Who Are We?

I recently finished reading Between Breaths: A Memoir of Panic and Addiction by Elizabeth Vargas, a renowned television journalist known for her work with ABC News and as the co-anchor of 20/20. In her memoir, Vargas shares her deeply personal journey with addiction and anxiety, providing a raw and honest account of the struggles she faced in her career and personal life. One part of the book deeply resonated with me. She writes:

"Alcoholism and addiction have touched millions of people in this country. If you don't suffer from it, you know someone who does. We are your wives, your mothers, your daughters, your sisters. We are your children, your colleagues, your employees, your friends. We are Emmy award-winning journalists, Grammy award-winning singers, and Oscar-winning actors. We are diplomats and doormen, presidents and accountants, housewives and handymen. In the face of this disease, we are all equal, the playing field leveled. If we are truly fortunate, we have employers who did not abandon us, family who stood by us, and perhaps someone who helped us find our way back, who never forgot that beneath all the appalling behavior there was a human being."

Her words struck a chord, echoing my own evolving journey of understanding. When I first entered the rooms of Alcoholics Anonymous, you'd think that, having grown up around recovery communities, I would’ve known better—that alcoholics are people worthy of respect and discretion. Yet, I was cautious. I chose my words carefully, never revealing too much about who I was or what I did for a living. I wasn’t ready to trust.

Over time, however, I found solace and safety in the recovery community. Gradually, I became comfortable sharing my story within those walls. But beyond those walls, my silence remained. Outside of that world, I kept my struggles with alcohol and my loved one’s battle with addiction hidden from all but those on a strict “need-to-know” basis. I feared that others would blame me—that his addiction would be seen as a reflection of my failures as a parent. I worried he’d be judged harshly, and by extension, so would I.

But as I’ve learned through this process, that silence wasn’t protecting anyone; it was holding us back.

Living in Two Worlds

This fear of judgment left me straddling two very different worlds. In one, I’m a school administrator, expected to maintain a professional façade and keep my personal life—including my loved one’s addiction and my own recovery journey—private. I worried that being open about my experience would change how I was perceived.

In the other world—the world of Woodhaven Recovery—I can’t tell the story of why Woodhaven exists without humbly sharing my own. My personal journey and my loved one’s struggles are the very foundation of my work. They are what guide me every day, driving my passion to create a space of healing and hope for others.

But living in these two worlds often creates confusion and conflict. Who am I? Am I defined by my roles, my past, or the hope I carry into the future?

Challenging the Stigma

"Who is an alcoholic? Who raises addicts?" These questions, when stripped of stigma, reveal their absurdity. They’re as nonsensical as asking, “Who gets cancer?” or “Who raises a child with a life-threatening illness?” And yet, when it comes to addiction, judgment persists. Parents are scrutinized, and individuals struggling with substance use are sometimes labeled as weak or failures.

But the more I’ve shared my story, the more I’ve realized that the responses I feared rarely materialize. Instead of judgment, I’ve been met with compassion. Compassion for my resilience, for my loved one’s determination, and for the journey we’re on together. More often than not, my openness invites others to share their stories, forging connections and breaking down the walls of stigma.

It’s remarkable how quickly bonds form when vulnerability replaces silence.

Every time we tell our stories, we contribute to a greater understanding of what it means to be human—flawed, yes, but also courageous and capable of profound transformation.

Who Are Alcoholics, Drug Addicts, and Those Who Love Them?

We are parents, partners, friends, siblings, colleagues, sons, and daughters—ordinary people facing extraordinary challenges. We love deeply, stumble often, but rise again.

And we learn that our strength lies not in perfection, but in our willingness to share our stories and support one another.