It is tough to be the parent of an addicted child. We often blame ourselves for their addictions . We sort through the decisions of our past, wondering where we went wrong. Was I too permissive? Should I have picked better schools? Did my own drinking set a bad example? And on and on we go trying to figure out what we could have or should have done differently.

In my position here at TLC I have many conversations with anguished parents. They are concerned about their children and often deal with them through a haze of residual guilt. They sometimes believe that if they had just been better parents their kid wouldn't have turned out to be an alcoholic or a meth addict. And my answer to them about what they might have done wrong is usually the same: it makes no difference today.

In spite of their reluctance to back off, I encourage them to let their child be in recovery. I tell the parent to not do anything special for them. Don't pay their rent. Don't send them money. Do not listen to their stories about how badly they are being treated in a halfway house or a treatment program. I tell them to view everything the child does in early recovery with suspicion. Everything they say is suspect. If he says the food is terrible, don't believe him. If he says it's wonderful, don't believe that either. Listen quietly, so they know that you still care about them - and love them.

Once your children realize that you've decided to no longer be part of the problem they may step out on their own and accept responsibility for their addictions. If they can't play on your guilt about being a bad parent then they've lost a powerful tool that they've been using to manipulate you.

For years, whether consciously or unconsciously, I had family members believing I was the victim of an oppressive justice system. But my dear departed mother, God rest her soul, put a stop to that many years ago with one simple question. One day she asked me, after one more bout of incarceration, why I was always getting in trouble.

"The police just have it in for me," I told her in all seriousness.

"Why don't they have it in for me?" She responded.

Her question was the beginning of what I thought was a series of personal setbacks for me. Over the next several months my family and friends stopped listening to my nonsense about why I was always getting in trouble over alcohol and drugs. They weren't listening to my stories anymore. They weren't handing me money. They weren't letting me sleep on their couch. They didn't want me around. They kept suggesting that I get help.

At the time I thought they were mean-spirited, uncaring, rude, and that they had no understanding of the fact that I was just a party guy. But today I thank them for saving my life because I eventually started down the path to recovery. Without their tough concern I wouldn't have survived for long.

The bottom line is that we love our children. We just don't want to love them to death.