I love my family, but I also feel crazy when I’m around them
I (35f) recently learned that I am codependent. My codependency is very strong when it comes to my relationship with my family of origin, but now that I am aware of the pattern I can see how it has also at times manifested in other relationships as well (friends, romantic partners, etc.).
Right now, my issue is with my family of origin. I am struggling because I used to have a very close (albeit enmeshed) relationship with my family, and after a major rupture that occurred between October and June of this year, I am struggling with the distance between me and them.
I want to start by saying that my family of origin are good people. They can be so fun, loving, and warm. My parents took good care of my brother and I, and up until this past year I thought my family and I were actually friends, not just family. I thought we all genuinely liked each other.
While I would characterize our relationship overall as good, looking back now I think it was only good when I didn’t have any needs, which I frequently didn’t. As a kid I was praised for being “the good kid” or “the one we don’t worry about.” I rarely ask for help, and by the time I do, it’s usually crisis level.
When I did express a need, I was often shouted back into silence. For example, at their insistence, I moved into one of their houses (which they rarely use) after grad school. The house had been neglected - the roof leaked in several places when it rained, it regularly got roaches despite regular cleaning and pest control, and the AC would fail every summer, sometimes multiple times in a summer. When I would bring up these issues, they would get upset with me and would make me feel like I was overreacting, saying “every house has problems.” When I tried to take initiative to fix the roof, they screamed at me over the phone until I agreed to call the contractor and cancel the service. Despite these issues, I stayed in that house for years. I threatened to move out many times, but never did. The roof has since developed a hole, which was covered by a tarp, which rotted, which was then covered by another tarp. I now live with my husband. The roof doesn’t leak, the ac works without fail, and I have only seen a cockroach in the house once in over a year of living here.
I came out as Muslim to my parents in October of last year, a fact I hid from them for approximately 10 months as I settled in to my new faith. I was afraid to tell them, because I was scared of their reaction. It was nuclear. They shouted, they were cold, they told me they loved me, but also told me I would be banned from their deathbed if I wore hijab, among other very hurtful things. After that, daily calls reduced to near zero. I managed to stay calm in their presence and just continue to wear my hijab in their presence, but after they shunned me at Thanksgiving, I decided to pull back completely, as it was too painful for me to keep trying to show them I was still their daughter, I just wore a scarf. At home, however, I was falling apart. I felt like I would die from the depression I experienced. I struggled to get out of bed, and my now husband ensured that I ate and showered, because I lost the will to care for myself. He also encouraged me to go to therapy, which has helped tremendously, and I’ve been attending regularly.
My husband and I invited them to our wedding in June, but told them there weren’t going to be any parent moments (dances, aisle walk, etc) since they said they weren’t comfortable walking me down the aisle in hijab. I told them they are welcome to attend as standard guests. This also resulted in pain for me. My brother and most of my extended family declined to attend my wedding. My parents decided to attend at the very last possible moment. I learned from a family member who declined to attend that, prior to their rsvp, my parents and brother were telling my family that they weren’t planning to come to the wedding at all, which is why so many declined. This was devastating to me. My wedding day was beautiful, but I still remember how empty my side of the aisle was, and how there were no seats left on my husband’s side.
Since the wedding, I don’t speak to my dad or brother anymore, and I’ve been in minimal contact with my mom. She is warm, but there has never been an apology from any of them, just this vibe of “let’s all go back to normal and pretend this never happened.” I am struggling because I miss my mom so bad. Part of me wants to just go back to normal and pretend none of this ever happened, but I’m also so angry. I have tried to convince her to go to therapy and she won’t do it. I know I can’t control her, but the part that kills me is this: I didn’t want the distant relationship I now have with my family. But letting them back in without getting my need for repair met feels like me just shoving my needs down again. Some of my extended family want me to forgive and forget, but I can’t do that. It makes me want to scream.
The way they, my brother, and my extended family treated me this past year has confirmed my worst fears about being worthless, unlovable, and not worth showing up for. I know that’s not true, but when your entire family chooses not to be there for a major milestone, it does feel like a verdict on you as a human being. I’m tired. I want my family back, but not at the cost of myself. I think a lot about what if we stay estranged and they die and I never get to repair with them. I think about my brother, who had a child during this time that I haven’t met - I’ve stayed away because I am afraid to become attached to her and have her be taken away from me the next time I upset my parents. I also still feel so much anger towards my brother that I feel like staying away from him and his family is the best decision I can make right now, but the cost is high, and I am the only one paying it.
If you read this far, thank you.