Eight years ago I was graduating high school and going off to college. I was fairly independent back then. I was independent enough to go to a school that was 1250 miles from home. I was independent enough to go to parties on my own. I was independent enough to ask a boy a barely knew for a ride home, and I was independent enough to program the TV and VCR without the boy's help. Somewhere over the past 8 years, I lost that independence.
In fact, I remember the day my independence left. It was shortly after Hans and I got married, and I had bought a bathroom shelving unit. I wanted to surprise Hans by having it assembled and set up by the time he got home, so I got to work. Three hours later, it was mostly assembled, but I couldn't get one crucial part together. I pushed and shoved and squeezed, but those puzzle pieces would not fit. When Hans came home I was still sitting in the middle of the floor with pieces of shelves around me. I asked for some help, and Hans, being the builder that he is, had that thing completely assembled in about 30 minutes. To add insult to injury, the whole unit didn't even fit in our bathroom, and we had to disassemble it and return it to the store. Anyway, that was the first time I realized how much faster Hans could handle certain things.
Over the years it's gotten worse. Hans was the best at building things (he is a carpenter after all), painting things, and making decisions. I can't seem to program the VCR to save my soul, and my ability to go to a party on my own is barely existent. I'm much more comfortable with Hans.
Here's the thing, though. While I often lament my loss of independence (and scream at Hans, "I used to be able to do things before I met you!"), I'd much rather have Hans around. I definitely prefer having Hans here to chat with and cuddle with and share dinners with than to have the ability to paint and build and program VCRs.
Maybe some day I'll regain some of my independence, but for now I'm quite happy to be codependent.