When Jacob was actively using, I shunned not only my family, but also my friends.  They sensed something was wrong.  But I didn’t want them to.  I blocked their every attempt to draw me out.

Shame engulfed me.  I wasn’t ready to share the horror permeating my household.  I worked hard to hide my anxiety, my deep fear, panic, and self-blame.  After all, what would they think of me if they knew my son was abusing drugs?

My friends ached to help me.  I just wouldn’t let them.

Maybe that’s why the friends we meet in recovery become so special.

Even at my very first meeting – a tiny Al-Anon gathering in a local church –  they brought me relief.  Here were people who understood.   Without even speaking it, they knew the misery I had endured, because they had endured it, too.

These new friends knew the isolation I’d lived, the heavy shield I carried to push people away.  They opened their arms to let me in.

Early in my recovery from the effects of addiction, just the sight of them gave me courage and relief.

The bond between us is strengthened each time we are together.  Sometimes it’s just a glance across a grocery store aisle or passing by on a city street.  But it always brings a little lift to my step.

Jacob’s addiction brought shame, sorrow, anxiety, fear – and isolation – not just to him, but also to me.

Now these new friendships bring courage, comradery, joy and even laughter.

It’s available to anyone who wants it.

Friends – and fresh hope – await.