Listening to someone share about their codependent behavior can chill me because I know first hand the pain awaiting them. When I get close to someone, I struggle not to move from caring into controlling, or to pull back into isolating and being passive aggressive. Both extremes, to me, are when healthy love degenerates into codependency.

     I naturally think about and feel for those I care for. It's a great part of living. But I can get scared and withdraw, trying to exert power by my silent withholding, until I come to my senses and realize the person doesn't deserve this treatment, and I don't want to live like this. Then I'll get up the resolve to talk the issue over.

     Or I'll lapse into working out my schemes for someone I care for to be happier and more successful. At times, while sifting putting great energy into improving them, it pops into my mind, "What am I doing? Put this energy on you, Rick.' And then I remind myself to be powerless over others, and I calm myself with the first three steps and the Serenity Prayer.

     Love is accepting others, "warts and all." Love turns bad when I pressure someone to put on the wart medicine. I try to give others the dignity of solving their problems in their own way and pace, being there for them when they ask. I trust that they have their own Higher Power.

     The healthy human being, to me, isn't someone utterly independent, but one who wants adult relationships. This person knows that fine line of crossing into codependency, not that they always straddle it. The healthy person bonds with others, feels deeply, cares what happens, worries and grieves appropriately. Healthy people compromise. A good adult to adult relation- ship is fifty-fifty, sometimes my way, sometimes yours. We're equal. We bring different talents, excel in our own ways, appreciate each other's strengths and respect our weaknesses.

     The healthy person honors boundaries, not offering advice when it isn't requested. Repeat - not offering advice when it isn't requested, a basic tenet of effective human living so often sinned against in the name of helping. 

     Giving advice when it's not asked for, or taking someone else's inventory, is clearly an attack.  At the least, it makes the person feel guilty, such as telling an overweight person to lose weight. It's an invasion. The healthy person respects the overweight person's right to live by using food to get by, or whatever, knowing that the first step to helping someone is to honor their process. Each learns in his own way. By letting someone know I respect them, they'll often open up and ask for guidance. To urge them when they're not ready, just doesn't work.

     When does helping another or bonding emphatically become harmful? Am I losing myself? Is there too much, or not enough, compromising? Am I working my own inventory and not theirs? Am I giving them enough space, and am I giving myself enough? Am I showing up enough, giving enough? I look for an edge in my voice, a big cue. Am I nervous? Do I need results over process? All these are telling for me.

     If I find myself obsessing on helping someone, I'm in trouble. If I feel overly bad because someone else is having troubles, I'm in trouble. If I am obsessing on changing others, I am in trouble. Loving concerns, which I talk forthrightly about, are different.

     "Maybe you ought to lob more," I told my tennis doubles partner during a crucial part of a match. He was quiet, then, before serving the next point, he blurted out, "And how would you like your coffee served?" He tried to make a joke of it, even as he said it, but it shocked me, and I feel ashamed even now writing this. The comment surprised me because he had recently told me any advice I had would be appreciated. What had happened?

     Years ago, I would have stuffed my lousy feelings about this. But his comment hurt, and I felt that gnawing in my stomach. With my commitment not to accept abuse, I had to deal with it. But I first had to look at my inventory.

     I almost never give partners advice, so I knew it was odd that I had. It took me awhile to recognize that I said to lob because of my fear of losing. I was inventorying his game at a time of intense pressure in the match. My unconscious fear was at work. I apologized afterward, and he accepted and apologized back.

     Overcoming Codependency Psychotherapist Alice Miller discusses a study of fourteen incarcerated fathers who abused their children. At first, they felt no remorse about what they had done. But as they found the freedom to speak of their actions in safe therapy, all fourteen offenders were finally able to cry over the horrors they had inflicted. As a result, it's likely that, with continued work, they'll be able to stop abusing. Being aware of our feelings and of the consequences of our actions are huge steps in overcoming codependency.

     Stephen Covey outlines a helpful concept in his book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. The one extreme for Covey is Independence, the other Codependence. But the healthy meeting ground is what he terms Interdependence, which means bring independent with someone else.

     Intimacy is being myself with someone else. I must be myself, yet revere the other.

     Overcoming codependency is an inside job, working with my feelings and thoughts to tease out my deeper motives. Gently nurturing myself as I work with my problems, I become better able to relate with others. I examine relationships I'm in, and have been in, to find my patterns. The program says we must be rigorously honest. I rigorously watch my inner messages to myself. I see my thoughts as builders of my life. The more thinking I do on something, the more I tend to attract it. So I look to put my thoughts, not on fixing others, but toward love and creativity.  Otherwise, I might as well get out the Miracle Gro.

1. "This above all, to thine own self be true and it must follow, as the night the day, thou can'st not then be false to any man," wrote Shakespeare. Doing what's right for me, I find that everyone benefits.

2. Accept yourself in this moment, as you are. Approve of your likes and dislikes, your inclinations and dis-inclinations. Let yourself care, but not control.

3. Commit to not helping when not asked, and to never taking another's inventory. Give others the dignity of working at their own way and pace, the dignity of learning through trial and error.

4. Watch how you err - too enmeshed, con- trolling, being controlled, or too independent, withdrawing, passive aggressive. When in doubt what. to do, try contrary action and see how you feel. If guilt arises", you're probably taking positive contrary action.

5. In your relationships, just do your best and don't worry about making mistakes. Mistakes are the by-products of rapid growth. Just worry about learning from your mistakes.