There are things many of us living with addiction never managed to say out loud. We wanted you to understand what was really happening beneath the chaos, the silence, and the sharp edges. This is our attempt to put it into words—so you know what helped, what hurt, and what kept us going.
The pain beneath the behavior
We didn’t choose addiction over you. We were hurting, and using felt like the only way we knew to make that pain quiet down. It wasn’t a lack of love for our families; it was a lack of tools for ourselves. When you saw us withdraw, lie, or push you away, it came from fear and survival, not from indifference.
The guilt we carried
Even when it looked like we didn’t care, we did—deeply. Shame followed us everywhere: into family dinners, work, holidays, and sleepless nights. We hated who we were becoming and didn’t know how to stop. That guilt made it harder to ask for help and easier to pretend everything was fine. If we seemed cold or defensive, it was often because we were protecting a part of ourselves that felt broken.
What actually helped
You couldn’t fix our addiction—and it was never your fault. What helped most were your boundaries, patience, and steady love. When you said, “I love you, and here’s what I can and can’t do,” it gave us safety and clarity. When you didn’t argue with our denial but still left the door open, you gave us a path back. Your consistency—checking in, learning about addiction, encouraging treatment, and caring for yourselves—kept a small light on when we couldn’t see any.
Why support with boundaries matters
Boundaries are not punishment; they’re protection—for you and for us. They reduce the chaos, make consequences clear, and remind everyone what healthy love looks like. Compassion without boundaries can slide into rescuing; boundaries without compassion can feel like abandonment. The mix of both—kindness and limits—is powerful. It helped many of us take real steps toward recovery when the pain of staying the same finally outweighed the fear of change.
If you’re walking this road with someone you love:
- Learn about addiction and recovery. Understanding removes shame and opens better conversations.
- Speak to the person, not the disease. Use “I” statements, keep it simple, and avoid debates when we’re impaired or defensive.
- Care for yourself, too. Therapy, support groups, and rest aren’t luxuries—they’re essential.
- Celebrate small wins. A meeting attended, a hard truth spoken, a boundary respected—these are bricks in the rebuild.
- Keep hope realistic and steady. Recovery isn’t linear, but it is possible.
To our families: thank you for the times you chose love with limits and compassion with patience. You didn’t fix it—no one person can—but you helped more than you know. Your steadiness gave us room to find ours. And for those still in the thick of it: keep the light on. Change is possible, and help is here.