I Stopped Waiting for Rock Bottom and Started Living Again

A guest post by Brandi Mac

If someone told me three years ago that I’d reach an emotional breaking point, shave my head, and give the middle finger to our broken treatment system…I wouldn’t have believed them, but that’s exactly what happened.

At the end of 2019, I learned my 20-year-old daughter was using fentanyl intravenously. My world shattered. We had what you’d call a toxic relationship. More like World War III than anything healthy. But I loved her. I would’ve walked through hell for her…and I did.

At the time, I believed medication-assisted treatment was just trading one drug for another. I clung to the idea that tough love was the only way to save her. She needed to “hit rock bottom.” Sound familiar?

Looking back, what I really remember is how it felt like I was drowning every time I kicked her out…every time I shut off her phone…every time I told her she couldn’t come to family holidays unless she passed a drug test.

What did I gain from those years?
Heartbreak. Missed memories. And time I can’t get back.

She went through nine treatment programs in four years. Thousands of dollars spent. And within 30 days of discharge she would relapse..

But something unexpected happened:
People in recovery started to talk to me. Hundreds of them. Some on MAT. Some not. They shared their stories, their pain, and their hope. Not because they owed me anything but because they wanted to see my daughter make it.

And for the first time…I listened. I started to change.

After my daughter’s last inpatient stay and her next relapse. I hit my own rock bottom. That’s when the healing began.

I didn’t plan to shave my head. But I did.
I wept tears of pain, trauma, grief, exhaustion, but underneath that, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years: relief.

A quiet kind of peace. A flicker of hope, and for the first time since this all began…I started to feel alive again.

I stopped trying to force my daughter into recovery.
Instead, I chose to meet her where she was in active addiction.
I stopped bringing up rehab. I stopped making every conversation about her using.
I just…talked to her. I shared stories. We ate meals together. I loved her the only way I could.

I started doing what I could live with.

That mindset changed everything.

It hit me one day: if she died, I would have to live with how I showed up.
I realized that rock bottom for her would likely mean death.
So I chose to make memories while I still could.

In November 2023, a few weeks before Thanksgiving, something overcame me. While driving to work, I felt a deep pull to invite my daughter to Thanksgiving, even in active addiction. I was terrified. We all were.

Would it be chaos? Would it harm her son to see her like that? Would we regret it? But it turned out to be one of the best holidays we’ve had as a family.

People think those in active addiction don’t care. That they only lie, steal, and manipulate, and yes, in the beginning, I probably would’ve agreed with you, but when I picked my daughter up from the woods, and she was sobbing because she was scared I wouldn’t come… I knew. She still cared. Deeply.

After Thanksgiving, she started calling me every day. FaceTiming me. Not to ask for anything but for connection.

Then, one morning, she called and said:
“Can I come home?”

And I said:
Yes.

She didn’t go back to treatment. She didn’t detox in a facility.
She started MAT, and the only rule I had was: don’t bring drugs into my home or onto my property.

That was it.

She could come and go as she pleased, because after years of heartbreak, I finally understood the truth:
If she was going to use, there was nothing I could do to stop her.

This was her journey.
The only thing I could control was how I showed up, and for the first time, I wasn’t bracing for relapse. I wasn’t white-knuckling my love. I just kept living. I focused on healing. I allowed joy back in.

If you’re a mom reading this, I want you to know:
You don’t have to wait until your child gets sober to find peace.
And loving them now doesn’t mean you’re giving up.

I didn’t save my daughter.

But loving her without conditions gave her something to hold onto when she was ready to save herself.

Brandi Mac is a nurse practitioner, author, and mother who turned her family's battle with addiction into a mission of truth-telling and healing. She shares her lived experience to challenge outdated systems and offer compassion-based support to families navigating the chaos of addiction. Her new book, Do What You Can Live With, is a survival guide for families facing impossible choices with love and courage.

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