I am not a PH.D. I do not have a Master’s degree in psychology. I am not a doctor or a therapist.
What I am is the mother of an addict/alcoholic. I am the mother of 3 of them. And what I know has come from my journey to hell and back with these incredible children. This is what I have experienced and have learned along the way.
Loving an alcoholic/addict is painful. Whether it be a father, mother, brother, husband, sister, friend or child it is not an easy job.
We want to. We try. We give it everything we have. Our hearts break. Our dreams die. We fall down and get up again. We cry. And cry some more. We ask questions. We seek answers. We try to understand. And the pain still comes.
We mourn what we had hoped for. We let go of the dreams of the white picket fences and children going off to college. We mourn the loss of what we had been raised to believe would be our life. We argue with God. We control our lives and the lives of everyone around us. We hold on for dear life. We agonize. We bargain. We pray. And the pain still comes.
We beg. We plead. We offer advice. We suggest treatment. We give money. We bail them out of jail. We find them a job. We let them come home to live. We believe that it will be different. We give up. We give out. We sleep too much. We don’t sleep at all. And the pain still comes.
I have had them all. The father. The brother. The grandfather and the husbands. The friends and distant family members. And my children. All three of them.
Loving an alcoholic and addict is what I have been called to do. It is my story. It is my family and it has been the greatest heartache and joy of my life.