Here`s what people are saying about Rebound Carers' Group.
Rebound has helped me understand addiction and recovery. I have learned how to support my husband's receovery, not his addiction. To give up trying to control what is not my responsibility. I had been doing the wrong thing for the right reasons.
Rebound is safe, non-judgemental, caring and informative. I am learning to let go of destructive habits.
I did not cause my husband's addiction / I cannot control his addiction / I cannot cure his addiction
But, there is hope and Rebound helps me to support my husband's recovery and to look after myself.
I went along to Rebound with almost no knowledge of addiction, not knowing what to expect and feeling very apprehensive.
Everyone there was so friendly and welcoming. I left after first visit realising I was not alone and that people from all walks of life can be affected. Also, anything that is said within the group is completely confidential and this, of course, is SO important.
What Rebound has given me is a sense of belonging and enabled me to turn despair into realistic hope for the future.
At this time, my story has turned in to a positive and I am able to help support others within the group but if, in the future, I experience further problems as a carer I know that Rebound is there - and that is a very comforting thought.
I've attended Rebound since its inception and have found it to be a group that has provided a mix of care, support, sharing and education. It has been invaluable to me and I'm sure it has also helped my relationship with my wife. I continue to attend, even though my wife has given up the substance misuse, because I believe I need continuing support which I believe also still helps my wife's and my recovery.
So there you are with the fixed smile that says "I'm OK," and the eyes that say you are anything but.
The morning after yet another sleepless night; a night full of wonder of "I wonder if," and "How has it come to this?" The voice in your head repeating over and over "please don't let the phone ring," and another saying "please let him be OK."
The knot in the back of your neck is taut, a feeling in your stomach of being on a 'fast spin.' Your heart pummelled.
The start of another day, and what will it bring? Things don't seem quite so bad in the day time, if you keep yourself busy that is.
I find it easier to be alone, keep myself to myself. That way I don't have to pretend, lie; but who am I lying to?
He has appointments today, hope he will go. But, what if he doesn't? Maybe I should try and find him, take him, am I letting him down?
What have I done? What should I do? Where the hell is he?! If only there was something I could do. Then, in the pit of my stomach, the cold reality of knowing there is nothing I can do. But, belive me when I tell you that, even with the knowledge of stark reality, it doesn't stop you searching, longing or dull the heartache.
So there you are, with your heart pounding and, in your head, turmoil. Which way to turn now? Then, there it is again, that awful feeling of guilt and the torment of helplessness. So I pick up the phone, call him. He's not answering today; maybe he is in his meeting. A moment of wishful thinking which is quickly overpowered by the familiar feeling of anxiousness; maybe he's been arrested.
In his head, he is dealing with it, arrangements have been made. But is that the truth of it, or is it all in his head?
I feel like I am in freefall again, waiting for the collission as I hit the edge and hang there for a while, suspended.
Then, one phone call brings the long awaited offer of help, hope.
A place is available for him in Baytrees. I try to call him to give him the news, he answers his phone. He accepts the place, the help. "I really want this, Mum."
Friday 9.30, the start of the first day of the rest of his life ... the help is there, the rest is down to him.
But it wasn't to be. My son was arrested on the Wednesday and imprisoned on the Thursday.
You may think it sounds heartless, selfish even, but the strange calm feeling I have inside is so welcome. I know where he is, he is safe, he is alive.
His road to recovery has started in a different place, perhaps not what we had hoped for, but it does bring hope nevertheless. I used to say I dare not hope, for fear of disappointment, but now I am hoping with all my heart.
If the stigma and problems that come with mental health issues were not challenge enough, when coupled with the demon that is addiction (that's how I see it anyway) there is a long and uncertain road to face; dual diagnosis not only affects the person in or recovering from addiction, but their families and loved ones too.
Although he is only twenty one, my son has been struggling with dual diagnosis for longer than I care to remember. Caring for him has been a turbulent, emotional, lonely journey, and one that I still tread. It is only now that I have the support of Rebound that I have found the comfort of being able to share my torment with people who truly understand. It is such a relief to be able to talk freely, in confidence and without fear of being judged.
The weekly meetings offer a safe environment to come and sahre the events of your week. While the group is facilitated, there is empathy and friendly, informal advice, which is born out of personal experiences.
In short, Rebound has been my saving grace - don't suffer alone and in silence.
Unless you have experienced the turmoil of having a loved one in addiction, it is all but impossible to imagine the plethora or emotions you encounter.
It goes without saying, the pain of witnessing someone in the grips of any substance misuse is torture enough, but the effect it has on you, as a 'carer', is beyond pain.
'Carer' is a funny term because, as a parent, it's the last thing you see yourself as or, indeed, want to be.
My personal journey, parallel to that of my son's, has been one of despair, heartache and disbelief, one that has been looked upon with stigma and judged by those who are fortunate enough not to have experienced the like.
Up intil the occasion when a nurse, who was looking after my son at the time, asked "who supports you?" and suggested I contact Rebound. It took me a few weeks to find the courage to go to the group, even then, and for some time, still I said nothing, but listened, intently. It was is if every other person in the room was talking about my life, experiencing the same emotions and facing the same fears. In time I felt 'safe' enough to share my story, confident in the knowledge that I was not going to shock anybody or be judged.
I could go on but, in short, Rebound has been my saving grace.
You can telephone us on
This is a dedicated phone line for Rebound. If you would like us to contact you, please leave a message - we will get back to you as soon as we possibly can.
You can also use our contact form.
Rebound Carers' Group
117 Orchard Road