I’ve been thinking a lot about the way we look at addiction, especially when it comes to people who’ve gone through a lot of trauma. In small towns like Scottsbluff, it’s easy for people to say things like “they were just lonely” or “they made bad choices.” But the reality is deeper than that.

When someone has endured adverse childhood experiences, it actually changes their brain. Chronic stress activates the body’s stress system (the hypothalamic–pituitary–adrenal axis) and keeps cortisol high【6†source】. Over time this can shrink areas like the hippocampus and prefrontal cortex【6†source】—regions that help us regulate emotions and make decisions. In other words, trauma rewires the very circuits that allow us to cope.

That’s why saying “just make better choices” misses the mark. When the reward system is starved of dopamine, drugs or alcohol feel like the only relief. The chronic stress paper notes that individual differences—like genetics, trauma history and coping styles—affect how vulnerable we are to stress and depression【6†source】. Many of our neighbors grew up without safety nets, in homes filled with stress and grief. Their addictions are not moral failures; they are adaptations to a brain that’s been forced into survival mode.

When someone’s addiction takes their life, the response is often dismissive: “They were always playing with fire.” This attitude ignores the pain and complexity of addiction. It reduces a person—someone loved and important—to a series of choices, ignoring the suffering, the battles they faced, and the systems that failed them. It’s a cold, shallow response to something that deserves understanding, empathy and respect.

Addiction is not a simple path, and it’s heartbreaking to see people dismiss it, especially when it’s taking fathers, brothers, sons—people who matter deeply. The drugs, the alcohol, the gambling aren’t the problem; they’re the solution people find when their dopamine systems are depleted. They might not be an effective solution, but that’s what they are.

It’s not about being sad or feeling weak—it’s that their brain literally runs out of dopamine. Trauma rewires the brain and makes it feel impossible to find joy or relief, no matter what they do. When people turn to substances, it’s because—for a moment—those things bring them some kind of peace or comfort, even if it’s just temporary. The rumination research shows how emotional brain regions like the limbic system flood us with feelings and the orbitofrontal cortex tries to make sense of them, creating loops that are hard to break【7†source】. That loop isn’t a choice; it’s a physiological trap.

People often miss this. They look at addiction and suicide as personal failures when really, they are responses to years of struggle and to brains trying to cope. I’m sick of losing people. I want a world where we see each other’s pain and stop judging, where we help each other rather than push each other away. In Scottsbluff, where resources are scarce, understanding the science behind addiction can help us hold more compassion for our neighbors and family.