“Don’t let her suck you in.” - a painful dialogue that sets a boundary, not daring us to hope and doesn't let us see past the addiction and into the eyes of just a person. Four Good Days (2020), is a film directed by Rodrigo Garcia, following the journey of Molly - a 31 year old drug addict and her mother, Deb. Based on the true story of Amanda Wendler and Libby Alexander, the film is a commendable portrayal of addiction and the strain it can put on relationships- in this case a mother-daughter relationship.
Stories on addiction usually focus on the visible struggle - the shivering hands, desperate bargains and the narrow escapes. But what about the people that pray through the night, carry invisible scars and still dare to hope? In Four Good Days, the journey of Molly is clear, but it is her mother, Deb who shows the unspoken agony of a caretaker. The film starts with Molly showing up on the doorstep of Deb’s house, speaking about years of drug abuse and begging her mother to let her stay for a few days before going into detox. One would expect a mother to welcome her daughter whom she hasn’t seen for a year and a half and yet, she denies her and stands resolute with the support of her husband, Chris. Why did she hesitate to open the door? Not because she doesn’t love her daughter but because she feels emotionally drained after years of heartbreak and fears, enabling Molly’s addiction in any way.
Those battling addiction rarely can keep the damage to themselves and those closest to them suffer from something called "second-hand addiction". This term refers to the emotional and physical toil placed on caregivers. This relentless cycle of fear and exhaustion is what happens when the emotional wreckage of addiction spills over and devastates the lives of loved ones. Caregivers like Deb don’t become addicted to substances but they live trapped by someone else’s addiction, constantly swinging between hope and heartbreak, trust and fear. Research also shows that 60% of caregivers report a worsening in their physical health due to the emotional and financial stress of supporting a loved one through addiction (Partnership to End Addiction, 2020). This shows up in Deb with the way she tenses up every time there’s a knock at the door and with every phone call- hardwired to expecting a catastrophe and in the way she stays awake all night- fearing a relapse from Molly. This tension in Deb is a common stress response.
Since caring for someone with addiction isn’t just short-term but a long and brutal marathon (as seen in Molly’s case - it was her 15th attempt at sobriety), caregivers also face “compassion fatigue”, which is exactly what it sounds like- emotional exhaustion or numbness. In studies focused on addiction, caregivers of individuals with opioid use disorder, which is Molly’s addiction, reported higher levels of compassion fatigue compared to caregivers of other chronic illnesses, because the risk of death is constantly hanging overhead (Substance Abuse: Research and Treatment Journal, 2020). In Deb, she fights to support Molly, but her patience is threadbare, and her voice sharpens with frustration even when she is trying to help. Years of broken trust and shattered hope leaves her emotional reserves empty and how could it not?
Throughout the film, Deb questions herself- Am I helping Molly recover? Or am I helping her avoid consequences? Caregivers walk a fine line between enabling behaviours and supporting recovery. Even with all her experience and hard-won wisdom, Deb struggles with the balancing act and this tension boils over when she secretly switches Molly’s urine sample with her own so that her daughter can pass the drug test and qualify for the opioid-antagonist shot. In that moment, her desperate love overrides her judgement which has immediate consequences as Molly goes into acute withdrawal and is rushed to the hospital. This was an heartbreaking example of how caregivers can slip into enabling behaviours, even with the best intentions and how even the strongest boundaries can crumble under the weight of love, fear and hope.
Not only that but, Deb also carries a lot of guilt and shame in her- even though logically the causes for someone’s drug addiction doesn’t rest on one person’s shoulder. This guilt is seen in one emotionally charged scene when Molly blames Deb for exposing her to trauma by marrying an abusive man and not protecting her better by leaving. Deb doesn’t argue. She just absorbs the accusation- because, like many other caregivers, she already blames herself deep inside. This experience is typical of what many caregivers experience, especially parents. Studies show that over 50% of parents of individuals with substance abuse disorders report intense feelings of guilt and self-blame, even when the addiction stems from factors beyond their control (Journal of Addiction Medicine, 2021). The guilt is also deep-rooted in Deb’s own past trauma- when she opens about how she was a victim of abuse from Molly’s father, Dale. Learning the truth- that Deb left because of her circumstances, not rejection- forces Molly to reconsider her perspective. While it doesn’t erase the years of pain, it begins to soften Molly’s anger and opens the door to healing and allows for a more compassionate understanding between the two.
Now, this isn’t just an issue between Molly and Deb but one also on a societal level, both of them are significantly impacted by stigma surrounding addiction. While the addict bears the brunt of the judgement, caregivers like Deb are often sharply scrutinized, as well. In the scene where Deb brings Molly to the clinic for treatment, it is implicitly suggested that Deb is responsible for enabling Molly’s addiction over the years. This judgement from society and even medical professionals who oversimplify and blame the family, overshadows Deb’s need for support with unhelpful criticism. Later in the film, when Molly relapses, Deb is left feeling drained and doesn’t show her anger outwardly. She admits to Chris that she feels like she’s being constantly watched, judged, criticized but, she doesn’t know how to stop trying to help Molly. Deb’s vulnerability comes through in these moments of quiet reflection as she admits that the fear of judgement and failure has almost worn her down.
Four months later, Molly is living with Deb, visits her children regularly, is getting ready for her next shot and is on her way to recovery. This proves that recovery isn’t linear and healing is beginning to take root even if it is still fragile. That, living with Deb shows that despite all hardships, their relationship remains a major support system for Molly. That, by slowly recovering she is rebuilding family bonds and trust, not just between each other, but also herself. The ending also reminds us that addiction is a chronic condition and staying sober requires strength and support.
By humanising both Molly and Deb, Four Good Days asks us to see beyond the addiction, beyond stigma and into the complicated, tender truth of what it means to stand by someone who is trying- and failing- and trying again. It reminds us that the opposite of addiction isn’t sobriety; its connection. And in telling Deb’s story, the film honors every unseen hand that reaches out even when it would be easier letting go.
References:
Film Inquiry.
https://www.filminquiry.com/four-good-days-2021-review/
Sobriety is not the opposite of addiction: the peer specialist story, Melissa Dittberner, TEDxUSD (2024).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y0hF88-VKbg
Dill, C. D., & Jacobs, K. R. (2020). Compassion fatigue & the overdose epidemic. Substance Abuse: Research and Treatment Journal, 14, 1-12.
https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0955395920301377
Taylor, C. C., & Francis, P. J. (2022). Parents of adult children with drug addiction dealing with shame and guilt. Journal of Addiction Medicine, 27(6), 1-10.
https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/09687637.2022.2099249
Written by: Abha Pandey (ADT24SVSB0004), Aarya Kadam (ADT23SVSB0002)
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