To Those Who Love Me, Hate Me, or Don’t Know What to Feel
I don’t know where to start, so I’ll begin with the truth: I am an addict. I have spent days, weeks, and years drowning in something I can’t seem to escape. Addiction has stolen my time, my health, my relationships, and at times, my will to keep going.
I know what you see when you look at me. You see the mistakes, the broken promises, the lies I’ve told to protect my addiction. You see the selfishness, the destruction, the nights I disappeared and the mornings I came back a stranger. You see the wasted potential, the downward spiral, the version of me that no longer resembles the person I used to be.
What you don’t see is the war inside my head.
Addiction is not a choice I made lightly. It is not something I can simply turn off. It is a hunger, a relentless whisper that grows louder when I try to silence it. It is the weight of guilt and shame pressing down on me, making me feel unworthy of help, unworthy of love. It is knowing I am hurting the people who care about me, yet feeling powerless to stop.
To my family, I know you have cried over me. I know you have prayed, yelled, and begged me to change. I have seen the pain in your eyes, and I hate myself for putting it there. But please, understand—your love means more to me than you know. Even when I pushed you away, even when I disappeared into the depths of my addiction, I never stopped loving you. I only stopped believing I deserved you.
To my friends, I know I have let you down. I have canceled plans, broken trust, and made promises I never kept. I wish I could tell you that I never meant to hurt you, but intentions don’t erase the damage I’ve done. If you have walked away, I understand. If you have stayed, even when I gave you every reason to leave, I am grateful in ways words cannot express.
To those who judge me, I can’t blame you. It’s easy to see an addict and label them as weak, reckless, or beyond saving. I have judged myself just as harshly. But I ask you—before you write me off, before you turn away in disgust—please remember that I am still a person. A broken one, yes, but still human.
To anyone who knows this struggle firsthand, I see you. I know the cycle of shame and relapse, the feeling of being trapped in your own mind. I know how easy it is to believe that you are beyond help, that you are too far gone. But I am telling you now: You are not. You are not the sum of your mistakes. You are not defined by your addiction. You are still here, and as long as you are, there is hope.
I don’t know what my future holds. I don’t know if I will relapse again, if I will ever fully escape this battle. But I do know one thing—I want to try. Not just for you, but for me.
So, to everyone who has ever loved an addict, hated an addict, or been one—this letter is for you.
With honesty,
An Addict
P.S.
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