Codependency Under the Sea
Suzz Sandalwood | What The Little Mermaid teaches us about losing our voice in relationships
Written by Suzz Sandalwood | Seeking Veritas Columnist | | Sankarsingh-Gonsalves Productions
“The Little Mermaid isn’t a love story. It’s a musical about losing yourself, with a talking crab thrown in for good measure”
Disney’s relationship blueprint
It’s not exactly breaking news that Disney has a complicated history when it comes to portraying healthy relationships. The way it shapes our ideas about love, sacrifice, and gender roles has been the subject of academic debate, conversations among women, men and memoirs for decades. But few examples are quite as on-the-nose as The Little Mermaid, a story where a redheaded teenager meets a man for 47 seconds and promptly decides to give up her family, her voice, her gills, and her entire species to be with him.
From a clinical perspective, Ariel’s decision to trade her voice and identity for the chance to be loved checks nearly every box of codependency. The Little Mermaid isn’t a love story, it’s a musical about self-abandonment with a catchy soundtrack and a highly stressed crab.
What Is codependency, really?
Codependency isn’t just being “needy” or “too much.” It’s a relational pattern where your sense of self becomes tethered to how others see or respond to you. If love requires silence, perfection, or pleasing at all costs, then what’s left is a hollowed-out version of you. Ariel doesn’t fall in love with Prince Eric, she fuses with an idea of him. There’s no real getting to know each other. She builds a fantasy life around a stranger, then reshapes herself into someone she imagines he might love.
When you pause and really think about that, it’s wild. She literally gives up her voice, her means to speak, advocate, and express herself, for a guy who knows her only as a mute mystery girl with shell accessories. That’s not romance. That’s the textbook definition of self-erasure.
Not a critique of traditional roles
Let’s be clear: this isn’t a takedown of individuals who choose to embrace traditional roles in relationships or family life. I myself, am very much an individual that loves to cook, clean, take care those in my life AND have a career. This care and chosen interdependence is not the same thing as codependency. The difference lies in agency. Codependency asks you to shrink yourself to stay loved. Healthy relationships, traditional or not, make room for your full voice, even if that voice occasionally disagrees, desires more, or needs space.
How someone becomes codependent
“People caught in codependent relationships believe that if they can just be perfect enough, nice enough, quiet enough, easy enough, they will be loved. “
Codependent patterns rarely start in adult relationships. They’re rooted in earlier emotional ecosystems, maybe a parent who only gave affection when you were “good,” or a home where needs felt like burdens. So, you adapt. You become fluent in reading others, anticipating moods, adjusting yourself to avoid rejection. You hand away pieces of yourself in exchange for conditional connection.
Ariel’s transformation is the ultimate metaphor for this. Meanwhile, Prince Eric isn’t a villain. He’s just kind of… there. He’s as much a mystery to Ariel as she is to him. He doesn’t notice her silence or her sacrifice. He falls in love with an idea, a fantasy projection. That’s not a partnership. That’s parallel daydreaming.
Then there’s Sebastian, the crab with borderline exhaustion and a musical theater obsession, who takes on the emotional labor. He’s the over-functioner, who sings and schemes to keep the fragile fantasy afloat while Ariel stays silent and hopeful.
“This pattern isn’t just in fairy tales. It’s in real relationships everywhere. Love is relational not contractual”
The funniest and saddest part is that this self-silencing is often framed as noble. It’s “devotion,” “loyalty,” or “being low-maintenance.” But really, it’s fear in a costume: fear that if you speak up, you’ll be rejected; if you ask for too much, you’ll be abandoned; if you express your true self, you won’t be loved.
Whether it’s always saying yes to keep the peace, hiding your feelings to avoid conflict, or shrinking your dreams so others don’t feel uncomfortable, it’s codependency dressed up in everyday clothes.
Imagine if Ariel had a therapist or just someone willing to say, “Hey, your voice matters. You don’t have to disappear to be loved.” Perhaps she’d take some time underwater first, figure out who she was before trading everything for a vague idea of a man. Or she’d learn that love isn’t a contract demanding silence, but a space where voice and needs are heard.
Until then, The Little Mermaid remains a cautionary tale about what happens when love is confused with self-erasure and a reminder that no one should have to lose their voice to be worthy of love.
and now you know….
About the Author: Suzz Sandalwood is a Psychotherapist, RSW/MSW, Registered Social Worker, Advanced Certified Clinical Trauma and Addiction Specialist, Certified Grief Counsellor and is a former writer for Psych Central. She has extensive professional and personal experience in first responder, addiction, and grief communities | Connect with the author: https://suzzsandalwood.com
