the true ugly is not addiction

more people die from drug overdoses and mental health issues than from car crashes or gun violence combined, yet the conversation is muted. addiction is one of the most isolating experiences a person can endure—not just because of what it does to the mind and body, but because of how the world responds to it. It’s often framed as a moral failing, as if self-destruction is inevitable. This narrative ignores the deep, often silent battles that people face. we live in a society that is quick to assign blame and slow to ask why. when someone falls into addiction, the first instinct is often to question their character: what did they do wrong? why couldn’t they just stop? but rarely do we ask: what happened to them? what pain were they carrying? what systems failed to catch them when they were slipping? so many who turn to drugs aren’t chasing a high—they're trying to escape something unbearable. trauma, loneliness, mental illness, poverty, abuse, invisibility. for some, it’s all of these at once. and yet we treat the person using as the problem, rather than asking what problems shaped their need to numb themselves in the first place. the loss of anyone with immense residual affect to our lives is difficult. even moreso, at leat in my mind when you know that they battled against the extremities of addiction. my brother was more than his fate. though the conversation will always depict the addict as one of violence, to be feared, and to stay clear from, he was and will forever be one of the coolest, most loving, vibrant souls i knew and will ever know. incredible humor, big heart, strong mind. music and fashion recommendations? he was your guy. albeit i’m biased, but he’s the greatest older brother a girl can have. but while he was this celebrity on a podium in my mind, i hadn’t known the demons he faced in private. mental illness, though it’s growing occurrence is matched with immense awareness, it is shocking how easily hidden it can be. in fact, the cruelty lies in how invisible the suffering becomes. even worse, it’s almost as though society wants it to be kept quiet, while walking around with the idea that all problems are solved because they practice monthly or annual “wellness seminars”. there is a kind of sadness that hangs over addiction that few people see unless they’ve lived close to it—the sadness of watching someone you love be reduced to their worst days, of seeing them judged not for their strength or their spirit, but for the single part of their life they couldn’t escape. the world is rarely kind to those who struggle. society tends to turn its back, offering punishment instead of help, shame instead of compassion. and for the person going through it, the shame can be unbearable. they may already feel broken, ashamed, lost—only to be met with a world that confirms their worst fears about themselves. even surrounded in the best of environments, my brother still feared being weak in the eyes of those he worked so hard to prove himself to. and in the end, as you can guess, instead of speaking on his soul and the strength he equipped, the conversation was focused on this “wrong-doing” and weakness that he had feared showing in the first place. we should be furious at how normalized that response has become. at how easily people turn away from addiction without ever trying to understand it. we need to stop pretending this is a moral issue. it’s not about willpower or weakness. it’s about untreated pain. it’s about being crushed under the weight of something and having nowhere else to turn. that’s what’s so devastating—not just the addiction itself, but how alone people are in it. and when someone dies from it, we’re left grieving a person we knew in all their fullness, while the world reduces them to a cause of death. that loss, that erasure—it’s almost too much to carry. the true ugly is not addiction.

-candidly yours