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.

At my worst, I even resented Nic because an addict, at least when high, has a momentary respite from his suffering. There is no similar relief for parents or children or husbands or wives or others who love them.

Here's a note to the parents of addicted children: Choose your music carefully...There are millions of treacherous moments.

How can both Nics, the loving and considerate and generous one, and the self-obsessed and self-destructive one, be the same person?

Through Nic's drug addiction, I have learned that parents can bear almost anything....I shock myself with my ability to rationalize and tolerate things once unthinkable. The rationalizations escalate....It's only marijuana. He gets high only on weekends. At least he's not using hard drugs.

I am becoming used to an overwhelming, grinding mixture of anger and worry.

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