How Stories Create Hope in Recovery

A parent recently asked me, "When I go to Al-Anon and parent support group meetings, people tell their stories—why do they do that? It’s so depressing."

I get it. When we first hear someone share their experience, it can feel like too much. The weight of addiction, the pain it brings—it’s hard to sit with. But in recovery, we don’t tell our stories to stay in the darkness. We tell them because they hold the path to hope.

There’s one story that has stayed with me. I heard it at an AA meeting—a woman with two grown daughters, both estranged because of her drinking. She had been sober for several months when one of them finally agreed to see her again. Lunch at her house. A second chance. A moment she had longed for.

She was so excited for this opportunity, so determined to show up as her best self—which meant sober. She needed her daughter to see that she had changed. But when her daughter stepped into the bathroom, she ran outside to her car, where she had hidden alcohol, and took a swig.

She had everything to lose. Her daughters meant the world to her. She had fought so hard for this moment. And still—still—she drank.

I remember her voice breaking as she told this part. Not out of shame, but because she needed us to understand. Addiction isn’t about a lack of love. It isn’t about not caring enough. It’s not about failing to recognize the consequences. It’s something that takes hold so completely that even when everything that truly matters is right in front of you, stopping can still feel impossible.

And yet, she stood in front of us that day, sober, telling her story from the other side. She had found her way through.

I remember every detail of her story. I remember how I felt listening to her—how much it moved me. I remember the tremble in her voice, the light in her eyes when she talked about healing with her daughters, how she no longer had to hide bottles in the car, how she could finally sit across from them, fully present. I remember the joy that broke through as she spoke.

That’s why we tell our stories.

Not to stay in the pain, but to remind each other that there is something beyond it. To say, I have been where you are. And there is life on the other side.

We need those reminders. Whether we are parents walking alongside our loved one’s recovery or in recovery ourselves, we need to see that healing is possible. That people do make it through. That our stories don’t end in darkness.

Because when we tell the truth about where we’ve been, where we are now feels even more beautiful.

As parents, we tell our stories for the same reason—to honor the distance we've traveled, to remind ourselves that love and perseverance can transform even the darkest moments.

Our stories create bridges where isolation once stood. I remember sitting in my first support group, convinced that no one could possibly understand what our family was going through. Then, one by one, parents shared experiences that mirrored my own—the sleepless nights, the constant worry, the complicated mix of love and frustration. For the first time in months, I wasn’t alone. These people knew.

Stories also illuminate the path ahead. When a mother whose son has been in recovery for five years shares how they rebuilt trust, she’s offering more than encouragement—she’s providing a roadmap. Her story helps me imagine possibilities I couldn’t see on my own. It shows me that the work of healing, though hard, is worth it.

Perhaps most importantly, stories remind us that change is possible. When someone says, I’ve been sober for two years, or My relationship with my son is stronger than ever, they’re not just sharing a victory. They’re proof that transformation is real. That the cycle can be broken.

So yes, our stories contain pain. They hold moments we wish had never happened. But they also hold resilience. Hope. The evidence that recovery is possible.

We don’t tell them because we’re stuck in the past. We tell them because they show us the way forward.

As my loved one once said about his own recovery:
"My story reminds me where I’ve been so I never forget where I’m going."

And when we share our stories, we don’t just remember, we light the way for others, so they too can find their way forward.