Fentanyl is taking too many lives

The other day, I was browsing my LinkedIn feed and came across an illustration that caught my eye. There were three glass jars, all the same size, each containing a black ball. The first jar’s ball filled the jar. The second jar’s ball was smaller, and the third was tiny. A caption read, “People tend to believe that grief shrinks over time.”

Underneath was another set of jars, increasing from small to large. This time the balls were the same size, filling the first jar entirely, and as the jars grew larger, it was as if the jar was growing around the ball. The caption read, “What really happens is that we grow around our grief.”

Grief is universal. Some grieve when a favorite restaurant closes, while others mourn a pet or a relationship. But what about a parent grieving the loss of a child? As a father of two daughters, I can’t fathom losing one of them. The thought gives me a pit in my stomach. I can only imagine the pain becoming part of me, like an organ or an appendage.

In theory, I agree with the illustration’s message. It offers context to the unfathomable. But what if your child were murdered? Would that change things? What if the murder were preventable? I hope to never find out. Unfortunately, it’s a reality for many families, especially because of fentanyl.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve heard of fentanyl. Most likely, you know someone who has died from it or has been affected in some way. Kids are dying, and families are being torn apart. You might be mistaken if you think it’s not happening in your neighborhood.

Many associate overdoses with rock stars or homeless junkies, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Your child doesn’t need to be a drug addict to die from fentanyl poisoning — it’s everywhere. Complacency is fentanyl’s greatest ally. It’s being found in drugs like marijuana. Unless drugs are prescribed by a doctor or come from a reputable dispensary, you’re playing Russian roulette.

Consider that scene in “The Deer Hunter”: Your child is Christopher Walken, the gun he’s holding to his head is the party your child is attending, and the lone bullet is that Xanax laced with fentanyl that they’re trying for the first time.

Here are some sobering facts from the CDC:

Fentanyl is 50 to 100 times stronger than morphine.
In 2022, it caused more than 73,800 preventable deaths.

Accidental overdose is now the second-leading cause of death among young people.

In Texas, law enforcement has seized over 505 million lethal doses of fentanyl. That’s enough to kill every person in the U.S.

It’s simple math: Fentanyl = death.

In my profession, I facilitate free Narcan training. Narcan reverses opioid overdoses. It saves lives.

People often ask, “Why would a drug dealer want to kill their clients?” The answer is simple: fentanyl is cheap and highly addictive. That translates to higher profits and return customers: high risk but high reward.

In my almost 15 years of recovery, I’ve attended too many wakes and funerals for kids and adults. There’s an expression in recovery: Sometimes you have to step over the bodies. That should be reserved for battlefields, yet we live on a battlefield where fentanyl is a weapon of mass destruction.

I serve on a Community Prevention Coalition working to educate our kids about the dangers of drugs and alcohol. It includes school administrators, social workers, police officers, local merchants, and parents who have lost loved ones to fentanyl. We focus on combating the spread of this deadly drug through our communities.

Grief shouldn’t be part of a parent’s job description, yet it often is. While it’s impossible to avoid all grief, we can reduce the chances of preventable loss. We must act to effect change.

You don’t have to be a crusader, but sitting on our hands isn’t an option. We can spread awareness to prevent more fentanyl poisonings.

A mentor once told me, “If you’re not part of the solution, then you’re part of the problem.” Here’s the call to action: Join your local community coalition. Get trained to administer Narcan.

Talk to your kids about substance dangers. Write to local officials about their plans for the opioid crisis, and consult professionals about prevention strategies.

Pick one action, and you’ll be part of the solution. A community that works together always wins.

Jason Mayo is a certified recovery peer advocate at a nonprofit community recovery and outreach center on Long Island. He is a contributing writer for The Sober Curator, has written for the Forbes Business Council and is the author of the children’s books “Do Witches Make Fishes?” and “The Boy and the Billy Goat.”