When the Breaking Point Becomes a Turning Point

Written By Eileen Xenarios

Every marriage breakup story is complicated. For us, addiction was at the root of our struggles.

On a sunny, warm Sunday in mid-May, we had been working out in the yard—clearing beds, pulling weeds, preparing to plant. The smell of fresh soil and cut grass hung in the air. My arms were streaked with dirt, sweat dripping down my back. When I went inside, I expected the quiet hum of the house to greet me. Instead, I found silence. My husband was slumped over the dining room table, head down, completely still.

For a moment, I thought he might be dead.

“Nik,” I said, my voice sharp with panic. No response.

I shook his shoulder. “Nik, wake up!”

He stirred, eyes glassy and vacant. “I have to finish my homework. Mike’s coming to pick me up soon.”

The words didn’t fit. We were adults. He hadn’t been in school in decades. Mike was his high school friend. It became clear he was delirious—mentally stuck in another time, another place. He looked at me as though I were a stranger in our own home.

As a mental health counselor, I knew the signs of crisis. He didn’t recognize me. He was combative. His eyes—dark, lifeless—sent a chill through me. For the first time, I feared for my safety in my own dining room.

With help from his mother and my son, I convinced him to go to the emergency room. This was the height of the COVID-19 lockdown, when hospitals were the last place anyone wanted to be. The nurse asked him, “Do you know where you are?” He answered, with certainty, “New Jersey.” We lived in Ohio.

I left him there for testing, exhausted and numb. But beneath the numbness, a quiet truth was forming. I knew I couldn’t sit by and watch him kill himself slowly. That day marked the beginning of my decision to leave.

And yet, addiction doesn’t end with a single decision. Months later, after moving him into an apartment in the next town, I found myself driving up Cedar Road with a pit in my stomach. The trees blurred past in streaks of green and shadow as I rehearsed what I might find: him high, him unconscious, him dead. His mother had called, frantic after no one had heard from him all day. I was the one who went. The one who prepared myself to open the door and face whatever waited inside.

He wasn’t dead. But our marriage was.

This is the cruel rhythm of loving someone in addiction: the whiplash of crisis, the ache of grief for someone still alive, the endless waiting for the phone call you dread most.

What Addiction Teaches Us About Relationships

If you’re loving someone with a substance use disorder, you may recognize these truths:

1. Don’t Get on the Train

Addiction is like a runaway train heading straight toward a brick wall. The person you love may be on board, but you don’t have to climb on with them. Getting swept into the chaos—covering up, rescuing, or sacrificing your own stability—only leaves you broken alongside them.

Why this matters for you: You have permission to step off the ride, protect your peace, and keep yourself safe.

2. Addiction is like a demon

If you’ve ever seen The Exorcist, you know the possessed aren’t themselves—the demon speaks through them. That’s how addiction works. Your partner is still there, but when substances take over, their eyes, their words, even their anger may not feel like the person you know.

Why this matters for you: Remembering that the addiction is separate from the person can free you from self-blame and allow you to set firm boundaries without shame.

3. Recovery must be their choice

You can’t love someone into sobriety, no matter how hard you try. The 12 Steps, therapy, and treatment programs can create real change, but only if the person chooses recovery wholeheartedly. Pushing, pleading, or threatening won’t work—it only leaves you exhausted and powerless.

Why this matters for you: You can stop carrying the impossible responsibility of fixing someone else and instead focus on your own healing and future.

4. Your recovery matters too

Living with addiction affects everyone in the family. Partners, parents, and children of people with substance use disorders often carry their own deep wounds—trauma, anxiety, self-doubt, and constant vigilance. Groups like Al-Anon and Families Anonymous exist because the people around the addict need recovery, too.

Why this matters for you: You deserve healing, even if your loved one never chooses sobriety. Support is available to help you feel less alone and begin to reclaim your life.

5. Resilience is built one step at a time

Resilience doesn’t mean being unshakable or perfect—it means learning how to bend without breaking. Healing comes through small, steady practices: journaling to release emotions, meditation to steady your mind, therapy for support, or simply reclaiming healthy daily routines. These small steps create strength over time.

Why this matters for you: You can move from merely surviving crisis to living with clarity, purpose, and hope again.

Resources for Support

If you or someone you love is struggling with addiction:


Addiction is powerful, but so is your right to safety, peace, and healing. You cannot fight someone else’s demon, but you can reclaim your own life.

Eileen Xenarios https://flexcounselingwellness.com/
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