Recovery is Messy and Beautiful
Recovery starts where surrender begins
By Donna Marston, Founder of Sharing Without Shame
There was a moment in my life when I found myself curled on the floor, emotionally raw, spiritually broken, and physically exhausted. My son was in crisis, and I had run out of ways to save him. That moment on the floor wasn’t just my breaking point, it was the moment I handed my son over to the God of my understanding. I envisioned lifting him up, and putting him in God’s hands, and with that surrender, something shifted and that’s when my recovery from codependency and unhealthy helping began.
Like many parents of someone struggling with substance use, I believed that if I could just find the right words, the right treatment, the right threat, or bribe, I could make everything okay. I thought love meant control, and sacrifice meant strength. But I was drowning right alongside him.
"When we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves." – Viktor E. Frankl
What I’ve learned, and now teach, is that families need recovery too. We can’t cure it, and we certainly can’t control it. But we can heal from the damage it does to our bodies, minds, and spirits.
My journey took me from that place of complete surrender to finding my voice and my passion. I started to write, at first as a way to process my pain. Those words eventually became my first book, Peeling the Onion. That book opened the door for me to share my story in treatment centers, hospitals, and conferences, places where families sit with heavy hearts, just as I once did.
Recovery is messy. It’s rarely a straight line. But it’s also profoundly beautiful. It’s where we rediscover who we are beyond the fear and guilt. It’s where boundaries become an act of love, not punishment. It’s where we learn to hold space without losing ourselves in the process.
“I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become.” - Carl Jung.
I chose to be a Mother who Shares Without Shame. A mother who now supports other parents navigating their storm.
That moment on the floor was my darkness. And I can tell you now that it took some time to see the light at the end of the tunnel and walk through it.
Let that be your hope, too. You’re not alone. And your healing matters!