. I'd started an Instagram page that focused on mindfulness and as I posted things more often, plus using mindfulness to help women in the program, it made me that much more cautious of being an effective practitioner. And how can I be a practitioner, if I don't understand and live what it was that I was promoting? It started to really hit me. I had some stuff to work on, and nobody could fix this mess but me.

What made me think about this was that I was reading something online today where a woman complained that her friends convinced her to leave her alcoholic fiancé, but she now felt let down that they weren't still supporting her as she navigates singlehood. I read this and all I could think was how exhausting she sounds as a friend. Like these women literally saved you by helping you leave a toxic relationship, and now you're big mad because they aren't holding your hand as you learn to be single too?! Damn bitch, why don't you just have your friends live your whole life for you at this point?!

I'm genuinely horrified to know that I was at some point that friend. Sitting on the phone for hours on end as I mulled over what this person said versus what they meant. The conversations over the years about the bullshit David and my son's father doled out, plus other idiots. I'm so embarrassed of the woman I used to be, while being so proud of the woman that I currently am. I wish like hell that I could go back and explain to my old self that people have their own problems and don't wanna always be an ear for your bad decisions. I've already apologized to some friends and thanked others for being there for me when I was so difficult to love and I'll likely spend the rest of my life atoning and cringing for actions during that time.

Why did I have to be nearly 40-years-old before I finally saw that other people had their own shit to deal with and that I needed to be an adult and pull up my big girl panties and figure it out on my own? I dunno. But as much as I detest my former boss, I'm grateful for what I was able to take from that experience. You absolutely could not pay me enough to go back to that job. My peace of mind comes first (you know it's time to go when you're crying in your car on the way home).

I'm grateful though. I'm grateful, because I know how far I've come to be the woman who I am. Warts and all. These battle scars are real, but they show what a warrior I am. Because I had to defeat the biggest monster of them all. 

Myself.