Dear Loved Ones, I know I’ve haven’t been honest with you, but I’m learning that honesty in recovery is going to be critical if I want to get well. So let this letter be a beginning. And let me begin by saying, If there is one thing I wish you understood about me, it’s that I do want to get well. And that’s the honest truth. I know it doesn’t seem like it. I’ve made lots of promises that I haven’t kept. I’ve lied. I’ve said things that are hurtful. I’ve put myself and you at risk. And I’ve told you countless times that I was going to stop using and drinking, and yet instead, you’ve watched my addictions escalate. How many times have I told you that I was going to stop? I can’t even count them anymore. But please understand: I really do want to get well. One thing I’m learning in recovery is that addiction is a disease. It has a biological basis that is centered in my brain. The part of my brain that is broken is the part where good decisions are made, where my moral compass resides, where impulse control is exercised. I’m not making excuses. But this explains everything, at least for me. It explains why I’d go out and drive a car when I’m completely loaded. It explains why I tell you I’m going to be somewhere important and then don’t bother to show up. And if you’re wondering why I didn’t make it to work all those days and why I can’t remember where I parked my car the night before, it’s because my brain is messed up. And that’s the reason I can’t stop using and drinking, no matter how hard I try. It would mean a lot to me if you just understood how much I want to get well. But I know behavior speaks louder than words, so you will see a different me in the days ahead. I can’t tell you exactly what that’s going to look like, but I can tell you that by being honest in my recovery, I stand a good chance of long-term abstinence. I’m surrounded by success stories that give me so much hope. Please be patient. I plan to be one of them. Your loving addict.