God grant me serenity

When you love someone affected by addiction, there is almost always drama. It is the fallout of this disease.

As the parent of an addict, it took me a long time to realize that my own life became unmanageable every time I stepped into the chaos. Whenever my son called while he was active in his addiction, I would get pulled directly into the latest crisis. I didn’t understand how quickly I was making his problems my own.

When I became consumed by his drama, I was no longer emotionally or physically available for the rest of my life or the people who needed me.

Addiction destroys normalcy. It becomes nearly impossible for most addicts to keep a job, pay bills, or maintain healthy relationships while they are using. Promises are made and broken until trust is shattered and relationships begin to crumble.

As a parent, it is heartbreaking to stand back and watch addiction destroy your child’s life. It took me a very long time to accept a painful truth:

I HAD NO CONTROL OVER IT.

Every attempt to jump in and put out the fire was often just fueling it. Each time I stepped in to rescue my son from the consequences of his addiction, I unintentionally protected him from fully seeing the devastation it was causing.

In the rooms of Al-Anon, we hear the slogan, “Let go and let God.”
The first step toward my own healing was learning to let go of the controlling, step away from the drama, and turn my son over to his Higher Power.

I never stopped loving my son.
I never gave up hope.
I never stopped believing he could recover.

But eventually I accepted that I could not do it for him.

I came to believe that my son had a Higher Power who loved him even more than I did — and that when he was too weak to carry himself, he would not be alone.

During some of my son’s darkest moments, he would call me in complete despair. Everything in me wanted to rescue him. Instead, I would simply tell him, “I love you, and I’ll be here when you’re ready for recovery.”

It was painful. It broke my heart. But deep down, I knew that letting go was part of what he needed in order to find his way home.

During those years, I prayed constantly. I woke up in the middle of the night filled with fear and anxiety, and over and over again I got on my knees and turned my son over to God once more.

Those were some of the hardest years of my life, but they also brought me closer to my Higher Power than ever before. In the middle of my fear, I began to experience peace, comfort, and the quiet understanding that if God was holding me, He would also be holding my son.

Letting go was not easy then, and it still isn’t easy now.

Even with my son sober, I sometimes find myself wanting to manage his recovery. But his recovery is not my job. How he works his program is his business.

Every day I have to remind myself to focus on the things I actually have power over — and that is mostly my own life.

The moment I begin managing other people’s lives again, my own life starts becoming unmanageable too.

I do not want to go back to the person I once was.

Life is too short.

Today I am learning to live with gratitude, to accept the things I cannot change, and to change the things I can.