I can still remember the night I found out Matt had been arrested. My younger brother—the one who used to help me build snow forts in the Wisconsin winters—was sitting in a jail cell for drunk driving. It wasn’t the first sign of trouble. For years, Matt’s drinking had been getting worse. At first, it was easy to brush off: “He’s just going through a phase,” my parents would say. But this wasn’t a phase—it was a free fall.
I begged my parents to do something, anything. They would sigh and shake their heads. “You know how Matt is,” my mom would say. “We can’t force him to change.” My dad would add, “It’s not our place to intervene. He has to figure it out on his own.”
Their inaction felt unbearable. Each missed opportunity to set a boundary or call Matt out on his behavior left me feeling more helpless. I was tired of seeing my parents walk on eggshells, afraid to upset Matt while he spiraled further into his addiction. It felt like I was the only one willing to admit there was a problem.
One night, after another family dinner where Matt was “too busy” to show up, I went home and started Googling. That’s when I found Intervention Services and Coaching. Their website said something about being the first step for families who didn’t know what to do next. I didn’t hesitate. I picked up the phone and made the call.
I spoke with Emily, one of their interventionists. I expected judgment or a cold, clinical tone, but instead, Emily’s voice was warm and understanding. I poured out everything—the late nights waiting for Matt to come home, the lies he told us, and the strain it was putting on our family. She listened patiently and said, “Sarah, it’s not just about Matt. It’s about your whole family learning how to heal.”
Emily explained what an intervention could look like and how they would support us through every step. She even offered to speak with my parents directly, something I hadn’t been able to do without hitting a wall of resistance. It felt like a lifeline.
The hardest part wasn’t convincing Matt—it was convincing my parents. They were terrified of losing him if we pushed too hard. But Emily helped them understand that enabling his behavior wasn’t protecting him—it was keeping him trapped. Slowly, they came around.
The day of the intervention, I was terrified Matt would walk out and never come back. But Emily guided us through it with such care. We shared our pain, our hopes, and our love for Matt, and for the first time, he really listened. There was anger, of course, but there was also a breakthrough.
Matt agreed to go to treatment that day. It wasn’t easy—it still isn’t—but that call to Intervention Services and Coaching was the turning point. It wasn’t just Matt’s life that changed; it was ours too.
Looking back, I wish I’d made that call sooner. I wish I hadn’t waited for my parents to come around. Sometimes, taking the first step means being the one willing to face the uncomfortable truth. And when no one else would, I did.