When I transformed my random and raw words into sentences, sentences into paragraphs, and paragraphs into chapters, a semblance of order and sanity appeared where there had been only chaos and insanity.

A world of contradictions, wherein everything is gray and almost nothing is black and white.

We deny the severity of our loved one's problem not because we are naive, but because we can't know.

How innocent we are of our mistakes and how we responsible we are for them.

Openness is the first step toward recovery... addiction remains a secret because of the overwhelming shame associated with it.

Why does it help to read others' stories? It is not only that misery loves company, because (I learned) misery is too self-absorbed to want much company. Others' experiences did help with my emotional struggle.

This stigma associated with drug use--the belief that bad kids use, good kids don't, and those with full-blown addiction are weak, dissolute, and pathetic--has contributed to the escalation of use and has hampered treatment more than any single other factor.