"I thought I had seen the worst of it. I thought I knew what it meant to watch someone you love disappear into addiction. My mother taught me that lesson long before I was old enough to truly understand it. Growing up, I saw her sink deep into heroin. I learned to read the signs before she even spoke. I knew when she was high. I knew when she was lying."
"Now, decades later, I am living that heartbreak again. Only this time, it's my husband. It's a different substance-alcohol instead of heroin-but the same slow disappearance. The same unpredictable moods. The same sense of walking on eggshells, wondering which version of him will walk through the door. And the same helplessness, watching someone I love unraveling, knowing I cannot save him. But there is one thing that's different this time: me."
Childhood exposure to a mother's heroin addiction taught early recognition of substance-use signs and the helplessness of watching a loved one disappear. Years later, a husband's alcohol misuse produced similar patterns: slow disappearance, unpredictable moods, and constant vigilance. A night at a comedy show escalated when intoxication led to loud, disrespectful behavior and public flirting, and concerns were dismissed. The recurrence of trauma prompted a realization that establishing and enforcing boundaries is essential to protect emotional health while still caring for someone who is unraveling.
Read at Tiny Buddha
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