When Addison's Voice Was Heard

“I’m calling the police!” sixteen-year-old Addison’s voice shook in fury. What started as a discussion spiraled into a yelling match.

“You’re using again”

“All of this is your fault”

“I don’t trust you!”

When the police arrived, they looked Addison and her parents in the eyes with exhausted stares. This wasn’t the first time they needed to intervene. Addison’s parents were her age when they had her. Just kids raising their own child surrounded by unhealthy influences. For twelve years drugs and alcohol shaped their world. But through the tumult, they managed to stick together under one roof, however fragile. As they saw Addison approaching her teenage years, they knew they wanted their daughter’s home life to look different than the ones they grew up in. For four years, they fought to get clean and sober and succeeded. But while their lives changed, the scars of the past remained, shaping their relationship with Addison.

After their police encounter, Addison’s parents discovered Savio’s coaching program, which helps young people build life skills. Every youth referred to this program undergoes evaluations. When Addison completed her trauma assessment, her care team was shocked. Every single box was checked. She was immediately referred to our Trauma Services program.

When their therapist entered their home, it was clear that anger was front and center in the home. Conversations escalated in seconds—sarcasm slicing through the silence, voices rising, and frustration spilling over into aggressive insults... Addison’s therapist started with a trauma narrative - an exercise that invited her to put her memories into words. As she wrote, anger gave way. She began to reclaim her story as her own.

Yet Addison’s mind swirled with questions for her parents. Why did her mom and dad still behave in certain ways after becoming sober? Did they ever think about how their use affected her? Their therapist introduced the next step: writing a letter to her parents. She felt uncertain of where to start. Her therapist introduced her to an emotion wheel, a circular diagram with layered feelings radiating from a core of basic emotions. Tracing her finger along the colorful wedges, Addison paused at “frustrated,” a feeling she hadn’t quite recognized until she saw it visually mapped out. With the guidance of her therapist, Addison identified her feelings and penned her thoughts and questions for her parents. When she finished, her hands trembled as she passed the note to her therapist.

Later, Addison’s parents sat across from her therapist. The therapist picked up her letter and began to read aloud, her voice steady, each word carrying the weight of Addison’s unspoken pain. Her parents sat still, shoulders tensing with the sting of truths they hadn’t faced before.

Then, as the therapist read “You never thought about how this affected me. You still act like nothing happened,” her mother’s face hardened.

“That’s not fair,” her dad muttered. “We’ve changed. We’ve done everything we could.”

Her mom exhaled sharply. “She doesn’t see how hard this has been for us, either.”

Silence settled between them, thick with unspoken wounds. The therapist let the moment breathe before speaking, her voice calm but firm. “She’s not blaming you—she’s reaching for you. This is the first time she’s felt safe enough to say these things out loud.”

Her mother’s grip tightened on the couch’s edge, her father’s jaw clenched—but the words settled. Slowly, their posture softened.

With guidance, the two parents wrote a response—not rushed, not defensive, but honest.

When Addison received their letter in return, she read it slowly. “We hear you. We’re sorry. We’re still learning, too.”

Addison’s eyes welled with tears. For the first time, anger wasn’t a wall between them. It was something they could step over. Something they could move past.

From that point forward, this family’s communication was different. As their therapist walked into the final treatment session, she realized that a warm quiet filled the air and saw Addison giggling with her parents as they were doing dishes -one washing, one drying, one putting them back in their cabinets. The family wasn’t perfect, but they were trying, and they were moving forward together.