Skeletons in the Closet: A Family's Journey Through Addiction - Part I

December 15, 2025 

Lisa Yates, Author 

Belinda Morey, Subject Matter Expert 

This is Part I of a 2-Part Series reflecting Lisa's family's journey through addiction. Next week, you will read Part II: Substance Use Disorder Is An Illness. 

As I sit here reflecting on my own sobriety and the journey I've been on, I can't help but think about my brother-in-law, who has probably already downed a six-pack or more of beer by noon. 

Addiction doesn't look the same in every family—and rarely matches what we see in movies or on TV. Some people struggle in silence for years, their pain hidden behind everyday routines. 

Back in 2020, while visiting our out-of-town family, my sister-in-law quietly told me during a family breakfast that her husband — my husband's brother — had a drinking problem. 

This came as quite a shock — an understatement, really. If you knew this family, you would've been just as stunned. The activities, the friends, the church, the involvement in the community — it all seemed so solid. We literally shook our heads and asked ourselves, How could this be? 

But that's the thing about addiction: it doesn't discriminate. It's an 

equal-opportunity illness—one that can take root in the most "put-together" families, quietly upending lives behind closed doors. Many people associate addiction with chaos and dysfunction. In reality, substance use often flies under the radar, masked by routines, reputations, and the desperate hope that things aren't really so bad. 

We thought the whole thing was an exaggeration. We never saw him drink during family visits — even when everyone else was. Apparently, he would slip off to the bathroom and down four or five beers before coming back out. 

Why would you hide that if everyone else around you is drinking? We never saw the alleged beers in the bathroom cupboards or hidden in the vents. Apparently, even the BBQ outside the bedroom window had beers stashed in it. 

Hiding Is Part of the Illness

Hiding is part of the illness. Stigma and shame make people go to extraordinary lengths to cover up their usage, often concocting rituals and hiding spots that become more elaborate over time. And families, wanting to believe what makes sense, become experts at walking around the truth.

They say every family has skeletons in the closet — and this was a big one for ours. They'd been hiding his drinking since my niece was two years old. She is now in her 30s. 

Our niece, at a tender age, had to confront the harsh reality of her father's addiction. Back when she was in high school, she came home one day, took all the beer out of the refrigerator, and poured it down the drain. At that exact moment, he walked in the door with more. She looked at him and said, "Give those to me." As she poured the new beer down the drain, he asked, "Can I keep just one?" She told him, "Absolutely not." 

Poor girl — having to deal with that at such a young age. No teenager should have to play the role of parent or peacekeeper in such a situation. To this day, it's hard to believe the version of reality we thought we knew was only a facade. 

He co-owned a successful business. But one morning, he was found passed out drunk in his car before the workday even began. He had also been making unsafe decisions during working hours, so the other partners gave him an ultimatum: go to treatment or lose his job.

He agreed and began attending a weekly AA outpatient group. Didn't work. 

This is a moment many people with substance use disorders reach—when consequences (work, relationships, health) finally break through denial. However, simply reaching this crisis point or checking a box, such as attending a single group, isn't often enough. Recovery is a long process that usually requires medical support, counseling, and—crucially—a willingness to engage with real change. 

He learned how to work the system — telling them he was doing well, then leaving the meeting to buy beer. He would drink until a few days before the next session, then sober up just enough to repeat the cycle. 

Families and loved ones often feel shocked or betrayed when they discover these workarounds. But dishonesty, secrecy, and avoidance are all symptoms of the disease. Addiction literally rewires the brain's reward pathways and makes lying feel like survival. It doesn't mean your loved one doesn't care—it means they're trapped. 

Before my mother-in-law passed away a few years ago, she said to him, "Son, please stop drinking." He promised her he would. 

He has gotten worse — much worse. He has passed out and fallen to the floor multiple times. He's starting to lose control of his bodily functions and has urinated in the house. He falls frequently and doesn't seem to recognize or care about the urine he's sitting in, or the urine running down his pant legs. 

His wife moved out and is now living with their daughter. She plans to file for divorce. The house they shared is a complete mess. His daughter has cut off contact and won't allow him to see his grandkids. 

*You might also like this article by Kristen Crisp

Alcohol-Related Brain Damage

It's as if his brain is no longer functioning — really. His drinking has completely altered how his brain works. He can't manage even basic daily tasks anymore. 

Heavy, chronic alcohol use can cause serious and sometimes irreversible changes to the brain and body—a condition called alcohol-related brain damage. Judgment, memory, and even basic self-care can become compromised. This is not a failure of character; it's a medical consequence of long-term alcohol exposure. 

My Own Journey

With all of that comes me — someone who's been on my own journey forever and a day. Due to this long journey, I've learned a great deal. Although I'm not totally sober, I've gained plenty of knowledge and wisdom in the sobriety space. 

I've given him as much advice and as many tools as I can. I've sent memes, sober videos, articles, and ideas for online groups, among other things. Nothing has helped. 

At one point, he was sending accountability texts to us and a few others. He admitted that each night he lied about being sober. He even confessed to lying to his current therapist. 

He called my husband the other night, crying and saying he was struggling….that he'd been drinking. He told my husband, "I just love your wife. She has helped me so much with the things she's been saying to me." 

Families hope that love or the right words can be enough, but addiction makes it nearly impossible to "willpower" someone into recovery. Professional help is not a sign of failure—it's a lifeline that many need, especially when the addiction is severe. 

Is that true when we're seeing the complete opposite? He continues to sit at home alone all day, watching TV and drinking. We keep telling him he won't be able to do this on his own, but he refuses help. He's losing his life — and his family — to this addiction. He's so deep into it that he can't see what's happening. And we don't know how to help. It's frustrating. It's like trying to fill a bucket with a hole in it. 

In a sense, I know how he feels. I wasn't ready to change my drinking until I chose to be. My journey has been arduous, and I wasn't even close to where he is now. 

With his drinking. He needs to go into treatment and get detoxed, but he refuses — even though he has the means to do so. 

I continue to share tidbits of what I have learned with him, hoping they will be helpful. My journey has not been perfect by any means, but over the years, I've learned a great deal. 

How do you help someone who doesn't want help? You can't. But even when you know that, the hardest part is not giving up on them. 

My father-in-law died the same way — an alcoholic whose body eventually gave out. My brother-in-law is only 63, and he's heading down the same path. Seeing this, along with so many other stories of addiction in families, has opened my eyes to just how damaging alcohol can be. 

Across the U.S., alcohol causes more preventable deaths every year than opioids or illicit drugs. It's a public health crisis, though we don't often hear it described that way. The ripple effects extend far beyond the individual, impacting spouses, children, workplaces, and entire communities.

I'm so grateful I started my journey when I did — before it was too late. It hasn't been easy, and I'm far from perfect, but I've learned a great deal. And if sharing my story can help others, then I will continue to do so. 

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Lisa Yates is a para-educator for preschoolers with developmental delays. She also writes about her experiences as a motherless daughter, grief and loss, and sobriety. 

If you want to read more articles authored by Lisa Yates, please visit 

https://medium.com/@lisaryates 

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