When the Music Breaks Your Heart: Addiction, Loss, and Sobriety

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Music as a Soundtrack to Life

Music has always been more than just sound to me—it’s been a lifeline, a friend, and at times, an escape. It’s the backdrop to some of my best memories and some of my hardest lessons. But when I think about how many artists I admired lost their lives to addiction, mental health struggles, or both, it’s heartbreaking.

From Mac Miller to Eminem’s reflections on Juice WRLD, their music helped me navigate dark times, yet their stories are a reminder of the devastation addiction leaves behind. This blog isn’t just about mourning those artists—it’s about reflecting on how music shaped my life, both in addiction and sobriety, and how I’m finding a way to turn heartbreak into hope.

The Heartbreak of Losing Artists

The first artist to truly break my heart was Mac Miller. His creativity, vulnerability, and struggles felt so real to me, like he was speaking directly to my own chaos. Losing him felt personal, like losing a close friend. Then there was Chester Bennington of Linkin Park—his voice helped me scream through my darkest moments as a teen. When he died, it felt like the world lost a voice for the broken.

But the heartbreak didn’t stop there. Juice WRLD, Big Scarr, Gangsta Boo, and Lord Infamous were also huge losses. Gangsta Boo’s passing from a fentanyl and cocaine overdose and Lord Infamous’s drug-induced heart attack were wake-up calls. These artists were part of my upbringing—soundtracks to late nights, parties, and wild adventures. Losing them felt like losing a piece of myself.

Hearing Eminem speak about Juice WRLD on his album hit me hard. Eminem is another artist who shaped my life. I’ll admit, I loved his music more when he was still struggling—it had a rawness that connected deeply with my own pain. But I also respect his journey of sobriety, and his reflections on addiction have inspired me to keep moving forward.

For an older generation, these losses are no less familiar. Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Jim Morrison—icons of their time—were all lost to addiction. Jazz legends like Billie Holiday and Charlie Parker struggled with heroin and alcohol. Even Elvis Presley, a music pioneer, fell victim to the grip of prescription drugs. Addiction doesn’t discriminate; it takes legends, pioneers, and creatives alike.

The Role of Addiction in Music

It’s hard not to wonder: do drugs fuel creativity? For decades, the music industry has been riddled with addiction, often glamorized or ignored. Artists like Rick Ross glorify destructive behaviors in their lyrics, but for me, that’s a line I can’t support anymore. On the other hand, artists like Redzed capture the raw reality of addiction and mental health, helping people like me feel seen.

But the cost is undeniable. Lean is killing people. Fentanyl is in everything. And countless lives—like Whitney Houston, Amy Winehouse, and Rich Homie Quan—have been cut short. I even experimented with lean myself, but luckily, it wasn’t for me. If I had liked it, I know I wouldn’t be here today.

I even used to hustle molly, though I don’t want to incriminate myself. I still carry guilt over a friend who became addicted because of it. Those are mistakes I live with, and they remind me daily why I chose a different path.

Eminem’s reflections on his struggles with addiction remind me that survival is possible, even after years of self-destruction. It’s not just about creativity anymore; it’s about survival. It’s time to stop glamorizing addiction and start addressing the devastation it leaves behind.

Concert Highs and Hard Lessons

Some of my wildest memories happened at concerts. I remember seeing Danny Brown live, his shows an intense blur of molly and cocaine—it was like the whole crowd was swept into the same high. I smoked at an A$AP Rocky and Schoolboy Q concert, felt the bass at EarthGang’s show, and got a contact high at a Wiz Khalifa concert while on probation.

But the fun had its costs. After leaving a Breaking Benjamin concert at Atlanta’s old Masquerade, I got pulled over while riding with a friend I grew up with. I was giving him another chance, but he had an undisclosed gun, weed, and expired tags. Somehow, I was the only one not arrested that night. That moment taught me an important lesson—watch who you get in the car with, or who you surround yourself with.

Other nights were unforgettable in their own way. I had a blast being part of Davido’s entourage, being treated like VIP, riding in luxurious vehicles, and experiencing the night like a star. It felt like living a dream. But even then, some nights crossed the line. I blacked out after one of those nights and woke up needing a chiropractor for a slipped disc.

And yet, there were moments of pure bliss. Seeing Excision live while rolling on pure molly from someone who personally knew the cook was unforgettable. But these fleeting highs never gave me peace—they only left me with regret.

Sobriety and Rediscovering Music

Since getting sober, my relationship with music has changed. Heavy metal has always been a part of my life, but now I’ve gotten deeper into it and discovered even more artists. The intensity helps me vent in ways nothing else can. R&B lifts my spirits, lo-fi keeps me calm, and jazz—something I never liked before—has been a surprising gift.

Jazz now connects me to my grandfather, who lived in Georgia and loved jazz before he passed away. There’s something healing about sitting with those sounds, knowing he would have listened to something similar. It’s a connection to him that I didn’t expect to find in sobriety.

Some artists, however, no longer fit in my playlist. I’ve stopped listening to Rick Ross entirely. His music glamorizes a lifestyle I’ve worked hard to leave behind. Letting go of certain artists isn’t easy, especially when their music is tied to old memories, but it’s necessary for my growth.

What inspires me most now is creating. I plan to record my own music—a song about my journey, my struggles, and my victories. I want it to be raw, real, and relatable, something that can inspire anyone fighting their own demons.

Turning Heartbreak Into Hope

The deaths of my favorite artists taught me hard lessons about addiction and its consequences. But they also showed me the power of music to connect, to heal, and to inspire change. From Jimi Hendrix to Mac Miller to Eminem’s reflections, their legacies live on in the way their music touched lives, even as we mourn their losses.

As a fan, as an artist, and as someone in recovery, I want to honor their memory by spreading a message of hope. Addiction doesn’t have to be the end of the story. It’s time to stop glamorizing the highs, stop the needless deaths, and start building a community where creativity and recovery can coexist.

Music saved me, and now I want to use it to save others.

Disclaimer

This blog reflects personal experiences and opinions. If you or someone you know is struggling with addiction, reach out for help. Recovery is possible, and support is available. Visit FaceThyFear.com for resources and community support.