Why the White Lotus’s Rick and Chelsea aren’t a Love Story: The Tragedy of Codependency
I was disappointed to learn that Walton Goggins referred to the story of Rick and Chelsea on White Lotus as a “love story.”
I mean, nothing says love story more than a middle-aged man unleashing snakes and bullets on his young girlfriend. How romantic.
When Chelsea tells Rick, “What happens to you happens to me,” she isn’t speaking about love or fate. She’s speaking about codependency.
Many people misunderstand the term codependent. It doesn’t mean two people who are overly attached or spend too much time together. The term “codependent” originated in the substance abuse recovery world and referred to the partners of those struggling with addiction. These were people who, in trying to manage or control their partner’s addiction, began to lose themselves in the process. Over time, the meaning has expanded to describe any relationship where one or both partners rely on the other not only for support, but for identity, self-worth, and emotional regulation.
How do we know that Chelsea is codependent? Like many codependents, Chelsea is fixated on the idea that Rick is a hurt little boy that fate has tasked her with fixing. Her sense of purpose becomes entirely wrapped up in managing his chaos, soothing his moods, and sacrificing her own needs in the process.
Rick uses his personal tragedy to justify his bad attitude, poor behavior, and even his obsessive fixation on murdering an elderly man he’s never met. But Chelsea’s backstory remains a mystery. Her motivations, wounds, and dreams are erased in service of Rick’s narrative. Chelsea’s pain is almost certainly there, but Rick never seeks to understand it or to understand her.
And Rick certainly adds to that pain. Like a Gen-Z picture of Dorian Gray, it’s Chelsea who bears the physical and emotional consequences of Rick’s sins. When Rick gets high and decides to let a bunch of venomous snakes loose because he sees himself in their creepy little snake eyes, it’s Chelsea who gets bitten. Rick walks away unscathed, while Chelsea is rushed to the hospital. This should be the moment that sobers him up, (both literally and metaphorically) but it does nothing to change his trajectory.
Instead, Rick leaves the White Lotus to go to Bangkok where he plans to murder the owner of the very hotel he left Chelsea at. He never seems to worry about how Chelsea could be caught up in his scheme or potentially charged with being an accessory to murder. Chelsea, on the other hand, worries about nothing except Rick and his pain. She worries about the choices Rick will make and stays emotionally tethered to his unraveling. Her energy is spent trying to psychically manage a crisis she has no ability to control. Rick can’t even pick up the phone when Chelsea calls. The emotional labor is entirely one-sided. Chelsea invests everything, and Rick offers nothing in return.
When Rick does return to the White Lotus, he leads Chelsea believe that her fantasy has finally come true and that Rick has finally chosen her over destruction. That’s a fantasy that many women and men have. That one day, their partner will spontaneously give up drugs, alcohol, gambling, sex addiction, etc. because they saw how much it hurt those around them.
But Rick is always going to choose chaos. When Rick unleashes hell via gunfire, Chelsea insists on thrusting herself into the middle of it. While Rick is armed and clearly black-ops trained, he doesn't do much to protect Chelsea and leaves her exposed in the line of fire. Chelsea takes a bullet to the heart and dies in Rick’s arms.
For some, Rick’s emotional reaction to Chelsea’s death is proof of his love. He’s crying, so he must have really loved her. But, like all narcissists, Rick doesn’t appreciate Chelsea until she’s gone. And even then, he only really feels sorry for himself.
Don’t aspire to be Chelsea. Fate hasn’t destined you to fix lost little boys in grown man bodies.
Your soulmate will never be a man who hurts you, and dying of a broken heart is not romantic.