Loving an Addict

Life has a way of teaching lessons we never asked to learn. For me, those lessons have come through love—messy, heart-wrenching, transformative love. Loving an addict is not for the faint of heart. Loving a few in my life? It’s a journey that will bring you to your knees.

Both of my former romantic partners are addicts, and so is my oldest child. The people I’ve held closest to my heart have been locked in battles I can’t fight for them. I’m a strong willed person and have never struggled with addiction, yet I live in the tension of wanting to save them and knowing that I cannot. It’s a hell that far too many know, and one that I hope others never have to know. But somehow, love keeps me standing.

The Partner I Fell For—and the One Addiction Took

I had just divorced my husband of 19 years due to the affects of his addiction when I met him. He was everything I wanted: charming, funny, and full of life. He could light up a room and make me feel like the only woman in the world. But addiction had a way of stealing that light.

It started subtly. Excuses for why he was late or didn’t show at all, promises broken just as easily as they were made. Then it became unbearable and broke my heart —missed opportunities, lies, and the realization that the man I loved was so dependent on alcohol that he’d rather prioritize it than me. I felt so alone, disregarded, and taken for granted. My internal voice told me I must not be enough if he wouldn’t choose me over the alcohol.

But I stayed. I stayed, not out of blind loyalty but because I could see glimpses of who he is beneath the addiction. When he’s sober, he’s the man I fell for—kind, loving, and deeply regretful for the pain he’s caused. Those moments kept me fighting for him, even when I knew they were fleeting, until those moments ceased to exist at all.

A Mother’s Love in the Face of Addiction

If loving an addicted partner is heartbreaking, loving an addicted child is soul-crushing. My child’s addiction feels like a personal failure, a question that haunts me: What did I do wrong?

I remember her laughter as a little one, her endless curiosity and dreams for the future. Now, I see someone who is hurting, suffering the consequences of those choices in a life-altering way. For so long, she was lost in a haze of substances she believed were the answer. As a mom, all I want is to wrap her in my arms and make everything better. But she is incarcerated now and addiction has stripped me of the ability to even hug her. 

There are days when I’m angry—angry at the world, at the substances that have ensnared her, and, if I’m honest, even at her for the choices she made and the impact it’s had on everyone who loves her. But more than anything, the grief is excruciating. Some days, it washes over me and takes me down for days or weeks at a time. 

The Weight of It All

Balancing the affects of these relationships is like walking a tightrope while carrying the weight of the world. Some days, I feel like I’m drowning, pulled under by guilt, anger, and exhaustion. Other days, I find strength in the smallest victories—a day of sobriety, a heartfelt conversation, a glimmer of hope.

I spent so much of my life enabling those I love who have struggled with addiction. I see that now. It wasn’t until my daughter found herself in the throws of a serious legal situation when I stopped to really learn about addiction and how to love someone with an addiction. (AA meetings were my saving grace!) Because unlike my romantic relationship, I couldn’t just walk away from her. A mother’s love roots itself deep in your soul, and no matter how much pain it causes, letting go feels impossible.

Finding My Own Path

Through therapy and support groups, I’ve learned that I cannot pour from an empty cup. Loving addicts doesn’t mean losing myself. I’ve set boundaries—not out of punishment, but out of love for myself and for them.

I’ve learned to separate the person from the addiction. They are not their addictions. They are people—beautiful, flawed, and hurting—worthy of love even in their darkest moments.

Hope Amid the Chaos

I don’t know how this story will end for my daughter or for my former romantic partners.  Addiction is a cruel disease, and recovery is never a straight line. But I hold onto hope because it’s the only thing stronger than fear. 

To anyone walking a similar path: You are not alone. This journey is messy, painful, and unfair, but it’s also a testament to the power of love. Love for them, but also love for ourselves. Radical acceptance of what is, not what we want it to be. We may not be able to save the ones we love, but we can choose love, even if that means loving them from a distance.