I am learning, slowly. I have wallowed in my role as "rescuer" far too long. Watching AS starting to use alcohol three years ago, two back surgeries of my own, then the news that AS's GF was pregnant, then the insanity of her living with us for a year and facing the fact that these two had a toxic relationship, then learning that AS was using drugs to sidestep the relationship issues, then discovering that my father (80), who lives with us, has dementia. I thought I could "save" everyone, and instead I found myself sinking into a deep pit of depression - physically and mentally overwhelmed. Now I'm struggling with the realization that I don't know what to do with myself now that my "impossible missions" have failed. I am neither the bionic woman nor superwoman. And that will be my recovery. Coming to terms with entering the senior citizen phase of my life and accepting that my days of fixing people are (thankfully) at an end...and figuring out who I want to become in this next part of my life. I read somewhere that not making a decision is making a decision to do nothing, and that isn't recovery....that's giving up. I am thankful for AS's time in rehab, to give each of us the time and space to embrace possibilities.