Nothing We Do or Don't Do

Sorting through recipes for dinner, I found myself mentally cataloging all the things I'd tried to get my daughter to address her drinking. There was the time I left books on recovery subtly placed around her apartment, the period I insisted she couldn't come home if she'd been drinking, and the countless “loving” conversations that turned into lectures. I saw how, without realizing it, I'd been living in an endless cycle, convinced that if I could just find the right words or the perfect strategy, I could nudge her onto a different path.

That quiet kitchen moment made me see the illusion I was living under. All that effort wasn't about helping her as much as it was about me holding onto the idea that I controlled her choices. The truth is, my daughter’s drinking has consistently proven immune to my carefully crafted interventions and my anguished withdrawals. Her journey, and her relationship with alcohol, remain entirely her own, regardless of what I do or don't do.

This awareness has brought a surprising sense of calm. It's not about detachment, but accepting my powerlessness over another person’s disease. My peace now comes from focusing on my own healing. I can finally direct my energy away from trying to fix her and instead invest it in my own well-being, understanding that my true power lies in changing myself.

Today I can notice when I'm trying to control someone's drinking and remind myself: nothing I do or don't do has that power.