Grief and Loss
My Best Friend is Dying, and I’m Not Going to Drink Over It
I’m Going Crazy Waiting for the Other Shoe to Fall
On the 11th of November, his 64th birthday, my friend collapsed at a restaurant and had no pulse for a very long time. Now he sits in the ICU, and I sit here, dealing with the dreadful anticipation of waiting for that other shoe to fall when I finally get “The Call.”
I imagine he was somehow behind his beloved Detroit Lions, not losing their ninth straight game but tying it instead. I cried in the shower yesterday. The Dead put “He’s Gone” on the 13th of November’s live song daily release, and it also made me bawl my eyes out. I just feel these feelings.
So how do I deal with all of this without drinking? To be honest, I am smoking a ton of weed, with kief on it, and putting shatter in my Puffco Peak Pros. I am determined not to let my fellow hard-drinking friend’s death be a reason for me to drink.
I practice “progress, not perfection.” I cannot achieve perfect “abstinence” from all my addictions. I can’t do that. On the contrary, I have learned that I am like the old-fashioned person balancing plates spinning on sticks from various parts of his body. One extra plate, and they have all come crashing down in the past. I ended up drinking. For me, alcohol leads to psychosis.
So, I use a lot of marijuana. I admit that I qualify as having extreme Cannabis Use Disorder, as defined by the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, Fifth Edition (DSM-V). You can call it a crutch. But if you see someone walking down the street on crutches, you walk up to them and tell them they must stop using them? Why would you tell me that? But smoking weed keeps me from drinking right now. I am okay with that.
The pharmaceutical industry has failed alcoholics. Only one thing works. Only one thing works on my Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Of course, I could just pop a Valium or a Klonopin, but would you instead I do that than smoke a doobie?
I must talk, talk, and talk some more. I am talking to my wife a lot, and we exchange very long hugs. I am calling friends and my brother. I am getting online with my sponsor and other friends, and yesterday I went to two meetings and spoke up. There is no substitute. Now is not the time for me to isolate myself.
I am “writing it out” and posting it on Medium.com. This channel has become a therapeutic tool for me. I tell parts of my life story at times. I give tips on how to cope. Yesterday, I was so sad I could not focus enough to write even a piece like this one, so I wrote up a case of police brutality for my non-profit, #BipolarLivesMatter™, and at least helped raise awareness on an important issue.
Sometimes, you just need to go for a drive. Yesterday, I drove for 90 minutes to pick up some hamburgers. I allowed myself to get lost on the way there. Anything to help distract me. What I need to do is turn my attention to someone else.
So, I sent a message to a friend who shared vulnerability at one of the meetings yesterday. I hope he responds, and I can just turn my attention to someone else. Two other close friends keep saying they are hoping for a miracle. It is driving me nuts. He’s never “coming back” at this point. I pray that once they unplug him, that death comes swiftly. I do not want him to suffer a slow and painful death. Their denial is bothering me. So, I told them as much.
If they want to talk to each other, that’s fine, but I won’t put up with it if they talk to me like that. I don’t need fantasies and denial. I am already at acceptance.
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