I bet if I were to look through my blog posts, most of my post holiday chatter would be about my newfound love of the holidays. It's not that I didn't like the holidays before, I was just drunk or wanting to be drunk. I really wasn't all that focused on being with family and celebrating the fact that I have it pretty darn good with my family and otherwise. With that said, let me tell you about my love of the holidays in recovery. Ready? Set. Go.

I was counseled and now counsel people about the holiday times being a ripe time for relapse. We are all busy. We can be stressed out. There certainly can be drugs and alcohol all over the place if you family uses or abuses them. If you live anywhere near me in MN, we only have about 10 minutes of sunlight a day. I can already tell that part if wearing on me. Up at 6;45am - dark. Getting off of work at 4:30 - almost dark. I believe this could really add to the stress factor of the holidays for some, I know it did for me. What plays the biggest role in the holiday relapse though, in my humble opinion, is resentments. I have listened to a few 5th steps in my day (tell another person about our fearless and moral inventory of the ways we have harmed other, our resentments, our secrets). Family ranks high in the resentment area whether it be parents who children believed failed them or siblings who were treated better or family members that were abusive, unloving or appeared to not really care.

When I was in my 20s, what I found particularly difficult was being with someone else's family (I had a long term boyfriend that turned into an engagement and then married for a short while). I don't know if I am "normal" in terms of wanting to be with my family at the holidays. I didn't like splitting that time. Part of me wonders if that has to do with all the time I spent abroad. I spent several holidays away from my family. I was eternally homesick while I was away on both adventures. Maybe there is just a part of my soul that doesn't ever want to experience that again. Also, I think it had to do with our traditions. I am flexible in a lot of ways in my life, but there are a few areas that I am pretty uncompromising. Holidays are just one of those things. I remember clearly when my sister was talking about going to her future in-laws for Thanksgiving years ago. I burst into tears. I think it was a little shocking for everyone because this is what most normal people do. 

This year, our family was together and I had a rather amazing time. I love my family dearly and they have been tremendously supportive through my ups and downs. I want to share the good things that are going on in my life and also enjoy the moments of snuggling with my nephew and playing a game with my niece. All simple things that I hope I don't ever overlook. Two weeks ago, I was having kind of a bad time. Nothing overly concerning, just a bad few days that come every so often. The week of Thanksgiving came around and I felt like I had my energy back. I worked a 13 hour day on Wednesday and I think the only reason I got through was because I was so excited for the next day. I didn't even need an alarm to get up. If you know me, that's a big deal.

I hear many heart wrenching stories in my line of work, both as a nurse and as a counselor, of how dysfunctional families can really get. It makes me feel tremendously grateful that I have this loving family that I do. Are we perfect? Nope. Would I change anything about us? Nope. I love us just the way that we are. 

My sister taught me years ago about what an awesome sister does. In particular, she wrote me very regularly while I was living in Europe. I don't know if she will ever quite know how much those letters meant. As I was struggling to get sober, she didn't necessarily understand all of this addiction stuff, but she tried. She asked me questions and did her best to understand the mistakes I had made. A few years in, she did a recovery 5K with me and threw me a birthday party for "my other birthday". I have an awesome sister and I will never forget it. 

For my readers who have met my Mom, you know how special she is. She stood up for me over the years and I still feel that "mama bear" protectiveness about her. I remember distinctly when I was 15 years old, we were driving home from my high school, getting onto I-94E from Collegeville back to St. Cloud. It was during that ride that she tried to warn me about alcohol, the family history of alcohol issues and offered a stern warning that she didn't want me going down that path. Well, like any good 15 year old, I didn't listen. Then, off I went to live in Austria for a year where alcohol could be easily accessed. Now being 40 years old and looking at teenagers of my friends and family, it must have been heartbreaking as my Mom to watch what eventually happened to me.

What I appreciate most that my Mom was able to do for my recovery was hand my recovery over to me. I think she studied furiously during the Family Week of my first residential treatment. I was really mad at the counselor of those group. "She told my Mom that we are co-dependent. How does she know? Who is she to tell us how our relationship works." On and on I went for that whole entire week. Her actions, though, contributed to my long term success. Of course I didn't like that people were suggesting that our relationship needed to change. I was getting all sorts of things that I wanted. What she did was to take care of herself. She had spent endless hours of many days worrying about what my next catastrophe was going to be. By the end of my drinking career, they were becoming more frequent and increasing in intensity. She started having an adult relationship with me. She would be there to support me and love me, but fighting this addiction was my deal. She has always offered me compassion and love throughout this process. What she has not done (and I appreciate) is to tell me what I need to do to support my recovery. I need to ask for help if I need it. She would still love me if I relapsed. She is, however, not going to tell me to get to my meetings or get a sponsor or go to therapy. Those are decisions I need to make for my own recovery. For this, I am grateful beyond words.

I love the holidays now. I am not getting drunk nor do I feel the urge to. I have no resentments against my family and therefore love to hang out when we can. I adore my friends who send me cards, send me messages and invite me to parties. I feel so very fortunate to have all of this in my life so that I have something positive to offset the fact that there is only about 8-9 hours of sunlight per day. The holidays become some of the brightness I need to conquer these winter months. 

I hope that everyone had a decent Thanksgiving holiday!

Talk with you soon!
J

 

The message from the universe has been pretty clear to me for the past about 5 months. I received this message more than once. It is a message that most of my readers are probably familiar with too. "You are the only thing standing in your way." I will usually follow up with that message and ask, "Well, how do I get out of my own way?" The answer there has not been entirely clear. I honestly know that a lot of what stands in the way of one of my goals is fear and insecurity. Much of the time, I have a great deal of confidence in what I know and how I say it. There are other moments that I fear rejection. My poor therapist gets the majority of the conversation.....

Ever since I was little, I never liked to be corrected. I would be super happy to soak up anything positive, but the minute I would be offered constructive criticism, I would be angry on the outside and devastated on the inside. I would perseverate on the negatives and come up with a 100 different reason why that person was wrong and why I was right. I knew when I was first getting sober that this was an area of my life that I would have to work on. Well, 7 years later, it's still an issue.

Part of me thinks that because I hold myself to high standards and I did my best, then there is no room for improvement. When I ask for feedback, I don't really want it. If you have some positive to say, I am all over it. If the sentence starts out with....."maybe you should consider...." Good grief. I fall apart. I think over the past 7 years, I haven't really figured out how to deal with this. I just became better about having a poker face when people are talking to me. 

Now, I am not arrogant enough to think that I know everything and I do everything in the best way possible. I am very well aware of that fact. So, I don't always understand why taking feedback is such a hard deal for me. When I first got out of nursing school, feedback about my technique was a little easier to take. I was new and most of the technical skills were hard. When I first started in substance abuse counseling, I had to remind myself that I have a lot to learn, no two days are going to be the same and what we did 2 years ago might not be best today. The field is changing quickly. I have to be confident in the understanding that I will never know everything and it's better to just go with the flow.

In some ways, when I am getting feedback, I feel like I am being judged. Not only judged, judged harshly (incompetent, stupid, weird, etc.) Suddenly, I have this strong desire for someone to say something nice to me or I have a desire to defend myself beyond reasonable place. I presented something in a meeting recently, expecting a certain reaction and when I got the opposite, I went into defense mode. Then, of course, I took it home with me with me thinking about the number of ways I was right. Ugh. This is so frustrating. I try to do a little self-talk and get myself off of the ceiling. I am usually pretty good at and eventually get over it. When I am coming from a defensive place, it usually doesn't end well for me. I can have a mouth on me or I can run a good passive aggressive game as well.

I know that this fear of judgement, this place of defensiveness and this inability to take even constructive criticism is what is standing in the way of my next step. OK. I will say it. I want to write a book. In fact, I have started three. I think about it all the time when I am driving back and forth to work. I remind myself how much I like to write this blog and why writing a book would be the next logical step. I look for writing classes online that are at times I could participate. I found a writing club. I get a daily email with inspirations to keep writing. Then I start reading about actually publishing. Boom. I freeze up and all three books, essays, whatever are sitting on my desktop because the idea of submitting my writing and having it rejected is something I greatly fear. Writing is something that I feel really passionate about and, for the most part, I think I am pretty good at it. I have a lot to say. One of the big ways I reconciled with God about this whole experience of addiction was that my story, my experience was going to mean something. I was not going to experience that level of desolation in my life and not have a reason for it. So my reason (aka purpose) was to talk about it. Blog about it. And maybe now, write a book about the topic.

One of the emails that I got from this writing service talked about dealing with rejection and the importance of having a solid copy editor. That stopped me right in my tracks. It brought me back to getting my english papers back in high school with comments like "unclear sentence", "using passive voice construct - avoid", "??". The question marks were particularly hard for me. What do you mean you don't understand me? Even as I write this, my mind is already going to the defensive. I have a vivid memory of my 10th grade english class. I had hoped that I would be "discovered" as this amazing writer. Well, that didn't happen. I took some college course in the area but when they wanted me to read a book, I was kind busy getting drunk.

When I started this blog in 2011, I was in a place where I felt alive again. I was learning basic living skills that others probably figured out in their early 20s at age 34. I was amazed at how all these little skills worked. I was amazed that I could cope without alcohol. I also wanted people to know what I had experienced. Over the years. people have written to me, emailed me, called me, etc. because my journey is their journey and it's super nice to know you are not alone. Those are some of my most humbling moments that my words can reach someone and maybe all of that pain and anguish I experienced for all those years serves a purpose. I wanted to share what it was like to be on the brink of death and come back to life.

I know my words have meaning. I know my experience has meaning too. I know once I start to write what is in my heart, a book will be completed in a relatively short period of time. The problem is, the words on those pages are my heart. The fear of my words being rejected is paralyzingly fearful to me. Through this process of soul searching for the past year, I have come to realize my issue is this fear of rejection and also my lack of ability to see feedback for what it is - an offer to make something good even stronger. When it comes to this, though, my defense button gets it and I go from 0 ("sure!") to 100 ("f--- off") in about 11 seconds. 

I am writing this blog entry for a couple of reasons. 1. I haven't written in a long time. 2. My thinking becomes more aligned and focus when I write it out. 3. I am hoping by facing these feelings and fears head on, I am sending a message back to the universe...."I am working on it. I am figuring it out. Watch for me."

Peace,
Julie

My oh my, it's been over 3 months since I posted something. That is not right!! I need to get back on here and get some of these thoughts out of my head! I have had a couple of inspiring months and have written nothing about it. My oh my.

Since my last post, I did celebrate my 7 years of recovery. I haven't had the chance to get my medallion yet. My mom has been the giver of my medallion for the past few years and our busy social schedules haven't lined up to get this done. I will patiently wait for that day, whenever it comes. I think back, 10 years ago, too scared to say anything to my family because I thought they would be so disappointed in me or mad at me. Little did I know that my mom, sister and her family enjoy the opportunity to celebrate my freedom from alcohol right along side me. If my present self had a chat with my past self, I don't know that I would have believed it. To have my mom be able to hand me my medallion is beyond compare and, like I said, I will wait patiently for that day.

Over the summer, I was recruited to start teaching. One of the goals I had when I got into the field of substance abuse treatment was teaching. I have searched over the years, trying to figure out exactly how to get to that goal. Well.....I have all of the licensures and the educational requirements. I have no experience. People tell me that I am good at training and good at public speaking, but I have no formal teaching experience. Well, this opportunity came up to teach a Medical Assistant course for an associates program. Although it is not teaching about substance abuse, it is granting me the opportunity to gain some experience in the teaching world. As an adjunct professor, I get a small stipend to teach, part-time hours and the amazing opportunity to see if the teaching gig is really for me. What I have learned so far is that I can connect with students. I do have fun with the materials. Also...it has been a long time since I studied some of this information. Nursing school was 15 years ago for me! I started teaching in September after labor day and in just about 4 weeks, I will be closing out my first full semester of teaching.

September and October were long months. My full time job as a counselor was rough. I work alongside some very complex individuals. Some days I was questioning why I decided to go this route. I literally see people dying of their disease of addiction right in front of me with such profound denial about their condition that it will ultimately lead to death. I see a lot of heartache and pain. I listen as people bring up trauma from a dark past they were hoping to never awaken. I had several weeks in a row where I was wondering if being a counselor really served any purpose. I have always been told, since the first semester of graduate school, "you cannot take credit for anybody's successes because you will, then, have to take credit for the failures too." This concept was constantly running through my through September and October. I didn't feel like I was taking successes, setbacks or failure personally. I think I wondered at times if I was really strong enough to be in this role. My heart wants to take away the pain. My heart wants to offer some profound words to make it all better, make it all go away. Most of the time, my logical brain is able to walk me through these times. Sometimes my heart takes over and can make my job pretty hard some days.

Additionally, there was a lot of focus on "secondary trauma". In essence, I experience trauma in dealing with other people's trauma. Also under that microscope was caregiver burnout. I decided to go to a psychic fair. It was kinda fun. I went to a booth and have my auras read. I was given this really cool print out of my chakras and areas to focus on for healing. The woman working with me said "holy cow....you are burnt out. What do you do?" I told her and she said my results made complete sense. Between 3 jobs (teaching, nursing and counselor), much of what I do is giving of myself. I can't imagine any other way to live which is what I told her when she asked about taking care of my soul and heart. She noted that in my heart chakra, I was giving 100% of my heart. Again, she told me that my selections of professions made total sense. She also warned me, however, that the world doesn't always deserve 100% of my heart either. I talked with her for some time about how I had closed my heart off to almost all of my relationships while I was using. I told her how I felt to free to just be me, wear my heart on my sleeve, say what I think, etc. She remarked that while these are good things, my openness should be reserved for those who have earned access to my heart. Talk about a lot of food for thought. 

During this few months, I have been away at trainings and busy on the weekends. I had stopped going to church and I could feel it. I finally got back last week and even went twice! A friend of mine was so kind to visit my church and he extended the invitation to go to his which happened to be that same weekend. Both places had incredible messages. My church talked about purpose. Even if I am not perfect, even if I don't do it all right, there is still a plan out there for me. It was something I needed to hear. I was going weary, going somewhat cynical and starting to wonder if my situation as it is today is the pinnacle of my journey. Honestly, it would not be a bad place to be at; however, I am still feeling this itch. It is something that I need to do in my spare time. It is not a career change. It is not a change in employers. I just felt this sense while listening to this message that there is something I should let go of in order to open myself up to other opportunities. I just don't know what that is right now. This restlessness has been around for awhile now. I was given a strong message back in June....the only thing standing in my way is.......wait for it........me. Sigh.

The second message was about anger. Ahhh....anger, often times referred to as the secondary emotion. Anger is something that we are all familiar with and in certain situations it just feels right to be angry even though the honest emotion being experienced is something else (i.e. disappointment, shame, etc). The message about anger was in context of relationship killers. I know a lot about that! The first whole year of my sobriety I was mad. I was angry. I was annoyed and always one sentence away from losing it. I was reminded of how far my recovery has come since that first year. I was angry for nothing other than I thought the world had done me wrong and I deserved more. I was in a place of feeling constantly like a victim and wanting to fight just for the sake of fighting. Part of the message talked about "healthy" anger. There are things in the world that we should be mad about. There are things that we do get mad about because we are PASSIONATE about that topic. So, it can serve a purpose as long as we are very mindful of what type of anger we are experiencing. 

Earlier this month, I had a rather intense situation develop. In the end, everything turned out for the best. However, for 45 minutes straight, I was angry at addiction. I was angry that addiction had this person so confused and hopeless. I walked out of work that day angry. I am passionate about treating addiction and being part of the solution to win the war against it. That day, however, I really felt the fatigue of that battle. My challenge at this point is how to take care of myself so I don't burnt out. Often times when I am passionate about something, I go 3,000mph and get sick of it in a month or two. You should see how many unfinished craft projects I have around my house. Even and steady is not usually the way that I live life. Now, entering this place of recovery and growth, I need to learn how. I got a lot of years ahead of me with a lot of things that I still want to do. I want to avoid impulsive decisions in an attempt to rejuvenate some passion. All in all, I just don't know what that means.

So, I will continue on with this journey with some ideas of the next step to take to address this restlessness. Thank you all for continuing to read despite my lack of posting!!

​Julie