When Grief Motivates you to Stay Sober

I want to share something I wrote in my journal back in 2019. It was during a really tough moment in my sober journey, and reading it now, I realise just how much the grief not only tested my sobriety but also motivated it.

Journal Entry - 2019

Today, I really want a drink. It’s the first time since I started this sober journey that I’ve felt a craving so strong, it feels like a physical pull. I want to forget. I want alcohol to drown out this deep sadness that’s sitting inside me. I spent so much energy preparing for social situations without alcohol, but I completely forgot how powerful the urge can be when the pain is coming from within—when you just want something to take it away.

I had just hung up the phone, and the shock hit me like a wave. Memories I thought were buried suddenly felt like they happened yesterday. It’s been two days since I heard those heartbreaking words, and I still feel numb. I can’t believe this is real. I never wanted this for you; I always hoped you’d find happiness. I spent so many years trying to stop loving you, to move on, and now all those feelings are back, overwhelming me. I can’t stop thinking about you—your touch, your laugh, the way you used to look at me. I’m left questioning everything, trying to make sense of why you would do this.

I can’t help but analyze every moment we shared, trying to piece together where things went wrong. We partied hard back then, and I wonder if the drugs and alcohol were what ruined us. They made the highs intoxicating, but the lows were destructive. When things were good, they were amazing—like, “we could take on the world” kind of good. But when things went south, it was like a wrecking ball for both of us. We tried so hard to make it work, but we kept repeating the same patterns, never really breaking free of that cycle.

Right now, all I want to do is walk into a bar and have a drink, just to numb the pain for a few minutes. Seeing your name on the funeral service list feels like a punch to the gut—I’m still shaking. I want to reach out to you and say everything I didn’t say when we last spoke two years ago. I kept my distance back then, trying to protect myself, but I know I left you feeling hurt. I’m so sorry. Now all I can think about is how I wish I could have helped you, fixed things between us. We once had dreams—traveling, starting a family, growing old together. It never crossed my mind that I’d lose the chance to see you again.

When I started this alcohol-free journey, it was all about learning how to connect with others sober, finding joy without needing a drink. But now, it’s about so much more. Losing you has forced me to confront the way substances have impacted my life and the lives of those I care about. I’m committing to this path because I never want to end up in a place where I might even consider a similar choice. There are so many reasons why people make that decision, but I know that alcohol and drugs can distort our thoughts and strip away our chances of finding real happiness.

This is for you, Sam. You’ll always be in my heart, and your memory will stay with me. Rest in peace.