Codependency: The Legacy Nobody Asked For

In my twenties, I got diagnosed with codependency. I thought, “Perfect. Now I’m fixed.” Spoiler: forty years later, still working on it. Apparently, healing doesn’t come with an instruction manual—or a return policy.

Fast-forward to today. I’ve got three grown kids. I wanted to leave them a legacy, but codependency? Yeah, not exactly the family heirloom I had in mind.

And before you point it out—I know when I’m doing it. I’m not oblivious. I’m just busy pretending it’ll go away if I stuff it down far enough. Pro tip: it doesn’t. It comes back as resentment, frustration, and the occasional meltdown at someone who had nothing to do with it.

Boundaries? Oh, I can talk about them all day long. “Set your limits! Stand your ground!” Do I actually follow my own advice? Nope. I shift my boundary line more than Walmart moves its seasonal aisles.

Here’s the truth bomb I keep avoiding: Let go. Not everyone’s going to like me. Sometimes even my own kids don’t. And that’s okay. That doesn’t mean I’m a terrible human—it just means I’m not everyone’s flavor.

So, are you an oak tree or a chameleon? Oaks stay rooted. Chameleons blend in. Oaks even get to drop acorns on people’s heads. Honestly, that sounds like stress relief.

And squirrels? They love acorns. Maybe that’s why I get them. Always chasing the next shiny thing, hoping this one’s “the answer.” But maybe that’s fine. Progress, not perfection. One acorn at a time.