For a long time, I believed that love meant fixing, rescuing, and taking responsibility for how others felt. I internalized the idea that being a “good” daughter, partner, or parent meant managing everyone’s emotions, smoothing over their disappointments, and trying to be whatever they needed me to be.
This pattern- what I understand as codependency- wasn’t something I chose. It was a survival strategy. a way of staying connected in environments where authenticity wasn’t always safe. It was how I learned to navigate a world where emotional responsibility often got tangled up with love.
But now, I’m in a season of unlearning. I’m learning love doesn’t mean rescuing. That trust doesn’t mean agreement. And that my own inner world is worthy of just as much attention, care, and presence as anyone else’s feelings.
When Others Try to Fix Us
Something in me bristles when I sense someone is trying to fix me- even if its coming from a place of care. I think its because, for much of my life, that kind of care was conditional.
When I was struggling, I didn’t need someone to fix me. i needed to be trusted. I needed someone to believe in my capacity to navigate my challenges. To trust that I could sit with hard emotions and come out on the other side. that even when I felt lost or overwhelmed, I was still whole, still wise, still capable.
No when I’m sad or grieving or triggered, I don’t want solutions. I want space to feel. I want presence, not pressure. Compassion not correction.
I want to be met, not managed. This shit- of not trying to fix others, and not allowing myself to be fixed – is one of the deepest ways I’ve been healing codependency.
The Pull Away From Self
Recently, I noticed this old pattern resurfacing with my mom. She’s upset with me. She thinks I’m not doing enough, not offering enough, not giving her what she wants from me emotionally. And I can feel her frustration like a pressure system in the room, even from a distance. Her disappointment pulls on me in that familiar way, trying to hook me back into the role of emotional caretaker. But now I see it for what it is: a distraction from my own process.
When I get caught up in how she feels about me, trying to fix it or explain myself or manage her emotions – I abandon myself. I turn away from my own feelings. I ignore the parts of me that are hurting, tired, or simply asking to be felt. It’s not that I don’t care how she feels. I do. But when I center her experience, at the expense of my own, I recreate the very dynamic I’ve been working so hard to heal from.
Tending to My Inner World
There’s a lot happening inside me right now. there are moments of deep sadness, of grief for the ways I wasn’t seen, or the roles I felt I had to play to be loved. There are layers of anger and fatigue, a sense of depletion from constantly tending to others while leaving myself behind. When I slow down and check in, I realize: this inner landscape needs my care more than anyone else’s approval ever could.
I’ve spent so much time trying to make things okay out there- between me and my mom, between me and the world- that I’ve missed what’s rising up within.
So, no I’m choosing differently.
I’m choosing to turn inward, To place my hands on my heart, to breathe into the ache in my chest, to offer tenderness to the parts of me that have been silenced in all the noise of caretaking. This is how I come home to myself.
Trusting my Process
Codependency taught me to doubt my own needs and instincts. To second-guess myself. To defer to others’ opinions and moods. But I don’t want to live like that anymore.
I’m learning to trust my process – even when it’s messy, even when others don’t understand it, even when it looks like nothing is “happening” on the outside.
Healing doesn’t always look productive. Sometimes it looks like sitting in stillness when you want to run. Sometimes it looks like saying no to a conversation you’re not ready for. Sometimes it looks like feeling the grief you’ve been avoiding for years.
This work is quiet, sacred, and slow. And it’s mine.
Relationships That Don’t Need to Fix Me
The more I untangle from codependency, the more clarity I have about the relationships I want to be in.
I don’t want to be with anyone who feels like they need to fix me. I don’t want my sadness to be as a problem, my silence as a threat, or my truth as too much.
I want to be met where I am – with trust, not urgency.
I want relationships that honor the ebb and flow of healing. that leave room for mystery and messiness. that know how to sit beside pain without trying to erase it. Because when someone trusts me in my process, it helps me trust myself even more.
Reiki, Presence, and the Path Back Home
Reiki has been one of the most powerful tools in my journey of reclaiming self-trust. Not because it “fixed” me – but because it taught me to be with myself.
Reiki doesn’t rush. It doesn’t diagnose. It doesn’t demand an outcome. It simply offers presence – a gentle grounding energy that says: You’re safe to feel what you feel. You’re allowed to be where you are.
Every time I lie down for a Reiki session, whether receiving or offering, I remember that I don’t have to force anything to heal. i don’t have to prove anything to be worthy of care. I don’t have to have it all figured out. I just have to shup. And that’s true in life, too.
Letting Others Be Themselves
Part of healing codependency is also learning to let others have their experience- without trying to fix them, either.
My mom may never understand why I’m creating space. She might continue to feel hurt or disappointed. And I can’t control that.
But I can honor that her feelings are hers to feel, just as mine are mine to tend to. I can stop trying to change how she sees me and focus on how I see myself.
I can remember that I don’t owe anyone my emotional labor just because they are uncomfortable.
I can grieve the ways we miss each other and still choose not to abandon myself.
In Closing: Staying With Myself
Healing from codependency isn’t about never caring for others. It’s about making sure we don’t disappear in the process.
It’s about recognizing when we’re being pulled away from our inner truth – and gently returning. It’s about knowing that our feelings matter, too. So, today I’m staying with myself. I’m letting the feelings rise. I’m trusting the sadness, the ache, the truth of where I am. I’m not trying to be “better” for anyone. I’m not trying to fix what’s not mine.
And in doing so, I’m remembering what it feels like to be free.
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