Loving an Addict

I am open about my depression and panic issues. I talk about my life journey. There is another part of my story, a rather large part I don't speak about. I do so, I say because it is not my story to tell. Yet it is. It affects me. It is part of my depression and anxiety. I love and have loved someone with an addiction problem. Addiction of loved ones is a thread that runs through my life. Loving someone in the throes of addiction is a horrible thing. There is so much information on this subject. I am an avid viewer of television shows about addiction and recovery. I read all the articles I can get my hands on regarding addiction. I study the studies. I want so much to see the answer. Or rather the easy answer. There is none. I want to find The Answer. I KNOW it is not my problem to fix. I KNOW the addict has to figure it out on their own. I KNOW. Knowing and feeling are two different things. Now let's add on the guilt. What did I do or not do. I KNOW I didn't cause it. It is the addicts choice to use or not. But being entwined in someone's life you cannot help but second and third guess your interactions. I know all about being an enabler. And how to not be one. Tough love. Tougher on the one being tough? I believe so. This is made even harder by someone who has been through treatment before. They know the things to say. They know the dance. And you really, really want to believe them. That they are doing what they are supposed to. Then it hurts so much more when the lies are exposed. Addicts are great at lying. Those who love them become detectives. I am a good one. I am being sneaky to find out their sneaky secrets. Funny, but not really. Now that you know for sure they are not doing what they are supposed to. That they are still using. What to do with the info? Confrontation? Discussion? I have done both. I even took my loved one to treatment. It did not work. Of course not. It was not their choice, their time. So now what? I am not sure. I just feel lost. it hurts so deep. I want to go back to before Momma died. To when my life had some sort of normalcy. I cry. A lot. It is a terrible feeling to know you can't fix something that affects you so very deeply. I listen to others tell their stories. Some are successes and some are not. I know some recovering addicts. There are those in recovery who attend meetings for years and years, who though sober still consider themselves addicts. It is a lifelong battle for some. Others are able to go on with their lives and this is just a blip on their personal radar. I ask them my how to fix it questions. They don't have the answers for me because their stories are just that--their stories. When is MY rock bottom? I don't know. What happens when I reach that point? I don't know. I hate that I don't know. If you are reading this looking for your own answers, I am sorry. I have none. But if you find one will you let me know?