From My Heart to Yours: Practicing Self-Compassion After Losing Someone to the Drug Epidemic

I don’t know your story, but I know the ache you’re carrying. I know the sleepless nights, the endless loop of "what ifs," and the heavy weight of love tangled with loss. Losing someone to the drug epidemic is unlike any other kind of grief. It’s messy, layered with guilt and stigma, and so, so isolating.

I’ve been there. I’ve felt the crushing weight of wanting to have done more, of wishing I could rewrite the past. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that we have to be as kind to ourselves as we would have been to the person we lost. If you’re reading this, I hope you can take even a small step toward showing yourself the compassion you deserve.

Things you need to know:

1) It’s Not Your Fault

I used to play the "what if" game all the time. What if I had said something differently? What if I had seen the signs sooner? What if I had tried harder? But here’s the truth I’ve had to sit with: Addiction is a disease, not a choice, and not one single person - not even someone who loves them as deeply as you - can control its outcome.

Let me tell you what I wish someone had told me: You did enough. You loved them, and that love mattered more than you’ll ever know. Blaming yourself only deepens the wound, and it’s a weight you don’t have to carry. People do not wear a neon sign above their head letting us know what they're going through. 

2) Grief Doesn’t Have to Look a Certain Way

Grief is messy and unpredictable. Some days, you might feel like you’re drowning in sadness. Other days, you might feel nothing at all, and you’ll wonder if something’s wrong with you. And then there’s the anger — at them, at the disease, at the world for not being kinder.

Here’s the thing: Whatever you’re feeling is okay. Grief doesn’t follow rules, and there’s no "right" way to mourn. Give yourself permission to feel everything - without judgment. Even if that means crying in the shower one minute and laughing at a memory the next.

3) It’s OK to Let Go of the Shame Society Puts on Us

Losing someone to the drug epidemic is often tied to stigma. People might say hurtful things or avoid talking about your loved one altogether. It can make you feel like their life is being reduced to their struggles.

But let me say this: Your loved one was more than their disease. They were vibrant, complex, and human. Remember who they were: their laughter, their quirks, the moments that made them unique. Those are the pieces that matter, not the circumstances of their passing.

If someone makes you feel like you can’t grieve openly, know that it’s not a reflection of your loved one or your loss. It’s a reflection of how much work the world still has to do to understand.

4) Honor Them in Your Own Way

One of the hardest things about this kind of loss is feeling like the world moves on while you’re still standing in the wreckage. Finding ways to honor your loved one can help keep their memory alive.

For me, it’s the little things — sharing a story about them with someone who remembers, lighting a candle, or listening to a song they loved. For you, it might be planting a tree, volunteering, or writing them a letter. Whatever feels right for you, do it. It’s a way to celebrate who they were, beyond the pain.

5) Reach Out When You’re Ready

Grieving someone lost to the drug epidemic can feel incredibly lonely, but there are people who get it. Whether it’s a friend, a therapist, or a support group. You can even reach out to me.

6) Be Gentle With Yourself

You’re not going to "get over" this. That’s not how grief works. But you can learn to carry it differently—with more kindness for yourself and more room for the love you’ll always have for them.

Some days, self-compassion looks like letting yourself cry. Other days, it’s eating a meal, taking a walk, or simply breathing. Celebrate those little steps, because they matter. Healing isn’t about moving on—it’s about moving forward, one small step at a time.

From Me to You

I don’t have all the answers, and I won’t pretend this is an easy road. But I want you to know you’re not alone. There’s a community of us—people who’ve felt the same pain, asked the same questions, and loved someone through the darkest parts of this disease.

If I could give you one thing, it would be this: The same love and patience you gave your person, you deserve to give to yourself. They wouldn’t want you to carry guilt or shame. They’d want you to remember the good, to smile at the memories, and to take care of yourself.

Grief is heavy, but you don’t have to carry it alone. Be kind to yourself — you deserve it.