Unmasking the Heart of Recovery
Halloween is a time for costumes and masks, a chance to explore other identities and reveal hidden parts of ourselves. For my daughter, Halloween isn’t just a day; it’s a whole season. She carefully plans costumes for every event, reveling in the excitement of it all. But as much fun as it brings, Halloween also feels deeply symbolic of the masks we often wear in addiction and recovery.
Twelve years ago, Hurricane Sandy tore through our Long Island community, leaving destruction in its wake. Our neighborhood transformed into a scene of chaos, with streets lined with debris, homes damaged, families displaced, and no power or heat. Schools were closed, and any sense of normalcy vanished. In the aftermath, we welcomed our closest friends to share our home while they figured out their next steps. Four adults, four kids, and a dog—all in one house, navigating life together without the comforts of electricity and heat. But amidst the upheaval, we found ourselves bonding around the fire, sharing meals, and finding joy in the simplest things. Those months taught us the power of connection and resilience.
For my daughter, though, the disappointment ran deep when trick-or-treating was canceled that year. Something she cherished was lost in the chaos—a foreshadowing of the losses addiction would bring to our family, stealing moments, changing traditions, and altering our lives in ways we hadn’t anticipated.
Eager to bring back the spirit of Halloween, we decided to throw a party a month later. Our house became a haunted haven for friends, filled with costumes, treats, and laughter. The celebration reminded us that even in the hardest times, joy can be recreated, and moments of celebration are worth holding onto. Despite everything, we felt a renewed sense of community and gratitude.
In the world of addiction and recovery, masks extend far beyond Halloween. We wear them to protect ourselves, to appear “fine” when we’re struggling, and to shield those around us. During some of our darkest moments, I wore my own masks. When colleagues asked how things were, I’d smile and say, “All good, thanks,” even when everything felt far from it. I slipped out of meetings, dodged questions, and held onto any illusion of control I could find. My masks became armor, letting me carry on, even when inside, everything felt out of control.
For those dealing with addiction, substances themselves can become a mask, a way to numb pain and shield true emotions. In recovery, however, taking off these masks becomes a vital step. It means embracing vulnerability, facing ourselves fully, and trusting others with our real, often messy selves. The irony, of course, is that it’s through this raw honesty that we find acceptance, connection, and strength.
As my loved one’s recovery journey unfolded, I found myself surrounded by parents who understood this road. These relationships became a lifeline, giving us space to shed our masks and share openly without judgment. Together, we created a bond of resilience and understanding, offering each other strength we didn’t always feel.
This Halloween, I’m reminded that even amid the chaos, we can find joy. Just as we did after Sandy, and even with all that addiction has tried to take from us, we’ve held onto laughter, friendships, and new traditions that ground us. The friends who were with us then are incredibly important in our lives, and the support we found during those tough moments, and in many more that followed, has only deepened.
Happy Halloween!
