“Therefore, it is better to conquer our grief than to deceive it. For if it has withdrawn, being merely beguiled by pleasures and preoccupations, it starts up again and from its very respite gains

No one wants to experience grief, but it’s an inherent part of humanity to experience loss.  Some of us will witness the deaths of our parents.  Some of us will witness the deaths of our siblings.  Some of us will witness the deaths of our friends.  Some of us will witness the deaths of our pets.  Some of us will witness all of this.  It’s essentially inevitable.  That doesn’t make it easy.  

We addicts are not alone here.  Grief will find us all, whether we are alcoholics, addicts, or normies.  I speak as an addict and for addicts when I suggest we take Seneca’s wisdom to heart here; we must conquer our grief rather than deceive it.  As addicts, this means we have to address our grief head-on and we must resist the temptation to return to drugs/alcohol as an avoidance.  There are many reasons Seneca’s advice here is particularly useful to us.

First, as Seneca knew, avoiding the discomfort of experiencing grief through escapism or preoccupation does not actually address the grief.  The sadness of loss will still be there when the intoxication has ended.  It will be there after the hangover.  It will be there when we run out of ways to run away from it.  We cannot run from grief.  We must experience it.  Process it.

Second, it is a bastardization of the person we have lost to use their death as an excuse to return to drugs/drink.  It makes a mockery of their life.  These are loved ones, right?  Would they want us to sacrifice our sobriety in their name?  What would they say if they were still here?  How would they want to be remembered?  Does it honor those lost to allow ourselves to be buried with them?  To lose our lives, spirits, and souls to active addiction in their name?  Of course not.

Third, grief is hopefully one of those emotions we experience less frequently than others.  We get practice dealing with anxiety, hunger, loneliness, boredom, fear, etc.  Those emotions come and go.  Sometimes they are fleeting.  Grief hangs around longer.  It hits harder.  It’s more infrequent.  Our lack of experience with it drives us to the biggest sledgehammer we have to smash it:  our drug of choice.  It goes like this:  the feelings are so big, persistent, and overwhelming, we just want to buy a little time and not feel that feeling just for a while.  The problem, of course, is that drugs and alcohol are nothing more than a band-aid on a mortal wound in this situation.  It barely covers the problem, let alone solves it.

Using drugs/alcohol won’t bring the person back.  It won’t give us more time.  It won’t allow us to say the things we wish we had.  Nothing will do that.  We have to face the stark finality of loss.  We have to accept death as a part of life and as a part of our sobriety.  We cannot take shelter in drugs and alcohol to escape these feelings.  The only way out is through.  The feelings have to be felt.

Allow me, Dear Reader, to turn to the good news here, if there’s any to be had:  in sobriety, the way you experience grief can not only strengthen your sobriety, it can ease the burden of those loved ones with whom you are sharing the sorrow.  Imagine that.  Can you?  In your addiction, could you have ever imagined being a source of strength and comfort for your friends and family in their grief?  Doesn’t that sound preferable to adding to the misery of loss by taking center stage as an intoxicated mess?  Do you want to pile shame on top of your grief?  Regret?  

I wish I could tell you, Dear Reader, there is an emotional magic wand you get to wave at your grief in sobriety and it will disappear.  That doesn’t exist.  Comfort yourself with this, if you can.  Grief is supposed to hurt.  Loss is supposed to hurt.  Those are normal feelings and emotions you are having.  Honor you loved ones by feeling them.  Cry.  Talk to your family and friends.  Live your remaining days with a sharper appreciation for the friends and family that remain.  Be a better friend.  Be a better son, daughter, brother, sister, or parent.  Move forward with a fonder appreciation of the time you still have.