Reflections on Grief and Drinking Culture

If you’re anything like me, last week’s social media was flooded with reactions to the tragic killing of Charlie Kirk. The emotional temperature is rising, and it’s palpable.

This surge of feelings comes from all sides: those who admired him, those who opposed him, and even people who didn’t follow him but are concerned about the state of conversation in our nation.

The feelings we experience in response to such atrocities can feel pointless if we let them defeat us.

I stumbled upon a post suggesting how to cope with the emotional turmoil following such events. I found myself infuriated. “What should you do?” it asked. And, honestly, I doubt Charlie would support this approach.

What’s the recommendation?

Grab a drink. “Pour one out” for Charlie—our culture’s way of suggesting a toast for a departed friend.

Perhaps you’ve seen similar posts. We live in a society that seems to find any reason to indulge in drinking, almost as if alcohol is the go-to remedy for tragedy. It conveys the message that drowning our sorrows is not just common, but, perhaps, the most accepted way to handle grief, pain, or sadness.

• Did your candidate lose? Drink.
• Feeling stressed at work? Drink.
• Is there family trouble? Drink.
• Your team lost the big game? Drink.
• Kids driving you crazy? Time for a serious drink!

When respected voices are violently taken from us in broad daylight, our culture seems more inclined to point us toward more drinking rather than encouraging us to sit in our pain, confusion, or any honest emotion we feel.

The strange part is that, according to recent reports, drinking rates are at historic lows. Yet, we’re still conditioned to think drinking is the right, even necessary, response to unpleasant emotions.

Trust me, I can relate.

Hitting Rock Bottom

Once, during a particularly tough period in my life, I found myself turning to alcohol as a way to process my feelings. I was caught in a cycle of avoidance, pushing down those unpleasant emotions instead. For a year and a half, my nights became a blur of drinking, solitude, and self-reflection that often ended with me thinking, “What’s happened to my life?”

Having a drink in response to Charlie’s murder doesn’t automatically label you an alcoholic. But I wish someone had told me that trying to drink away difficult emotions could lead me down a dark path.

Charlie’s Perspective

I believe Charlie understood this too.

In one of his videos, he remarked, “The top performers I’ve seen all tend to steer clear of alcohol and other substances. They claim it enhances their performance, clarity, memory, and overall energy.”

He observed, “Often, those who drink the most are hiding something.” It’s a sobering thought, right?

Finding Purpose in Pain

If Charlie’s murder resonates with you, don’t bury that pain. Please don’t. Ignoring it could lead to far worse outcomes.

Ultimately, the emotions we experience in response to tragedies should not be ignored or submerged in alcohol. They’re worthwhile; they can encourage action and positive change. Give those feelings a name, don’t let them paralyze you. Let them guide you toward something meaningful.

Charlie recognized that there are much better outlets for processing complicated feelings. I may not have known him personally, but everything I’ve learned about him suggests he would have encouraged us to take those feelings to the ultimate healer—Jesus. Yet, whatever you choose to do, I can confidently say this: pouring a drink for him wouldn’t be his wish.

Or maybe that’s exactly what he would have wanted. Just put it down. Don’t pour it out. Do better instead.