Dying to Get Clean: Grief, Loss, and Not Losing Your Damn Mind in Recover

Death. The ultimate buzzkill. It's like that one friend who always calls at the worst times, and always manages to bring down the party. And when you're in recovery, Death's like that clingy ex who just won't take a hint. Keeps showing up, never buys you a drink, and always wants to talk about your feelings.

I've had an unfortunately intimate relationship with this guy Death. Raised by my grandparents, both gone before my 25th birthday. And then, 2020 happened. You know, that fun year where we all got a worldwide pandemic, and I got a side of parental loss with my existential dread. Yeah, that was a blast.

But here's the kicker – when you're active in your addiction, Death's just an acquaintance. You're too busy getting high/drunk/laid to really feel much of anything, let alone the crushing weight of grief. And in early recovery, you might still be running on those fumes, staying just numb enough to avoid the full weight of your losses.

Or, you know, you become me – a workaholic with a side of sex and a dash of any other distraction you can find. Because actually feeling your feelings, actually facing that grief head-on, that's terrifying. It's like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into an abyss so deep you can't see the bottom. And all you can think is, "What if I jump? What if I can't climb back out of this hole?"

The Grief of Losing Your Old Life

Here's what they don't tell you in rehab – you're not just grieving the people you've lost, you're grieving the loss of your old life. The loss of your identity as an addict/alcoholic. That might sound stupid, but think about it – for years, your substance use was likely the biggest part of your life. It defined how you spent your time, who you spent it with, what you cared about. And now, that's all gone.

It's like losing a part of yourself, like a physical limb just got chopped off. And just like that, you're gonna go through all the stages of grief. Denial (no, really, I'm fine), anger (I'M FINE), bargaining (just one drink/pill/whatever), depression (screw it, I'm just gonna stay in bed), and finally, acceptance (I'm still not okay, but I'm dealing with it).

Not Losing Your Mind (or Your Sobriety)

So how do you navigate all this without relapsing? Without becoming that cautionary tale they tell in meetings? Well, here are a few things that worked for me:

• Therapy: Yeah, it's a cliche, but for real, find a good therapist. Someone who gets recovery, who gets grief. They can be your map through this wilderness of feelings.
• Support Groups: NA/AA, grief support groups – find your people. The ones who get what you're going through. Leaning on others who've walked this path can be a lifesaver.
• Mindfulness: It sounds woo-woo, but stay in the moment. When you're stuck in grief, it's easy to get caught in the past or lost in the future. Mindfulness can help you stay present, and help you actually feel your feelings without getting overwhelmed.
• Self-Care: Eat something besides ramen, take a damn shower, get a little sunlight. Your body's part of your recovery, treat it with some respect.
• Creative Expression: Write, paint, scream into a pillow – find ways to get your feelings out of your head and into the world.

Beyond the Basics

Okay, you're doing the basics, now what? Here's where things get interesting. Think about a grief ritual – light a candle on anniversaries, plant a tree, get a tattoo. It's a physical way to mark your loss, to acknowledge your pain.

And for God's sake, let yourself actually feel your feelings. It's okay to not be okay. It's okay to cry, to scream, to be angry. Don't put that pressure on yourself to be accepting and moved on and inspirational. Grief doesn't work on your timeline, so quit expecting it to.

The Takeaway

Grief and recovery, recovery and grief – they're intertwined for a while. It's like trying to untangle a giant ball of yarn, except the yarn is made of sadness and fear and occasionally, hope. It's a mess, but with patience, and support, you can find your way through.

And hey, if all else fails, just remember – you're not alone, and you can always find dark humor in the abyss. Because even on your worst days, there's gonna be that one thing that makes you laugh, that one ridiculousness of life that pulls you back from the edge.

So keep moving forward, even when that just means getting out of bed. Keep feeling, even when that feels like drowning. And always remember, you can't heal what you won't confront. So let's confront this shit, head-on, with as much grace as we can muster, and as much cursing and complaining as we need.-Belle-