A person I love very deeply has had an alcohol problem for about half my life. This person hit an all-time low in 2011, started therapy, and started to change—only to relapse. That’s okay; we just pick ourselves up again as this person did. This time, however, the therapist who helped the person—who had been trying to convert the patient to god all along—succeeded, and now, I don’t even know this person at all.
It would be okay if it were just that. I am happy for people who feel they have something bigger in the world to live for, something to stay alive for. I have something like that in my life, too—a few somethings, actually. But now this person is not only pushing such beliefs into the family, but also constantly bringing it up—and pushing me away in the process.
