From Real Dependency to Imaginary Dependency

From its beginning, our life depends on a “cord” through which we feed and breathe. The heart-wrenching cry that occurs at the moment of birth signifies the anguish of separation from that Other who nourished us, our mother. That cutting of the cord symbolizes the inauguration of a new living being who comes to live their destiny. At that moment, given our real vulnerability, we need figures of authority to take care of us, nourish us, and protect us until autonomy unfolds and we can fend for ourselves… Once our wings grow, we take flight!

This healthy and natural process, when unnecessarily extended, can turn into emotional dependence if, for various reasons, we identify our identity as linked to the need for another who feeds us... now, in an emotional way

When the presence of an “other” becomes an indispensable condition for enjoyment and satisfaction, we continue to function as if tied to that foundational cord. That rope of flesh and love that at one time was our salvation will today be what keeps us tied and conditioned to others…It will no longer be a mom; as adults, it will be friends, partners, children, or whoever acts as that "other"... who supports, who "gives meaning" or security. The impossibility of thinking of ourselves as whole and sufficient people makes it imperative that "someone is there" for us to feel at peace and contained.

The other is no longer "another"; it becomes a sort of "Great Other", an emotional prosthetic for the lack of an identity that cannot see itself as a whole but functions as a “half” that needs to "fit" with another to work. When every good plan includes another: from going to the movies, taking a walk, planning a trip, dressing up, or cooking, we “neurologically” and “psychologically” associate every pleasurable activity with the unavoidable presence of the company of others. But indeed, what makes a big difference... is not the presence of the other but "who we are" when we are with others.

It is indisputable that we are social beings, interdependent, and enjoy sharing... but “preferring” is not the same as “needing.” When we prefer, we “choose”; when we “need,” we depend and are willing to do anything, even lose our dignity, rather than feel the abstinence that highlights our lack.

Emotionally dependent people do not move from where they are, nor do they start anything if they do not have someone to accompany them, motivate them or encourage them.

Much of the fear of loneliness comes from associating all that is beautiful, enjoyable, fun, and pleasurable with the phenomenon of “sharing”. It is as if these sensations could not be achieved by ourselves. So when the other is not there or ceases to be, the projects, activities, and plans that we perceive as arbitrarily attached to the relationship are added to the mourning for the absence of that significant presence.

However, when the other is an "option" and no longer a “condition”, we begin to heal that emotional wound of depending on others. How to achieve it? When we start to familiarize ourselves with the idea of feeling sufficient. But every idea must be grounded in an experience to be transformative. We do not have to wait to despair because that other is not there to realize we can walk on our own feet. If we start to associate gratifying experiences with moments of solitude, abandonment will not feel as such when that other is not there. There will be mourning, yes. But there will be no suffering or tearing from feeling like nobody without someone.

How to cut the "cord"?

The healthy proposal I suggest is that you start gradually practising in solitude, which until then you only thought of in plural. Do not wait to have visitors to cook something delicious. The wine can be opened, the ice cream can be bought, the clothes can be worn, and you can also move or go on a trip. Others can join a life that is already gratifying on its own.

When we learn to be our own best company, we no longer fear solitude nor demand others to give us what we do not know how to give ourselves. Emotional maturity involves exploring our modes of satisfaction and happiness.

Placing happiness in “others” is not love; it is making others work for our benefit. A dignified life presupposes a self-constructed happiness, sustained on goals and overcoming, not on dependency and claims towards the outside.

When we build for ourselves an interesting life, with personal goals and projects and comforting leisure time, there will be others in the same vibration who resonate with this evolution, this autonomy, and realization. Free and happy relationships are not demanded or pursued; they are the result of a healthy relationship built with our interior, of a beneficial link with the only person who will accompany us from beginning to end: oneself.