Watching someone you love destroy themselves with alcohol is incredibly difficult. Knowing that the path they are heading down only leads to scary places, leaves an indelible mark on you. You want to make everything better but it’s clear that things will not change until they are ready to change.
Conversations become stilted, or worse, emotions bubble to the top and spill over; harsh words are exchanged, and the two of you walk away feeling that the other one has no idea what’s going on.
The alcohol is like a security blanket, always there to soothe away the pain; Family and friends be damned. Alcohol has been the constant, and no amount of begging and pleading from loved ones is going to change that.
The flip side is it’s the loved ones walking through the world with bated breath, praying that one more hour, minute, day, week is granted. A drunk (enter relation here) is better than a dead one.
So you say.
It’s getting harder and harder to make up excuses for bad behavior, you’re close to cutting all ties. Then the guilt kicks in. You walk a very fine line between frustration and resignation. You tell yourself that last time was the very last time you’ll put up with the nonsense.
It’s only then when you realize that you have your own addiction.
You’re addicted to trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.