When your child relapses, the world can feel like it’s cracking beneath your feet. The calls at 2 a.m., the slurred words, the lies you
You’re not falling apart. But you’re not exactly fine. You’re doing okay on the outside—work gets done, bills get paid. Maybe you’re still social, still
It’s not falling apart that gets to you — it’s the pretending. You show up. You run a business, manage teams, keep the house standing.
You walked out of treatment once—not by choice, maybe by desperation. You felt something crack: the commitments, the routines, the walls you built around yourself.
You made it through detox. You saw the fear, the tremors, the silence that screamed louder than anything you’ve heard. Now you’ve stepped out into
You’ve heard it before—probably in your own head: You’re not like those people. You’re fine. You pay your bills. You make meetings. You might even
You’ve stopped drinking—but the hard part isn’t just saying no to alcohol. It’s sitting in the awkward pause after someone asks, “Wait, you’re sober?” It’s
You’ve heard the whispers in your head: “Maybe I’d feel better tomorrow if I skipped the wine.” “I’m not sure I even know what life
You’ve got the degrees. The calendar full of meetings. The paycheck that covers more than the basics. People trust you. Some admire you. Some envy
You tried. You went to treatment—maybe more than once. You sat in group. You listened. You detoxed. Maybe you even made it a few weeks
