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The "dance" of codependency requires two people: the pleaser/fixer and the taker/controller. This inherently dysfunctional dance can only happen with one partner who is a codependent and another partner who is a narcissist (abuser or addict). Codependents do not know how to emotionally disconnect or avoid significant relationships with individuals who are selfish, controlling, and harmful to them. They find partners who are experienced with their dance style: a dance that begins as thrilling and exciting, but ends up rife with drama, conflict, and feelings of being trapped.
When a codependent and narcissist come together in a relationship, their "dance," unfolds flawlessly: the narcissistic partner maintains the lead and the codependent follows. Because the codependent gives up their power, the dance is perfectly coordinated: no one gets their toes stepped on.
Typically, codependents give of themselves much more than their partners give to them. As a "generous" but bitter partner, they seem to be stuck on the dance floor, always waiting for "next song," at which time their partner will finally understand their needs. The codependent confuses care-taking and sacrifice with love and responsibility. Although they are proud of their self-described strength, unselfishness, and endless compassion, they end up feeling deflated, empty, and yearning to be loved, but angry that they are not. They are essentially stuck in a pattern of giving and sacrificing, without the potential of receiving the same from their partner. When they dance, they often pretend to enjoy the dance, but usually hide their feelings of bitterness, sadness, and loneliness.
The codependent's fears and insecurities create a sense of pessimism and doubt over ever finding a healthy partner, someone who could love them for who they are versus what they can do. Naturally, the narcissist is attracted to the codependent's lack of self-worth and low self-esteem. They intuitively know that they will be able to control this person and be able to choose and control the dancing experience.
All codependents want balance in their relationships, but seem to consistently choose a partner who leads them to chaos and resentment. When given a chance to stop dancing with their narcissistic partner, or comfortably sit out the dance until someone healthy comes around, they choose to continue to dance. The codependent dares not to leave their narcissistic dance partner because their lack of self-esteem and low sense of self-worth manifests into the fear of being alone. Being alone is equivalent to feeling lonely, and loneliness is an intolerable feeling for a codependent.
Without self-esteem or feelings of personal power, the codependent does not know how to choose healthy (mutually giving) partners. Their inability to find a healthy partner is usually related to an unconscious motivation to find a person who is familiar…someone who reminds them of their powerless childhood. Many codependents come from families in which they were children of parents who were also experts at the dance. Their fear of being alone, compulsion to control and fix at any cost, and comfort in their role as the martyr who is endlessly loving, devoted, and patient, is a result of roles they observed early on in their childhood.
No matter how often the codependent tries to avoid "unhealthy" partners, they find themselves consistently on the dance floor dancing to different songs, but with the same dance partner. Through psychotherapy and, perhaps, a 12-step recovery program, the codependent begins to recognize that their dream to dance the grand dance of love, reciprocity, and mutuality, is indeed possible. Through therapy and/or change of lifestyle, they build self-esteem, personal power, and hope to finally dance with partners who are willing and capable to share the lead, communicate their movements, and pursue a shared rhythm.
Seven years ago I was asked by a friend if I was "religious and if I believed in God?" As a (formerly) practicing agnostic I quickly answered:"no." However, I defended myself by explaining that I lived my life according to universal principals of "right and wrong" (as I understood them). Because I believed that our deeds create a lasting effect on the world, I felt confident in my everlasting future. In other words, I wasn't worried about there being a heaven or not. I told my friend that when I die, I am banking on knowing that my impact on the world will be ever lasting. My "heaven" will ultimately be the creation of the the sum total of all my actions.
I will never forget my friend's response: he looked at me with glassy eyes, and told me how deeply spiritual I was. I didn't see it. It took five more years to see what he meant. Such was the inspiration of the following poem I wrote.
Heaven
The pebble is worn smooth
Made small over time
A product of a cataclysmic force of nature
A fragment of mountainous sheets of rock
An accidental offspring of a boulder
But just a very small stone.
The pebble's place in our world
Is neither understood nor appreciated
But when thrown into a glassy calm pond
Its insignificance is transformed
Its meaning and purpose is unleashed.
The instant the pebble kisses the pond
Its signature of concentric ripples
Spiral outwards
Moving far beyond itself.
Gently affecting everything in its wake
Forever altering the smooth placid surface.
The pebble creates its worth and meaning
By unleashing its unimagined power
Into a dueling force of action and reaction
Creating karmic energy
Producing lasting and fluid impressions.
Aren't we all pebbles?
Feeling small and insignificant
But ultimately recognizing
That who we are meant to be
Can never be measured in isolation
on a path into ourselves.
It is true then:
Our everlasting future
Is created by the indiscriminate tossing of pebbles
Into the pond of life
Creating ripples
that leave unique mark on our world
Not because of thoughts
not because of well meaning plans
But because of actions.
Our life's prayers our answered
Because even the smallest pebble
No matter how seemingly insignificant
Changes the course of the lives
Of those we touch.
And when the icy winds of death
beckon our lasting attention
We will gently leave this life
With the knowledge that
because of that one pebble
The world will never be the same.
And then we have heaven …
Ross Rosenberg
8/18/03
I am a coarse stone.
Yearning to be touched
Dreaming of being smooth
rounded and glassy.
I am a colorless piece of rubble.
Wanting to be held and caressed.
Desiring to become
a cherished part
of a beloved rock collection.
I am a sharp edged rock.
Isolated and alone.
Needing to no longer be a tool
Used to cut and divide
a person from his own heart.
Today is the day
I allow myself to toss,
turn and tumble.
To be kicked around.
Stomped into the earth.
And dug up again.
With the endless cycle of seasons
I am weathered by
Autumn’s blustery winds
Winter’s freezing blizzards
Spring’s drenching rains
And summer’s blanching sun.
After what seems like a lifetime
I find myself resting in a dry river bed.
To eventually be carefully chosen
by a boastful youth,
Who sublimely skips me
across the river’s tranquil
but rippled surface.
Now I am carried down stream.
Merging into larger waterways
Toward a tumultuous
raging white water river.
Violently crashing
grinding
into unforgiving boulders.
Losing necessary parts of myself.
Pushed lower and lower
Submerged deep
At the bottom of the river,
where I remain dormant
for years that stretch
toward no apparent endpoint.
With a torrential downpour
And hurricane-like winds,
I am moved from my murky
muddy and silted home,
to be wildly churned in stormy waters
With a tremendous gust and
and a consequent wave,
I am cast shoreward
To be perfectly placed on a path
where a wandering dreamy child
explores the river bank
seeking his perfect jewel of a stone.
And during a magnificent
bright summer day,
the shining rays of the afternoon sun
strike me so perfectly
that my surface explodes with
eye-catching glimmering sparkles.
Capturing the attention
Of this adventurous
and seeking child.
Who after exploring the riverbank.
Stops, notices, stares,
and picks me up.
With the excitement of a discovery,
The boy carefully examines
my glassy translucent surface,
Marvels at my rainbow colors,
Caresses my smooth contours.
And with a burst of pride
places me in his shirt pocket.
to be forever close to his heart.
Ross Rosenberg
4/23/06
This Old Tree
The old oak tree
stands tall
and crooked.
Its cracked,
coarse and
weathered surface
reflects the assault of the seasons.
Rain,
heat and snow
of seasons past
grated at its surface
with diamond sharp teeth,
digging in,
leaving permanent marks.
In defiance,
the tree stretches,
grows
and moves skyward.
Its roots
reach around rocky obstacles,
firmly anchoring itself to the earth,
exerting strength and desire,
forcing its viability
to grow into yet another season.
With roots
dug deeply
into uninviting
rocky
and inhospitable soil,
the tree forcefully establishes its home.
And the tree proclaims:
"I am a tree
I am from the earth.
Neither floods,
storms,
nor drought
will tear me away
from where my roots cling.
I remain where I belong
The earth is my home."
Ross Rosenberg
4/11/04
The Fist clenched balled tight
Waving high in the sky
Like a tattered flag of war
Firmly declaring the message of hard fought freedom
The Arm stretched higher than its length
Wanting to go even higher
But held back by its physical limitations
Desiring to support the rage of its neighbor hand
The Body tense with anxious exhilaration
Energized by the wave of spontaneous emotion
Reacting – wanting to release
Neither knowing nor understanding the electric energy
The Mind, racing with scenes of the past
Remembering the torrent of pain
Memories frozen in time – razor sharp
Unable to understand but finally able to feel
The Heart embattled and tired
Once protected by walls made of carefully controlled rage
Cracking, crumbling, disintegrating under its own volition
Heralding the light to pass through
The Soul, confused and bewildered
Like the newborn’s terror at birth
Interpreting the beginning as the end of safety
But all the willing to open his eyes and greet what lies ahead
Ross Rosenberg
9/22/97
Breathe slowly,
Relax and keep your feet on the ground
The excitement is just a part of fantasy:
A patient longing for love
A dream that wants to be real
Will the elusive butterfly of my dream
flutter down and rest on my shoulder.
Or will it fly gracefully free
To where happiness lies for itself
Remaining motionless,
I gaze at this winged harbinger of love
And hope...
that my shoulder becomes the resting place --
for its hopeful and weary heart.
And only then
will we both enjoy
A lifetime of cool breezy summers
Ross Rosenberg
6/17/03
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