Living with someone struggling with addiction is like riding an emotional rollercoaster. It’s not just the person with the addiction who is caught in the grip of the disease, but also those who love them. I’ve been on this ride with my husband for years, oscillating between hope and heartbreak, moments of progress and painful setbacks. I’ve stood by his side, believing in his strength to overcome his demons, even when he didn’t believe in himself. Recently, I’ve found myself exploring alternative therapies, particularly psychedelics, as a potential path to healing. In this search, I’ve stumbled upon a surprising discovery—not only about him but about myself.
The Early Days: Believing in Love’s Power to Heal
When I first met my husband, he was already in recovery. He was open about his past struggles with addiction, sharing his story with a raw honesty that I admired deeply. I knew what I was getting into, but I believed in his strength and in our love. He assured me that he was done with that life, that he had fought his battles and won. I wanted so much to believe that love was enough to conquer the shadows of his past.
For a time, it seemed like it was. We built a life together, filled with laughter, quiet mornings, and dreams of the future. I watched him face down triggers and temptations, always finding a way back to me, back to us. There were days when I was sure he had beaten his addiction for good. He was attending meetings, working, smiling more. My heart swelled with pride and hope, believing that we had finally won.
The First Relapse: A Crushing Blow
But addiction is a relentless enemy. It waits in the shadows, ready to strike when least expected. I’ll never forget the day I realized he was using again. He had become distant, coming home late with flimsy excuses. I found the needles hidden in a drawer, and my heart shattered. It felt like a deep betrayal, a breaking of trust that left me gasping for air.
When I confronted him, he was filled with shame and anger. He promised it was just a slip, a mistake he wouldn’t repeat. “I can beat this,” he insisted. “I don’t need any of that other stuff. I just need to try harder.” I wanted so desperately to believe him, to think that this was just a small setback. But deep down, I knew. I could see the addiction in his eyes, the pull of something stronger than both of us.
Moments of Hope and the Cycle of Despair
Despite the setbacks, there were always moments of hope. Times when he would apologize, recommit to sobriety, and promise to do better. He would attend meetings again, make plans, talk about our future. For a few weeks, sometimes even months, things would improve. I would see the light come back into his eyes, and I would dare to hope again.
But it was a cruel cycle. Every time I thought we were finally on the right path, addiction would drag him back. Each relapse was a fresh wound, reopening scars that hadn’t yet healed. I would feel anger, yes, but mostly a deep, aching sadness. I couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just stop, why our love wasn’t enough to save him.
Relapse. Back in rehab. Back to meetings. We were like a cruel joke from a shampoo bottle. Wash, rinse, repeat. Over and over again.
Discovering Psychedelics in Recovery: A New Avenue of Hope
In my desperation to find something—anything—that could help, I started looking for alternative therapies. I read articles, watched documentaries, and joined online forums where people discussed addiction and recovery. It was there that I stumbled upon the idea of using psychedelics as a treatment for addiction. At first, it seemed too strange to be true. How could something so unconventional be the answer?
The more I read, the more intrigued I became. I learned about the potential of substances like psilocybin and ayahuasca to help “reset” the brain and break the patterns of addiction. I discovered stories of people who had tried everything—rehab, therapy, medication—only to find true recovery through psychedelic therapy. For the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of hope. Could this be the miracle we needed?
I joined several online meetings that focused on non-traditional recovery including psychedelics, thinking if I went there I could convince my husband to join. And, I found and joined Psychedelics in Recovery. At first, I joined these groups hoping to find a solution for my husband, some way to convince him to try this new approach. But as I listened to others share their stories, something unexpected happened. I began to see myself in their words particularly groups that dealt with childhood trauma, co-dependency and adult children of alcoholism.
Realizing My Own Struggle: The Hidden Pain of Co-Dependency
As I continued to attend these meetings, I realized that I wasn’t just there for him—I was there for me. I started to see that my own life had become centered around his addiction, his recovery, his pain. I had lost myself in trying to save him. The more I listened to others who had been through similar experiences, the more I began to understand the ways in which I had been enabling his behavior, the ways in which I had allowed his addiction to control not just his life, but mine as well.
The meetings became a lifeline for me, a place where I could finally voice my own fears, my own frustrations. I found a community of people who understood what it was like to love someone who is battling addiction, who knew the pain of watching someone you love self-destruct. I started to realize that I didn’t have to live this way, that I could find my own path to healing, even if my husband wasn’t ready to take that step himself.
Facing the Truth: He Doesn’t Want This Path
The more I learned, the more I felt the urge to talk to my husband about psychedelics. But I knew it wouldn’t be easy. He has always been resistant to anything outside of the traditional recovery methods. “I don’t need those things,” he’d say. “I can beat this on my own. I just need to try harder.”
I realized that trying to convince him to take a psychedelic journey might only push him further away. He was so convinced that he could do this alone, without “crutches,” without help. The truth began to settle in: maybe he wasn’t ready for this path, maybe he never would be. And I had to accept that.
Finding My Own Freedom: A Journey of Self-Discovery
For so long, I had been focused on his healing, his recovery. But now, I’m beginning to see that I have my own healing to do. Through these psychedelic recovery meetings, I’m learning to let go of my need to control his journey and focus on my own. I’m discovering the freedom that comes from releasing my grip on his addiction, from understanding that I can’t save him, and that it’s not my job to.
I’m beginning to explore my own wounds, the ways in which my own childhood and experiences have shaped me. I’m learning to find joy again, to find peace in the small moments. I’m discovering that I can still love him deeply while also taking care of myself.
Moving Forward: Embracing the Unknown
I don’t know what the future holds for us. I don’t know if he’ll ever be ready to try something new, if he’ll ever be open to the idea of psychedelic healing. But I do know that I can’t keep losing myself in his struggle. I can’t keep riding this rollercoaster of hope and heartbreak.
So, I’m choosing to focus on my own journey now. I’m choosing to find my own path to healing, to find freedom for myself. I’m learning to let go, to love him without losing myself, to support him without sacrificing my own peace.
This journey with addiction has been filled with pain and heartbreak, but it has also brought moments of profound self-discovery and growth. I’m finding strength in places I never knew existed, discovering a resilience I didn’t know I had. And while I still hope for his healing, I’m learning to prioritize my own. I’m finding that I don’t need to wait for him to find freedom—I can find it for myself, here and now. And that, for the first time in a long time, gives me hope.
Strangely enough, I haven’t yet done a psychedelic ceremony. I thought for months that I would find the right place for him. I would plan the perfect thing and it would change him and save our marriage.
But now I know it will be for me. I will be the one going.
Just me.
And that…is enough.
