People Who Died

- The Jim Carroll Band, “People Who Died“, 1980

This article is one of the hardest to write but one that each of us felt was perhaps the most important of those we could write.

Addiction kills. Alcoholism kills. They are the slowest, most painful forms of suicide known. While we feel compassion for those addicted to any drug – illicit or licit – we also recognise and emphasize that there is only one drug that has withdrawal effects that can actually be fatal. That drug is alcohol.

No other drug – not heroin, cocaine, crack, meth, speed, downers, you name it – possesses that distinctly vindictive quality. Junkies strung out from withdrawing from the white powder often wish they were dead, and we do not want to minimize the pain of their withdrawal, but in reality they can and do physically live through it. Alkies trying to quite the drink cold turkey can not always say the same.

But enough clinical pep talks. Let’s turn for a moment to me. And a friend of mine who didn’t make it. The first time I lost a person to addiction, it shook me to the core. Sadly, my first reaction was that I might as well go have a drink to honour their memory. Those old, addictive reflexes and rationalisations still kick in, especially in times of stress.

Fortunately, I had other friends in recovery who had been sober longer and seen and faced what I was feeling far more often than I. One of those friends told me two very valuable things the day I learned of my friend’s death by drink. The first thing was posed in the form of a question:

Is this the first time since you’ve been clean that someone close to you has died from their addiction?

Yes, yes it was, I said. Their response was the cold hard truth, and one I very badly needed to be told:

It’s sad, but you have to know it will happen. This is the first time for you, but it won’t be the last.

Harsh words, but needed words as well. You can’t fix another person, you can’t stop them from destroying their lives if that’s what they are hell-bent on, and you have to accept that you can be there for a person, try your best, and in the end know that all you can do is just that.

Among addicts who go through intensive rehabilitation programmes, the relapse rate is estimated to be around 70%. So, the odds tell us that seven out of 10 people who walk out of a clinic clean will return to using. Of those, some will not make it out alive. Cold, hard truth, but when it comes to addiction and recovery, pussyfooting around or minimising the realities makes things worse rather than better.

The other thing my friend told me that day was simpler but just as helpful:

The best thing you can do today is to stay sober for Eddie. Think about it – he’s gone now, but you and he were like brothers…what do you think he’d really want for you today? For you to relapse and start down the road he just completed? Or for you to stay clean and sober today…for him…and then tomorrow go back to staying clean and sober for yourself.

Sometimes a message like that can only really be sent from and received by one addict to another. To a non-addict, on the surface it’s fairly obvious what the person was saying. But there was another context to it as well. Namely, my friend knew without me even saying it that my gut instinct was to chuck it all and go get drunk that day to numb the pain of Eddie’s death and my feelings of guilt for not “fixing” him.

And my friend also knew that on “normal” days, the motivation for each of us to remain sober has to be primarily to do it for ourselves. Yes, we want to be good role models, better partners, friends, family members, and be better to those around us in general. But if other people are the primary driving factor in your sobriety, you are well on the way to relapse.

People can and will let you down, often without even realising it – because, thank God, they haven’t been where you are. Every time someone says “I could really use a drink”, before they even nervously apologise for the reference in my presence, I acknowledge internally that they have not been to the dark places I have and a phrase like that means nothing to them compared to what it means to me.

In tandem with that, my friend’s message about staying sober that day for Eddie was that yes, on the other days, it was important to stay sober for me. But on this particular day, the best thing I could do for his memory and honour was to stay clean for him. To give myself that. And, hopefully, to give Eddie that in memoriam.

And that’s what I did. So here’s to you Eddie:

And Eddie, I miss you more than all the others,
And I salute you brother/ This song is for you my brother

Related articles

• A Practical Guide for Families Dealing with Addiction (qvof.com)
• Hazelden’s New Sober24 Web Site Offers Enhanced Online Community for People in Recovery from Addiction (prweb.com)
• Alcohol ranked most harmful drug (cbc.ca)