You're worried about someone. What do you actually do?

1. They don't see it yet

There is no conversation to have yet, and that is what makes this the hardest place to stand. Most people here are not lying to you — they genuinely do not see what you see. Say what you've noticed once, plainly, without attaching a conclusion to it. Choose a moment when they're sober and neither of you is angry. Stay in contact, because the person who keeps one relationship intact is usually the one who's still there on the day it changes. Ultimatums you won't enforce, evidence-gathering and waiting for rock bottom all make it worse.

2. They know, but they're stuck

What looks like denial is usually two true things at once — they want to stop and they want to carry on. When you argue for one side, they're left holding the other. Ask questions instead of making points. Let them say the argument for change out loud themselves; it counts for far more than anything you say for them. Keep one concrete option ready so that if the door opens, you're not starting from nothing. Listing consequences and pushing for a decision on your timeline both close it.

3. They're ready to try

This window is narrower than most families expect. Remove friction — make the call together, take on the insurance and the transport and the time off. Sooner beats perfect: an assessment this week beats a better program in three. Ask what level of care is recommended rather than what's available. Weeks of research, and making help conditional on them proving they mean it, are the two things most likely to close the window before anyone walks through it.

4. They're trying right now

Families get the least support at exactly the point they need a good deal of it. Expect it to be uneven and say so out loud — it takes some of the fear out of a bad day. Ask what's useful rather than deciding for them. If opioids were ever part of this, keep naloxone in the house however well things are going, because overdose risk rises after a period of not using: tolerance falls while the old dose stays in mind. And start getting your own life back now, not as a reward once they're safe.

Am I enabling their addiction?

Probably some of it, and it matters less than you've been told. The word gets used to make frightened people feel guilty for staying close. What's worth examining is narrower: are you removing consequences that would otherwise land on them — paying fines, covering for missed work, lying to other family? That's worth stopping. Feeding someone, or answering the phone, is not enabling. It's staying in contact, and it's the thing that makes the next part possible.

Should I let them hit rock bottom before helping?

No, and it isn't a real clinical concept. It came out of a particular era of thinking and has been carried along by repetition since. People do not reliably change when things get worse, and plenty of people die on the way down. With opioids the strategy is dangerous in a way that is difficult to overstate, because tolerance and supply both move faster than anyone's decision to stop.

Can I force someone into rehab in New Jersey?

No. New Jersey has no law that lets a family member commit someone for addiction. Some states do — Florida's Marchman Act, Kentucky's Casey's Law — and bills to create something similar here have been introduced but have not passed.

Involuntary commitment in New Jersey requires a qualifying mental illness that makes a person dangerous to themselves or others, judged on clear and convincing evidence. Addiction on its own does not meet that standard. And a family member cannot file for it in any case: it runs through a county designated screening service, and the decision is made by clinicians and a judge.

If someone is in immediate danger, call 911 or 988 and a screening service can assess them. That route exists because of danger, not because of addiction.

What you can do is be ready. Know the number, understand the insurance, and clear the obstacles, so the gap between them saying yes and someone assessing them is as short as possible.

If I call 911 for an overdose, will I get in trouble?

New Jersey's Overdose Prevention Act says you cannot be arrested, charged, prosecuted or convicted for drug possession, paraphernalia, needles, or being under the influence, when the evidence came from you calling for help. It protects the person who overdosed as well as the caller — including someone unconscious who could not ask for help themselves. Unlike some states, New Jersey does not require you to give your name or stay at the scene.

It does not cover distributing drugs, and it does not cover driving under the influence.

None of that is a reason to hesitate. The protection is real and it is broad, and the alternative is somebody dying.

Everything above applies wherever you live. If you're in Brick, Toms River, Point Pleasant, Lakewood or Wall Township, the specific numbers — family support groups, free naloxone, county services, bereavement support — are on our Ocean County addiction and recovery resource guide.