How My Substance Use Affected My Parents’ Relationship: A Journey of Strain, Conflict, and Healing

My parents have been together since they were fifteen years old. Before I started experimenting with substances, they rarely ever disagreed on anything. Once I first started to get “into trouble” for drinking or smoking pot, it was the first time I saw them having to try to get on the same page. Right before I got sober, I noticed how my choices caused them friction. Substance use not only affected me but also significantly impacted the lives of those around me, particularly family members. In this paper, I will reflect on how my substance use affected my parents and their relationship with each other. The dynamics of their partnership and their individual well-being were deeply influenced by my choices, leading to a cascade of emotional, psychological, and relational challenges.

The Initial Impact: Emotional Turmoil

When my substance use began to escalate, the first visible effect was the emotional turmoil it caused my parents. Initially, they were in denial, hoping my behavior was just a phase. However, as my substance use became more pronounced, their initial hope turned to fear and anxiety. They experienced various emotions, from anger and disappointment to sadness and helplessness. My father would get angry and would attempt to try to control my actions and/or behaviors. That would sporadically work, but ultimately I would use when I had any moment of freedom. My mom was on the other side of the spectrum. She didn’t know what to do with me, so she became the “voice of reason” when I would get into trouble. My dad had the street smarts to pick up on signs and symptoms from his older siblings, who also struggled. My mom didn’t have anyone in her direct family that she saw go down a similar path to me. This emotional rollercoaster strained their relationship as they struggled to cope with the reality of my situation.

Communication Breakdown

As my substance use progressed, communication between my parents deteriorated. They often argued about handling my behavior, leading to a lack of unity in their approach. My father tended to adopt a more punitive stance, believing that strict consequences would deter my actions, while my mother leaned toward compassion, hoping that understanding would lead to change. This divergence created a rift in their relationship, as they began to view each other as adversaries rather than partners working toward a common goal.

The Strain on Their Relationship

Increased Conflict

The strain of dealing with my substance use led to increased conflict between my parents. Arguments that once revolved around mundane issues escalated into heated discussions about my behavior, their parenting choices, and the future of our family. This constant state of conflict eroded their affection and respect for one another. This also helped feed my use when they would be at odds with each other. If the attention went toward their struggles instead of mine, I could slip out and use my chemicals. I didn’t realize this at the moment, but looking back after getting sober, I can see how I would use those moments to do what I wanted to do.

Emotional Withdrawal

In response to the ongoing stress, my parents began to withdraw from one another emotionally. My father, feeling overwhelmed, often retreated into his work, avoiding conversations about my substance use and its implications. My mother, on the other hand, became consumed with worry; looking back, I can see that she never really had an outlet to communicate about these issues. My mother always wanted to believe I would be “okay,” and my father quickly called me out about my decision-making rightfully. You don’t make many sound decisions when walking around inebriated 24/7.

When Things Started to Change

Fall of 2015

I had been beating my head against a wall for about fifteen years of using drugs and alcohol. In the fall of 2015, I believed that I had genuinely tried to get on the right path and that my parents were doing their best with me. I had gone to outpatient treatment centers, gotten legal consequences, and, at that time, had overdosed at least twice. My parents never handed me large sums of money or purchased drugs or alcohol for me. My dad would get me out of consequences with law enforcement or would watch my bank account to find out where I was and if I had been pulling cash out.

Their Approach Changed

I don’t know what started changing other than my parents began to approach me together when I would reappear after going on a drunken spree for several days. It became more difficult for me to get pity from either of them. I couldn’t explain a situation away to one of them in hopes that they would defend me in a private conversation with each other later. They had heard this song before, and I could see they were tired. This didn’t deter me right away. I was making my own money and paying my bills, so I kept my experiments going with substances while trying to test the waters with them. Then, finally, IT happened. The big one. The final blow (thus far) to my life of fast living. I had gone on another few days of running and gunning with alcohol and drugs and reappeared as if everything was normal. My father confronted me sometime in the morning after I had fallen asleep on their couch. He was SCREAMING about the money I had spent over the past few days while my mom sat crying in the kitchen for him to stop. He made me call a therapist I was seeing (therapy doesn’t work very well while you’re intoxicated all the time) and set an appointment that day to see him. It was a Sunday, so I surely thought that the therapist would say he would see me the following week. He did not say that. He said he would see us in a couple of hours. I remember in my fog that my dad was telling my mom, “We don’t know what to do anymore, so we need to speak to someone who can help with this kind of problem.” I remember my mom saying, “I agree”.

We arrived at his office this Sunday afternoon, and I still attempted to negotiate my terms to become healthy again. My parents were emotional and tearful during the conversation. The therapist hit me with the facts. My health was declining, my parents were lost as to how to help me anymore, and the job that I was trying to hold on to was going to be lost if I continued on the path I was on. The therapist recommended two facilities and had me pick my preference. I hoped my parents would think it was too extreme, but they did not. My father looked at me with tears and said, “You need to figure out how to become coachable again.”

This was the beginning of our family wellness. I got thrown into a car with a transporter and taken to a facility that afternoon. I remember being in the hospital for the next four weeks, with the fog beginning to clear in my head. My therapist would come to me and tell me how my parents were doing. My father struggled with his anger as more of my truths during active addiction came out as I was in treatment (pawn shops, stolen money. etc.). My mother struggled with her fear of what I was trying to cope with. During my last few days of residential treatment, my parents came in for a family program. We laughed, cried (even my dad), and discussed how my sister and nephew were doing. I knew they loved me, and they knew I loved them. I better understood their childhood and how things shaped them growing up. I also understood how my actions (that they knew about) impacted them. It was a step in the right direction.

After four weeks at the hospital, I ended up going into long-term sober living for the next eleven months. My family would come into town for our family groups during that time. They made it a priority to be a part of my healing. I started to understand the strain I put on them and how I misunderstood their roles. My dad is a natural worrier, and his worry sometimes came out as anger, but he didn’t know what to do with me. Although my mom was laid back and calm, her worry was more internal. I was quietly struggling with where I was, what I was doing, and who I was with.

These dynamics began to heal through open and honest communication. They started to understand that I was going to make my own decisions if I wanted to be sober or not. I had to understand it’s up to them how much they wish to participate in my recovery. I saw them united and communicating how to help me and other family members. I haven’t a lot of things I wish I could change, primarily what I have put my family through. But me struggling for years and then finally getting sober is my highest accomplishment. That dysfunction forced my parents to communicate and get on the same page. I have been sober since 2015 and have a great relationship with my family. We continue to grow and communicate. My parents are amazing and would do almost anything for me besides enabling me to use substances of any kind.