Those of us who live with a loved one’s substance abuse need all the support we can get. The relentless daily encounter with our own anger, fear and grief is overwhelming. Hopelessness can paralyze us. Even when we “know” better than to accept responsibility for another person’s bad choices, shame too often drives us into a festering isolation, just when we most need a friend’s strong shoulder to lean on or a professional’s steady voice to guide us.

I know this from your letters, phone calls and e-mails over the months this column has been in existence. And I know it for myself, because my own family has struggled against drug abuse. I am relieved and grateful that our situation has improved recently, but I doubt I will ever feel entirely free of the dread that once kept me awake at night and filled my days with sadness and guilt.

At some point during the worst of it, I realized that I was making myself sick and that if I didn’t take a step back and look after myself, I would be in big trouble. I was frantic with anxiety, sleep-deprived, eating poorly and getting no exercise. Every morning, I dragged myself to my job – which I loved – but I spent much of my workday searching the Internet for an answer, for some logical response to a problem that defies logic. I had lost touch with friends and family because I dreaded their judgment. I was a wreck, and I was most certainly not improving the situation at home.

Today I want to share with you some of the resources that helped me through that nightmare. Maybe these ideas will help you regain a sense of peace in your life, your home and your heart.

The most important message is this: Because my beloved family member had very effectively placed himself beyond the reach of my love, I could not take care of him, even though every cell in my body cried out to save and protect him. I could only take care of myself, work for my own physical, emotional and spiritual health, and strive to be fully present – the best I could be – in case the opportunity to help him arose.

Once I accepted the need to adjust my priorities, I was able to initiate important changes over the course of about a week. It felt really good to be able to actually do something. First, I made an “urgent” appointment with a professional counselor, and because I was in such an out-of-control frame of mind, I was able to see her twice that week. In those first two visits, she helped me begin to accept the boundaries of my responsibility and the limits of my capacity to change the situation – important concepts that remain the touchstones of my own well-being.

Muddle-headed and constantly teary, I asked my family doctor for an antidepressant, which she carefully and compassionately prescribed for me. I simplified my diet – less meat and sugar, more vegetables, grains and water – and I started walking in my neighborhood for a half-hour every morning. Well … most mornings. I started paying more attention to the rooms in my home, making small changes that fostered comfort and calm.

I attended three 12-step meetings that first week, two in the evening and one at lunchtime. The people I met there were compassionate, respectful and supportive. At my local bookstore, I picked up practical information on yoga and meditation. In a small, engaging book grounded in Buddhism, I found simple wisdom on embracing difficult times as a way of working through them.

I went to church on Wednesday and again on Sunday – a little sheepishly, because I hadn’t gone in so long. In the familiar prayers and homilies that had once seemed so empty, I found a still, deep pool of strength and order.

For too long, I had been too frantic to seek help for myself, but at the end of that week, I felt a profound sense of renewal. Although sorrow remained in my heart, there was relief available for the asking, and it gave me hope for the future.

It helped more than I can say that my employer was supportive and encouraged me to seek the help I needed.

In the year and a half that has passed since that watershed week, my life and my family’s health have improved. I am more in touch with my day-to-day feelings, but I am intentionally slower to react to them. Instead, I try to recognize my emotions for what they are and allow them to pass through my heart without getting stuck there. I am more realistic about what I can and cannot do to change other people’s behaviors – even those people who mean the most to me in all the world.

I try to keep to certain routines – diet, exercise, reading, time with friends – because it creates order in my life to do so. For the same reason, I try to keep my home organized and clean. I’m not always successful, but it gives me a goal.

I’ve stopped seeing my counselor, but I know she’s just a phone call away. I was able to discontinue the antidepressant after about six months, but I am open to resuming it if I find sorrow taking up too much space in my life.

I wish I could report that my change in focus has brought about a change of heart and a change in behavior on the part of my loved one. I can’t make that claim, but I can tell you that my ability to cope improved dramatically when I was able to put some distance between myself and the situation that was causing my family such pain.

Perhaps it has nothing to do with me, but my loved one has gotten himself unstuck and appears to be moving away from his self-destructive behaviors. And for that, today, I am profoundly and openly grateful.