In these early weeks of the new year, many of us are already aware of our fits and starts, and we have begun to acknowledge the wounds we carry beneath the surface. It is also worth reflecting on what can happen when those wounds go unaddressed, when coping quietly turns into compulsion, and when secrecy slowly takes the place of connection. I invite you to read more.

Sometimes life does not unravel slowly. Sometimes it collapses all at once. Perhaps you have experienced this or know someone who has.

As an example, imagine being a successful football college coach. Years of hard work have paid off. Respect, financial security, national recognition, and the confidence that comes from having made it. From the outside, life looks strong and well ordered. From the inside, however, a different story is unfolding.

Addiction often takes root not in weakness, but in pressure; pressure to perform, pressure to succeed, or pressure to maintain an image. What begins as a private escape can slowly become a private necessity. The behavior is no longer about pleasure, but about relief. Relief from stress, loneliness, fear, or shame. Over time, lines are crossed that once would have seemed unthinkable, all while convincing ourselves that everything is still under control.

Addiction thrives in secrecy. It grows stronger the longer it remains hidden. And the higher the pedestal, the harder the fall when secrecy can no longer be maintained.

Now imagine that the carefully managed life begins to crack. A hidden behavior is exposed. A relationship unravels. Trust is broken. In a matter of days, everything that once gave identity and stability begins to disappear at the same time including, career, reputation, family, and the future as it was imagined. What took decades to build collapses almost overnight.

At the depth of a collapse, some people reach a place where they no longer want to escape the pain, they want the pain to end entirely. For some, suicide appears to be their answer. This is not because they lack faith or courage, but because despair has convinced them that their life is already over.

This is the destructive power of addiction. It does not simply damage behavior. It narrows vision. It convinces otherwise capable, faithful, and loving people that their worst moment defines their entire story. It whispers that exposure is final, that shame is permanent, and that there is no future worth enduring.

This is not a story about a coach. It is a story about addiction, and about how close despair can be when addiction goes unaddressed.

In recent years, I have had the privilege of walking alongside people in addiction recovery both through this ministry and in my own parish’s addiction recovery ministry.  I have seen firsthand how quietly addiction can take hold, and how devastating the consequences can become when it remains hidden. I have also seen how lives begin to change when honesty replaces secrecy and people no longer try to carry the burden alone.

Some of us may recognize parts of this story in ourselves. Patterns that have become harder to stop. Behaviors we manage instead of confront. Secrets we justify because the cost of honesty feels too high. If that recognition stirs discomfort, it may also be an invitation. Seeking help is not failure. It is wisdom. Addiction loses power the moment it is brought into the light.

Some of us may recognize this story in someone we love. We sense the distancing, the defensiveness, the rationalizations. We may feel torn between concern and fear of saying the wrong thing. Encouragement offered with patience and love can matter more than we realize. We cannot control another person’s choices, but we can refuse to normalize secrecy, and we can gently point toward help.

And some of us are walking alongside someone already caught in addiction. This role is not easy. It requires empathy without rescuing, listening without fixing, and boundaries without cruelty. Healing rarely comes through pressure or shame. It comes through presence, consistency, and truth spoken with love.

In every case, isolation strengthens addiction. Community weakens it. Secrecy feeds shame. Honesty creates space for grace.

The tragedy is not that a person reaches the bottom. The tragedy is reaching it alone.

Addiction always lies about the future. It tells us the story is finished and hope is unrealistic. Grace tells the truth. No life is reduced to its worst chapter. Help is always possible. And healing often begins not with strength, but with surrender.

May we be a people who take addiction seriously without judgment.
May we be a people who choose honesty over image.
May we be a people who walk with one another before collapse becomes catastrophe.

Heavenly Father, You see what is hidden and You know what we carry in silence. Give us the courage to seek help when we are struggling, the compassion to encourage those who are lost, and the patience to walk gently with those in recovery. Break the power of secrecy and shame in our lives. Restore hope where despair has taken root. Teach us to trust that no story is finished in Your hands. We ask this through Your mercy and Your love. Amen.

AMDG 

AMDG is a Latin abbreviation for “Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam,” which means “For the Greater Glory of God.”

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I want to take this opportunity to thank the wonderful people who joined us for the retreat at St. Bonaventure Parish In Manomet, MA. You made Mary Beth and I feel so welcomed. It was a blessing to be with you.

 

 

Brian Pusateri
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