I Miss My Addict!!

I Miss My Addict

There’s a certain sadness that comes with missing someone who is still alive but no longer a part of your daily life. As a mother of a son who struggles with addiction, I often find myself consumed by the loss of what could have been, and even more painfully, the absence of what was. I miss my addict—not the chaos or the pain he brought into our lives, but the person I know he can be underneath it all.

Grief over addiction is unique because it’s not final. There’s always a flicker of hope, but it’s often buried under waves of fear, disappointment, and longing. I find myself looking around at other families, envying what they have—a child who is present, thriving, and celebrating life’s milestones. I know it’s not healthy to compare, but when you’re living with a hole in your heart, it’s hard not to notice when someone else’s life looks whole.

For parents like me, the holidays, birthdays, and even everyday moments don’t feel like celebrations. Instead, they feel like reminders of what’s missing. How can I celebrate when my son isn’t here to join us, when addiction has taken him somewhere I can’t follow? It’s hard to find motivation for joy when nothing about life feels joyful.

Coping with a child who is an addict, alcoholic, or gambler requires an almost inhuman amount of strength—strength to get through the day, strength to face the pain, and strength to hold onto even the smallest bit of hope. It’s not easy to focus on what you have rather than what you don’t. It takes time, patience, and self-awareness to shift your perspective, and even then, the sadness doesn’t just disappear.

I’ve learned that I need to give myself permission to feel all of it—the sadness, the frustration, and even the anger. Accepting where I am in this journey has been a crucial part of finding some semblance of peace. I know I need to work on certain things to make myself stronger as a parent and as a person. Self-help looks different for everyone, but for me, it means setting small, realistic goals, like journaling, seeking support from other parents, and allowing myself moments of joy without guilt.

If you’re reading this because you’re coping with a loved one’s addiction, know that you’re not alone. Whether your child is an addict, an alcoholic, or struggling with gambling, the feelings of loss and sadness are real, and they’re valid. It’s okay to miss them, even when their actions have caused pain. It’s okay to want them back, even when you know that recovery is a long road.

As parents, we’re often told to be strong for our children, but we can’t pour from an empty cup. Taking care of yourself is not selfish—it’s necessary. Find ways to focus on your own mental health and healing, even if it’s just one small step at a time. And remember, no matter how much it feels like it, you’re not alone in this struggle.

For now, I’m trying to honor where I am, while holding onto the hope that one day, my son will find his way back—not just to me, but to himself. Until then, I’ll continue to miss him and work toward finding my own strength, one day at a time.