When The Dust Settles, The Damage Shows

What happens when they recover, but the family hasn't even started?

Apr 07, 2025

When you love someone in active addiction, all you want is for the torment to end. For the chaos to stop. For them to just get sober already.

I'll admit, the idea of kidnapping my daughter off the street and locking her in a room until she detoxed may have crossed my mind once or twice. This is a judgment-free zone, right? Don’t pretend you haven’t had your own unhinged fantasy at 3 a.m. after your sixth sleepless night wondering if they’re alive.

But then miraculously, terrifyingly they get sober. And the dust begins to settle. After years of living in crisis mode, you find yourself in a house full of people who are technically safe... but emotionally wrecked. Resentments are stewing, unhealed wounds are cracking open, and the only consistent dynamic for the past five years has been Mom and Big Sister locked in emotional WWIII. Sound familiar?

When Sobriety Comes Home

Sixteen months ago, my daughter came home and got sober through medication-assisted treatment (MAT). By that point, I had done a good amount of personal healing around how I approached her addiction. But oh, honey there was so much more work to do.

I had lived in a state of hypervigilance for years. Every attempt at sobriety in the past had ended within 30 days like clockwork. So this time, even as the weeks turned into months, I kept bracing for the crash. And while the relapse didn’t come, the emotional wreckage did.

It wasn’t long before the toxic dynamics between Brooke and her siblings rose to the surface like a bad rash. Pain. Frustration. Grief. A deep mistrust that made healing feel pointless. And there I was, squarely in the middle, refusing to pick sides, because I knew all of it was valid.

Her siblings had learned not to get their hopes up. They’d been burned too many times. And at that point, they weren’t invested in rebuilding a relationship they thought would crumble again anyway.

Luckily, over time, healing started to happen even without therapy. The longer Brooke stayed sober, the more her true self resurfaced. The version her siblings loved and missed. And suddenly I found myself getting phone calls from Brooke and her sister at the same time, both ranting about what a “bitch” the other was being. Peak healing, I guess?

I’m a Nurse Practitioner, Not a Referee

At the time, I was working in critical care in a high-acuity setting which means I was managing literal life-or-death situations while also trying to mediate petty sibling fights via text. I was drowning in alarms, trauma codes, and emotional landmines from my own damn phone. There were days I was like, “Can I please just go to work to rest?”

Spoiler: I felt like a terrible mom. But I’m the breadwinner. If I fall apart, the roof goes with me.

Plot Twist: A Boyfriend and a Baby

Then we added a boyfriend to the mix and an unexpected pregnancy. Two newly sober people in a high-conflict relationship? What could possibly go wrong?

We carried that added stress like we always have because "it takes a village," right? Except this village was tired, underpaid, and on the verge of building a moat around the house.

Eventually, the toxicity reached a breaking point and Brooke moved in with my mom for a few months. I needed space to process resentment, disappointment, and yes, fear. I was terrified that if she relapsed, my husband and I would end up raising another baby.

People love to say, “God won’t give you more than you can handle.”
To which I say: bullshit.
I was handling more than anyone should.

Hormones, Therapy & Finally Breathing

Somewhere in the chaos I had a moment of clarity: Maybe it’s my hormones. (Spoiler: it was.) So I got my levels checked, started HRT, and finally found a new trauma therapist.

10/10—would recommend both.

With some breathing room (and, you know, brain chemistry), I realized something: I didn’t want to set Brooke up to fail. We made the decision to let her come home (with boundaries). She accepted. She came back. And since then, our relationship has been the healthiest it’s ever been.

We went seven months without a fight. If you know us, that might as well be 30 years.

The Real Glow-Up: Sibling Healing

The most beautiful part of the last year? Watching my children’s relationship heal. They defend Brooke now. They protect her peace. If anyone tries to drag her down or disrupt her growth, they’re ready to throw hands. That kind of loyalty? That’s a mom win.

What I’ve Learned

Boundaries evolve.
Peace is sacred.
Sobriety is only step one.
And nobody—nobody—gets to fuck with my healing.

My home is a safe space. Toxic relationships? Not allowed. Drama and bad attitudes that infect everyone else? Also not allowed. I never let Brooke live here while in active addiction, because protecting my other children and grandkids mattered. It still matters.

I’ve come too far to go back to the version of me who was screaming, crying, and overfunctioning for everyone else’s chaos. That mom was doing her best, but this one? She’s done being the emotional garbage disposal for everyone else’s trauma.

And yeah, happy wife, happy life. But let’s be honest:
I do 99% of the grocery shopping, cooking, driving, scheduling, financial planning, and emotional triage for eightpeople. This is my peace we’re protecting.

Final Thought: The Healing Is Yours Too

If you’re loving someone through addiction or recovery, do not forget:
You need healing too.
You need support too.
You are allowed to evolve…just like them.

Start with your own boundaries. Choose peace when you can. And most importantly, pick your damn battles. Every fight isn’t worth the cost. Trust me.

Healing isn’t easy. But when it happens? It’s f*cking beautiful.

💬 If this resonated, if you're somewhere in the messy middle of loving someone through recovery, hit reply or leave a comment. You are not alone in this, and neither am I.