Hopestream for parenting kids through drug use and addiction

Brenda and Cathy opened this conversation by naming something that often gets overlooked: the acceptance and non-reactivity piece of the Invitation to Change approach — which combines CRAFT, motivational interviewing, and ACT (acceptance and commitment therapy) — tends to get 'lobbed off and forgotten about.' The focus often goes to boundaries, natural consequences, and self-care. But Cathy described non-reactivity as something different: a tool you can think about ahead of time, almost premeditate on, so that when a charged moment arrives, you already know what to reach for.

What makes it so powerful, they explained, is that it does not require you to memorize a script or follow a set of steps in the heat of the moment. It is more about how your body feels and being mindful of that — which is something you can begin practicing right now, even in low-stakes situations.

One of the clearest frames from the episode: chaos needs two participants. There is a reactor and a reactee. When a parent stops supplying their reaction, their energy, their drama, the escalation simply cannot continue — there is no second part to it.

'I can't think of a single time with my son where it benefited both of us for me to come and match his level of energy and escalation and drama and chaos. Can't think of a single one.' — Brenda Zane

Cathy added that this is also true in situations involving manipulation or gaslighting — not just loud, escalating conflict. Matching the other person's intensity in any of those situations just leads to co-escalation, and as both hosts observed, everyone walks away feeling awful. Even kids, they noted, do not actually want that outcome.

Both Brenda and Cathy described the same physical experience when they are about to react: what Brenda called a 'butterfly convention' happening high in the chest, followed by a pounding heart, and then a kind of disassociation — almost an out-of-body experience of watching yourself lose control. Cathy described it as feeling like the reaction is almost frightening in how physical it becomes.

The reason it matters to recognize these signals is that your body gets there first. Before you have consciously decided to react, your nervous system is already signaling. That is the moment to pause. And deep breathing — especially with a longer exhale — was described as a surprisingly effective way to start regulating the nervous system in real time, even when it seems too simple to work.

Brenda shared a story from a day when her son was supposed to help pack the house during a move. He was disengaged, and when he asked if they would be done soon, barely half an hour in, she felt the escalation start. She matched his energy — and they went at it for hours. Then something shifted. She stepped back, looked at him almost the way she would watch a two-year-old throw a tantrum, and said quietly: 'I'm not doing this. You can go. Just go.'

'That was, for me, I think the start of me realizing the power of my response was a lot more than I thought it was, 'cause I saw the instant change in him.' — Brenda Zane

Cathy shared her own moment — a screaming argument with her daughter about writing a thank you note to her grandparents. In the middle of it, she stopped, looked at her daughter, and said 'I'm walking away.' And she did. She described that as the beginning of her own 'very uneven recovery' — because it was not long after that things started to change in her home. She realized she had been contributing to the dynamic by always engaging.

Brenda and Cathy were clear that non-reactivity is not something you can white-knuckle your way into in a moment of crisis. It requires what they called a rewiring of your whole system — an update to your operating system — so that calm becomes the default rather than the exception. Here are the practical suggestions they offered:

And when it all falls apart — because it will — Cathy and Brenda both said the same thing: give yourself grace, treat it as a teachable moment, and remember that the do-over is always available. You can go back to your child and say you did not like how you handled something. Another opportunity will come. It always does.

Janice didn't have the typical teenage warning signs many parents describe. Her son's struggles with substance use emerged during and after COVID, and the moment of clarity came when she found something she Googled and confirmed was crystal meth. She describes having two choices in that moment: feel sorry for herself, or get educated. She chose education.

What she didn't realize yet was how much of that education would turn out to be about herself. Before she found the podcast and the Stream community, she had been, by her own account, really negative with her son — on his case, yelling, without a kind word. 'I just didn't understand what was going on,' she said. 'The fix-it mom, and then when I realized I can't fix this really quickly, I shifted into get-educated mom.'

Several years after her son began his path toward sobriety, her daughter also began struggling — with depression and drinking. By then, Janice handled it completely differently. Her daughter's path moved quickly, and she is now sober.

One of the most important things Janice unpacks in this conversation is what people actually mean when they say 'do the work.' She remembers hearing that phrase early on and being confused and frustrated — she was consuming every podcast, video, and book she could find. What more was there to do?

'You're not gonna get through this without changing yourself. And that was a real lesson, because the work is really knowing that you're part of this dynamic.' — Janice

She was careful to say she didn't cause her children's struggles. But her communication style, her tendency toward judgment, her rushing in to fix things and prevent consequences — all of that was part of the picture. Owning that, she said, took a long time to figure out. And it was the real work.

When Brenda asked her to talk about what it actually looked like to shift from negative to positive communication, Janice split her answer into two things: energy and communication. She said the two are connected, and energy comes first.

She described being obsessed — almost, she said, like an addiction — with thinking about her son. Every second thought was about him. The shift came when she started asking herself: if you're not thinking about your son right now, what could you be doing with that mental energy? What could you be doing to improve yourself?

'I then could distance myself a little bit and arrive or come to the situation where I saw my son struggling and just be neutral. And I just arrived with neutral energy.' — Janice

She also described self-care not as bubble baths or leisure, but as creating enough space inside yourself to actually hold your child — non-judgmentally, without flooding them with worry or reaction. 'If you don't take care of yourself, your cup is full. You can't create any space. You're overflowing.'

For anyone new to the phrase 'drop the rope,' Janice offers a very grounded explanation using a real example from her own home: she and her son disagree constantly about the air conditioning. At some point, she asked herself — is air conditioning going to kill me? Is this really about the air conditioning, or is this about control?

That question — what is this really about? — is at the center of how she thinks about letting go. She describes the grippy feeling of wanting to challenge or hold your position, and suggests getting curious about it rather than acting on it automatically.

She also went back into therapy during this period, tracing her own communication patterns back to her family of origin, including a father who was an alcoholic. 'You can't change something until you can face it and accept it,' she said — and acceptance, as Brenda noted, is not the same as approval.

Janice says she meditates for about ten minutes a day — nothing elaborate, just a simple app — and has recently started checking in with herself by asking what she is feeling and what she is afraid of. She also talks about visualizing the kind of person she wants to be and trying to prioritize showing up that way.

'I was always quite tough on myself and everyone around me. I wasn't the model of empathy. I was a model of get it done... And now I think people view me differently. I have totally changed.' — Janice

Her daughter has noticed. She told Janice directly: 'Mom, I can totally come to you now. You're a different person. I see that you have changed.' The two of them lived together for six months in close quarters without conflict — something Janice says would have been impossible before.

On the question of whether focusing on yourself means abandoning your child, Janice offers the clearest reframe in the episode: ask yourself what your stepping in actually does. Does it help your child learn, or does it teach them that you will always be there to cushion the consequence? 'If you can answer that question in a way that makes you understand the consequences of your actions, then there's your answer.'

She closes with a metaphor that captures the whole conversation: climbing a mountain, wanting to turn around and extend your hand to the person behind you. Not to the top — she'd never suggest that — but higher. And then turning around to help the next person up.

Episode 343

ABOUT THE EPISODE:

You’ve heard some version of it: Leave me alone! I know what I am doing! You don't understand me!” Ciara Fanlo said all of that to her mother, but what her mom didn’t know was that those statements were hiding a plea…please help me.

Ciara was a sensitive kid in San Francisco, the kind who felt everything the world hurled at her at full volume before she had language or coping skills for it. Her parents divorced and she started self-harming by age ten, before she’d ever seen anyone else do it. She just knew she needed to displace the emotional pain she felt.

By high school she had been through therapists, medications, and a residential program. She came home on a contract and broke every rule on it in one afternoon, which ended with a wrecked car, police, and her mother angrier than she had ever seen. On the drive home they passed a church, and her mom pulled into the parking lot.

That stop at the church led to a life-changing wilderness therapy experience where she spent three months getting to know and love herself. One night in the wild of Colorado she looked up at the moon and felt something she had never felt in her life, and it changed what she thought was possible. Today she mentors teen girls through her practice, Homing Instinct.

This is a recovery story, and it is also the closest thing to a translation I can hand you. Ciara says out loud what our kids cannot, including one line about hope that will especially resonate if your child currently feels out of control and beyond reach.

If your child is pushing you away with both hands, this one is for you.

YOU'LL LEARN

EPISODE RESOURCES:

This podcast is part of a nonprofit called Hopestream CommunityLearn about The Stream, our private online community for momsFind us on Instagram hereWatch the podcast on YouTube hereDownload a free e-book, Worried Sick: A Compassionate Guide For Parents When Your Teen or Young Adult Child Misuses Drugs and AlcoholHopestream Community is a registered 501(c)3 nonprofit organization and an Amazon Associate. We may make a small commission if you purchase from our links.

Brook McKenzie's journey into addiction began around age 13 or 14. By 15 he needed treatment, and he went through three adolescent treatment programs between 15 and 17. His brother took a very different path — college, career, marriage — while Brook's life looked nothing like that through his adolescent years and well beyond. He did not get into long-term recovery until he was in his 30s.

Reflecting on that time, Brook says the suffering his family experienced may have been greater than his own. 'The terror, the confusion, the guilt, all of the fear that my mom and dad and brother and extended family experienced defies description.' His family made decisions in isolation with no real community or guidance available to them.

What finally changed things, he says, was that the people who loved him most eventually allowed him to fully experience the consequences of his own decisions. 'They finally took a loving step back and said, you know what, we're gonna allow Brook to experience fully the consequence that he creates.' Until that happened, he was always waiting on them to solve the problems he created.

Brook describes a cycle where both the addicted loved one and the parents are each seeking relief. The loved one reaches for a substance. The parents reach for what he calls their own lever — doing something, fixing something, paying something — to get relief from the fear or guilt they feel in the moment.

'Everyone's just trying to feel better. Everyone's trying to feel relief. Everyone's trying to feel and access more comfort. In my experience, as long as my family was pursuing that, I was never getting better.'

— Brook McKenzie

He describes fear as having just two faces: being afraid of losing something you have, or being afraid of not getting something you want. Any parent, he says, can look back over the past 48 hours and recognize one or both of those at work in a recent decision.

Brook has seen parents do a great deal of talking and telling — explaining to their child why they need to change, trying to find the right words to inspire them. He says he has worked with thousands and thousands of families and has never, not even once, seen that approach produce a good result.

What he has seen work is parents shifting to simply stating what they will do and what they will not do, and leaving it there. When parents start doing that, he says, the results can come in weeks or months, not years.

He also describes what he calls an ineffective contract that families get locked into — an unspoken arrangement where fear and guilt on one side produce rescuing and enabling on the other. 'The families that do the best, I mean there's no comparison, are the families that make a decision and say, you know what, I'm willing to feel. I'm willing to feel the discomfort, the trepidation, the pain, the guilt, and the fear. I'm willing to walk through it.'

Brook prefers the word disabling over enabling, because he says it more accurately captures what happens over time. When families continuously do things for the loved one that the loved one could do for themselves, they are sending a message — not an intentional one, but a message all the same — that they do not believe the loved one is capable.

'Every time someone who loved me did something like that for me, they were demanding that I acknowledge I'm not capable of doing these things. I'm not capable of basic responsibilities. I'm not capable of accountability. I'm not capable of being responsible for really any aspect of my life.'

— Brook McKenzie

He also talks about how the bar drops for the addicted loved one while staying in place for siblings. The goal, he says, is to get that bar back up as quickly as possible and to be honest with the loved one about what is expected and what the family will and will not do.

When asked what ends up in the two columns — what we will do and what we will not do — Brook keeps it simple. What parents will do is support access to recovery and treatment. What they will not do is lie, make excuses, or pay debts the loved one created through their own choices and decisions.

He also encourages parents who are in therapy to go in with a specific purpose: to explore how fear and guilt are shaping their parenting decisions. 'Go in, be honest, authentic, and say, hey, I've become very curious about how my fear and my guilt is influencing my parenting decisions. Can you help me with that?'

For parents wondering why their child pushes back or threatens or withdraws love the moment a parent starts holding firmer, Brook has a clear answer: 'They do that because it works. That's the only reason.' And the good news, he says, is that once the loved one sees that tactic no longer works, they stop doing it almost immediately.

His final message to parents: you must go first. The families waiting on their loved one to change are, in his experience, unlikely to see results. The families who make changes in their own behavior, get into community, and are willing to feel the discomfort of doing harder things — those are the families he sees get good outcomes.

Episode 341

ABOUT THE EPISODE:

You‘ve probably watched your child make a decision so obviously terrible you could not understand how it made sense to them. Darren Hobbs can tell you exactly how it looked, because he made that decision. He had done treatment. He had a sponsor, a home group, a year chip. Then he took some cash he made, drove back to his old dealer, and fully believed he could be the sober cocaine dealer in a small college town.

His story starts at 14, with a Vicodin prescription after surgery and the discovery that with substances in him, everything was better, easier and more fun. It runs through years of drinking and cocaine, wrecked cars, stolen money, and parents who kept trying to love him out of it. It ends, or maybe begins, on the floor of a Nashville bar with undercover detectives on top of him, staring at 20 years in prison.

What changed him was not the arrest. It was a phone call from his mother, and one sentence she said that I know broke her heart - and drove his recovery.

Darren is a Certified Intervention Professional, founder of The Firm Addiction Consulting in Nashville, and a cast member on A&E's Intervention. He has taken hundreds of families through interventions, and he is blunt about what parents do that keeps their kids stuck. He also told me the most extraordinary story of divine timing I have heard on this show. If you watch on YouTube, you will see the goosebumps on both of us.

This is the first of four recovery stories this month, and I started here because Darren says out loud the things our kids cannot.

If you are watching your child choose the things that will hurt them and cannot make sense of it, this one is for you.

YOU'LL LEARN

EPISODE RESOURCES:

This podcast is part of a nonprofit called Hopestream CommunityLearn about The Stream, our private online community for momsFind us on Instagram hereWatch the podcast on YouTube hereDownload a free e-book, Worried Sick: A Compassionate Guide For Parents When Your Teen or Young Adult Child Misuses Drugs and AlcoholHopestream Community is a registered 501(c)3 nonprofit organization and an Amazon Associate. We may make a small commission if you purchase from our links.

Before she understood what boundaries were, Brenda described feeling invisible — like a doormat — with rules that nobody followed and no way to enforce anything. 'I felt like I was invisible, like I was a doormat, like none of my rules were being followed,' she shared. That frustration didn't stay contained. It boiled up into anger, resentment, and eventually moments she wasn't proud of — like unplugging an Xbox and throwing it across the room.

Cathy recognized the same pattern in herself. She called herself 'the marshmallow.' The harder her husband got with their kids, the softer she became. And she was honest about why: fear. Fear that if she said 'no drugs in this home,' her kids would walk out and never come back. 'The reality was that's happened without me setting that boundary,' she said. They left anyway.

'There's so much resentment. Not only with your kids, but seems like with everybody. That just like you said, that anger, to me, it overflowed to everything.' — Cathy Cioth

Both hosts were clear that this kind of overwhelm is common and worth naming directly. When you don't have boundaries, resentment builds. Anger spills onto everyone. You find yourself trying to hold together a version of yourself that looks fine on the outside while everything at home is falling apart. And sometimes, you snap.

The most important thing both hosts wanted listeners to understand is that a boundary is not an ultimatum. An ultimatum is an attempt to control what someone else does. A boundary is about what you need and how you will respond.

Cathy described her mental image of a white picket fence around a small plot of green grass. 'Your boundaries are for you,' she said. 'What you need to be safe, what you need to feel healthy.' There is a gate in the fence — people can come in, and you can go out — but the terms for entering are yours to set.

'When you learn how to create a boundary, when you realize who they're for, and once you do it and you have a little bit of success, it feels so good. And then you want to keep doing it, you want to build on that. It's like you're exercising this amazing muscle and it gets stronger.' — Cathy Cioth

Brenda added that boundaries always start with 'I' — 'I need this,' or 'I feel this way, and therefore this is what I'm going to do.' They are not 'you can't do this.' That distinction matters.

Cathy shared how she and her husband addressed finding drugs in their home. They called drugs 'software' and the implements used to take them 'hardware.' After talking it through together — not in the middle of a confrontation — they decided: no drugs in the home. If found, they would be disposed of, and their son would not be able to stay the night.

'Oh boy, that was such a tough one for me, honestly,' Cathy said. Her son stayed out of the house many times. It felt defeating. But she and her husband had agreed on it together, communicated it calmly in advance, and held it. 'When we first set out that boundary, my son took it really well.'

Brenda shared a boundary she held for herself first — stopping herself from waking her son up for school. She knew the only way to break her habit of going downstairs to check on him was to physically remove herself: a walk with the dog, or a shower. 'At first, it was just painful. I'm in the shower, just did it feel so forced,' she recalled. But eventually he started getting himself up.

The harder boundary came during a family move. Brenda had set conditions for her son to move with them — going to therapy, not using in the home, packing his room, being out by eight in the morning for showings. He did none of them. On moving day, with the pods in the driveway and the house empty, he was in a sleeping bag in the corner of his room saying he wasn't leaving. She had to bag up his childhood belongings and tell him he could not come with them — and could not know their new address because she was scared of the people he was involved with. 'That took a lot of therapy to be able to do that,' she said.

'If you are at the point where you have to hold a boundary that severe, get yourself some support. Don't try to do that alone.' — Brenda Zane

Brenda was clear that boundaries aren't only about your child — they are also about protecting your own emotional state. These include things like deciding not to scroll social media during prom season or graduation if it's painful, setting aside time to exercise, or arranging meals so you can actually nourish yourself when you don't have the mental bandwidth to cook.

Cathy spoke specifically about setting a boundary around social media during hard seasons: 'Give yourself that grace, set a boundary around social media or whatever that is that might be affecting you because I think it's just so important. Those are some really tough times emotionally.'

Brenda also walked through how boundaries extend to siblings, extended family, and even well-meaning relatives who always have an opinion about what you should do with your child. She described the example of a sister who brings up your struggling child every time you're together: you might set a boundary that says, for a while, that topic is off the table when we see each other. If she can't do that, you may need to spend less time together in person.

Cathy added that boundaries don't have to be all-or-nothing. 'Maybe you could say to your sister, hey, look, five minutes we could chat about it. But after that, I just really want to enjoy this holiday with the family.' Tweaking a boundary so it still works for you is completely allowed. And boundaries can change over time — what worked or felt necessary a year ago may not need to be the same today.

By the time a struggling teenager reaches senior year, most parents have already been through so much that graduation itself feels like a personal accomplishment. As Brenda put it, 'I got my son graduated from high school. I should get the diploma because I'm actually the one who got them graduated.' Kathy said the same thing happened with her son: 'I was sitting there thinking, oh, we did it. Not he did it, we did it.'

That exhaustion matters when it comes to the college decision, because it can make parents more likely to push forward even when something feels off. Kathy was direct about this: 'We really needed the break because it was just a lot at the time.'

Both hosts described the stretch between the end of high school and the start of college as a particularly risky window. There is often money already committed — tuition paid in advance, housing deposits made — and family expectations that feel impossible to walk back. Brenda noted that there can be a kind of magical thinking that things will self-correct once a kid gets to campus.

'I think for me it was like, I had to stop trying to control everything' — But what both hosts actually described was the hope that college itself would fix things: 'Once they go to college, they kind of even out, they naturally have to take more responsibility. That was our thought.' — Kathy Cioth

Brenda was candid that for kids who are already struggling with substances, that natural correction is less likely given how much stronger what is available now is compared to what previous generations encountered. Kathy's son later told her there were far more drugs and far more variety at his college than he had ever seen before.

Kathy described a gradual unraveling: her son's calls became more frequent, she could see he did not look well at parent weekend, and she was learning through social media and others that he had been dropping classes. 'He would always kind of recover. And so we thought, well, it's okay.' But by mid-November, his calls changed tone entirely. He kept saying he needed to get out.

When her gut told her to go, she flew to Arizona, rented a car, and picked him up herself. 'I knew it was the right thing to bring him home.' Brenda echoed this with a story about a friend whose son's opioid use skyrocketed at college. Her friend flew out unannounced because something felt wrong. 'When you have a gut feeling, follow it. You know when something feels wrong.'

Kathy encouraged parents to reach out to the university before move-in day to ask what crisis resources and recovery supports are available on campus. She described recovery clubs, peer support groups, and crisis centers that now exist at many schools, much of which expanded after COVID. 'If you are in that situation where you're sending off your kid right now, please go to the university, reach out to them.'

Brenda added a practical step that most parents do not think about until it is too late: getting a medical waiver or medical power of attorney signed before the child leaves. She described standing in a hospital after her son's second overdose and being told by nurses that they could not share any information because her son was 19. 'If they go off to college and they're 18 and they're in a car accident and they're in the hospital and you call and try to get information, they will not give it to you because they're an adult.'

Both hosts also talked about setting clear expectations before writing the check: what grade average you expect, whether they will work or volunteer, whether they will have access to a car or a set allowance. Kathy's family decided no car freshman year. Brenda described it as a major financial exchange that deserves real terms on both sides.

For families who are not sure their child is ready, both hosts were enthusiastic about options that do not get talked about enough. Deferring for a year was described as a way to work on mental health and build a stronger foundation without closing the door on college entirely. 'You're not telling your kids you can't go. You're just saying hey, we're just saying one year.'

They also mentioned local community college, a nearby apartment arrangement, and therapeutic gap year programs. Brenda referenced a website called allkindsoftherapy.com as a place where parents can search for gap year options with different filters. An educational consultant was also mentioned as a resource for navigating these options.

Both hosts were also clear that the timeline pressure around college is worth examining. Kathy's daughter is working on her degree at 26. Brenda's son started a master's program at 28. Her younger son never went to college and runs a successful business. 'College doesn't have to happen in between the ages of 18 and 22 folks. Let's normalize that.'

One of the most honest parts of the conversation was about grief. Kathy described stopping going to the college care package gatherings her friend group did every few weeks, feeling like she could not explain why she no longer had a kid at school. 'It made me feel so bad. And I couldn't even tell everybody.'

Brenda named it plainly: when you do not get to make that drive, set up the dorm room, wear the sweatshirt, and go to parent weekend, the loss is real and it deserves to be acknowledged. But she and Kathy both said that years out, the story looks very different.

'Having the experiences that we have now with our kids, these healthy, healthy, vibrant relationships, I mean, oh my gosh. I'll take it any day over a 100% cotton university of wherever sweatshirt.' — Kathy Cioth

Brenda added that perspective is everything, and that a few years down the road this will not feel the way it feels today.

When Brenda first heard the term 'psych eval' during her son's time in wilderness therapy, she had never encountered it before. That unfamiliarity is common, and it's part of why Dr. Graham Husick wanted to start with a baseline. Testing, he explained, spans many areas — academic, forensic, and more — but the kind most relevant to families navigating substance use is the psychological evaluation designed to build a profile of the whole person, not just arrive at a diagnosis.

'The idea is, before we launch into all these different kinds of treatment, all these different kinds of settings... can we get basically a psychological profile of this person? Not of their diagnosis, but of this actual person.' — Dr. Graham Husick

He used a medical comparison that stuck: a surgeon doesn't open someone up because they have stomach pain. They do an MRI first. Psychological testing, he said, is meant to serve that same function before families and clinicians decide on wilderness programs, residential treatment, therapeutic boarding schools, or any other path.

One of the clearest ideas Dr. Husick offered was the difference between treating the problem within the person versus treating the person with the problem. When everyone zeroes in on the substance use itself, he said, the understanding of the human underneath often gets lost. He pointed to depression as an example — research shows it is a nonspecific symptom, something like a fever in physical health, with many different pathways to it. If clinicians just treat depression without understanding which pathway applies to this particular person, they may not be treating anything meaningful.

The same applies to substance use. Dr. Husick noted that a long list of diagnoses picked up across multiple programs often tells clinicians so much and in reality so little at the same time. He observed that when he reviews evaluations that kids have had in the past two or three years, the diagnosis list has hopefully narrowed, but the recommendations that come out are usually copy-pasted — matching a diagnosis to a standard approach — without actually helping the family or the young person move forward.

Dr. Husick described several psychological capacities he examines in a thorough evaluation. One is reality testing — how well someone's perceptions line up with what others generally perceive, including the conditions under which that breaks down. Another is reasoning patterns, including what he called confabulation, where a person starts with a conclusion and builds reasoning around it rather than the other way around. This matters because it shapes what kinds of therapy a person can actually engage with.

He also discussed emotion regulation and what tends to tip someone into dysregulation, IQ testing — which he said he always includes because the peaks and valleys in someone's abilities can be shocking and directly affect how therapy works — and how someone approaches relationships, including whether they tend to see people as whole or in a more split, all-good or all-bad way.

'The point of testing is to be able to tell things about a person that they're not able to just vocalize to us themselves.' — Dr. Graham Husick

He also described something he called facilitation — where a person who is generally calm becomes rageful when drunk, not because the alcohol created the rage, but because something in them has had trouble finding expression. He gave a detailed example of a patient who, outside her awareness, was using alcohol to try to revisit and remaster a traumatic experience. This kind of dynamic, he said, is not something usually talked about or understood in substance use treatment, and yet sometimes it makes all the difference.

Dr. Husick said the drug itself is useful information, though not the only piece. He drew a clear contrast between opiates and cocaine as an example.

'You hear this often, the idea of like opiates being like a warm hug... That's telling us something very different from the person who loves cocaine in that way. Cocaine doesn't usually feel like a warm hug for people. It usually feels like they are king of the castle kind of thing. And that's gonna tell you something different about somebody's personality and what it might be essentially substituting for in that way.' — Dr. Graham Husick

Beyond the substance itself, he pointed to what the use is doing for the person — whether it's modulating an unusually high need for stimulation, filling a social and identity role, or facilitating access to an emotional experience the person can't reach otherwise.

Dr. Husick was direct about the tension between what thorough testing requires and what insurance will pay for. His testing process involves multiple sessions — meetings beforehand, one or two major testing days, feedback sessions, and ongoing support afterward — totaling roughly 15 to 20 hours per case. Insurance, he said, typically pays for about six hours. That gap forces clinicians to either do more with less or work outside the insurance system, which means fewer families can access it. He said he has never seen insurance properly reimburse the full extent of what testing can do, and that the incentive structures are basically just broken when it comes to this.

Cathy described the first time she heard the phrase 'parenting out of fear' and admitted she didn't know what it meant. 'All I knew was I was just doing the best that I could,' she said. It wasn't until a therapist walked her through it — pointing to specific behaviors like driving around looking for her son's drug dealer, trying to keep him home, making decisions out of panic — that she understood. Both Brenda and Cathy reflected that this fear-driven approach was something they'd lived inside for so long it started to feel normal.

One of the most honest observations in this episode is about what happens when a child's emotional state runs the entire household. Brenda described it directly:

'My son's emotional state dictated my emotional state. I did not have the skills to separate those two things, so if he was highly dysregulated, aggressive, angry, whatever, I matched him toe-to-toe.'

Both hosts described how this plays out in practice — avoiding confrontation, giving money for a job not really done, letting a 15-year-old set the rules of the house — all to prevent a blowup. Cathy said she 'ceded all her authority' to her kids. The result, Brenda noted, is that one person ends up holding the entire family hostage with their actions and emotions, and the parent loses their footing entirely.

Brenda explained why she deliberately chose the word 'sturdiness' over 'emotional regulation' when preparing for this episode. Regulation is important, she said, but sturdiness and durability capture something harder — the ability to have a young person raging at you and not pick up the rope with them, to hold a boundary even when your child is presenting things back to you in a way that makes you want to give in.

'We wanted to convey the fact that we understand how hard it is, and that it really is more about this sturdiness and durability and the ability to deal with situations that most people don't have to deal with.'

This is also, both hosts emphasized, something that is 100% in your control — which matters enormously in an experience where so much is not.

Brenda offered a story about a former boss who was emotionally unpredictable. She would time her office visits for after lunch. She would read the room before going in. She was always bracing herself. 'That is a terrible place to be,' she said — and then connected it directly to what struggling kids experience when their parent is the unpredictable one. Cathy added that it is genuinely hard to put yourself in your child's shoes in this situation, but that this analogy makes it more accessible. If a child never knows what version of their parent they are going to get, they are less likely to come to that parent in a moment of openness.

Cathy described several things that shifted for her: learning that boundaries are for herself and not a tool to control her kids, prioritizing a scheduled walk or coffee even when a minor situation was happening at home, and using a practice of questioning her own spiraling thoughts by asking herself, 'Is this true? And if it is true, do I have control over it?' She also described bookending her days with prayer and gratitude, and noticing that when that practice slipped — along with her physical movement — her brain started to spiral even when nothing was actually wrong.

Brenda said that for her, reading about what addiction actually is helped her feel more regulated, because she finally understood what was happening in her child's body. She also described learning that there is no expiration date on when to deal with a situation — stepping away, cooling down, and coming back later rather than responding in the heat of the moment.

'I realized that just because something had happened didn't mean I had to respond to it at that time. It gave me a chance to cool down, to ask myself some questions.'

Both hosts recommended starting with awareness of where dysregulation shows up in your body — chest tightness, brain fog, tingling hands, a tight throat — and then having simple practices ready: intentional breathing (counting in for four, out for four), stepping away from screens, movement, journaling, calling a friend, or connecting with others in a supportive community. They also suggested practicing these tools in low-stakes situations, like getting annoyed at other drivers, so they are available when a high-stakes moment arrives.

They were also clear that this work is not always simple. People come to this experience carrying their own history — past trauma, loss, unsafe homes, a parent with a substance use disorder — and that history will shape how you respond. Working with a therapist, they said, is strongly encouraged alongside community support, and newer therapeutic approaches mean you do not necessarily have to relive difficult memories to begin healing them.

Brenda opens this solo episode by naming something she hears parents repeat constantly: I'm sorry I didn't catch this sooner. I'm sorry I wasn't a better parent. I'm sorry this is happening to you. Her message is direct — it is time to put that speech down.

The episode draws a clear line between two very different things that parents often collapse together: real accountability for things that actually happened, and blanket self-blame for things that were never theirs to own.

Brenda is clear that taking accountability for specific things you actually did — maybe not handling your emotions well, or not responding to a request for help in the way you wish you had — is valid and important. She says she had to apologize several times for her own behavior. But she draws a firm line at taking responsibility for a child's choices, their biology, life's timing, a medical condition, or a disease you did not cause.

'Taking on those things is a futile effort and it robs you of the energy that you need to deal with the difficult things sitting right in front of you.' — Brenda Zane

When parents jumble these two things together, guilt becomes a permanent hum in the background — always there, always getting in the way of actually helping their child.

Unlike anger, which Brenda notes can hide and get buried, guilt and shame are typically loud and constant. Parents will say unprompted how they failed, how this is probably their fault, how they wish they had done everything differently. Brenda describes spending a lot of time in what she calls the 'wish I could rewind zone' — a chronic loop of unanswered questions and frustration.

She points to a few reasons this happens: a hindsight bias that pulls parents into 'if I had known then what I know now' thinking; cultural messaging that a child's struggle reflects the parent's skill level; and the sheer helplessness of a situation where you are looking for somewhere, anywhere, to place the feeling.

'I used to think if I caused it, then I must be able to fix it. And of course that isn't true.' — Brenda Zane

She names what she sees parents actually carrying underneath the guilt: grief or fear. These feelings are easy to mistake for guilt, and naming what you are actually experiencing is part of untangling it.

Brenda shares from her own life when her son went to his first treatment at the age of 16. She describes the weight she felt — a boulder, maybe a mountain, of shame and guilt — asking herself what kind of mom ends up in this situation. She spent weeks and months in what she calls 'self-flagellation mode' when what she really needed was self-compassion, presence with her other kids and relationships, and attention to what her son was actually experiencing.

'I could do none of that. Because I was so consumed with guilt.' — Brenda Zane

She describes that excavating the past felt easier than looking at her current-day actions and responses. It became, in her words, 'kind of like an escape hatch that I would go down as a distraction from the work I really desperately needed to do.'

She also notes plainly: there is no award for being the most guilt-ridden parent. Carrying constant guilt makes you less steady and less useful to your child, not more devoted.

Brenda offers one practical step. Write down the exact sentence of self-blame that is running through your head. Then cross out every word that is not a fact you controlled. What remains is usually very short — or it might actually be empty.

Her litmus test for any guilt you are carrying: if the thing you are apologizing for is something you could not have known, or a choice that was not yours to make, that is not an apology. It is self-punishment. If there is a specific, nameable thing you did that can be repaired, make that apology sincerely, make it clearly, once — and do not let it linger for years.

'You can care enormously and genuinely and still not owe an apology for a struggle that isn't yours.' — Brenda Zane

The invitation for this week: catch yourself when you start an internal apology. Ask whether it is yours to own. Then go back to the writing exercise and cross out anything that is not a fact.