Sometimes your darkest moments don’t break you — they expose you. I learned that the hard way. In 2013, I lost my father. Flew across the world on a moment’s notice, straight into that reality. No time to process it. No buffer. Just… impact. And it fucked me up. What came after wasn’t just grief. It was months — years — of depression, addiction, and heaviness that I couldn’t shake. But here’s the part most people won’t say out loud: Yeah, I missed him… but I was also feeling sorry for myself. I was stuck in this loop of wishing things played out differently. Wishing he was still there. Wishing reality wasn’t what it was. And because I couldn’t accept it… I tried to escape it. That’s where the self-medication came in. Not because I was weak — but because I was resisting something I couldn’t change. And that resistance? That’s what was actually keeping me trapped. Not the loss. The refusal to accept the loss. That’s the part people don’t want to hear. You can grieve someon...