The subject of the following report requested the use of a pseudonym to protect the privacy of immediate family members.

Carly Jones loved her brother dearly, and still blames herself to some degree for losing him to a fatal heroin overdose just short of a year ago.

But like many immediate survivors of the opioid epidemic gripping Newtown, Connecticut, and the nation, she spent more than a few years walking a figurative tightrope between hopeful belief that he would find a way to beat his demons - and hopeless resignation that she would eventually get the call she never wanted to receive.

Shortly after learning of his death, Ms Jones began seeking professional support to help her process the colliding guilt, grief, and frustration she was feeling. She tried one-on-one counseling, but the fit between her and her therapist just was not quite right.

Then she began a quest to find a group setting where she could candidly discuss her situation among peers who may have had similar experiences.

"I was quite frustrated," she said. "I looked everywhere. The closest hospital offers bereavement groups, but those are for people whose loved ones died from cancer. I finally found one for overdose survivors in Westchester County [N.Y.], but that was almost an hour away."

Ms Jones said it is puzzling to her that while the state and local agencies seem to be putting so much energy toward education and prevention of opioid overdoses, that there still seems to be woefully few resources for those left behind when a loved one is lost to drugs.

Then she discovered that the Newtown Parent Connection hosted a once-a-month group for individuals like her, right in her own home town. But work demands have since prevented Ms Jones from making those first Wednesday of the month meetings.

This is a concern that Parent Connection founder Dorrie Carolan has been hearing more and more about. And now that the NPC has begun settling into its new permanent headquarters on Washington Circle in Fairfield Hills, she is poised to launch a second monthly group, possibly as soon as December.

"I understand the once a month meeting has had five or six people attending for quite some time," she told The Newtown Bee. "But I understand this week that attendance jumped to 11 or 12, so there seems to be justification to add another survivors group sooner than later."

More Groups Planned

Ms Carolan said that besides potentially adding a second support group for overdose victims' survivors, she is also starting a second Hope & Support Group for parents of children affected by substance use/abuse in Fairfield next month, as well as a sibling support group in Newtown come January.

"Now that we are set up at our new office, we can begin expanding the level of support that the community is calling for," Ms Carolan said. "Now we're getting calls to begin expanding our groups in other communities. We have really been lucky to have expert facilitators, and we know that attendees have noted progress in as little as a few months after coming in to their first session."

Even today, more than 11 months after getting "the call," Ms Jones still cannot bring herself to classify her brother as a drug addict - something Ms Carolan accepts as a norm for those who are left behind to cope with their loss.

"I remember one time my dad caught him in his room with a bag of pills he was prescribed for anxiety and depression," Ms Jones said. "And he had a big roll of cash, so we knew he was selling his own prescriptions. He also had a couple of DUIs. But he was never the kind of addict who would resort to stealing from his own family."

Ms Jones suspects that her brother long suffered from a mental health issue, and took to supplementing prescriptions he had started taking as a preteen, self-medicating with alcohol and increasingly more potent and addictive substances.

"From a young age they put him on strong medication for a health-related issue he suffered from," she explained. "And he just never caught a break. He never thought he was good looking, or he thought he was stupid because he had a slight learning disability. I remember in high school, he would just stay at home and sleep all day."

Still, she was shocked to learn the eventual cause of his death was from a combination of alcohol and heroin.

"I really don't think he had ever done that. We were very open about the stuff he was doing, but he was also very naive. So I'm afraid he thought he was getting cocaine, but ended up snorting heroin instead," she said.

After her brother's body was discovered, she was able to determine exactly where he got the drugs by accessing his cellphone text messages.

"Going through the phone that week was really tough," she said. "It was just a continuous search for any kind of pills he could get. I'm afraid he was a very tortured soul."

The Ultimate Guilt

Ms Jones said her ultimate guilt is likely rooted in not being able to take her brother in when he needed a place to go, but her own personal living situation at the time made it impossible to accommodate her brother's request.

"That guilt just doesn't go away," she said, breaking into tears. "I guess crying is better than keeping it in. I have to live with the fact that he asked to come visit, but I had so much going on in my life at that moment, I just couldn't do it."

But she said other immediate family members are still in denial that her brother had anything to do with illegal drugs.

Ms Carolan said that represents half of the parents who contact her - either for help when a child is spiraling out of control, or like with Ms Jones, after they lose their loved one.

"That's why we need to have more groups," Ms Carolan said. "Even though it's difficult to get people to come out. So many people who lose a family member go through a period of time where they don't want to talk to anybody. They're under so much self-imposed guilt and shame. But I see so many people who have come out and they walk away with ideas from the group to help them cope.

"As far as I'm concerned, I don't know if I'll ever get over the hurt," said Ms Carolan, who lost her eldest son, Brian, who became addicted and subsequently died at age 28 of a prescription drug overdose.

For Ms Jones, the journey toward healing started earlier this month with her first visit to the Parent Connection's support group.

"Yes, I finally made it last week and it helped me more than any therapy I had attended this year," she said.

The Parent Connection's Bereavement Support Group meets the first Wednesday of each month from 7 to 8:30 pm, 2-4 Washington Square, Fairfield Hills.

To learn more about the NPC, call 203-994-5394, or visit newtownparentconnection.org.

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