About

I thought about naming my blog: My Stupid Friend Died Of An Overdose And Now I Have To Figure Out How To Grieve. 

But since it’s a very long name, and would quite possibly offend people who may otherwise like to read the things I post here, I gave it a milder title. The sentiment is pretty much the same though.

In the weeks and months following my friend’s death (of an overdose, in case you haven’t guessed), I was amazed at the sheer volume of books on grief, and how so very few of them address the unique position of mourning a loved one who died of their addiction. It’s a vast grey area in our collective cultural knowledge of what is socially acceptable. Was it suicide? A disease? Both? Death by addiction doesn’t fit neatly into a single category. And apparently no one really wants to discuss it, at least not out loud in the big, wide world. 

I found books on how recovering addicts grieve the loss of their drug, and books on how to help a loved one through recovery. Books on how to grieve when your loved one is lost to an accident or illness. Grief for an addict, though, seems to be done in private, as if it is shameful to have adored a person who made unhealthy life choices. If, in fact, addiction is even a choice (it’s not, but it took a lot of research and soul-searching for me to finally feel comfortable with that truth). 

The things I post here are sort of like the last two years of my friend’s life: messy, disorganized, sometimes inappropriate. Most are in the form of letters to my dead friend. I do not use his name out of respect for the kind, wonderful person he was before his addiction turned him into someone else. 

I chose to share my experiences so that maybe someone else who has lost their person to addiction will not feel so lost or alone, as I did. If you don’t like what I’m writing, stop reading. Please do not make mean comments here.