I have the power. The power to change the way I react to the disease of addiction. The power to stop its destructive spread.

For too many years I was consumed by the poison my child was consuming. I snarled and yelled and argued and begged and cried; I re-negotiated the non-negotiable; I rationally discussed the irrational. At night I either paced the house – holding vigil for his life – or dreamed of growing octopus arms to squash down all his problems.There was no room in my head for anyone else; that’s just what happens once an addict starts wearing a beloved child’s face.

My child was the one consuming the poison, but the poison that was seeping into our household was passing directly through me, sneaking in on the umbilical connection. I was carrier – the Typhoid Mary of addiction – spreading misery and destruction through my family. Helping the disease to do what it does best.

You see, for too many years, I was trying to change something that wasn’t mine to change: my child. The truth is, the only thing I can change or control is me – and that has real power.