As an enabler, I felt powerless, imprisoned and paralyzed. And then I woke up. The catalyst in my awakening, my path to freedom, was actually a simple but profound question: “How is this experience for me?” This question broke my heart open, to itself, and in so doing, shattered the existing system. It became clear that not one moment in the entire eight-year hell had actually included me—what the stress and pain of this situation/relationship was doing to my soul, mind, health, wellbeing, spirit, happiness, family, children—my life.

I realized that the only way that I had allowed myself to exist in this relationship was as the victimizer, the one depriving her, not giving enough, not loving enough, not fixing the situation. The only attention I had offered myself throughout the years of “helping” was judgment: “Why couldn’t I be more compassionate—open my heart wider?” “How could I do this to her?”

In all those years, I had never stopped to feel inside my own heart, feel what it was like to be emotionally bullied, blamed and held responsible for something I did not create, controlled and resented by someone I loved—all the while attacking myself for not being infinitely kinder.

At last, my body let go of an ocean of pain; I became aware of the anguish, sadness, frustration, anger, self-blame, and really grief, that it had been carrying all this time. I suddenly knew that I was not to blame for what my friend had created or what would happen to her as a result of it. I was not guilty, or responsible for her life struggle, as she had convinced me. Not to blame was no longer just the concept I had heard a thousand times from friends, it was something I knew in my guts.

When we are enabling, we believe that because we can help, we should help, and that anything else is un-loving. We hold ourselves responsible for fixing a problem that we (usually) can’t fix. We convince ourselves that the enabled will self-destruct if we stop intervening, and that we are without compassion if we let that happen, even responsible for it happening. We resent giving more and yet hate ourselves for not giving more. Indeed, we are caught between two terrible options.

As enablers, our sense of blame and responsibility for the other’s suffering prevents us from being able to look at the situation rationally. Once I was released from self-blame, I discovered a saner and more separate place from which to see what was really happening. Less enmeshed and more self-loving, I noticed the following (all key elements of enabling relationships):

• Her financial situation had gotten worse not better. (My “help” was not helping.)

• Her resentment had swelled as she now linked my “help” with her disempowerment. I also had become resentful of her dependency and all that came with it.

• Despite years of promises, she had not come up with or implemented any new realistic ideas or plans to change the situation.

• Her sense of entitlement was intensifying.

• She had become increasingly defensive, refusing to seek help for her problem.

Compassion without wisdom is not only lacking boundaries, but also dangerous. Before this experience, I believed that giving from the heart meant giving without conditions, and that real generosity had no bounds. Boundary-less compassion was what I hoped to feel, and believed I was supposed to feel. So too, I believed I should give without needing anything, and without any real concern for how that giving was affecting me. This was misguided and ultimately, harmful compassion.

Finally, I realized that if the situation were going to change, I needed to change, literally to be a different person. The cycle of dependency would continue until I stopped participating and facilitating it. No miracle was going to happen other than the miracle of my own transformation and clarity.

I am no longer an enabler. And yet, I learned how easy it is to slip into this role, terrifyingly easy, even with the best of intentions and a lot of awareness. Considering my own pain, not just hers, was the first step. It allowed me to:

1. Trust that I was not to blame or responsible for her suffering.

2. Gauge realistically whether my “help” was actually helping.

3. Realize compassion without wisdom as imprudent and also dangerous.

4. Know that neither she nor the situation were going to change—I had to change.

Regardless of how deeply entrenched we are or how impossible it might feel to stop “enabling,” it is possible. If you’d asked me a year ago, I’d have told you that I would never get free, never be able to do it differently. No matter how or from where I looked at it, the consequences felt unbearable. And then I stopped looking at it—and just stopped.

As excruciating as it was to break the cycle, every aspect of my life, the relationship, and even her life, is better now. It wasn’t a smooth path to better, to a new truth, and it doesn’t always go this way, but until we wake up from the trance of enabling, we can’t even know what’s possible, much less dare to live something different.

Copyright 2015 Nancy Colier

The post When “Helping” Becomes Enabling: Breaking the Cycle of Dependency appeared first on Nancy Colier.

My path to becoming an enabler started out as most do, as someone trying to help, and thinking that I could. A dear friend who is also a relative came to me in trouble, having lost her job, about to lose her health insurance and unable to pay rent. An intelligent, honest and kind woman, she was not afraid of hard work and had always demonstrated a strong moral character. She desperately wanted to work and was trying diligently to find employment. When she first asked me for financial help, a short- term loan, it was a no-brainer. She’d never had trouble paying her bills, and there was no reason to think that she wouldn’t get herself out of this recent financial pickle. And so, without much thought, I wrote her a check…

Eight years later, she was still in that pickle only that pickle had morphed itself into a malignant sub-machine gun. For eight years she came to me for money on an increasingly frequent basis, with increasingly dire potential consequences, and with an increasing sense of entitlement. For the most part she paid me back although sometimes not for a long time, and sometimes after I had already loaned her more on top of what she already owed me.

Complicating the matter, she wasn’t just a relative and friend, she was also deeply involved in my children’s lives; she loved my children…and was also someone I loved, and still love. I didn’t want her to suffer as she was suffering or be tormented by the relentless fear and desperation she felt.

Also, I was in a position where I had a good job and some money in the bank; she had neither. I could help, which in my mind meant that I should help. She was in pain and also family after all.

Year after year she continued to ask me for money. But no matter how much I “helped,” her financial situation got worse. She was also growing more despondent and angry, more aggressive in her behavior towards me. She spent money that she didn’t have, assuming that I would cover her. Despite many frank and difficult conversations, nothing changed. Finally, despite great ambivalence, I told her that I could not continue to play this role in her life. I didn’t want us to resent each other. Difficult as it was, I laid down an official “no more” declaration.

Although I sounded clear outwardly, inside I was anything but. I felt terrible about the decision to stop “helping,” selfish, un-loving, and incapable of deep compassion. In light of my longtime Buddhist practice, I felt like a spiritual fraud.

She was on her knees, begging literally, and also threatening terrible things, if I didn’t rescue her. She looked like an animal with its leg in a trap, helpless and terrified, and enraged—at me. Looking at her face, white with terror, furious with desperation and humiliation, still I held my ground. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done, but some part of me knew I had to do it.

The result was that she acted out her threats and I believe, punished me for attempting to stop the cycle. She stopped taking care of her life, on every front, and ended up homeless (except if I would have her) and ill, without health care, and without any community. I spoke with relatives and former friends, but no one was willing/able to help her.

As I experienced it, she was now my third child, my charge. In truth, I still loved her, and wanted her to find her way back to independence, to enjoy her life. Nonetheless, I also knew that I had been bullied into saving her, despite my decision to stop, but it would not happen again.

Two years later, back on her feet at least minimally, having never paid me back the large amount of money she now owed me, she asked again. “Just to cover her for a short time” was how she put it, as if it were a small and casual affair, with no history. The tone of the request was perhaps even more shocking than the request itself. But this time when I said “no” I was certain I would not waver. What followed however, I could never have imagined.

This friend and relative, whom I thought I had been (lovingly) taking care of for years, ferociously attacked me verbally and emotionally. She abused me with her words and anger, accused me of wanting to destroy her, of being a terrible and sadistic person, the antithesis of family. And, she blamed me, fiercely, for the impending consequences she would suffer as a result of my not fixing her life. As she saw it, I was not only to blame for what would happen to her but actually intended for her destruction. I had abandoned her, and my abandonment was the cause of the horrible pain she was enduring. Finally, she assured me that I would go down with her when she fell, that she would make sure of it.

It was nearly impossible to process—violent rage and hatred from a person that I believed I had been “helping” for nearly a decade, someone that I loved and that I believed loved me!

She continued to bully me emotionally for months, to make me know and feel her suffering. She made life extraordinarily stressful not just for me, but also for my children. Her fury was terrifying and seemingly bottomless. Occasionally, between rages, she would approach me with kindness, express deep gratitude for all that I had done for her, and acknowledge my generosity. Still, no matter her approach, wrath and hatred or gratitude and responsibility, I painstakingly continued to say “no.”

I had become an enabler. Realizing this truth was like waking up from a terrible dream. With my role named, I was suddenly able to change. What was it that allowed me to know myself as an enabler, finally, after years of co-creating this disastrous situation—all with the best of intentions?

Copyright 2015 Nancy Colier

The post Are You An Enabler? (Part 1) appeared first on Nancy Colier.