I always want to think the best of the people I love. I want to believe they are telling me the truth and that they are doing the things they say they are doing. I want to support them as they recover and most other people do too.
There is a remarkable camaraderie in banding together to help someone. It’s that old it takes a village to raise a child syndrome. We like the idea that we are one big family, all willing to work together to make things right.
I want to be realistic too. Everyone back slides and everyone deserves a second chance, maybe even a third or fourth, but there comes a point where being realistic requires exactly that. How many times is too many? When is it time to just step away and let the miscreant climb back up by themselves, allow them to get a feel for the rope and the work required to make it on their own?
At what point is the helping more about me than the person I think I am helping? What do I get out of rescuing someone not once, or twice, or even twenty times? Is my addiction rescuing them? Am I the role model they are using to justify their behavior?
There are a million ways to justify poor choices.
The question I need to ask myself is why I am willing to sacrifice not just my own life, but the lives of the innocent children caught in the middle by aiding and abetting someone who has been given every possible chance for nearly twenty years?
It is a situation where everyone loses, again and again and again and again………..
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