I didn't write this book as the addiction expert looking in from the outside. I wrote it as the addict — the person my own family once loved and couldn't reach, couldn't fix, and couldn't save no matter how hard they tried. For more than fifteen years, I was the one on the other side of this book. Now, twenty-six years sober, I wanted to write for the people who loved someone like me.

If you love someone struggling with addiction, you already know a kind of exhaustion that's hard to explain to anyone who hasn't lived it. You've covered the lies, paid the bills, made the excuses, rescued them from consequences again and again — and somewhere along the way, you started losing yourself too.

Here's the hardest truth I can offer you, and I offer it with love, not judgment: rescuing someone from the consequences of their addiction usually prolongs it. The most loving thing you can do is often the hardest — stepping back, holding a boundary, and letting them face what their addiction has actually cost. You've done your part. It was never your responsibility to fix.

This book also speaks honestly about something families rarely talk about: addicts can become skilled at using the people who love them most, not because they're bad people, but often because the same sensitivity that makes someone vulnerable to addiction also makes them very good at reading — and working — the people around them. Recognizing that pattern isn't cynical. It's protective.

Addiction is an illness, but the person struggling still carries responsibility for their choices. There's no cure, but recovery is possible, one day at a time — and while you wait and hope for that, your own peace matters too. If children are involved, their safety always comes first, separate from everything else.

This book won't tell you exactly what to do in every moment. For that, I encourage you to find real support through groups like Al-Anon or Nar-Anon, built specifically for people in your position. What this book offers is prayer, honesty, and permission to set boundaries without guilt.

You are not responsible for saving them. You are allowed to hope, to grieve, and to hold on to peace, even in the middle of this.

You can read more about this book at federicojaviergarcia.com/books/powerful-christian-prayers-for-the-family-of-an-addict-daily-devotions-to