In the past weeks, I have been talking a lot with my clients about the "Stage of Relapse". Basically, it's all about watching for the warning signs and knowing what we need to do when these things pop up in our lives. I have been through the stages of relapse pretty much every year of my recovery. The three stages are: Emotional Relapse, Mental Relapse and Physical Relapse. The only stage of relapse I haven't hit was the physical. The emotional relapse is the hardest to identify. Things are off, behaviors are subtly changing and recovery becomes less and less of a priority. The mental relapse is a little more obvious if you know what you are watching for. For me, I find myself justifying and glorifying old use. In the AA world, we call it "stinkin' thinkin'". It's true. That is exactly what it is. Fortunately, as I have moved through the last several years of recovery, these thoughts are brief and it takes all of 60 seconds for me to move forward. As a person walks through these phases of relapse, if we don't do something to stop it, we are at high risk for using again. 

Based on my experience last night at the Seether concert, i have been thinking today about the Phases of Recovery. Is there still a "phase" at year 7? As I reflect about this time 7 years ago, I was not totally ready for recovery, but I knew something had to change. In a way, I would say that my recovery began in the fall of 2009. Phase 1: Still using, still wanting something to change. I had just started at the U of Minnesota in the Transplant Center. It was the total dream job. During my first week of orientation, I followed a liver transplant patient through his evaluation. I introduced myself to him and asked if I could have his permission to follow him through his evaluation. He told me to have a seat and "let's do this." He told me about his story. He had been an alcoholic for over 20 years. His liver was now trashed and the only way to save his life was to get a transplant. I watched his conversations with the nurses and the doctors. I was totally convinced for the first couple of months there that I was dying from liver failure. 

I was then due for my annual physical. I always freaked out at this appointment. I was pretty sure this was the year that I was going to find out that my liver was toast. Not once in 15 years did I ever had elevated liver enzymes until I was admitted to detox in February 2010. Anyway, I went to this appointment in the fall of 2009. I worked up the courage to tell my doctor at the time that I was drinking 1/2-1 liter of hard liquor a day. Her response to me "Ok. I will add alcohol abuse to your chart. Do you need anything else?" Well, she wasn't concerned, so my little addict brain said...."WHOO HOO! Let's keep this going!" And....that's what I did. 

In January 2010, my schedule required that I take a call for a period of 24 hours on Sundays. I worked a 12 hour overnight on Saturday and worked through the following Monday at 7am. I worked one week on and one week off - 12 hour shifts. In the beginning I could get through without a drink in between shifts and get through those 24 hours. Those days were terribly miserable, but I could do it. In that month, it was the first time that I couldn't do it anymore. I started drinking in between shifts and I started drinking during that 24 hours of on call. I knew this was going down quickly. February 8th, 2010, I entered detox. I begged for treatment. I got what I wanted. 

I absorbed everything that I could from treatment. I got a temporary sponsor, I was attending all meetings available in treatment and I attended every single group. I was the star of treatment. I did work, I saw mental health. I did everything they told me to do. I read the Big Book. In my mind, I was thinking that maybe I could or maybe I couldn't. In 60 days, I was back at it. I still consider myself in the same period of recovery. 

​I don't really think I moved from abstinent into recovery until 2011. The first year of recovery was pretty rough. I struggled to figure out who I was. I was angry - all the time. I was attending meetings, sometimes taking a few words of wisdom with me. Some days I felt like I was different. Some days I realized that I am no different than any other person who has addiction. After year 1, I think I finally started to get it. I was feeling motivated to do something. I was thinking clearly again. I wasn't thinking about drinking every day. I had other focuses in life. Phase 2: Maintenance. Keep doing what I am doing and my destiny in recovery will be clear.

Phase 3: Seeking Purpose. I spent so many years doing absolutely nothing. I did graduate from college. I graduated from nursing school. I was employed continuously. I had a home and paid my bills. Yet, I had no sense of self. The persona that I had developed over the years was centered around my drinking and my ability to do so. I was the party person. It was all so empty. Now, I had been sobered for 2 years, I needed something moving forward. I was generally OK with my job. I also knew that I had hit the top of my career as an LPN unless I went back to school to get my RN. I told myself long before I started in recovery that I wanted to get my masters degree before the age of 40. Well? Now I am sober, why the heck not? Let's apply. I had also decided when I was first in treatment, I was never, ever, ever going to be an addiction counselor. As my DBT therapist used to tell me, "never, always" are pretty strong words. Be careful or you will have to eat them. Well, those words taste like chicken. After searching and applying for MBA programs, MS in Health Care Administration and other random programs, I realized that when it came to the essays asking "Why do you want to do this?", I couldn't come up with anything more than "because I want a masters degree." I was pursuing purpose but didn't know how to define it.

So one day, I decided I should be a counselor. Maybe in all of suffering of addiction and this bastion of hope I now had in recovery could be passed along to others. I did a search. I pulled up the application. "In 2-3 pages, tell us why you would like to pursue this education." 6 pages later, I decided that I really needed to do this. I was 18 months sober when I applied. In MN, you have to be able to report 2 consecutive years of sobriety before entering the field. 2 weeks after my 2nd year anniversary, I signed the form indicating that I was there and I started school one week after that. 

Phase 4: Finding Identity: I got out of school and I was not in a good place. I had some difficulties in school. In hindsight, my little addict personality was alive and well. In retrospect now, if I could do it again, I would wait until I had more years of sobriety under my belt. Having lived in the depths of addiction for 15+ years, 2 years into recovery was too soon. I was just doing baby steps at that point and devoting myself to this career was a bit more than I had bargained for in terms of my own personal recovery. Being a counselor means putting my personal recovery aside and being a clinician. My recovery is not their recovery. 

What a realized in this phase of recovery was that I lend so much weight to my career as a way to identify myself. As my recovery as gone on, I have made my identity "recovery" if you will. I found in this phase in recovery though is that I am much than just one thing. Yes, I am a nurse. Yes I am in recovery. Yes, I am a counselor. 2 of these things I do for a living; one of these things became the only thing I related to in my personal life. It's a priority and it's important, don't get me wrong. It is also important to know that there are more than just 3 things about me. I was entering year 5 of recovery and felt very lost again about me. Something was missing. I had this one thing and I was yearning for something more. 

Phase 5: Spirituality: Spirituality is not religion. The "God" of AA is not the God of Christianity. It can be if that is the most meaningful understanding to you. I often hear people say HP (Higher Power) and, over the years, I have heard people identify the power greater than themselves to be a ton of things (i.e. nature, the universe, a home group of AA, AA itself, etc). I thought I knew what I believed in when it came to my definition of "God". I believe very much in a power greater than myself and I choose to call Him "God". I believe there is a connection between me and something that is not tangible. As I recognized the goodness in my life, goodness tends to come back to me tenfold. There have been just too many things that happened right at the time they should have for me not to believe in something. 

I had this desire to expand my spiritual understanding. I started digging deep into my values and core beliefs. What makes me happy? What makes me sad? How can I strengthen this connection to continue to fuel the journey. As recently as a few blog entries ago, I have been searching for these answers. I started a journal recently with a very guided set of questions to start digging deeper. If I can figure out what keeps me going and getting out of bed in the morning, I know my struggles with identity will diminish. 

I am now connected with a church that I just adore. The messages every time I go there rejuvenate me. This place speaks to my values and beliefs. Recently, I have been able to connect the power of music to me. I have become more aware of how to feed my spirit. This phase might be a pretty long one for me. I don't know that there is ever really an end to be had here. I am changing all the time. Each new experience in life teaching me something about myself and about the world around me. My tolerance changes for certain things. As an example, about 2 years into my recovery, I wrote a blog about being annoyed with "normies" (also known as the 90% of people who don't have problems with alcohol). Today, entering year 8, I just don't have the energy to let that bother me anymore. I can either take the time of focus on the 1 things I can't have or I can focus on all that is now available to me because I got sober. The choice is mine and it's pretty clear.

Phase 6: Acceptance x infinity: A couple of things about acceptance. One - it is HUGE in recovery, every day. Two - This journey is never over unless I choose it be. I need to be willing and able to accept that each day brings new challenges and new rewards. I am either open to them or not. I can either accept life on life's terms or suffer the consequences. I used to ask my DBT therapist "Can't you just accept something once and be done already?" She often commented back then on my impatience. The first skill I was ever taught in treatment was "Radical Acceptance". Acceptance doesn't mean I like it. Acceptance doesn't mean I approve of it. Acceptance (especially the radical kind) is acknowledging that reality is reality. When I think about where I was at when I was introduced to this skills, I was in treatment for the third time, under the constant monitoring of the State and still processing anger from my divorce that had happened over 3 years prior to that. I wanted my ex to be miserable. I didn't think his life should have moved on so quickly. I didn't think that I should have to pay for the mortgage. I didn't think that it was fair that I was an alcoholic. I sat there for over 3 years. Guess what? While he is out doing what he is doing, I am stuck in 2007. I spent all this time worrying and holding anger about someone that wasn't even in my life anymore. I couldn't experience any happiness because I was spending all of my time trying to think of ways that he might be miserable now. "I take the poison and wait for the other person to die." Here is the hard and fast truth: I was divorced. Life is not always fair. If I want to be happy I have to worry about what I need to do to get there. I made decisions. I made choices. The past can never be changed. My options become pretty clear at this point: Stay here or move on. If I am married to the anger (so to speak), then I stay put. If I want to move on, I need/have to accept that what happened, happened. If I don't like the outcome, I better change what I am doing. 

I realize this entry has become quite lengthy so I am going to stop here. What I can tell you is that recovery or not, we move through different phases in our lives. Our priorities change, our focuses change and the world changes around us. This journey, so far, through the phases I identified here have been some of the rewarding and challenging experience in my life. I've screwed up at times but I don't feel so terrible about it. I right my wrongs when I can and make an effort to do something different moving forward.

08/09/2010 is 7 years of recovery for me. In 2010, I never thought this would be possible.

​Julie

In my years of drinking, I often turned to music to find lyrics that meant something to me. I have been obsessed with Nine Inch Nails from the time I was 15 to about 30. Around 2000, Seether was really starting to hit the airwaves and I was immediately drawn to many of their lyrics. Tonight, I saw them, for the first time, in concert at the Myth. As they played song after song that I actually knew (surprising since I barely keep up on new songs), I was just struck about having listened to all of these songs over the past 15 years and how deeply my perspective has changed on their meaning to me. 

In 2000, the song "Fine Again" was released. I was 22 years old. I had been daily drinking for about 2 years at this point. I knew there was something wrong with my drinking and it was starting to affect my mental health. My depression was getting worse. The following are the lyrics that always stuck with me:
"It seems like every day's the same
And I'm left to discover on my own
It seems like everything is gray
And there's no color to behold
They say it's over and I'm fine again, yeah
Try to stay sober feels like I'm dying here"
Especially this last line. When I tried to stay sober, it did feeling like I was dying. It wasn't until I got to treatment I learned that my brain was telling me that I was dying. Not from the depression, not from the lack to color in my life, addiction had me actually convinced that I was dying without alcohol. It would be another 10 years after the release of his song that I would learn about this. In the meanwhile, I just knew that my drinking was out of control but I didn't know/want to do anything about it. 

In 2004, Seether released "Broken", a duet with Amy Lee. My heart was immediately attracted to the pain this song conveyed. I was surrounded by so many positive things. I was in nursing school and had made a lot of friends. I was getting married. My friends were getting married. I was in 6 weddings that year. I had friends that I hung out with a lot. In the middle of all that happiness and joy, I felt so alone and didn't know what to say. I turned inwards as my tolerance to alcohol grew. I was finding new ways to hide what I was doing. Then I heard these lyrics:
"'Cause I'm broken when I'm open
And I don't feel like I am strong enough
'Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome"
I felt that if I admitted to anyone the extent of my addiction, I would lose it. I feared my family would be mad at me or disappointed in me. I didn't want to tell them because I knew the minute they knew, I was going to have to stop. I didn't want to let the cat of out the bag, so to speak. I felt broken, sick and totally alone.

In 2005, Seether released "Remedy". By 2005, life was starting to fall apart very very quickly. My new marriage was severely on the rocks. I got my first nursing job and it was a disaster. I quickly moved on to my next nursing job which was a slight improvement; however, my drinking had escalated to a point that I was making mistakes and also it was more noticeable that I was experiencing withdrawals when I stopped drinking even for a few hours. The following lyrics always stuck with me:
"Clip the wings that get you high, just leave them where they lie
And tell yourself, 'You'll be the death of me'"
This is how alcohol felt to me. I needed to get rid of it and on some level I knew that it was going to kill me if I kept going at the rate I was. Part of me was ready, part of me was not. My answer to the consistent pestering of my then husband was to move jobs about 3 more times in that year and finally move to the evening/overnight shift so we didn't see each other. I have to admit, 2005-2006 is pretty much a blurry set of memories. 

Fast forward to August 4th, 2017, I am watching Seether in concert. I heard each of these lyrics tonight and I felt this huge sense of peace. In the years leading up to my eventual recovery, I felt such pain and abandonment. I remember sitting in the 2nd bedroom on my old condo. I would have my bottle of rum on the floor. I had a full length mirror in there. I would play songs that got my emotions going, only a few of those times did I choose something to motivate me or make me happy. I searched for songs that I could connect with to express my pain. I would stare in that mirror and wondered if this was it for me. Only today do I realize that I had abandoned life back then. No one really ever abandoned me. Only today do I realize that I shortchanged myself with regards to my strength. Listening to these lyrics from my life today, I felt energized and danced the night away. These lyrics, in a way, felt like my anthem for recovery. Remedy was the last song they played tonight and how truly fitting for me. I clipped the wings that got me high and I left them where they needed to be. 

Thank you TO for the fun night out. I have been somewhat fearful of concerts because 99% of the ones I have been to in the past, I was drunk. There were no urges or desires on my end. I wanted to be fully present and absorb the atmosphere around me. Part of this recovery gig is to push myself out of my bubble and get back to life. In my previous blog, I spoke about this restlessness I am experiencing. As I move forward with new adventures, this restlessness is fading to the background. Somehow, some way I am finding what I need to refuel this soul. 

Peace out! 
J