Grief has a way of exposing the tender, unguarded places within us; those hidden chambers of yearning, fear, and emotional ache that we often try to manage alone. Many imagine addiction as an issue only for “others,” yet when we consider it through a grief-informed lens, we discover something profoundly humbling: addiction is often a grief response disguised as survival.

In my work as a grief companion, I’ve learned that people do not simply chase substances, behaviors, or patterns, they chase relief. Relief from sorrow, from childhood wounds, from the ache of unmet needs, from loneliness that feels like an emotional famine. Addiction becomes the place where pain hides and where the heart tries, often desperately, to breathe again.

Grief and the Search for Soothing

The ACE (Adverse Childhood Experiences) study shows us that early emotional wounds leave deep imprints that follow people into adulthood. Trauma interrupts the natural formation of emotional maturity. What begins as survival becomes identity.

Some soothe with substances. Some with achievement. Some with perfectionism or people-pleasing.
Some with work. Some with emotional withdrawal.

And many do so without ever naming the original grief that birthed their coping in the first place.

As David Seamands poignantly writes, “damaged emotions” do not disappear, they seek relief, and often in ways that mimic addiction. Henri Nouwen calls these the “dark corners of the heart,” where we hide what hurts most and reach for whatever silences the ache.

From a grief counselor’s standpoint, addiction is not about weakness, it is about wounding. It is about the ways sorrow manifests when it has not been witnessed, honored, or held with compassion.

When Pain and Pleasure Become Teachers

Addiction often begins when pain meets temporary pleasure. For a moment, the ache is quiet. The world softens. The burden lifts. But as grief compounds and consequences grow, the relief fades faster and the pain returns louder.

For someone living with chronic emotional pain, even a small measure of pleasure can feel like oxygen. The pursuit is not wickedness, it is longing. It is the heart saying, “I cannot carry this alone.”

This is where grief companionship matters.

The Ministry of Presence

Grief work does not begin with solutions. It begins with presence, the healing gift of a non-anxious, attuned companion who bears witness to another’s pain.

Addiction isolates. Grief isolates. Shame isolates.

Presence interrupts the isolation.

In pastoral companionship, we sit with the aching, not to rush their healing, but to remind them that they are not alone in the dark. We help them name the grief beneath the behavior. We honor the lament. We invite the heart to mature where it once froze. And we do so gently, knowing transformation cannot be forced, it can only be welcomed.

Prayer as Breath for the Weary

Prayer becomes the sacred space where fractured hearts reconnect to God’s steadying love. It regulates the storm inside, softens shame, and restores hope.

Prayer does not replace therapy, recovery work, or medical care, but it infuses the journey with divine companionship. It reminds the grieving and the addicted alike: You are loved. You are seen. You are not abandoned in your struggle.

Where Healing Begins

Healing begins when grief is spoken. When presence replaces isolation. When prayer softens shame. When the child within is allowed to grow. When the adult is gently invited into truth.

Addiction loosens its grip when sorrow finally has somewhere safe to go.

As grief companions, this is our calling: to walk with others until their pain becomes a place of meeting rather than hiding, a place of transformation rather than shame, a place where hope breathes again.

Ze Selassie B.A., Dip. Min. (Chaplain) Christian Leaders Alliance
MA Candidate, Christian Counseling
Ordained Minister & Grief Companion
Vision International University

My destination is a place that requires a new way of being.
www.linkedIn.com