WORDS FROM STILL HERE
This is a space filled with reflections, feelings and thoughts in the form of blogs, poems and, anonymous words from people who have attended the group.
We hope that this page resonates with you.
What can you relate to?
You are not alone...
There is hope...
FINDING YOURSELF WHILE LOVING SOMEONE AFFECTED BY ADDICTION
5TH SEPTEMBER 2026, AUTHORED BY STILL HERE FOUNDER, SARAH
When someone you care about is struggling with addiction, your own needs can quietly slip to the bottom of the list.
You might spend hours worrying, waiting for a message, trying to work out what to do next. Even when life looks ordinary on the outside, part of you may be somewhere else, wondering whether they are safe.
Over time, it can become difficult to answer a simple question:
What do I need?
You may know exactly what everyone else needs. But recognising your own feelings, or giving yourself permission to act on them, can feel unfamiliar. There may be guilt attached to resting, enjoying yourself or saying, “I can’t do that today.”
Making room for yourself
At Still Here, we make space for the person carrying that worry.
You do not need your loved one to be in treatment, or your situation to have reached a crisis, to deserve support. You might be feeling frightened, angry, exhausted, hopeful—or several things at once.
One member described what the group had given them:
“It gave me back some love for myself and the understanding that loving someone does not have to mean stripping away who you are as a person.”
Those words capture something at the heart of Still Here. Your feelings matter. Your relationships, interests, rest and wellbeing deserve room in your life too.
Making that room might begin with something small: seeing a friend, returning to something you enjoy, or allowing yourself a quiet moment without having to solve anything.
Being alongside people who understand
Walking into a group for the first time can feel daunting. You may wonder what to say, whether you will be understood, or whether your experience belongs there.
You can talk, listen or take your time. There is no need to compare how difficult things have been.
As one member put it:
“I found a great sense of peace knowing I was not alone and my feelings were very similar to others, even if the situations were different.”
You may not have answers about what happens next. But having somewhere to bring your feelings can make a difference.
This week, perhaps give yourself a little space to consider:
What part of myself would I like to make room for again?
Still Here offers free peer support for families and friends affected by someone else’s addiction. You are welcome to come as you are.
Families matter too.
A POEM BY SARAH
TODAY IS A GOOD DAY
Today is a good day.
Not because everything is okay
or because the road ahead is clear.
Today is a good day because you are still here.
Still breathing.
Still caring.
Still loving, even when loving someone through addiction can hurt.
Today is a good day because the small things matter.
A cup of coffee.
Someone asking how you are.
A conversation where you don’t have to explain.
A moment where your mind is quiet.
Today is a good day because hope doesn’t always have to be something big.
Sometimes hope is simply getting through today.
Sometimes it is allowing yourself to laugh without feeling guilty.
Sometimes it is saying no.
Sometimes it is stepping back.
Sometimes it is accepting that you cannot fix everything.
And sometimes it is just noticing that, for a moment, things feel a little lighter.
There will be difficult days again.
We know that.
But today doesn’t have to carry tomorrow.
Today can just be today.
And if today is a good day,
let yourself have it.
You deserve those days too.
A POEM BY SARAH
THOSE WHO NEED TO READ THIS
If you are loving someone through addiction,
you may recognise yourself in these words.
You may know the fear of an unanswered phone,
the promises you desperately want to believe
and the exhaustion of trying to save someone
when love alone cannot make them well.
You may have been judged for staying,
judged for leaving
and judged for the boundaries
you fought so hard to build.
Please know this:
You are not weak because you still love them.
You are not cruel because you have stepped back.
You are not responsible for choices
you did not make and cannot control.
Their recovery matters,
but so does yours.
You are allowed to laugh without feeling guilty.
You are allowed to sleep without keeping watch.
You are allowed to build a life
that is not ruled by fear.
I cannot offer easy answers
or promise a perfect ending.
I can only share the truth of one mother
who loved, rescued, hoped, broke
and slowly began finding herself again.
If these words feel like your story too,
I hope they remind you
that you are not alone.
You matter.
And despite everything
you have lived through,
you are still here.