Hey friends,
I don't even know why I'm posting this. My own funny way to grieve, I guess? I don't know. But I'd love to tell you all a story, to those that'll read it. Trigger warning for anyone struggling with substance abuse, and if you are, please reach out to loved ones and know that you are strong and you can get through this. I believe in you.
About 12 hours ago, I got a phone call that I've been dreading. My dear sweet cousin, who was the closest thing I had to a brother, lost his battle with addiction. The Butt-Head to my Beavis, if you will. He had been fighting these deep-rooted demons his whole life. Growing up with an addict for a mother, who hopped around from crack house to crack house with her baby boy, doing god knows what just to get a bag, and with a practically absent father, he didn't have very good odds from the start.
I think the first time he used was before he was even a teenager. With his own mother. What kind of mom would do that? Fast forward, he's an adult now. And the evil bitch addiction is had her talons wrapped around his soul. I'd see him walking on the street in the worst shape, pick him up and get him some food. Told him I loved him and he's a fighter, he can beat this. My mom offered him a safe place to stay and try and get clean, and he graciously accepted. I was so proud of him.
He agreed to go to treatment a little over 2 years ago, and he seemed hopeful for the first time in a long time. We got his court situations worked out, and were working together to turn his life around, he even enrolled in and went to college! Something he never thought possible. He made it about 7 months or so before his first relapse. We knew that slip-ups could (and probably would) happen, so we did what we could to support him.
In his sobriety he was able to get a good job doing what he loved, wrenching on cars. He was able to get his daughter on the weekends, and he took her to do so many fun activities. He was such a good dad. I loved seeing people get to know the person I grew up with, i knew he wasn't a lost cause. The past 2 years, he relapsed every few months. I think it was self sabotage because he didn't feel like he deserved these nice things. In my opinion, he deserved the world.
But deep down, he was fighting battles he didn't talk about. A few months ago, he stopped taking his suboxone, and stopped taking his anti-depressants. We don't fully know why, maybe it's because he didn't want to be dependent on anything. I don't know.
This last relapse, along with most others he had, resulted in an overdose. We were lucky enough to administer Narcan for his other ODs, but this last time... we found him too late.
Hopefully he simply drifted off into the bliss that was getting high, and didn't feel any pain. 28 is far too young to lose you, I never thought I'd have to do this life without you.
To anyone who read this far, thank you for hearing my story. To anyone battling with their own addictions, please seek help and know that there are people that love you. I know the phone might be heavy sometimes, but it could save your life.
Sorry if my words here are jumbled or confusing, I've had a rough day.
I love you, sweet cousin. May we meet again someday💕