I never imagined I’d be the parent of a child struggling with addiction. It honestly never crossed my mind. My unconscious belief was that my children would somehow be spared from difficulties and protected from anything harmful—until that wasn’t the case.
When my son was battling addiction, I felt like I was losing a piece of myself every single day. I often wondered how I would survive it.
My son’s father was not involved or present to witness his decline, and he dismissed my desperate pleas for help. I carried the stress and heartbreak alone. During this time, I lost many friends. I was judged, criticized, and abandoned—even though I was fighting the biggest fight of my life with everything I had. I was consumed by my son’s illness and overwhelmed, but meaningful support was almost nonexistent.
You see, when your child struggles with addiction, there are no orchestrated meal trains, even though you’re too exhausted to cook. There aren’t regular check-ins to see how you’re holding up. That kind of support is common with other illnesses, but not this one. Instead, people rarely ask about your child—as if they no longer exist. I did have some family and a few dear friends who stood by me. They allowed me to cry and share, but they didn’t fully understand. That’s when I knew I needed more. I decided to attend a support group.
I’ll never forget my first meeting. I thought I was there to learn how to better support my son. What I discovered was that the meeting was actually for me. At first, I questioned why I needed help when my son was the one struggling. Then I listened to veteran parents share their relatable stories, and it felt like a weight was lifted off my chest.
I saw people speak freely about their pain without judgment. They were respected, supported, loved, and welcomed back week after week. At that moment, I realized I wasn’t alone—and I wanted to be part of this community. Over time, I met some of my truest friends in that support group. They showed up for me in ways I’ll never forget. They didn’t offer quick fixes or tell me what I “should” do. They didn’t promise everything would be “okay.” They simply listened. They let me be messy and broken.
The community I found in my support group carried me while my son was in treatment. I leaned on them heavily—both inside and outside of meetings. They stood with me through fear, guilt, and endless “what ifs.” They reminded me of my strength and courage from the beginning of this journey and beyond.
My son’s addiction shook my world, but it also revealed the beauty of human connection. It taught me that healing isn’t something we should ever try to do alone.
If you are a parent walking this road, please know: you are never alone. Reach out. Let us carry some of the weight.
Sheila L. is a proud single mom of three teenagers—two boys and one girl—and works full time as the Director of Event Sales at ZooTampa. She is a Certified Co-Active Coach (CPCC) and a Certified Divorce Coach, and also serves as a Peer Parent at Other Parents Like Me (OPLM), where she has discovered her “rocks”—a supportive community that has become a source of strength and guidance. Outside of work and OPLM, Sheila enjoys spending time with family and friends, as well as being outdoors. Some of her favorite activities include going to the beach, rowing, and playing tennis.