Navigating Loss and Grief in Sobriety

I never imagined I’d be writing this guide under these circumstances. Losing my mom unexpectedly cracked my world open in a way I wasn’t prepared for, even with 9 years of sobriety behind me. Grief has a way of humbling you. It strips things down to the essentials and forces you to meet yourself honestly, without the escape hatches you once relied on.

This guide isn’t about doing grief “right” or staying strong. It’s about staying sober when life feels unbearable. It’s about the very real moments where the urge to numb shows up, not because you want to drink, but because you’re exhausted, overwhelmed, and hurting.

If you’re reading this while navigating loss, stress, or a season that feels impossibly heavy, you are not alone. This is a practical guide to getting through the hardest days without reaching for alcohol, one day, one choice, one breath at a time.

Let’s make a pact together right now:
No matter how hard life gets, you don’t need to drink over it.
Not over grief.
Not over loss.
Not over stress.
Not over pain.

First things first, here’s what to expect…

You’re going to cry. A lot. Sometimes all day. Then suddenly you won’t cry at all, and you’ll wonder if something’s wrong. Then you’ll see a flower, hear a song, smell something familiar, and it’ll feel like someone turned a faucet on full blast.

The crying will be nonstop, then sporadic, then disappear, and then come roaring back. None of it will make sense. Don’t try to analyze it. Just ride it. This is grief. It doesn’t follow rules.

All the uncomfortable feelings at full send. You might feel rage and anger that the world is still turning and people are still living untouched, unscathed by what you are going through. It will feel lonely, you will feel foggy, or like you’re drowning. Then out of nowhere, you won’t feel anything at all, totally numb. Sometimes all in the same day. All of it is normal. Nothing about this means you’re doing it wrong.

The things no one tells you…

Aim for stability, not perfection
Your only job in the beginning is to stay sober and keep your system from crashing. Grief puts you in survival mode. Brain fog, anxiety spikes, low appetite, weird sleep, irritability, numbness, rage. All normal. Treat this like an acute stress season. You are not “failing.” Your nervous system is just overloaded.

Slow everything down
Rushing feels like relief, but it creates more stress, more mistakes, more expenses, and more regret. Slow is safe. If it doesn’t need to be decided today, it waits. If someone pressures you, saying, “I’ll come back to this,” is a complete sentence. Slowness isn’t avoidance. Slowness is containment.

Do your daily check-in
Every morning and or evening, ask:
Have I eaten something
Have I had water or electrolytes
Did I sleep at all
Have I connected with one safe person
If any answer is no, pay attention and awareness to that. In grief, cravings and overwhelm often mean your body is under-resourced. I noticed that when I started supporting my body, my mind doesn’t spiral (as much 😉)

Eat like it’s your damn job
Stress shuts down hunger cues and convinces you that food doesn’t matter. It does. You need fuel, or everything gets louder. Keep it simple and frequent. Soup, smoothies, toast, eggs, protein shakes, crackers, bananas. Small counts. If someone offers food, say yes. If you can’t cook, outsource. This is survival nourishment.

Protect sleep like medicine
Sleep is your number one resource. Without it, your thoughts distort, emotions spike, and the pull to numb gets super intense. Personally, I have been taking 5mg of Melatonin almost every night, and it’s been working miracles for me. I take it around 8:30 pm, then jump into bed, watch an episode and a half of Seinfield and I'm out like a light! No heavy processing at night. Alcohol will not fix sleep, it steals your coping capacity from tomorrow.

Build a nightly comfort ritual
You need a replacement for the “end of day” signal that alcohol used to give. Emotional-support sweat pants are my go-to after a long day. My new blanket, which my bestie Brett sent me, is a bonus layer. Some nights, a heating pad is mandatory. A little comfort that your body can trust. Replace the ritual, not just the substance.

Use NA drinks as a reward
In grief, I went back to early sobriety tools because extreme stress requires simple, proven strategies. Non-alcoholic drinks have been my go-to treat and a reward after hard days. A beautiful drink in a glass can mark “I made it through” and calm your nervous system without the fallout. I am all about soothing the system so we don’t have to white-knuckle it. Heres a list of my faves.

Let the feelings come
Grief comes with a full emotional range. Rage, sadness, anger, anxiety, fog, numbness, drowning. All natural. Some days you’ll have energy. Some days you’ll be drained. That doesn’t mean you’re going backward. It means grief is moving. You’re allowed to fall apart and still stay sober.

Stay out of the comparison zone
Everyone processes grief differently. Different nervous systems, different histories, different relationships. Comparing your inside to someone else’s outside adds shame and pressure to an already loaded situation. Do not give yourself a timeline. “I should be better by now” is not helpful. In fact, it’s kicking you when you are already down. Grief moves in waves, not straight lines. Your pace is your pace.

Watch for action, not words
People will talk a lot. What matters is who shows up in action. It will likely be fewer people than you hoped, and that can hurt, but I promise it’s not personal. You only need one or two safe humans who can truly be there. Let them. Let them bring food. Let them help with logistics. Let them sit with you. You are not supposed to do this alone.

Shrink your workload to the bare minimum
Grief plus sobriety is already a full-time job. Decide daily what actually needs to happen for you to stay sober and safe. Everything else becomes optional. Lower standards. Cancel non-essentials. Delegate. I promise you, you are not falling behind.

Treat cravings as information, not commands
Cravings in grief usually mean you’re exhausted, underfed, overwhelmed, or lonely. Before you panic, run the baseline check again. Then use a short regulation tool. Eat something. Get in your sweats. Make an NA drink. Delay the decision. Cravings rise and fall. You don’t have to obey them.

Remember the truth about alcohol
The urge to numb to get relief or sleep is real. I get it. But alcohol is not productive here. It robs you of the resources you need tomorrow. It increases anxiety, worsens sleep, and makes grief messier and longer. Sobriety doesn’t make grief easy. It makes it clean. It keeps you intact.