The summer is quickly coming to a close. I am a few weeks away from finishing another quarter of school with one more quarter left. I have been thinking a lot about the plans for the future. What do I want to do once I get done with school? What do I see myself doing in the long-run? Basically, what do I want to do when I grow up? I have to admit that I have been searching for this "thing" for many years. I keep thinking I found the right place to work, the right career, the right school -- only to experience a few years of contentment and then a restlessness to make a change. I find this odd because, in general, I really don't care for change all that much! I like things to be consistent for the most part. I like stability. Yet, in the same moment, I feel bored with stability and find something to throw in my way to shake things up.

When I changed schools from 6th grade to 7th grade, I hated the change. I didn't "know" anything. I didn't feel competent to even find a classroom or my locker. What was I going to do about friends? I changed schools again from 8th grade to 9th grade. I was happy to get out of the school I was at. I loved my friends, but the administration at the time made a grave error with me and my family. During that year, my father was dying of cancer. I was in and out of school for his surgeries, trying to continue with figure skating training every day, with my family to keep some semblance of normalcy for me, When I decided (with the help of my sister) to change schools, the school I was in threatened to derail my admission by bringing up my attendance that year. That "talk" scared me so much that I went to school the day after my dad died because I thought I would be stuck there forever if I didn't. I was ready to go. 

The adjustment was hard again for many reasons. The weird thing is I have basically moved around in all sorts of ways since then. 11th grade I went abroad. College I went to Ohio, then went back to Germany. I returned to Minnesota only to move basically every year until 2004 and had probably a dozen or so jobs between 1999-2004. I decided to go back to school. By the last semester, I was ready to be done, but already wanted to go back. I worked another 12-15 jobs from 2005-2009. I stayed at 1 job for almost 3 years full time which was a miracle. Part of that was due to sobriety. This restlessness that I often feel was amplified when I was drinking. I needed/wanted to get away and start again. I had either done something stupid and wanted to get away or I was concerned that people were aware of my problems. 2010-2013 was probably the most stability employment wise. I got restless again and decided to go back to school. Again.

Two semesters in I was ready to be done. I had another year to go after that which I obviously finished. I started out in my "normal" way with having 4 jobs in less than a year before starting/staying at the county for 5 years. About 3 years in, I was restless again. I really tried to step back to see what the issue was for me. Do I get sick of working at places because of my job? The people? The clients/patients? My apparent ADHD when it comes to work? If you read my blog in late 2019, I did a lot of entries working through some of this. Is it the career? Is it the job? Is it me? I came to my conclusion that it was the a combination of the job and the career with 70% landing on the career side. It was worthwhile to work through this so I could make reasonable decisions moving forward. 

So began 2020.....I had 3 jobs (1 job is transplant that has been a consistent for the past 12 years), and I have 3 jobs in 2021. Oh, and school that seems to ramp up a notch every quarter in intensity. The transition from my last job to homecare was a lot more difficult than I had anticipated. I would have to say that it was all me. The agency I work for has been extremely flexible with my ever changing schedule. I enjoy caring for the clients they have selected for me. In the beginning, however, I felt this overwhelming sense of inadequacy. I was so very self-conscious. I started to get in this rut of "I don't want to work. Period. Ever." I wanted to call in sick to work which is a huge red flag that I am overwhelmed. Several months later, I am doing just fine. I know the clients are happy with services I am providing and I have been able to drop some of that self-consciousness. I was kinda ready to jump ship again because I was feeling uncomfortable. It was not the clients, it was not the agency, it wasn't the job. It was me thinking that I was terrible at what I was doing. I "assumed" things that were not true and kept replaying situations in my mind. Honestly, this was a huge reason I used to drink all the time. Alcohol gave me some confidence and ability to shed that insecurity for a minute.

Now I am on the cusp of making changes again. (Hopefully) I will be done with school at the end of the year and I will be taking the RN boards as quickly as possible. Getting my RN will open up a lot more doors for me in terms of pay and places to work. It is exciting to think about all the things I might be able to do. My plan, for now, is to just stick with what I am doing right now. I really like what I am doing right now and having some stability for a few months after school is done would be good for me. Even though I am wanting to be done, I am looking beyond thinking of what I am going to do next. Good, bad or otherwise, I still can't quite see what the end game is here. When I was going to substance abuse counseling, I saw myself in an educator role or some form of public speaking. I still kinda see the same thing with nursing. Nursing, mental health, and chemical health are intertwined for almost every patient on the planet. I can see teaching for sure. But there is something else that I am itching for and I can't quite pinpoint what that is. 

What is interesting for me is to look at this pattern of moving jobs, moving homes, moving states, moving schools, moving countries. For someone that gets anxious around change and takes some time to adapt to that change, I change things a lot. My therapist one told me that I need something to look forward to all the time. I usually have a trip or two planned so I have that to look forward to. However, when it comes to career life, I have a lot of motivation to make changes frequently, however, I am not sure what I am making all the changes for. Back to -- what's the endgame? Is it OK not to have an endgame? The US Department of Education would probably prefer I have an endgame so they don't have to keep helping me fund the next educational endeavor. In that regard, an endgame would be nice so I don't die with student loans that surpass my mortgage total. (I am already there, but I would like to pay some of that down so I owe more on my house than my degrees.) 

So, I guess the plan for now is to just keep on, keeping on. Finish school, take the boards, stay sober, keep up with my current job, keep up with therapy. Travel when it is safe to do so. Keep looking for ideas of jobs or career paths. Keep on working toward that endgame.....

Peace all,
​Julie

I am so far past due on a blog entry. I shutter a bit to think it's been over 2 months. Alas, I have a good reason to actually move on my desire to write instead of just thinking about it day after day. Today is my 11th sober anniversary. I have always loved birthdays and, in a weird way, I get two of them. My actual birth date and the date I got my life back. The past eleven years have been amazing and challenging at the same time. I had a few times when my recovery started to wobble. I was put to the test to protect my sobriety at all costs. I made it through and still standing. It's fair to say I wanted to give up on recovery at some points. I start to glorify and minimize the damage alcohol caused in my life. In the summertime, a renewed sense of commitment tends to surface. "I am so close to....X year of recovery. Gotta keep going." Over the winter months, I tend to have a lot of stuff going on that keeps me pretty content - holidays with the family, crafting retreats, and usually some planned traveling. For some reason, the summer months are more my challenge. I guess I am a born and bred Minnesotan.

I posted my anniversary on a group I belong to that posts jokes and funny things. It became kind of this support group for all of us when the pandemic started. Most people were at home doing absolutely nothing. People began posting memes and pictures of their pets with this joyous response by others who needed to smile in rather dark times. I post about my anniversary today. Five hours after posting, I have something like 1,000 likes and 100 comments to read through. Not to mention the posts on my own page raking in over 200 likes! It makes me feel very special and like people understand why this day is a big deal to me. It remains as special as it was when I hit my first year. I remember those struggles very clearly. It wasn't easy to get here, and it hasn't always been the easiest to stay here. Anyway, a few of the members of that group ask me to share my experience for others who are struggling. Hmmm......where do I begin?

Well, I can tell you that I know that super dark and ugly space within addiction resides. I know how addiction tells me that I need something I no longer want. I know what it is like to plan an entire day around obtaining, drinking, and recovering from heavy alcohol use. I used to hate almost every minute of my life except for the first 15 minutes of taking a drink. I felt relieved and less anxious. Because my addiction was so advanced, that feeling lasted for 15 minutes. That's it. Then the massive depression, suicidal thinking, pain, and sheer self-hatred flourished. In hindsight, I am pretty lucky I made it out alive. Honestly, I almost didn't. And more honestly, I didn't want to make out. I just wanted to stop existing. That is dark, sad, lonely, heavy place to be. I lived there for about 10 years.

So, when I think about others experiencing this, my heart becomes heavy. I want them to know what I didn't know. People care. People would have been willing to help. Sadly, that is not how addiction plays out for most of us. Something catastrophic comes about and we are presented with a fork in the road. Continue to do what you have been doing or change. I went down that road of change a couple of times and ran back to the fork, telling myself this new path was way too scary. I opened the door in February of 2010, letting my mom know what was up. Part of me knew that once my mom knew, the gig was up. My mom wasn't going to let this happen without some serious intervention and changes to my life. She prayed for years that I would not follow in the family tradition of alcohol abuse. Not only did I ignore pretty much every warning she ever gave about the potential for complications, I dove in headfirst and became a master manipulator to keep that secret hidden. 

Part of what motivated me to seek some change on my own was that I was having more and more difficulties with staying sober for more than 24 hours. Just a few months prior to this, I was able to stay sober between 12 hour shifts for about 3 days. I couldn't do that anymore. I had struggled to find a job after being laid off in 2009. It was a chaotic process, but I was working a cool job in a cool area of medicine and wanting to have the time of my life. I just could not stop drinking. So, I did what I swore I would never do, which was open the door to my family to get help. The significant relationships I had during my 20s and 30s (one marriage, one long-term) were no match for alcohol in my life. I kept these individuals at a distance to ensure my secret would remain my/our secret. I was pretty crafty too.

So, I did the treatment thing. I was going to try to be sober. I hated it. I thought it was boring. I didn't have any friends that I was aware of in that moment (this was more of a self-pity thing--I didn't want my friends to know I went to treatment). I didn't know how to live a life without alcohol. I felt depressed and anxious with basically no tangible way of managing that. I was put on an anti-depressant, but that was no match for the "happy 15 minutes per day" of alcohol. I stopped going to my aftercare group after I got into it with another group member. I was looking for any reason to bolt. That was good enough for me! I limped along for a few months, hit 60 days and then hit the bottle again. What I can tell you is that treatment was extremely effective in ruining my drinking experience. Now I felt bad about drinking. I knew I could do some things like go to a meeting or call my sponsor. Hell, I could get back to treatment. (Say this with a big whine....) But that's so hard and not fun and making me take responsibility for my life. I don't want to!

My early recovery felt kind of lonely. Getting sober will really show a person about true friendships. The minute I got sober, I lost 5 people I can think of that I would have done anything for. I tried to stay connected and was shunned. I was uninvited to things because I was sober. Some people thought they were making my life easier by rescinding the invite. "Then you don't have to worry about not drinking." Well, it actually validated my concerns about being sober. People were not going to like me anymore, and I was going to have no life. That all seems pretty trivial right now, but it was a huge deal to me back then. I was lonely and scared. I was meeting people in recovery. It was a really slow process. I was desperate for people to understand me at a time when I barely even understood myself. I wanted to apologize to people I hurt. I was too scared most of these relationships were far too gone to make peace. I wanted to be OK. but I wasn't. I didn't know what to do, so I went back to one of the few things I believed was consistent in my life - alcohol.

August 8th, 2010: From leaving treatment until this date, I made at least 4 trips to the ED for alcohol related issues. On this date, KG was talking to me after I did some really embarrassing things. My mom was given the head's up and the rescue crew descended into my home. I was taken back to the hospital and admitted into detox once again. I earned myself a private room because I was hearing voices. That was really very scary. I nearly scratched off my ear wanting it to stop. Dr. A (my favorite detox Dr. ever!) stopped in my room. "Julie, what happened?" I could barely talk. I was still puking and starting to detox. "MRI, Ativan per protocol, fall precautions." "Dr. A? Did I break myself permanently now?" "I don't think so. We will make sure. You and I will talk more when we get you weaned from protocol, ok? Rest now." 

August 9th, 2010: I woke up that day, still a little groggy from all the Ativan. I required pretty hefty doses for my tolerance level. I wandered around most of the day, remembering that Dr. A wanted to talk with me. I met with a psychiatrist who told me my MRI of the head was normal. Talked to me about the voices. Suggested a medication. Sure, why not. I will probably stop taking it the minute I am out of here anyway. That was day #1 of the last 4,017 days.

August 10th, 2010: Dr. A sits down with me. "You are an impaired practitioner." Huh? "There are two ways out of detox for you. One, you enroll in HPSP. You were given this information in treatment and managed to wiggle your way around it. It's the law. You are required to report yourself if you are compromised to practice as a nurse. Two, you don't do this, I will call the board of nursing directly and ask for immediate suspension of your license. They will open an investigation and probably refer you back to HPSP if you want to practice." Honestly, for a few minutes, I tried to convince myself that I didn't want to be a nurse anymore. That's addiction in a nutshell for me. Fine, I said, give me the phone before I change my mind.

Over the past eleven years, I have been angry, I have been hurt, I have had relationships end. I have cried. I have laughed. I made new traditions. I made leaps of faith. I followed my dreams. I crashed and burned with certain jobs. I made friends. I made a life. I made rules and set boundaries. I write 2 letters every year - one to Dr. A and one to my case manager at HPSP letting them know I am still sober. The good and the bad in these years are no comparison to the previous 15 years. The worse of the worse days in sobriety are no where near the moderate to sucky days of active addiction.

So, I have a broken brain. My brain is easily hijacked by chemicals. My brain misunderstands that experience. If I drink alcohol, my brain says "go" until I am passed out. The compulsion is so strong that I did some pretty dumb stuff to get alcohol back in the day. My brain started to understand alcohol as something I needed to survive from day today. That is how I treated and related to alcohol. I really don't want you, but I need you. I am dying without you. My brain told me that I was dying. I would have panic attacks if I thought I was going to miss getting to the liquor store. There was no enjoyment in drinking, it was what I had to do to keep those feelings at bay. I started to drink for fun. I can remember the first sensation I felt. When people have the "love at first sight" feeling? That's what I experienced with alcohol. I still tell people to this day. I don't hate alcohol. I love it. I literally can't get enough of it. It was a horrible relationship. I abuse it, alcohol was slowly killing me in every imaginable way. I had to make a decision (with some serious external reinforcement) to end that relationship and pursue something else.

So, I guess what I would want people to know is this: Recovery is hard. We have to change everything. Look in the mirror and be honest. Breakthrough that denial. We are much more in tune with reality than we might think. I made all the excuses. I did all the convincing. In the end, I knew I was an alcoholic. The longer I tried to prove that I wasn't, the more of a raging alcoholic I became. Stop the bullshit. There are resources out there. Get help. AA is one way to get sober. There are several other ways too if that doesn't fit you. Stop thinking you are "so different" from every other alcoholic. You aren't special. There are something like 20 million of out there. We can be homeless, educated, have families, be married, working full time, getting by, have money, be living under a bridge. We can be black, white, native, men, women, teens. Addiction really doesn't care about your wealth, health or background. Recovery doesn't care who you are either. When you get around a bunch of people who are sober and happy, you will find, we would be happy to support another struggling person break free from addiction. We weren't special either. We got through that denial somehow. We got help. And we are here today. 

Lots of love guys!
​Julie