FEBRUARY 2, 2020 – When I reached out for help, I went to my ex-boyfriend, the only person I’d been honest with about my relapse. I reached out to him because, although he did have boundaries (“I won’t give you money for drugs again.”), he hadn’t practiced “tough love” with me. He always picked up the phone. He treated me like someone worth saving. He saw who I was underneath the drugs and lies and broken promises. His compassion for me cracked the door open to self-compassion.
He saved my life.
After that trip to rehab, it took me another two years of cycling through relapses to find my footing in real recovery. But I finally did. I’ve been drug-free for 17 years. Longer than the 15 years of using. In my early years of recovery, in some ways, I bought into tough love, too, when dealing with others struggling with addiction. That’s healthy, right? Setting boundaries. Not letting people manipulate you. But now, I have the gift of clarity, with time, with distance. I was wrong. They were wrong. We were wrong.
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