The DaVinci Code…pendency

I know, that was bad. I couldn’t help myself. However, it’s entirely apropos, corniness aside.

Have you read The DaVinci Code? I confess that I did. I enjoyed it in spite of myself. Silly conspiracy theories, digging for clues, reading the signs, interpreting codes…I was fascinated.

So: codependency. As much as I’ve grown to detest psychobabble and words that come and go in the world of psychology, this word I can’t escape. It’s me. Completely and totally me. In my 38+ years, I have done three lifetimes’ worth of searching for the reasons why I am the bundle of neuroses you see before you. It started way back when I was a tiny little neurotic, dependent on the love and support of my parents for my total existence as a human – and my parents, God love ‘em, with their baggage and issues…

So, let’s examine the parallels:

Silly conspiracy theories? Yep. It’s my parents’ fault, for expecting perfection and forbidding wandering from the path. It’s my nursery school teacher’s fault for telling me I was smart. It’s because I’m an only child. It’s because I am a klutz, but also a great dancer – how’s THAT for an oxymoron?

Digging for clues? Oh, mercy yes. Not until college and immediately after, but I did some digging. Therapists, counselors, self-help gurus, God, religion… Somewhere in there, I was going to unearth THE ANSWER and when I did it would be so appallingly obvious that I would have myself figgered out in a jif.

And along with those clues, I did some reading of signs: if the sun shines tomorrow, then all this stuff bothering me right now will be okay. If I ace this exam, then my future is secure. If I make it through this horrible experience, then I will NEVER do THAT again (drink too much, talk too much, share too much of myself)…

Worst of all, I began to see patterns. Codes, even. I studied people so closely I made Margaret Mead look like a slacker. I made some amazing discoveries:

• IF [boyfriend looks unhappy] THEN [I have done something wrong] (note: this statement is absolute and “boyfriend” is interchangeable with: “parents,” “friends,” “person at mall”)


• I do not deal with conflict well. I cringe and shrivel up inside when something contrary to what I know is introduced. Gathering data via keen observations, I created the following graph which illustrates my reaction to conflict or differing opinions:

• Overheard in many a high school/college classroom: “This essay is great; you need to cut some wordiness and add more description but overall it’s really good” - translated this means: “You suck, and you’re dumb and ugly.”


• Any bad things that befall anyone I know are all my fault – many people don’t even realize it at times but I step in with my apologies and my secret shame because in the big scheme of things I’m SURE I did something to cause it, and helpfully take responsibility for pretty much anything.


• If forty-seven things need doing to achieve a common goal, I will bust my ass doing forty-six of them, then break down, weeping, when I have to ask someone else to do the last one. Not because I’m so capable or so IN CHARGE…no, I’m just compelled to drive myself into an early grave.


• If Michelle’s [friend, loved one, co-worker] wants to talk about 2 problems, and Michelle is so busy thinking of the 47 things she must get done or be labeled a lazy bum, and simultaneously is thinking of the friend’s 2 problems plus 8 other problems other people have mentioned that are probably her fault, then how many problems are there? BONUS: Why can’t Michelle sit calmly and listen to 1 problem at a time? Why can’t she LISTEN at all without a bizarre compulsion to FIX everything? (I’m pretty sure Fibonacci sequences come into play here.)

I could go on. At some point, I probably will. I’m reading what’s considered the classic on codependency (Codependent No More by Melody Beattie – isn’t that a fine, firm, don’t-take-any-crap title?) and I’ve already met myself on about every other page. No doubt there will be a myriad of topics that compel inspire me to write.

The good news is that supposedly one can recover from this codependency business. Oh, and lest I give the wrong impression, I am not married to an alcoholic or drug addict – many people are codependent because of years of upbringing, then you add any other kinds of conflict into the mix (and we all know how THAT goes with me) and bam. You’ve got yourself a raging case of DaVinci Code-pendency.

Wish me luck.