In the 3rd grade, I memorized every word to Kelly Clarkson’s, Miss Independent. She sang about a woman who was, you guessed it, independent but loses that independence in a relationship, and I sang it too. I saw my future before me, even then. I would work hard to figure out who I was and then never lose sight of it. It would be simple: depend on no one and never ask for help. Just like Miss Independent herself, it didn’t work out great for me either.
Sure, I was 9 and fully dependent on my parents, siblings, and teachers, so becoming “Miss Independent” looked a little different. It started slowly. Middle school? A doozie. I could spend far more than a sentence on adolescent insecurity (as I’m sure you could, too) but I don’t think that’s a great use of our time. Long story short, a seed was planted in soil fertilized by the allure of self sufficiency. If I require nothing from my friends, then they would have no reason to abandon me. The drama. When you’re in 7th grade, regulating your emotions isn’t, like, a breeze, so sorry if that confession makes you sad. I don’t want pity, I want you to listen.
Throughout my entire privileged, happy childhood, I was called, “The Easy Kid.” I convinced myself that as long as I remained independent, self-sufficient, low-maintenance, life would be better. I’d have more friends, I would gain more trust and responsibility, and I’d get a pat on the back for my “maturity.” I’d go farther faster, even though the destination was unknown.
I lived through my young adolescence dreaming of every next mark of independence: getting a job, getting my license, getting into college and going there as soon as possible. The thing I realized about independence is that it was all about me. Independence equaled control. It meant that if a friendship ended, it wasn’t because of me (how could it be, I’ve never asked for anything). It also meant that when my own efforts fail, the responsibility only falls on the rightful person, me. We won’t even go into how chronic independence affects dating relationships. I’d say it’s none of your business but I also take the trash out fairly often, so who knows what we might throw away together. Just kidding, it’s a no from me dog
In college I started experiencing the repercussions of my independence. I was getting hurt. In friendships, I realized that the problem with pretending that you need no maintenance is that you’re setting that expectation. It was my own fault. I had (and still have) amazing friends that I rarely gave the opportunity to sit with me in my humanity. How would they know to tend to my emotions when I am only presenting a curated version of myself? If I want to set new expectations I have to admit that I set the wrong ones from the get go.
I once heard someone say that true community only comes on the other side of conflict. The conflict is what creates safety. I’m not talking about screaming, crying fights, I’m talking about vulnerability. Not just one sided vulnerability or sharing deep personal history, but being humble enough to tell someone you require something of them. Communicating wounds in a relationship (in a healthy, non-blaming way) tells the other person that they mean so much to you that you would rather have the hard conversation than live in false harmony. That’s what independence cost me. I wasn’t willing to go back on my previous actions, and set new expectations.
Some friends push you toward true community. They seek out the good and the bad and they choose to love every part of you–without waiting for you to ask them to. If you know someone like this, call them, ok? Tell them thank you. It’s friends like these that started chipping away at my independent armor covering up the girl underneath who wanted to be loved without ever being a burden. I think the most beautiful part of friendship is getting the honor of burdening one another.
The problem then, is that we are opening ourselves up to get hurt. Intimacy in friendships means that there is something to lose. That’s why it requires trust! They (the proverbial “them”) say it’s better to have loved and lost (even friendships) than to not love at all. I agree. My capacity to feel heartbreak and betrayal and disappointment mirrors my vast ability to feel belonging. You can’t have one without risking the other. I’m tired of hearing people claim isolation as “emotional health,” something I’ve done countless times. You’re actually just afraid of the pain. And if you never overcome that fear will you ever experience the good? Let me just say, I am not a therapist. I’m not a professional and I’m not trying to say that boundaries aren’t important. I just am beginning to believe that true community is born from getting personal. It’s found in the oversharing and the apologies and the messiness of living life up close with people.
And truthfully? That scares the shit out of me. I’m bad at this. The phrase, “I need you,” is difficult for me to say. But I am making a choice, here and now, in front of you (hi!), to believe the risk is worth the reward.
My pastor often talks about how dependence is a gift. This isn’t a groundbreaking revelation. If I were to ask the people around me who have lived more life than I have, they would say the same thing. Living in a silo isn’t living. There is however, an important distinction between healthy dependence and co-dependence. The latter implies that your worth, identity, and purpose revolve around another person. Healthy dependence isn’t about orbiting around another person, it’s existing individually within close emotional proximity.
I wonder if the reason marriage is often idolized (especially in the church) is because in its most healthy form, it is the epitome of emotional safety. I’ve never met a married couple that has never had a fight but I can think of countless close friends I would never dream of fighting with. And yes, obviously marriage is different from friendship but it supports the idea that conflict is not just the “break it” of a relationship but is actually imperative for the “make it.” But, I’m not married so I could be wrong–If you’re married and have a different perspective, let’s talk.
Moving away from my avoidant attachment style means getting uncomfortable. It means having imperfect conversations. I won’t articulate my emotions perfectly every time, but if I care so deeply about the feelings of others, then I have to care for my own just as much. I have to give others the opportunity to meet a new set of expectations.
To give up a quest for total independence is to admit what has been true all along, I can’t do it by myself. I need help! It’s true! You are probably shocked to discover that I am not perfect. Here are a few things I can’t do by myself: simple math, my taxes, succeed at my job, hang up Christmas tree lights, figure out what time I should get to the airport to make my flight, rent a car, purchase a pair of shoes without sending a photo to my sisters, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.
I want to feel free to be inadequate. I am surrounded by people who have incredible gifts. Gifts that I don’t possess. What could I learn from others if I stopped trying to do it all on my own. I have a feeling that adopting a mindset of dependence will humble me, in the most beautiful way. Independence is insular, but dependence opens up your mind to appreciate what everybody brings to the table.
What I didn’t realize about Kelly’s early 2000s hit, is that “Miss Independent” changes by the end of the song. Her loss of independence was the cost of love and that was a good thing. If only my 3rd grade self could have practiced a little critical thinking, maybe I would have thrown independence away a long time ago.
Your Trashiest Friend,
B
