`I love him to bits but in the end I had to put that somewhere else. In the end, we knew we could do no more for him. That's when we threw him out," recalls Susan Keegan. With her husband Phillip, she tried everything she knew to help their son, Phillip (24), a heroin addict since he was about 18. Six years into his addiction - now to methadone - the Dublin couple sit in a city-centre hotel sipping milky tea remembering the details, the running order, of watching an addiction destroy someone they love. They recount finding Phillip "cooking up" a deal in the family kitchen, attempts at home detox, paying drug debts, buying back jewellery he had sold to the pawnshop, trips to back-street GPs to buy methadone. . . the lies, the deceit, the shame, the hurt, the damage, the rows.

"Oh, the rows we had," says Phillip, shaking his head. "I was the heavy-handed father and," he smiles over at Susan, "he always knew he could get round his mammy. It drove a huge wedge between us and it was a long time before we came together against his addiction."

When they finally threw their son out Susan felt she had utterly betrayed him. "I was never in that house while he was out. My mind was out there with him. I had his funeral played out every time the phone rang.

"Each time [they threw him out several times] I thought he'd come back reformed, knowing he had to get better. But he'd have lost weight, his clothes would be a mess and I'd feel I had to take him back. And of course within a few days it'd be back to where we started." In the past two years the couple have "toughened up", have come together through support groups and have, in Susan's words, emotionally "distanced" themselves from the addict.

"We had to take the power back," she says.

Taking the power back, showing "tough love" is perhaps what Sinead O'Connor felt she was doing when she reported fellow singer Shane McGowan to the London police last month for possession of heroin. She did it "out of concern for his life", she told Q magazine. She said she hoped it might force him to seek treatment.

It can work. Sean (not his real name) had been using heroin for a number of years when he was finally "busted" by the Gardai 12 years ago. A young and successful professional, he did not see his drug use as problematic. What he did see as problematic, and what forced him eventually to tell his mother, was an impending court appearance.

"Luckily, she came down on me like a ton of bricks," he says. "She insisted I get treatment and to get her off my back I agreed. This doctor recommended I get in touch with NA [Narcotics Anonymous], and I have been clean since."

Sean, however, qualifies the good that came of his moment of crisis. "People react in different ways. If it had happened six months earlier or six months later I could have told my mother to get lost and ended up in prison resenting her, or six foot under."

He also points out that a comfortable middle-class life was at stake. "It was a shock to the system. I had a life to lose."

Indeed, according to Ms Maura Russell, director of the Rutland Centre, an addiction treatment centre in Dublin, drastic action by an individual such as reporting an addict to the police or throwing them out of the family home in the hope the addict will "wake up" is often the precursor only to a sense of betrayal for the addict and further hurt and disappointment for the loving onlooker.

"We would encourage as many people who love the person to come together, in a context of love and concern rather than anger and frustration, and present the impact of the situation on them [the loved ones]."

The term "tough love" need not mean belligerent confrontation, she says. It means showing an honest interest in one's own welfare as well as that of the addict.

"Each individual may have to take steps to protect themselves," she says. "A partner might have to say, `If your behaviour doesn't change it may come to me having to leave this relationship'. Or a child might say, `I'm just going to ignore you', and use these as leverage."

While agreeing that these are difficult steps for someone who is emotionally involved, she says those who love him or her must remember there is no reasoning with an addict. "An addict rarely knows they are addicted and if they do, they may deny any insight they have. An addict will meet reason with more reason. The best one can do is try to tip the balance with as many people as possible setting reality before them."

She advises people never to threaten anything they can't follow through on.

"Think through your actions. You will have to live with the consequences." And if you don't follow them through, the addict will see you as easily manipulated, she adds.

Ms Russell does not agree that an addict must reach "rock bottom" before they can lift themselves out of addiction.

"More people are coming in for treatment earlier through effective intervention," she says.

Phillip is living at home again, addicted to methadone and tranquillisers.

"I'd walk to the ends of the earth for him," nods Susan. "Sometimes I want to hug him so much and I have to sit on my hands to stop myself. We have to stay strong because the only help we can give him now is to show him he's not hurting us any more."

Narcotics Anonymous: (01) 830 0944 Rutland Centre: (01) 494 6358 Details of family support meetings around Dublin from Citywide: (01) 836 5090.