You didn’t fail. You stumbled. You showed up once. Twice. Then life got loud. Work, family, stress, sleep, bills, errands — all of it got in the way. Before you
It doesn’t take a dramatic exit to leave treatment. Sometimes you just stop showing up. You silence the calendar reminders. You tell yourself, “I’ll reschedule next week.” Then one week
You don’t have to fall apart to want a different life. That’s one of the first things I wish more high-functioning people heard. You can be working full-time, showing up
You can be successful and exhausted at the same time. It’s one of the most disorienting truths we see in high-functioning clients. You’re working, showing up, staying on top of
The holidays have a way of bringing it all to the surface. For some, it’s the pressure to be joyful when you’re just trying to stay afloat. For others, it’s
You didn’t plan to stop showing up. Maybe life got messy—work pressure, family chaos, a rough night that turned into a rough week. Maybe it wasn’t dramatic at all. Just
I didn’t walk into treatment with hope in my pocket. I walked in with fear. Not fear of the hard stuff like withdrawal or accountability—I expected that. What really scared
I didn’t have some dramatic breaking point. No big collapse. No crisis that forced me into a decision. It was quieter than that—almost invisible from the outside. Just a slow
Relapse can feel like heartbreak and déjà vu rolled into one. You may have already been through the panic of getting your child into treatment. Watched them stabilize, maybe even
I used to think the hard part was over. I hit one year sober. Then two. I’d done the inpatient program, followed through on IOP, made amends, showed up to
I wasn’t even sure I had a “real” diagnosis. The clinician said the words out loud, gently and with care—but still, it felt like the air had left the room.
Loving someone who is actively struggling with addiction isn’t just hard—it’s exhausting. Not because you don’t love them. Not because you want to give up. But because every day feels
