When we have any type of experience with substance use, whether it’s being in active use ourselves or hearing about it in the news, we develop a lexicon that we may not even realize is causing harm. Willingness to rethink the language we use to discuss recovery is a key quality that makes us the most prepared to support people we love and communicate compassionately. Let’s look at a few key examples.

We talk a lot here about how extreme addiction is. If you fully grasp the scale of what we’re talking about, then it can feel pretty hopeless. Let me articulate this as simply as I can. Please know this is just my understanding. Your mileage may vary with this perspective.

Addiction is chemical. Your brain desires its addiction as a tool, just like it needs sugar to function, the addiction is something the brain uses to trigger certain brain chemistry that it genuinely needs. The chemistry becomes a problem when it phases from “tool” to “addiction”. But your brain asks harder for certain things when it needs those chemicals. Anyone who’s ever “really needed” a cup of coffee can comprehend this. But it extends to concepts like sugar (did you know you’re less likely to resist sugary foods when your brain is tired?) and protein and everything else. The brain will reduce your will-power until you give in eventually. Those who exercise will-power well, feed their brain with other tools, like sleep, exercise, and other forms of rest.

Addiction affects more than just the individual. It ripples out into families, friends, and communities, leaving the people who care feeling powerless in what they see unfolding. Loving someone through addiction may mean recognizing that you cannot stop it for them, but choosing to not give up on them. You can continue to show up, offer support, and let them know that help is there when they are ready. 

Addiction is a deep hole. One day everything is fine, and the next you’re deep in the depths of despair. It’s easy to fall into. Just one sip, one pill, or whatever the substance may be - that’s all it takes for some. For others, continued use, for whatever reason - to fit in, to “feel better”, to “be happy”, or even because it was prescribed, slowly trains the mind that they need it. Tolerance develops as they continue using it, and then they need more and more. It never ends up being enough. 

This is a repost from SAMHSA (Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration) but well worth sharing…

Tyler’s Journey Through the Criminal Legal System

“He’s dead, David. He’s dead. He’s dead.”

Those frantic, dreadful words echoed through my mind, on repeat.

‘David’—that is me. ‘He’—that’s my friend, Tyler. Or I should say ‘was,’ as of September 5, 2023.

Tyler and I were incarcerated in state prison together between 2011 and 2013 for similar non-violent, drug-related charges. Our friendship consisted of cutting grass, playing cards, drinking instant coffee, munching on ramen, and listening to John Mayer and Dave Matthews. During these two years, our similar life circumstances, musical interests, and severe substance use issues resulted in a bond that would continue even after our paths diverged—with Tyler’s (back) into chaos and mine through a narrow escape toward purpose and healing. My recovery and hard work gave me an opportunity to finish my bachelor’s degree, complete my Master’s, and even gain clearance and employment in the federal government. Despite this divergence, Tyler and I wanted the same thing—a family, a career, economic stability; to do good and be good people—but we also needed all the help we could get.

On this day—January 16, 2026—we mark three years since Chris’s passing. I write to honor his life and to remind us all that recovery is a journey, and it is work. Addiction, too, becomes work. It may not begin that way, but as it tightens its grip, it demands more and more, taking far more than it ever gives. Recovery asks for effort, honesty, and perseverance, yet the rewards reach far beyond what we can imagine: clarity, connection, purpose, and hope.