“I often think of addiction and alcohol as 2 best friends trying to out – do each other and one cannot be without the other, it’s a perpetuating circle of the more you consume the worse mental health gets, then you consume even more to dull the dark and noisy thoughts whirling inside your head.”
An Idyllic Childhood
They often say the brightest smile hides the deepest sorrow and that couldn’t be truer in my younger brother’s case, he was my best friend and was so deeply loved by everyone who knew him. He was funny, endlessly kind and one of life’s greatest characters.
I miss him deeply but I want to share his story, not only because it illustrates how complex mental health is but also to honour the man he was, before his inner demons took control, and during his ongoing battle of course.
We had an idyllic childhood, a large loving family with loads of family get togethers, we wanted for nothing and our parents were simply wonderful! I’ve so many cherished memories of him.
“He started drinking, probably to cope but it went under the radar…”
At the tender age of 19 he lost one of his best friends to suicide and really struggled to understand the enormity of why? He struggled with guilt that he’d not recognised the signs or was able to stop it, it came out of the blue on Christmas Eve and it had a profound impact on him understandably.
Attending the funeral on a freezing January morning with 500 mourners, half of which were aged 19 and early 20’s is unfathomable but it happened and I think it may have been the catalyst to my brother’s issues.
He started drinking, probably to cope but it went under the radar, it wasn’t significant enough to notice but retrospectively there were signs.
He married very young, he was genuinely in love but in hindsight it wasn’t the perfect match he’d hoped it to be and there were problems there that he had to deal with, it was only much, much later in life that he confessed his unhappiness.
He had a brilliant career but it was high pressured, he strived to be the best and have the best of everything, he travelled a fair bit overseas, earned phenomenal money and to anyone looking in he really looked like he had everything, the grand house, stay at home wife, 2 kids and a dog… the perfect life, but appearances are truly deceptive.
He was battling alcohol and was by now an addict, he hid it very well – too well but his wife knew and she reached out to me on many, many occasions at her wits end not knowing what to do. At one point I even told her to leave him because I truly think it might have been the wake up call he needed.
“I often think of addiction and alcohol as 2 best friends..”
Finally he agreed to get help and admitted he was really struggling, he got accepted into The Priory Clinic and our relief was palpable.
But sadly he didn’t go, he decided that he could do this himself with self help books and he was adamant he’d beat it. I think the stigma and perhaps his perceived embarrassment of ‘what will people think’ factored into his decision.
Anyone who knows anything about alcohol addiction will understand it’s rare to beat it without help, and so his addiction got worse, as did his mental health.
I often think of addiction and alcohol as 2 best friends trying to out – do each other and one cannot be without the other, it’s a perpetuating circle of the more you consume the worse mental health gets, then you consume even more to dull the dark and noisy thoughts whirling inside your head.
There are many highs and deepest lows to my brother’s story but the biggest thing that stands out to me is just how well he hid it, he masked his issues with a happy smile and engaging personality, throwing people off the scent at just how much he was struggling.
Since our dad had passed away when we were 27 and 29 I think he took it upon himself to be the ‘man’ of the family and the ‘strong’ dependable one, and perhaps he saw it as a weakness to admit he was suffering so badly? I’ll never know now and that’s really hard.
It’s so common for men in particular to feel shame around mental health, of feeling a failure if they ask for help and admit they are struggling – but my goodness, to me it’s the bravest thing on earth to be able to speak up and say ‘I’m struggling’ and seek help, I applaud those who do and encourage anyone to just reach out and talk to someone and ask for support, it’s most definitely NOT a weakness, it’s brave, it’s strong and very courageous.
“This kind, funny, gorgeous man, this wonderful dad to 2 amazing kids lost his battle with addiction …”
And that’s where my brother’s downfall began, he didn’t speak up because he felt too ashamed, he didn’t even tell me – his big sister and that’s heartbreaking that he went through this alone.
Alone except for the alcohol of course, and by the time we realised just how bad his situation was it was far too late. This kind, funny, gorgeous man, this wonderful dad to 2 amazing kids lost his battle with addiction and died far too young, he didn’t get to see his beautiful granddaughter who’s now 4, she’s so sassy like her mum, I know he’d have absolutely adored her, and without question she would have idolised him!
Grief Is Like Glitter
Grief isn’t linear it’s like glitter. In the beginning, it’s everywhere… on your hands, in your hair, scattered across every corner of your life.
You try to clean it up, to restore some sense of order. For a while, it seems like you’ve adapted. But then, one day, you move the couch or open a drawer, and there it is again.
A tiny sparkle that catches the light and reminds you of what you lost and the grief engulfs you again.
“That’s the quiet truth about grief. It stays with you, but it changes…”
It doesn’t go away completely. It settles, becomes quieter, less overwhelming. You learn to live with it, to carry it with you gently. And years later, when you find a bit of that glitter tucked behind a shelf, you might smile, Maybe even laugh because it reminds you of love, of connection, of someone who mattered so much.
Eventually, something will catch your eye.. a photo, a favorite song, a familiar scent, and instead of pain, you’ll feel warmth. That’s the quiet truth about grief. It stays with you, but it changes. It becomes a part of your story, a soft echo of the love that never really left.
Please speak up, don’t hide. You have no idea just how much you matter to people, truly.