Last weekend, a massive snowstorm turned into something remarkable. Nine boys in recovery showed what real community looks like, then used a snow day to write for teens in treatment who need to hear from peers just a few steps ahead.

For families in recovery, college planning looks different. What unfolds is not always the original dream, but often something deeper and more lasting.

Acceptance is not something that arrives once and stays. It is a practice of returning, especially when everything in you wants to resist.

There is often a vision of how a moment should unfold. Learning to hold both the image you created and the one you lived is harder.

As a new year begins, the people we love may be stepping into lives we cannot fully see. This is a reflection on learning how to hold uncertainty, trust, and love together without rushing to resolve any of it.

This Christmas, I'm sharing three gifts for parents walking this road. Not something you unwrap. Something you already carry, even when you can't name it yet.

They do work that would challenge most adults, and moments later they are laughing over Legos and gingerbread houses. This is the paradox of adolescent recovery, and the important responsibility of remembering they are still children.

Families wait for the apology that sounds right, for their loved one to truly see the impact of their addiction. But what if empathy and understanding offer something forgiveness never could?

The isolation of addiction makes you believe you are the only one living this life. This piece is about what happens when we discover we are not alone.

Thanksgiving looks different when recovery is part of your story. Wherever you find yourself today, our community is with you.

When we recognize what sits behind our emotions, we can give ourselves a chance to pause and reset. Those few minutes of compassion can change how we carry the weight of a full day.

Welcome means something special at Woodhaven. It begins with a drive, a shared meal, and a room full of understanding. For both residents and parents, it is the moment connection begins and the reminder that no one has to walk this road alone.

When home isn't safe, families find other ways to be together. Rented kitchens, chocolate chip pancakes, and the ritual of checking cabinets become the new definition of home.

We can destroy the broken door, redecorate the basement, finally put away the pot. The reminders may fade, but the memories take longer to heal.

The books told us to step back. Our kids needed us to step in. What they carry forward isn't perfect parenting. It's knowing we were there, and we still are.

When our kids enter extended care, it’s easy to feel like we’re missing out. But sometimes what we thought we were missing was not the slammed doors or tense dinners, it was the chance to laugh, create, and share real moments that actually mattered.

I never imagined I’d be standing in a shower at a sober house in Scranton, exhausted and scared, wondering how this became my life.

Addiction shows us there is no us and them. What unites us is our common experience and the hope we carry together.

For parents, it is natural to want to take over the college application process when recovery still feels fragile. But giving our children the chance to do it with support allows them to build the independence and confidence they truly need.

Growth often hides in plain sight, buried under the repetition of ordinary days. Sometimes it takes stepping back or stepping away to see the unmistakable signs of change.