The first time a therapist told me I was codependent, I almost threw myself over the table and strangled him.
My mother was codependent, not me! Didn’t he know that I have a Master’s Degree in social work? I help women in codependent relationships – I wasn’t in one. And I was nothing like my mother. See Original Post
Months passed until I realized that the therapist was right. My life was falling apart on multiple levels, and codependency was at the root of it all. It hit me then that I had taken on the worst characteristics of my mother: a distorted house-of-mirrors version of the women we each wanted to be.