Persephone Allee

Growing up, I was led to believe that parental support was a privilege I did not deserve. Guilt was a necessary prerequisite for every meal put on the table, for every night spent without fear, for every second wasted on my upbringing. It was my sole responsibility to lessen the burden I imposed on my parents’ lives, and self-sufficiency was the first step to earn their forgiveness. In time, I learned to conceal my existence for their convenience. They told me I should be grateful for the independence they fostered. Thanks to them, I would never need someone else to solve my problems; thanks to them, I would never need someone else at all. Only recently did I realize independence is not synonymous with counter-dependence. 

The day I became counter-dependent was the day my mother tried to kill herself.  

Self-preservation told me to run. The betrayal I felt was more acute than anything I had ever experienced. I was not enough reason for my mother to live. The support of my father and step-mother was nonexistent. I was alone. This relational deficit stayed with me far past my mother’s recovery. Without a witness, action seemed pointless. I was lost within myself for months before acknowledging the chronic void I had once learned to tolerate. I was desperate for attention. 

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Stephen Karpman, in his 1968 study, identified three roles that exist between two people in an imbalanced relationship, placing these roles upon an inverted triangle to model their relative positioning. The Persecutor and the Rescuer are placed on the top left and top right corners of the triangle, respectively, while the Victim is placed on the bottom to indicate the power dynamic of these relationships. The interactions stay between the Rescuer and Victim until the power dynamic causes conflict: 

The actions of the participants in this type of conflict start off polarized and become increasingly polarized as counter actions are taken. This causes the roles of the victim, rescuer, persecutor to shift and increase the polarization and conflict. 

The victim, for example, may retaliate and punish the persecutor who, in turn, feels like a victim. The rescuer may be attacked for doing too much or too little for the victim or to the persecutor, respectively, and feel like a victim. The new victim may seek out their own rescuer and now a partially overlapping triangle with a fourth person forms. (words #) 

The toxic interactions between members of a relationship triangle do not stem from a place of love; instead, their motivations are self-serving and unsustainable. Eventually, an individual will learn to outgrow a role or they will decide to shift roles, causing inevitable conflict with their counterpart. 

Modern interpretations of these roles originate from traditional archetypal figures in the fiction we produce. The Victim (Rapunzel, Guinevere, Eurydice) and the Rescuer (Prince Charming, Lancelot, Perseus) are internalized into our culture. However, we consistently fail to recognize the role of the Persecutor in our romanticized understanding of the narrative. Despite recent measures to complicate these antiquated patterns, stigma persists. 

Within these relationships, there is a fundamental expectation of exchange, the Victim’s vulnerable resignation for the Rescuer’s devoted attention. Assumed reciprocity is a promise that cannot be kept. There will come a point where the role can no longer be maintained, thus creating a shift within the relationship triangle. In her memoir All the Pretty Things, Edie Wadsworth recalls this expectation of her father when she was young: “The first weekend after I got stitched up, Mama dropped us off at Mamaw’s. I ran toward the trailer with a gimp in my step, excited to tell Daddy all about what had happened, figuring that maybe since I was hurt, some concessions might be made for the weekend. Like maybe we’d just have a quiet night and Daddy wouldn’t drink or leave or take us to the beer joint” (Wadsworth 33). Edie knows the privileges of victimization — the expectation of vulnerability, the relief from responsibility, the doting attention of the Rescuer — and intends to capitalize on the situation. She is prepared to bargain for her father’s love and affection with her pain as leverage, and still it is not enough; his vices are too strong to be compelled. 

The relational exchange between a Rescuer and a Victim is typified by ambiguity. Neither party understands the nature of the void that drives them, but its presence is ubiquitous. Without clear direction, addiction drives the individual to action, regardless of consent. 

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We were waiting outside the hospital bathroom. He smelled like cigarettes and sweat and almonds. He was close, too close, but I said nothing. I felt nothing. 

I was always told suicide likes to make itself known, normally in an envelope branded “I’m sorry.” What I received held no indication of regret. What I received was seventeen words: “Hi sweetie. Just want to tell you that i love you and am very proud of you.” Seventeen words for a seventeen-year-old girl. Seventeen words to say goodbye. By the time I responded, the pills had already begun their residency in the shell of my mother. What a sweet irony it was: the medicine that was created to protect her from herself became the sole instrument in her self-destruction. 

My grandmother called me, told me what happened, told me she wasn’t successful, 

and I remember thinking success had never sounded so sardonic. The bitter truth coiled itself around me like the cords that kept my mother alive, my breath stolen by each compression of the respirator, my life source directly administered into her IV. When she awoke with no brain damage, I was told I was lucky, but how could I call it lucky when the last place she wanted to be was by my side?  

I stood there, quelling my tears until my grandmother could take me home, when I felt him close the space between us, his front to my back. My stepfather’s hands drifted from my shoulders to my hips, from my hips to my upper thighs. His chin cut his way through my hair to rest just below my earlobe, his syrupy voice thick with phony concern, “How you doin’, Princess?”  

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This was not the first time this happened, nor would it be the last. When I initially told my father and stepmother about his actions, I was told to “handle it.” Future conversations had generated similar results. My stepfather successfully kept his intentions a secret from my mother, maintaining his distance and suppressing his oversexualized remarks when she was around; I was too concerned about her health to involve her in the situation.  

That day in the hospital, I remember how desperate I was for my grandmother to exit the bathroom and see for herself what was happening when no one else was looking. I was desperate to be witnessed, to be validated, to be rescued. Unfortunately, luck was not on my side. He had stepped away as soon as he heard the hand dryer start, pretending as if nothing had happened. 

I knew I should say something to someone that would listen, but I had no idea who that may be. If I could not rely on myself to solve a situation, what did that make me? I knew I should try to fight back, but I could not alienate myself from my mother at such a tenuous time. I had to be there to monitor her stability and ensure she did not regress, so I accepted his advances as a side-effect I must learn to bear. I consistently put myself into these situations, praying someone else could shoulder the responsibility and protect me. With no one else to turn to, no one else to blame, I eventually looked inward. Was this my fault? There must have been something I could have done, but I was afraid. I was a coward. I did not deserve a support system if I was unwilling to support myself. I deserved punishment.  

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Self-immolating rhetoric is not an uncommon product of toxic relationships. Many, like myself, commit themselves to solitude as penance for their failed relationships. If an individual takes this isolation to an extreme, he or she has likely become counter-dependent. Dr. Gregg Henriques, a well-recognized psychologist in his field, explains its dangers in his 2014 article “Signs of Counter-Dependency”: 

On the surface, counter-dependency may look similar to a healthy autonomy. For example, both involve the capacity to separate from others. But what drives counter-dependency is an “avoidance mindset,” namely the avoidance of relying on others because of a fundamental mistrust of the consequence of doing so. In addition, although these individuals might have superficially positive relationships, but because they fundamentally fear intimacy and do not trust others, they do not form lasting deep relationships. (3) 

This pattern of relationship withdrawal breaks down the Victim-Rescuer relationship within the relationship triangle. Prior to the individual’s retreat, the Perpetrator is likely to present opposition to the shift. If the Perpetrator is unable to stop the retreat, the relationship triangle breaks down completely. The problem is not solved; the dissatisfaction is perpetuated; and guilt encourages similar situations in the future.  

Counter-dependence is a defense-mechanism that solves nothing. Self-imposed segregation prevents an individual from reaching out to others for support, thereby enlarging the unresolved relational deficit that caused the discord in the first place. Eventually, the individual may learn that relationships are a necessary component to a full life, seeking out others to once again make up for what is lacking in their lives. The desire for a specific kind of love will promote attention-seeking roles, such as the white knight (Rescuer) and the damsel-in-distress (Victim), which are not sustainable models for long-lasting relationships. Failure is inevitable when the individual expects a relationship to replace a void left by another, thus prompting another period of counter-dependence, perpetuating the cycle of heartache and disappointment.  It is a vicious cycle that will only be stopped by confronting the deficit at its source. 

Works Cited 

Henriques, Gregg. “Signs of Counter-Dependency.” Psychology Today, Sussex          Publishers, 11 Apr. 2014, www.psychologytoday.com/blog/theory-knowledge/201404/signs-counter -dependency. 

Johnson, R. Skip. “Escaping Conflict and the Karpman Drama Triangle.” Borderline Personality Disorder, Health on the Net Foundation, 26 July 2017, bpdfamily.com/content/karpman-drama-triangle. 

Wadsworth, Edie. All the Pretty Things. Tyndale Momentum, 2016.