To love someone with an addiction is to have your heart broken time and time again. You mourn them while they’re still alive. As their cheeks hollow and their soul slowly simmers to sour, you know part of them is already gone. And I know it sounds negative to say this next part out loud, but even their recovery is a million opportunities to be ripped open at any moment’s notice.
Recovery from addiction is a fragile, delicate thing. It’s a hatchling too close to the edge of its nest, thinking about jumping before its feathers have arrived. It’s a bead of condensation slowly slipping from a glass left outside in the heat. It’s a snowflake that lands on your finger, displaying all its intricate glory for mere moments.
But unlike the snowflake, or the water drop, or the defenseless state of the bird, recovery doesn’t have to be temporary. It can be permanent. Solid. As forever as an infinity symbol or God’s love. The only problem is, we never know the outcome of a loved one’s journey to getting (and staying) clean ahead of time. We never really know if this time it’s going to stick. And that uncertainty is the biggest gamble on heartbreak I can imagine.
Because when do you know it’s time for tough love? Or time to turn away from who they have become? How do you dare yourself to celebrate their milestones towards sobriety while relapse stares you down from behind them? When do you decide to allow yourself the chance of pain and disappointment in order to love and support them with open arms and hope abound?
I sure don’t know the answer, but I do know that the people in your life who love an addict are wrestling with these questions daily.
I’ve witnessed people pull themselves out of the pits of despair and get themselves clean. It wasn’t without setbacks, but it happened. And I love people who I thought for sure would never backslide, only to know they’re active in their addiction again. I’ve lost loved ones because of their addictions, feeling the weight of pain but not of surprise or disbelief. I’m mourning loved ones who are currently very much alive, even if I know I can’t recognize them right now.
Again, I don’t know the answers. And if you’re in recovery, I think you’re the strongest kind of person that can exist. You should be so proud of how far you’ve come. Or, if you’re hoping to get clean, I don’t know the best path for your journey. But I know it’s possible, and life giving. And I also know it can’t happen while you’re living under the same circumstances that brought you down. You can’t be clean and still hang around addicts. You can’t be clean and think you can handle this alone. Please, for the people who already miss you- find your support, cling to a healthy routine, and free yourself from what holds you hostage.
Brianna Baranowski 