It took me 42 years to get married. It took me that long to risk being myself with a woman, to risk being known. Before that, I was convinced if anybody really knew me they wouldn’t love me. So rather than being myself, I acted like somebody who I thought people would like. I played a role. And it almost cost me my soul. And my life.
There’s a word for people who feel too much of other people’s emotions, who involve themselves so deeply in the lives of others that their personal well being rides like a roller coaster based on the thoughts and actions of others. That word is co-dependency. And it ruins relationships.
The day I got married, at the ripe-old age of 42, I did not feel like I was rescuing my bride. In fact, I felt like I had been rescued. Not just by her but by a host of friends, God and no shortage of therapists.