The "with love" part... for whom?
When I was with my XAH and beginning to realize this problem really, really was bigger than me, I gave myself permission to do nothing about his addiction, to observe, to sit on my hands and not try to force solutions or resolutions. I watched what he did when I did nothing. I began to really internalize what it meant to "give him the dignity of his decisions and consequences" without trying to sway him either way. I began to look out for myself and my kids without concern as to whether it would **** XAH off or whatever. If he picked a fight with me, I began saying thinks like "mmmm" or "oh?" instead of getting into rounds with him.
I began to realize not only that the problem was bigger than me. I realized that it didn't matter if I was around or not, this is what he was going to be doing. That is wasn't about me at all. And then I began to realize I didn't want to live like this even though I loved him and was worried for him - still do love him and still worry about him, btw.
After about a year or me learning how to detach, he "relapsed" for my final time - meaning he'd been drinking all along but let the facade slip enough for me to figure it out again - and I changed the locks on the door. We divorced, and after a years-long holding period where it looked like he might be putting some of the pieces together, he's homeless and MIA today. Addiction sucks and I'm sad for him, especially sad for my daughter and her confusion about where he is and what he's doing. I'm living my life, figuring out self-care, still learning and executing boundaries in my life that have little to do with addiction, but that have everything to do with being in years of codependent relationships (from my FOO onward) and all the emotional baggage that goes with it. After we split, I also gave myself an arbitrary but totally useful one year to be single before I even thought about dating again. At which point I met a really nice man who I live with today.
So "with love," eh? I think the secret to the "with love" part is that you recognize that you are separate from the addict and their myriad problems that go hand in hand with addiction, and that you can give yourself enough emotional distance to observe them and recognize and maybe someday empathize with their disease without getting mired in it, but also learn that you, your dreams, your goals, your internal light, are at risk of being snuffed out by the chaos of addiction. I think one of the greater loving aphorisms that we talk about here is "let go or be dragged," a recognition of the futility of arguing and bargaining with the disease, but also a recognition of our own value and vulnerability.