ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: Searching

Book Two, Chapter 236: It Takes Practice

Today, by happenstance, I encounter Jene, the clinical psychologist who led my cognitive-behavior therapy.

He’s sitting across from Kitty’s desk, and I’ve stopped by Kitty’s office — down the hall from Jene’s — to turn in paperwork related to the depression study.

“You devil,” I say, tapping Jene lightly on the knee. “Why didn’t you tell me I was in a co-dependent relationship?”

He rises to hug me. “I thought this was about your growth,” he says.

If my sister Jude hadn’t given me a book on dysfunctional families whose authors describe and explain co-dependency, I might never have come to realize that I’ve been part of two dysfunctional families. Perhaps Jene was biding his time, letting me describe my relationship with Ernie before giving it a name and a definition.

I have a disease, and it isn’t clinical depression; that’s merely a symptom. The disease I have is relationship addiction — and, of course, addiction is a symptom, too, a coping mechanism. Once I knew all this, I began to view my whole life, from infancy on, in a different light. I began to understand why I am the way I am . . . or the way I was.

“You look like a different person,” Kitty says, referring to my short hair.

“Yes,” Jene says, “you look ten years younger.”

“My inner self hasn’t caught up with my outer self yet,” I tell them. “I don’t feel different inside.”

But wait a minute. Is this true?

Think before you speak, Ernestina, Ernie often said to me.

I do feel different. I feel expanded. I’m an expanded version of my former self.

I know and am beginning to accept the reality of my life, both past and present. I’m learning to be honest with myself and with others, although this takes constant vigilance.

Also, I want to be honest and kind at the same time. This requires skill and experience. And it takes practice, practice, practice.