Every day, we encounter people carrying visible signs of struggle — a cast, a wheelchair, a walker, a brace. These signs invite our compassion. They remind us to hold the door a little longer, to slow our pace, to soften our assumptions.
But what about the burdens we cannot see? What about the child who wakes up each day in a home shaped by a parent’s alcohol or substance use disorder? What about the young person who scans the emotional temperature of the room before speaking? What about the child who remains disconnected from the activity in the room?
What about the adult who learned very early in life that silence was safer than truth?
At the National Association for Children of Alcoholics (NACoA), we know that many children grow up carrying invisible burdens. They learn to be vigilant, adaptable, and responsible beyond their years. They become caretakers, peacemakers, overachievers—or invisible. They carry fear, confusion, shame, and loneliness quietly, often without language for what they are experiencing.
And too often, no one notices.
The Gathering of the Wounded
If we look honestly at the human experience, we begin to see what the writer Sr. Chris Hoelhoeffer IHM, called “a gathering of the wounded.” We are all, at some time, longing to belong. We are all, at some time, carrying pain that is not visible to others.
Children impacted by parental alcohol or substance use disorders are part of that gathering.
Research shows that millions of children – 1 in 4 children – in the United States grow up in households affected by substance use disorder. Yet resources specifically designed for them remain limited. Many therapists, educators, clergy, and youth-serving professionals receive little formal training in recognizing what the struggles of an untreated and unhealed child of a parent with a substance use disorder may look like in both childhood and adulthood.
Instead of being seen as children navigating chronic stress and trauma, they may be labeled as “behavior problems,” “withdrawn,” “too sensitive,” or “overly responsible.” As the Shatterproof Addiction Language Guide reminds us, language shapes perception. Stigmatizing or imprecise language can reinforce isolation and shame, while person-first, compassionate language opens doors to healing.
When we change how we speak, we begin to change how we see.
The Courage of Silent Endurance
Children impacted by parental substance use disorder often become experts in reading subtle cues: the tone of a voice, the sound of a door closing, or the weight of the footsteps climbing the stairs can indicate the difference between a safe night and a volatile one.
These kids and teens may:
• Strive for perfection, believing mistakes will make things worse.
• Take on adult responsibilities prematurely.
• Remain quiet and hide in a bedroom or basement to avoid whatever may happen next
• Distract by picking a fight or becoming belligerent
• Resort to clown-like antics to lighten the mood and help the family relieve tension
• Struggle to trust stability, even in safe environments.
• Carry anxiety, grief, or hypervigilance into adulthood.
Many grow into adults who appear highly capable on the outside—professionally successful, dependable, strong. Yet internally, they may still be navigating unresolved trauma, attachment wounds, and a deep-seated belief that their needs are “too much.” These are not character flaws. These are adaptive responses to chronic stress and trauma wounds. They are the survival skills that still serve them well. When we understand this, empathy becomes possible.
Empathy as a Daily Practice
Imagine if we approached each interaction with the quiet awareness that the person before us may be carrying something we cannot see.
Imagine if:
• Teachers paused to ask, “What might be happening beneath this behavior?”
• Faith leaders preached with language that replaces blame with compassion.
• Policymakers recognized children impacted by parental substance use disorder as a population worthy of targeted support.
• Communities committed to reducing stigma and using person-first language consistently and intentionally.
Empathy is not pity.
Empathy is not excusing harm.
Empathy is the courageous decision to see the whole person.
For children of parents with substance use disorders, empathy can be life-changing. A single safe adult can change the trajectory of a child’s life. A single moment of validation. A single program that says, “You are not alone. This is not your fault. Help is available.”
Today’s the Day to Start!
The paucity of developmentally appropriate resources for children impacted by parental substance use disorder is not just a service gap—it is a public health issue.
When children’s experiences go unrecognized and unsupported, the long-term effects can ripple across generations. But when we intervene early—through education, prevention, and trauma-informed support—we positively change the outcome for children.
At NACoA, we believe: Children deserve to be seen.
• Their experiences deserve language that identifies the problem they didn’t create.
• Their resilience deserves support.
• Their pain deserves compassion—not silence.
In the Company of the Broken
To be “in the company of the broken” is not to stand above anyone. It is to stand among.
It is to acknowledge that suffering is part of the human story—and that healing is possible when we refuse to let stigma have the final word. Children of parents with substance use disorders are not broken. They are navigating broken systems, broken promises, and sometimes broken relationships.
What they need is not judgment.
They need understanding.
They need safe spaces.
They need adults who choose empathy over assumption.
And perhaps most of all, they need a world willing to see the invisible burdens they carry and didn’t create.
When we step into classrooms, offices, sanctuaries, and homes, may we remember: the person in front of us may be fighting a battle we cannot see.
Broken No More
Let us choose words that heal.
Let us build systems that protect.
Let us stand, together, in compassionate solidarity with children who have suffered in silence for far too long. Because none of us are meant to carry our burdens alone.
When we provide these children, or adults who still carry these burdens, with empathy and support, we can help them heal so they are no longer broken. We can change the trajectory of their lives.
