By Ross Hendrickson
Let’s just name the awkward truth: addiction can bulldoze a marriage. Whether it’s alcohol, drugs, gambling, sex addictions, or any other compulsive behavior, addiction doesn’t come strolling quietly through the door. It crashes in uninvited, wrecking intimacy, eroding trust, and hijacking conversations that were supposed to be about date night or the in-laws, not the empty vodka bottle in the garage.
As a couples therapist and someone who spent two years working in IOP, PHP, and residential substance use treatment, I’ve seen how addiction takes center stage in relationships. It becomes the loudest voice in the room. And often, couples show up to therapy convinced that if they can just get rid of the addiction, they’ll finally be able to breathe again.
And that’s partly true. But only partly.
Addiction is a blaze. It’s urgent. It destroys. But too often, it’s fueled by deeper emotional dry spells. You know, the unspoken resentments, chronic loneliness, performance-based worth, or years of subtle disconnection. When couples come in, addiction often gets blamed for everything. And sure, if one partner is selling the family car for scratch-offs, yes, we need to address that first.
But the deeper work usually reveals something quieter. We haven’t known how to reach each other in a long time.
So yes, the fire has to be put out. But the soil beneath it is where the healing happens.
One thing addiction is really good at is lying. It whispers things like:
“This is my problem, not a marriage problem.”
“Once I stop, everything will go back to normal.”
“They just don’t understand me. This helps me cope.”
And if we’re honest, the non-using partner often buys into those lies, too. It’s easier to point to the empty bottle than to talk about the emptiness between us.
But addiction rarely travels alone. It brings shame, secrets, fear, and codependency along for the ride. Couples stop being allies and start becoming wardens and inmates. Or rescuer and rebel. Or parent and child. The marriage stops feeling like a partnership and starts feeling like a battleground.
And all the while, connection – the very thing both partners desperately need – gets buried under blame, silence, or exhaustion.
If addiction is present in the marriage, here’s the hard truth. We have to start there.
No one can rebuild a bridge while the fire is still burning underneath it.
That’s why, in many of my couples cases, I’ll pause the relational work until the substance or behavioral addiction has been stabilized. That might mean:
• The addicted partner starting or returning to individual therapy
• A referral for an addiction assessment
• Connection to AA, Celebrate Recovery, or SMART Recovery
• A willingness to set boundaries that prioritize safety and healing
In some cases, the healthiest starting point is even a temporary separation – not to punish, but to protect both partners from further harm.
It’s not always what couples want to hear, but it’s necessary. Because we can’t talk about vulnerability when someone is still hiding vodka in the laundry basket. We can’t rebuild trust when honesty is still a moving target.
The goal isn’t perfection. The goal is stability.
Let’s not forget that addiction impacts both people. The partner who isn’t using often becomes hyper-vigilant, emotionally exhausted, and full of silent questions.
“How did I miss the signs?”
“Why do I feel responsible for their choices?”
“Can I trust myself again?”
This person isn’t just a bystander. They’re often the ones holding it all together, walking on eggshells, or making excuses to the kids and extended family. They may not be the ones with the addiction, but they’ve been pulled into its orbit.
And they need support too.
In my work with couples, I often encourage individual therapy for both partners. Sometimes you need your own space to breathe before you can come back to the shared work of repair.
Once the addiction is no longer actively harming the relationship, when the secrets slow down and the partner is working a program or staying accountable, that’s when we get to the real roots.
This is where therapy starts sounding a lot less like a courtroom and more like a confessional.
We begin to ask:
When did you first start feeling alone in the relationship?
Where did the respect begin to erode?
How have you learned to protect yourself instead of connecting?
What unspoken wounds are you both still carrying?
Couples who’ve walked through addiction recovery together often have more insight, more humility, and more emotional awareness than many others if they’re willing to do the work.
I’ve seen marriages that looked scorched by addiction come back stronger than before. Not because they returned to what they were, but because they built something new—something honest, sustainable, and rooted in grace.
For couples who walk with faith, and many of my clients do, addiction brings up even deeper struggles. There’s often guilt, fear, and a sense of spiritual failure.
“I thought we were doing everything right. Church, prayer, community.”
“Where was God in all this?”
“Am I supposed to forgive and forget?”
To those couples, I say this. Grace is not the absence of boundaries. And healing doesn’t require pretending everything is fine.
God’s not shocked by addiction. He’s not wringing His hands in heaven, wondering how this slipped past the elders’ meetings. He’s in the trenches with you, grieving the loss, lighting the next step, reminding you that healing is possible, one day at a time.
Sometimes, the most sacred act in a marriage is telling the truth. Not just to each other, but to God. And then choosing to show up again anyway.
If this is your marriage where addiction has stolen time, trust, and tenderness from your relationship, please know you are not alone. Help is available. And healing isn’t reserved for the lucky ones.
It’s slow, yes. Messy, absolutely. But I’ve sat with couples in the darkest chapters, and I’ve watched them write new ones. Ones filled with real connection, courageous conversations, and quiet moments of rebuilding. It starts with telling the truth and letting someone walk with you as you heal. Don’t feel like you have to do this all on your own.
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