I see you. I see your pain.
You wake up tired because even sleep isn’t restful when your nervous system is constantly bracing for the next disaster. You’re walking on eggshells, listening for doors, checking his eyes, hiding your pocketbook, reading between the lines. And still, in the quiet moments, you whisper to yourself, “What did I do wrong?”
If I could sit with the woman I once was, the mom drowning in fear, shame, and confusion, I’d look her in the eyes and say:
You can’t love your child into recovery.
That truth is heavy, I know.
You love your child so much it physically hurts. But love isn’t the same as self-sacrifice. You’ve been emotionally depleted for far too long. You think if you stop helping, he’ll fall apart, but while he’s living his life his way, you’re the one falling apart, putting your own life on hold.
You hold it together for everyone else. You cry in secret. You read every article, Google every drug. You say you’re “fine” while slowly disappearing.
But here’s the truth no one told us early enough:
Unhealthy helping isn’t love. it’s fear in disguise.
Setting a boundary doesn’t make you a bad mom.
Saying “no” doesn’t mean you’re giving up.
Letting go with love is an act of courage, not abandonment.
I want you to hear me: You matter.
Your nervous system, your peace, your future, it all matters. You deserve to have a life, even if your child is still struggling.
And if you’ve lost yourself, you’re not alone. I did too. But I found my way back, and you can too.
This pain will shape you, but it doesn’t have to destroy you.
You are not powerless. You are powerful. You are not alone.
When you stop attaching yourself to the outcome of your child’s addiction is when you’ll stop reacting and learn how to respond, how to be supportive without enabling, and how to put one foot in front of the other and find your voice.