Why Talking About Overdose Loss Matters (Even If It Makes You Uncomfortable)

Talking about overdose loss is not easy. It’s heavy, messy, and sometimes uncomfortable. But that’s exactly why we need to do it. Because overdose loss is real. It’s not just a headline or a statistic. It’s parents burying their children, kids growing up without parents, and families navigating a grief that feels endless.

We don’t talk about overdose loss enough. Sure, there are news reports when the numbers spike or when a celebrity dies, but the everyday stories of loss and survival? Those get buried. Stigma does that. It silences people who are grieving. It makes them feel like they can’t share their pain without someone judging their loved one—or them.

That silence? It’s dangerous. It isolates families and individuals when they’re already at their lowest. It reinforces the shame and stigma that keep people from asking for help or admitting they’re struggling. And it feeds the false narrative that overdose is a moral failing rather than a complex public health crisis.

When we talk about overdose loss, we put faces to the statistics. We remind the world that these are people—with stories, with families, with lives that mattered. We challenge the stereotypes that reduce them to nothing more than their struggles. And we create space for healing, for connection, and for change.

I get it—it’s uncomfortable. Nobody wants to think about losing someone they love in such a devastating way. Nobody wants to acknowledge how big and overwhelming the drug epidemic really is. But discomfort is where growth happens. It’s where empathy lives. And it’s the only way we’re going to break down the barriers that keep people silent and suffering.

So yes, talking about overdose loss matters. It matters for the families who need to know they’re not alone. It matters for the people who are still here and still fighting. And it matters for the future, because change doesn’t happen in silence. It happens when we share our stories, when we listen to each other, and when we demand better.

It’s not about making people comfortable. It’s about making a difference. And that starts with talking—even when it’s hard.