A mother wrote to me. This is part of it: It’s May 21st at 10:24 pm and just about an hour ago I got a call that my daughter walked out of rehab. Just today I was telling my coworkers that I had such a good feeling about this rehab – a full one-year, Christian-based program. No outside contact, only immediate family. Twice I talked to her on the phone and she loved it there. She didn’t even make it a full week.

My reflection on the passage above: Hope smashed. With addiction, we parents feel betrayed and our dreams feel suffocated. When our children accept and enter rehab, we celebrate and we hope again, feeling certain (and trying not to feel certain) that this is it: This is the time that will stick.

Dr. MacAfee teaches that relapse is not failure. Relapse, he says, can be a great stepping-stone, directing the individual toward her own understanding of loss of control of her use. Relapse can, if handled well, be one step closer to sobriety.

Today’s Promise: I will continue to believe. With every relapse, I hope that my child will learn more about her illness. I will acknowledge the powerful hold that the drug has on her. I will stay close.

An Italian mother wrote to me. This is part of it: I cannot understand the words ‘hitting bottom.’ My son just came out of an alcoholic coma after we threw him out of our home. Fortunately, his life was saved, but he was not scared. We hoped that this would serve to scare him, but instead – nothing – it is only we who were scared. Like you wrote, “Addicts are not afraid to die. They are afraid to live a life without drugs.”

(She wrote: non riesco a capire cosa vuol dire toccare il fondo. Il mio figlio è finito in coma etilico dopo che noi genitori lo abbiamo buttato fuori casa, fortunatamente si è salvato ma comunque non si è spaventato. Noi speravamo che sarebbe potuto servire lo spavento ma invece niente….ci siamo spaventati solo noi…come dici tu…non hanno paura della morte ma di una vita senza droga.)

My reflection on the passage above: Alcoholics Anonymous says hitting bottom is ‘incomprehensible demoralization,” the dark before the dawn. As a mother, I could not change the arch of my son’s addiction or judge the moment of his abject demoralization, but I could get out of the way and allow him to be accountable for the consequences of his choices while I stayed close.

Today’s Promise to consider: I accept the fact that I cannot change anyone. I cannot control how far down my loved one falls. I will allow him to make his own discoveries, to feel fully the consequences of his addiction and pray he chooses a life of abstinence while I stay close.

A mother writes: Today I went to my first Al-Anon meeting or at least that is what I thought I was going to. Instead it was the Narcaholics Anonymous meeting for users. So instead of hearing from family members about their loved one’s addictions, I heard from the addicts themselves. It was very eye opening and humbling to hear their struggles.

My reflection on the passage above: For many years, I was locked in my own pain and never realized the pain that my son felt. Dr. MacAfee said, “Few people understand how an addict loathes himself and his addiction. Living inside the addict’s skin is often more than the addict himself can bear. The heaviness of his reality, combined with all the lies he struggles to maintain, weighs on him. Addicts hate what they do to others, but the drugs call them home.”

Today’s Promise to consider: Compassion is difficult to feel not just with addiction, but with many of life’s problems. Even though my pain feels huge, I will be compassionate with my son. I must understand that I can never fully understand what he is going through.

A mother wrote an email message to me: I called a woman I met in Nar-Anon and told her I was feeling complete despair. She told me that her addicted daughter was currently in prison, but she was taking care of her two-year-old grandson. “Look what I would have missed,” she said. “My daughter needs my support and this child needs my love.” Her words reminded me that I need to be present for my other children. They have their own journeys to make.

My reflection on the passage above: I got so enmeshed in my son’s addiction that I sometimes lost sight of my responsibility to myself and my family. Al-Anon helped me to find my balance. Prayer helped me to find peace. Through communication and honesty, we are healing.

Today’s Promise: I will not feel guilt for what I didn’t do or what I couldn’t do. I did my best. Today I’m doing a better job of taking care of myself and my family. I am grateful for our growth.

Mom Aeriona, Nonna Libby, Iysa, Uncle Jeff, and Papa Jeremy

A mother wrote an email message to me. This is part of it: I struggle with the concept of “family.” When I grew up, holidays centered around family get-togethers. Today, my shattered family does not resemble anything I ever dreamed possible. Holiday times center around my other children, with my addicted son on the fringe. Largely he seems OK with this, but for me as the “Mom” I always feel so torn and split…never whole.

My reflections of the passage: I continue to struggle with the concept of family. With both a divorce and addiction as part of our history, I feared that my children would never feel the comfort of an intact family. Just like the mother above, our holidays have taken on new shapes over the years.

I’m not sure any family is perfect and I know ours certainly is not. That doesn’t stop me from being committed to staying close to my sons and offering my security and presence. One day at a time, we’re learning to accept each other with our faults, forgive past hurts and celebrate our gifts.

Today’s promise to consider: Family systems evolve and change. I’ll hold on to the belief that my family will find a better place, a stronger place, because we survived life’s trials together – and will survive more of them in the future. It is in love and acceptance of each other that we find strength and solidarity.