Some of our most important and valid human needs are love, affection, and relationship. The strongest cultural story for fulfilling these needs is “falling in love” with the one perfect person. The knight rescues the princess, and they live happily after.
While falling in love is an incredible part of life, this idealized narrative often fails to meet our expectations. When we realize the person we fell in love with is just as human as we are—and not capable of meeting all our needs—relationships can fall back on codependent and manipulative behaviors.
The truth is that one person cannot be a substitute for a meaningful career, a supportive community, or genuine self-acceptance. Yet, we often try to make our partners into perfect caretakers, cheerleaders, therapists, and roommates all at once. When unexamined and unmet, our unconscious need for love and acceptance is so strong that we believe the perfect partner can fill the hole inside of us. This is the myth that fuels codependency.
Love and Addiction
My first experience with an intensely codependent relationship began when I started dating a young woman who had just gotten out of a wilderness program for alcohol and cocaine addiction. This was one of the first times I had been so close and intimate with someone I felt I was absolutely in love with.
She was open about being in recovery and was an incredibly vibrant and intelligent person. The first time my parents met her, she was very open about where she was in her life, and we all had a great conversation about wanting to support her as a family.
Moving forward, however, I started noticing little things. Stories I heard from her and from mutual friends didn’t add up. I’d hear about her using drugs at a party, and she would convince me my friends just wanted to make me jealous and sabotage our relationship.
Instead of seeing her as she was, I saw what I wanted to see.
Therapeutic Deep Dive: Projection and the “Fantasy Partner”
What was happening here is a common psychological defense mechanism called projection. Because I was a lonely teenager with poor self-worth, I had a deep need for this relationship to be “the one.”
- Projection is the process of unconsciously taking our own unmet needs, desires, or even fears, and placing them onto another person.
- I wasn’t in a relationship with her; I was in a relationship with a “fantasy partner” I had created. This fantasy partner was the person who would finally make me feel whole, loved, and secure.
- This is why I “went to incredible lengths of self-deception.” To protect this fantasy, I had to actively ignore the red flags (the conflicting stories, the rumors). Accepting the truth would mean my “lifeline” was gone, and I wasn’t ready to face my own loneliness.
The Breaking Point
It got to the point where she made me question conversations we had. I began to question things I saw and heard with my own eyes and ears.
The breaking point came when she and my family went out for dinner for my mom’s birthday. She looked pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. When we had first started dating, she was outgoing, kind, and respectful. During this car ride, she was the complete opposite and was very rude to my parents.
At one point, my dad looked at her through the rearview mirror and asked her very calmly if she was using drugs again. She went dead silent and was on her phone for the rest of the car ride. My dad told her we could sit down and have an honest conversation about what was going on, or he would take her home.
When we arrived at the restaurant, she got out of the car and walked away. Like a lost puppy, I followed her. “Hey,” I said, “my dad means well. I think we are all just worried about you. Can we just go back and talk to my parents?”
“Your parents are so condescending and judgmental,” she replied. “I don’t want to hear it. I have enough unsupportive people in my life that don’t trust me.”
I pleaded with her to stay, telling her what she wanted to hear—that I believed her, to please stay for me.
Therapeutic Deep Dive: The Codependent Cycle and Fear of Abandonment
This moment is a perfect illustration of several overlapping therapeutic concepts.
- Gaslighting: My partner’s behavior—making me “question things I saw and heard with my own eyes” and dismissing valid concerns as “judgmental” or “unsupportive”—is a form of manipulation. This tactic, often called gaslighting, is designed to make someone doubt their own perception of reality. It’s a powerful tool for maintaining control and avoiding accountability.
- Codependency: A codependent relationship is often defined as one where a person’s sense of self and well-being is dependent on the other person. My reaction was a classic codependent one. My primary goal was not truth or her health; it was anxiety management.
- Fear of Abandonment: My pleading—”telling her what she wanted to hear”—was driven by a powerful fear of abandonment. I was so afraid of her leaving that I was willing to sacrifice my own reality, my family’s concern, and even her well-being to prevent it. In my own way, I was trying to manipulate the situation to avoid my own pain. This is the codependent trap: our attempts to “help” are often just attempts to control an outcome so we don’t get hurt.
The Moment of Clarity
My dad said he would take her home, and we both rode back with him to her house. I kissed her goodbye and told her I would call her.
In the car on the way home, I angrily asked my father, “What was that about, Dad? Why did you do that?”
“Matthew,” he said calmly, “she is very obviously still using and lying to us about it, and I don’t want that around our family.”
I thought back to all the conversations that didn’t add up, the way she looked, the things I’d heard from my friends. I suddenly realized how obvious it was and that my dad was right. “I guess you’re right,” I said.
At that moment, I realized how selfish I had been. I hadn’t wanted to confront her about it because, in my mind, I thought I couldn’t be happy without her. If I was honest with her, I would lose her. I realized that up until that moment, I hadn’t really loved her; I loved the way she made me feel.
I thought about what a bright, intelligent, and beautiful person she was underneath the addiction. I thought about how much she could accomplish with her life if she wasn’t trapped. I started crying. “I feel so completely helpless, Dad.”
“I know,” he replied. “But she has to decide that she wants help.”
Therapeutic Deep Dive: From Enabling to Empathy
This conversation was the crucial turning point. It highlights the profound difference between enabling and truly loving someone, especially someone with an addiction.
- Enabling is what I was doing. Enabling is “helping” in a way that prevents the other person from facing the natural consequences of their actions. By pleading, ignoring the lies, and prioritizing the relationship above the truth, I was shielding her from the reality of her situation.
- True Support is what my dad modeled. He was not unkind, but he was firm. He set a clear, calm boundary (“we can talk honestly, or I will take you home”). He did not try to “fix” her, but he also refused to participate in the fantasy.
- The “Helpless” Feeling: My feeling of helplessness was actually the beginning of health. It was the moment I finally accepted my lack of control over her. This is a terrifying but necessary step in breaking a codependent cycle.
- The Shift in “Love”: My tears marked a genuine shift from infatuation (which is self-focused: “how you make me feel”) to compassion (which is other-focused: “I feel pain for you“). I was no longer seeing her as a solution to my loneliness. I was seeing her as a separate human being who was in pain.
The Resolution
That moment in the car was the first moment I truly loved her unconditionally—without needing her to be someone or something to make me feel whole.
I had a phone call with her later in the week and confronted her about the drugs and the lying. She admitted she had been using and told me she didn’t want to stop. I told her my parents could help her get treatment. She said she didn’t need help.
At that point, I knew the best thing for both of us was to break up. I told her I would love to be in her life and support her when she decided to get clean.
Therapeutic Deep Dive: Boundaries as Authentic Love
This final act demonstrates the most important lesson in this story: the function of healthy boundaries.
- Boundaries Are Not Walls: A boundary is not a wall you build to punish someone. A boundary is a clear line you draw to protect your own well-being and integrity. It’s a statement about what you are willing and not willing to do.
- The Boundary: My statement—”I will support you when you decide to get clean”—was the boundary. It was not an ultimatum (“Get clean, or else!”). It was a clear, non-negotiable statement of my own reality. I could not be in a relationship with active addiction.
- Love for Self and Other: This boundary was the most loving act possible for both of us.
- For me: It stopped the cycle of enabling, gaslighting, and self-deception. It allowed me to reclaim my own reality.
- For her: It gave her the dignity of her own choice. It removed the “cushion” of my enabling, which is sometimes the only thing that allows a person to see the true consequences of their choices.
This relationship taught me that you can care about and love people even if they want nothing to do with you. I learned how to set boundaries, how to ask for help, and how to try a little harder to get to know people as they truly are—not just as what I want, or need, them to be.
