Rickie Vasquez probably said it best on the TV show My So Called Life when he broke down in front of his friend’s mother: “Have you ever loved someone so much, that it like, hurt?” He was saying this about Rayanne Graff, his best friend in the entire universe. It was after Rayanne had overdosed on a ton of pills. I have friends like that, and you probably do too.

I’ve never rushed someone to the emergency room, I’ve never watched someone O.D before my eyes––but two months ago my ex-boyfriend called me high out of his mind. He had spent about eight months in this dirty, dreamy city, and had finally decided that it was a good idea to start powdering his nose. It was the second time he’d tried it; but he’d had problems with alcohol in the past––and just had an addictive personality type.

I know the signs like most people know traffic lights; he’s certainly not the first friend I’ve had like that, and he’s probably not going to be the last.

He called me in a coked-out stupor, and when I told him that what he was doing wasn’t going to lead to anything good, he hung up on me. He called me again, the same night, even drunker, and higher than before. This time? Lorazepam.

He hung up on me again, and I thought about what Rickie said. I did what I had to do, and he survived the night, but it was probably the last time I considered us chummy.

Like Rickie, I’ve spent a fair amount of time covering up for my friends, worrying for my friends, and anticipating the worst. I’ll always be available for a 3 a.m. phone call; I’d drag the empties out whenever my ex-boyfriend’s parents came to visit him at school; I’ll play look-out whenever a friend retreats to the bathroom. I’ll skip class to take care of a sick friend, and the more I hear about exploits-gone-wrong, the more I start to shake. It got so bad once that I took a week off from school, and ended up begging for extensions. If a close friend’s addiction affects you in that way, you should probably consider speaking to a counselor, a therapist, a parent, or one of your more even-keeled friends.

After that night with my ex-boyfriend, I emailed one of my favourite blog-writers for advice. The letter was mostly comprised of big, bleary-eyed key strokes. What she told me stuck: you can’t do anything to help your friend, unless you help yourself.

Yes, the concern you may feel is love, but it does no good for you, or your friend, if that love turns self-destructive. Codependency (or the inability to have relationships that are healthy, or reciprocal…as evidenced by my behavior above) is a hard label to shake, but with constant, and consistent practice, you can.

Before I delve into “practical solutions” any further, let me preface: if your friend gets drunk or high at a party? Worry, but not too much. If it starts becoming a habit, then worry. But don’t worry so much that another person’s problem takes over your own life.

Create boundaries for yourself. Being a friend or confidant to an addict requires a special amount of patience, and strength. Stuff that at sixteen or seventeen, to be completely honest, you really do not need. Don’t beat yourself up if you have to peace out on your friendship. You have to make a hard decision. The last thing you want to do is abandon your friend––but you need to establish boundaries of how you can help them, while still helping yourself. Be a sober friend, refuse to be placed in situations with them if they’re under the influence. If they violate any of the terms of your friendship, cut off contact. It’s harsh, I know, but that might be the one thing that will convince your friend to get help.