What I Did Wrong, and What I Did Right, When My Son Was in Active Addiction
Learning to detach with love, and come to a place of acceptance.
By Donna Marston
When my son was in active addiction years ago, I was living in survival mode—constant fight or flight. Every phone call made my heart race. Every night he wasn’t home, I’d lie awake, wondering if he was alive, if he was safe, if there was something, anything I could do to make the chaos stop.
Back then, I didn’t know what was “right” or “wrong.” Addiction was something we didn’t talk about; it was a secret we carried. All I knew was that I was a mom who loved her son and wanted to save him. I made plenty of mistakes, but I also made some choices that, looking back, I’m grateful for.
I want to share both the mistakes and the wins, because maybe you’ll see yourself in my story, and maybe it will help you avoid becoming emotionally and financially drained like I was. Learning the hard way is never just a lesson; it can be tragic.
What I Did Wrong
I became his unhealthy helper.
I didn’t just help him; I helped his addiction survive. I stepped in to fix problems before he could face them. I thought that if I could just shield him from consequences, he’d “get it”Dn son.
I paid off dealers.
I told myself I was keeping him safe. I told myself it was the lesser of two evils. But every time I paid, I was keeping him from hitting his enough; in doing so, I became part of the problem, not part of the solution.
I bailed him out of jail.
I can still remember the panic in my chest when I’d got the call. I’d drop everything to get him out. I couldn’t stand the thought of him behind bars. But looking back, maybe jail would have been safer than where he went after I bailed him out.
I put his needs above my own.
I cosigned loans, went into debt, and spent money to cover his mistakes and consequences. I was running on empty—emotionally, physically, and financially. I stopped taking care of myself because all my energy went into rescuing him. I thought that’s what a good mom was supposed to do.
What I Did Right
I worked my own recovery program.
Eventually, I learned that I needed recovery too. I found support groups and people who understood. I started seeing that I couldn’t change him, but I could work on myself. That shift saved me.
I healed my broken heart.
I had to learn that healing wasn’t about waiting for him to find his way into his recovery, it was about finding peace even if he didn’t. I prayed, I cried, I set boundaries, and slowly my heart started to mend.
I stepped back.
Not all at once. Not perfectly. But I began to step out of the unhealthy helper role. I started letting him feel the consequences of his choices. I started trusting that if he was going to recover, it had to be because he wanted to, not because I was forcing him or fixing everything for him.
What I Know Now
Today, my son is in long term recovery (2008) and so am I. I’ve learned that my job isn’t to control his life, but to live mine with love, healthy boundaries, and acceptance. I regained my sanity, my health, and our relationship. Today, my son is a successful businessman, a devoted family man, and a highly functioning adult.
I’ve learned that love doesn’t mean rescuing someone from every consequence. Love means sometimes stepping back, taking care of yourself, and allowing them to face their choices. It means trusting the process, trusting their resilience, and trusting that they, too, can find their way.