I have written 4 or 5 entries this month, trying to seek some clarity or maybe wisdom about how life changes. Honestly, I came up empty-handed. For some of us, we really want to know the "why" and "what" about life. Why do things happen? Why do people do what they do? What is life all about? What is the purpose? Philosophers have been debating these questions since the dawn of conscious thought and still haven't settled on the answer. I decided to cut myself a little slack on not finding the solution in just a couple of hours of writing. 

Dealing with tragedy and loss tends to make me want to answer these "what' and "why" questions. Events can make it easy to start questioning all sorts of things about life, love, choices, and relationships. In some cases, tragedy and loss can bring us together and show a softer, kinder moment of humanity. In other cases, these situations evoke emotions of confusion and anger. The never-ending questions about what could have been or should have been, start to torment a sad heart. I suppose I could say this is part of the human experience, and learning to work through it is what we have to do. 

Years ago, in early recovery, I learned about this concept of "Radical Acceptance." I think, if recovery has taught me anything, acceptance is one of these foundation "things" in life. The analogy I always loved....."You are digging a hole if you can't come to some terms of acceptance. You get so busy digging that hole, you forget to stop for a second and look up to see that there is a way out. You just keep digging and digging, hoping to find the exit out." Acceptance isn't easy. Things in life are not fair, and they shouldn't be the way they are. Accepting, at times, can feel like I am just giving up. No, I don't want things to be a certain way. Screw your acceptance; I am mad. What I have gained over time is the knowledge that acceptance does not mean that I like it or that I want it. Whatever "it" may be. And, acceptance cannot be gained in 10 minutes. It's a process of give and take. In fact, there are still days when I get mad that I can't drink. I head back to step one...."We admitted that we were powerless over alcohol, and our lives have become unmanageable." Ten plus years in recovery, and I still have to remind myself even though I clearly know/understand what alcohol has cost me and the world around me.

In these moments, I seek my Higher Power. Each time I have asked questions about why I often times hear nothing. I also believe that things happen for a reason. So maybe I wasn't asking the correct question. Or maybe the silence is a reminder that some answers are too complicated for a one-word question. If I were to receive an answer, would everything change? Would I feel better about everything and be able to accept it "as is"? Is asking "why" a desperate attempt to relieve feelings of despair, as if knowing that answer would make it all better somehow? Is asking "why" my coping mechanism to deal with confusion, anger, sadness, and regret? Again, if I knew the answer, would I still feel the same way? Maybe, maybe not. 

I pray and meditate often to the people I know who have died. I believe in life after death in some form or another. I feel their presence. I see them in my dreams. Every person that I have seen or felt sends me a clear message that they are OK. Two years after my Dad died, he appeared in my dream. I was a little kid again, sitting on his lap. All curled up, in his arms, he said, "I'm OK now." I woke up and immediately tried to go back to sleep. I wanted more; however, in that moment, it was what I needed. A few months after RC (friend from HS passed), he visited me in a dream. I had such regrets about my last conversation with him and some decisions I had made. He wouldn't let me say anything. "Stop worrying." He laughed and faded away. His laughter was a sign that he was teasing me for thinking we weren't still friends. He was straight with me back then. He was straight with me in that moment. He didn't want to hear it because we were good. I never got any answers as to "why." I got to know something way better: They are OK. Acceptance came easier then, but it is still not absolute.

I am remembering tonight some important things. It is OK to be sad. It's OK to cry. It's OK not to be OK with the way things are at this moment. It's OK to lean on others. It's OK to be mad. The goal is not to become consumed by it all and stop being. We will get through these times together with family and friends. The memories of those gone will remain alive through our memories and stories. Their love and passions will be pass on through us. The broken heart never fully mends. Each of our hearts has small wounds that will never heal. We need to regularly tend to those wounds by honoring innumerable memories and fostering the flames of their passions in others.  

Take good care of each other, today and always.
Love,
​Julie

Being from MN and all, I imagine when I write about digging out, this picture is what most people will assume I will be talking about. I get it; there has been some snowfall this year! Fortunately, I am participating in another kind of digging out that is just as important as cleaning the sidewalks for my neighbors.

After I broke my foot in the summer of 2018, life just never got back to what I would consider "normal" for me. Prior to that accident, I was motivated and tearing around town to get stuff done—grocery shopping, cleaning, cooking, shopping, meeting up with friends, crafting, etc. Unless my memory is failing me, I was decently active for the first few years of my job in counseling. I honestly feel like I never really rebounded until just recently. Yep, three years to get back to some level of my normal. That's not to say there were not good and decent times in those three years. I really feel like I lost something starting in mid-2018. 

I had just moved into my place, which I totally love. My only complaint would be is that I am on the wrong side of town. Most of my life has been centered around Minneapolis and the western suburbs. My AA homegroup, my family, my friends, and now even my job. I bought on the east side because I didn't have plans of leaving my job in WI when I purchased it. The location was still in MN, the town was nice, the space is excellent, and there was no reason not to! Except that everything changed. Of course. I had high levels of motivation to get my things organized and renovate my place. I started very strong and eventually petered out after I broke my foot. It was almost a year before I touched any of the projects in my house, even though 2 hours of work would get these things completed. 

For the remainder of 2018 and the whole of 2019, I felt like I was in survival mode. I was getting just enough done in my life to stay afloat. I ate out a lot, rarely kept food around. I made it to therapy at least regularly, which was a lifeline for my survival. I'll just say it, I let things go. I let myself go. I stopped caring. My house is a mess. My finances were stressful. My job was going super poorly. The only thing I felt like doing was crawling into my bed and hiding from the world. I did just that. I felt like that was the only thing I could do to keep moving. Not even moving forward, just moving. It was not a terribly successful plan, but I did get through. 

I had some very renewed hope for 2020. The job change was beneficial, and school is really my happy place, no matter the chaos. I felt like 2020 was my year of just breathing. There were stressors with my job, and I felt that slip back to 2019, back in bed hiding. Finally, in the latter part of 2020, life started to lighten up a bit. 2020 definitely started the rebound back to my normal-ish life. The pandemic threw a wrench into an otherwise good recovery. I really missed my family. I missed my social events. I missed the holidays and birthday parties. I think 2020 could have been a better year for a rebound if I hadn't become so isolated. Fortunately for me, I did work for all of 2020, and it made a huge difference to me. I was happy to work outside of my home. I had fun coworkers to hang out with and talk to. 

Now in the 3rd month of 2021, I feel like the next phase of recovery is beginning. I have started cleaning more regularly. I started doing my laundry long before I am out of everything. I have purchased groceries for over one month without eating out. While this sounds like something normal people do, I stopped grocery shopping for almost all of 2019 and part of 2020 because it was easier to just purchase something on the run. I am sorry to say that I have only cooked maybe 3 meals in my home (other than the microwave) since I moved in. Apparently, when I go into survival mode, everything is out of the window. My spending was out of control which, of course, resulted in more stress. It's not the type of financial situation where I would default on my bills; I was just spending outside of my budget and running out of money before I should have, accessing saving more than I should have been. 

So, right now, I am working on digging myself out of the mess my avoidance has caused. I am not hard on myself for avoiding what I did. I did what I needed to do to get through my last year at the county. I did what I needed to do to allow myself some time to get my bearings back. I do get a little frustrated at myself and when I start diving into organizing and cleaning. "Why did I let this go so long? I should have done this when I moved in....." It doesn't do any good. It doesn't change anything. This week, as I was starting to do my dishes and organize some paperwork, I told myself, "I am getting better." That actually felt kinda good. I didn't get all of my chores done, but "I am doing better" than I was a year ago. I am actually engaging. 

Avoidance is a difficult one for me. It's easy to just avoid and avoid. Now, I am in the thick of digging out of a couple of years of avoidance. I am taking charge of my diet and exercise. I am regularly doing dishes and laundry again. I am going grocery shopping at least weekly. I am drinking more water. I am getting my homework done several days before it's due. I allow myself some time to just do nothing. I also kick myself into gear to get something done every day. This is how my life used to run. I've missed it. My finances are back on track now, with only a limited need for loans to cover expenses. I have made it to work every day accept for one since I started. I am also on time, thank you very much. I am, right now, more in compliance with my own value system than I have been in probably 3-5 years. It really does feel good. 

What I have learned is that my job will always play a vital role in my overall mood and functioning. I don't think I am alone with that. Our jobs are a good chunk of our lives, whether we like it or not. I will never be a person who works just to pay the bills. I have proven over and over again that I need to have a level of value to my work. Also, I need a functional environment. I am currently in a highly functional environment, and it honestly feels sort of strange - good strange. Work is going just fine. There are issues here and there; no perfect work environment really exists; however, the "issues" are honestly minor things. Overall, we are a strong team of folks that work at my house, and these guys are well taken care of. Every person I work with cares. I care too. It's a good fit.

I have about 9 months left of school. As I look at school and beyond, I really need to pay attention to my work life. I am hoping to have a little less of a "work-life," meaning working 40 hours or less per week instead of 3 jobs, 100+ hours/week. I would like to have 2 part-time jobs if I could. Work 30 hours a week at one and a day or two a week at the other. I don't know what that will all look like, but I have some ideas. Being a nurse is a great source of pride for me. I feel like I am part of a team of people who are like me. We work hard, and we also play hard. I need to get that "play" thing back into my life. It's coming.....hopefully soon.

I hope everyone is enjoying our spring-like weather!!
​Jules

I saw my therapist last week after not seeing him for about 2 months. It felt kinda weird to go so long without an appointment. I just haven't really needed one for a while! How nice it is to be able to say that. The first time I ever saw a therapist was in 2005. I saw that person at the request of my now ex-husband to have an alcohol screen completed. Yeah. I lied—a lot. Once I got the sign off on being a 'normal drinker," I wouldn't see anyone until 2007. A met with a really nice woman. She wasn't a great fit for me at that time, and I lied—a lot. I really wasn't ready to do the work I needed to do. At that point, I was just seeking someone to validate me and tell me I was great. 

I was seeing some when I entered treatment in 2010. Again, she was really nice. What I needed at that time, though, was someone to push me a bit and get me out of rampant self-pity. When I started the intensive outpatient later that year, I met Mary. Mary was my DBT therapist. She had an edge to her. I met her when she taught my first DBT group that was part of my treatment program. She talked frankly about radical acceptance. "Acceptance doesn't mean you like it or approve of it. When you accept something, you stop digging the hole." I was mesmerized by her. I waited at the end of that first group while she was making some appointments with people that were further along than me. I was nervous, like I was going to ask her out on a date or something! I said, "I want to do the full program of this." She explained the full class and the therapy requirement, which was meeting weekly for the 15-month program. "Can I do that with you?" "Yeah, I have openings." I was so sure she was going to tell me no! I was so excited.

She was exactly what I needed at that time in my life. She pushed me to be honest. She pushed me to be vulnerable. She did roleplaying with me to practice skills. In ways, I feel like I owe her my life. Our time came to an end when my insurance would no longer allow me to see her. I was so devastated. I tried working with one of her co-workers, but it wasn't a good fit. I saw her until 2014. I decided to head back to counseling in late 2015. I was struggling with work, and things weren't going super well. I found myself having super high anxiety again. I was paired with, again, a very nice woman with a DBT background. She wasn't Mary, though, and I held her to that standard, which wasn't fair to her. After about 6 months, she transferred to a new office and referred me to Joe. I have been seeing him ever since.

I was nervous that working with a male wasn't going to be a good choice for me. Joe has a background in DBT as well, which I like. I love those skills, and I like being reminded to use them to get through my days. The type of therapy that I needed from Joe was different than what I was going through with Mary. Mary helped me to get sober and find some happiness in life. She pushed me to find my value system and be more mindful. She taught me to calm my mind and let anxiety melt away. What I was experienced at the time I started seeing Joe was more of an existential crisis. I was far into my recovery, and I felt I had that pretty well figured out. I was a decent counselor, and I tried my best to do good work. I was feeling lost, overwhelmed, depressed, and targeted by upper management. What Joe offered during that time was a realistic view of my experience. About 80% of the really just validated. There were things going on that were just hard to deal with, and no, I wasn't crazy. I shouldn't be treated that way.

The other 20% was trying to step back from the emotional response and see if I was interpreting certain situations further than they needed to be. I appreciated that part. I need someone to be able to push me. During one session, he told me that I was really defensive. Oh, he got the stare, and I completely shut down on him. When I returned, he commented that he wasn't sure if I was going to come back. "Oh, that's just me. You hit a sore spot. I needed to hear it. When I get that mad, I know there is something going on. I took the week to think about it, and, yes, I can be defensive. What can I do about it?" Once we got past that, the therapeutic relationship worked (does work) well for us. I trust to ask him questions that I am pretty sure I am not going to like the answer to. He knows that he can push, and if I do shut down, I am thinking and processing. He doesn't worry anymore that he broke me! Ha!

He was a constant as I was trying to decide what to do about my future. He was the one who really helped me to drill down to what I really wanted. I had made a flippant comment about getting my RN done. "I should have done that instead of my master's. But here we are." Well, then the flood of questions about wanting my RN, with the last one being "is there a reason that you can't?" Oh, I gave him 10 or 15 reasons. He didn't think any of those were all that strong. Then we went down the rabbit hole of what life might look like with an RN. I was hooked. I love school. I really do. I just thought about the expense, how hard it would be, do I want to, am I getting too old for this? Fast forward one year from all that doubt, I haven't been this happy in a long time. 

So, I got Joe all caught up on life. School is chaotic and good. I am on the Dean's List, so I guess I can do it. I got my new job and have been there for almost 4 months now. I love it. The company has been very wonderful to me in ways that I haven't really experienced before. My co-workers are nice. The clients are fun (although I work nights, so they sleep most of my shift). I am able to study a little bit here and there. I am happy to be doing technical nursing again. The last time I liked something this much was when I was teaching at Argosy. I loved teaching skills and basic medical concepts. In just a few short months at this facility, I have a long game in play to get back to teaching at some point. I will need some more experience as an RN. However, all these years as an LPN has afforded me a lot of experience, especially with transplant that seems to touch just about every area of medicine. 

I talked about my decision to slow down schooling because too many things were in conflict schedule-wise. He smiled and jotted a note. "Ok, what?" I ask. He reminded me that decisions were not easy for me to make. A little over a year ago, I had lost my confidence. I didn't know which way to turn. One day I decided I was going to stay in counseling. The next day, I would want to quit. I was nervous to actually make a decision because I would have to deal with the fallout from it. I struggled to work at the treatment center starting in the fall of 2020. The shift in management also shifted priorities. I was feeling like a failure for leaving this job after only 10 months. While my confidence was better, it was easily knocked down. Now that my environment is much more calm and predictable, my confidence is back. I took a step back from all the chaos of the new quarter and made a decision. I am dropping a class. I didn't think about anyone's specific opinions. I knew what my needs were and how to best meet them. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to my confidence returning to "baseline". I don't feel the need to have 20 people validate me before making a decision I know is the best for me. I appreciate input, no doubt, and mentioned it to a few people who thought my process was sound. Joe was glad to see it. He hasn't seen that part of me fully present. 

So, yeah, I can make a decision!!!! It may sound trivial to some; however, after losing so much of my confidence and self-esteem over a five year period, doing something authentic feels really good. In my second year of recovery, I found myself. The real me. She wasn't perfect, but she was really excited. She was happy. She was working a job that she felt valuable and appreciated. She jumped into things with both feet because, why not!? You only live once. I feel like I am back connected with her again. I missed her. I am living life on life's terms the best that I can. I try to be as dedicated as I can be to my value system. The pursuit of knowledge energizes me, and the thought of what lies ahead for me is so exciting. I can go 100 different directions, literally, when my RN is done. Instead of feeling scared of that many opportunities, I am having fun with researching and job searching. Funny enough, 2012 was the second year of my recovery and the time in my life when I believe I was the happiest in sobriety. Here is 2021. Maybe I just needed a flip in the numbers, although this has been going on for a few months now!

Thanks for reading!
Julie

It's been a few weeks since school started, and, as always, I am now in the swing of the quarter routine. I am feeling good about dropping one class. It has made life so much less stressful. One class does feel a little weird after having taken 3 or more classes each quarter since I started. Alas, there is no sense in killing myself to get this degree down. While I have worked crazy hours before and days without sleep, I am getting a little older now, and it takes 2-3 days to bounce back from schedules like that. So, all in all, a right decision for this quarter. 

I have to say that life is going well right now. I am happy with my job. My only real issue would be the commute, but I knew what it was before accepting the position. And, if the commute is my big complaint? Well, that's pretty darn good. I have friendly co-workers and patients. I am into the routine here and have some time here and there to get my reading done for school. I adore being on nights. I don't know exactly why, but it just works for me. 

For the past several weeks, I have had some really annoying dreams. I wouldn't say nightmares; however, when I wake up, I am thinking, "what the hell was that all about?" Last night, I had a using dream and a pretty clear cut one. I was back in college. Everyone seemed to know that I shouldn't be drinking. I mixed a drink and, in my dream, felt that buzz. I started to act the way I acted when I was drinking, which could be fun or maybe not. People were M-A-D at me, and I started to deny that I was using and found other people who didn't care. Then I was attempting to figure out if I had really drunk or not. I was trying to remember where I was when I mixed that drink. It was like a dream within a dream. I kept thinking, "10 years down the drain." I woke up and was pretty glad it was all a dream. 

The second dream has been reoccurring for a couple of years now. I have a dream that I get back together with my ex-husband. I hid it from my family and tried to figure out a way to tell them. I have a discussion with him about his wife and kids (current) and try to figure out how I would negotiate that. In real life, just for some background, the last time I spoke/saw my ex-husband was in 2008. I hear a little bit now and again via the rumor mill. Most people know to not bother mentioning him to me because I legitimately don't care. He has moved on; I have moved on. We haven't been financially entwined since I let the condo in Minneapolis go in 2010. So, it has terribly annoying to me that I keep having these dreams that he comes back to me, and even more annoying is that I take him back! That feeling of hiding things from my family is what makes me cringe. I did so many years of that. I avoid doing anything like that now.

I believe that dreams mean something. I have talked to my Dad in my dreams. I lost a friend years ago that has come back around to let me know he is OK. I have mostly "normal" dreams, most of which I barely remember. When I dream about tornados, I know that my life is in chaos, and I am denying it. I once had a dream that I was in a plane crash, literally in the cockpit watching us hit the ground. I take these dreams seriously because it usually means something is not going well. Using dreams, I have maintained throughout the years of having them, is "addiction's last stand." When I am doing well, feeling well, taking care of things, etc., addiction is not all that active in my day to day life. Addiction pops out in a dream just to remind me it's still there and available should I feel the need. Oddly, I have more using dreams when I am doing well. I still find them terribly annoying. However, if I am right and addiction can only figure out a way to be active there, I take that as I sign I am quashing addiction while I am awake. 

The using dreams that I have when things are not going well were very different. I was using alcohol in my dreams as a way of avoiding what I was doing in my day today. The last one I remember before I left the county, I drank all night and was so excited to call into work "drunk." I was thinking, in my dream, that I would lose my ability to practice and I wouldn't have to go back again. The only problem with that plan is nursing would also be off-limits, and lest I forget, I am drinking again. In the event of relapse for me, it will not be good. I can't say it won't happen. I work hard and stay mindful so it doesn't. I was knocking on death's door when I got sober 10 years ago. I believe I would pick up right where I started and accelerate into full-blown chaos. I would hide from my family and friends. I would make super irrational decisions and move. Who knows? Honestly, I don't want to know. It would be bad, so if I am excited about in my dreams? That's a problem. The dream I had last night, I was mad that I was drinking, although exhibiting from of my drinking behaviors. 

The ex-husband dream I haven't really figured out. There was another significant relationship in my life that I actually miss. I would think if I were to dream about getting back together with anyone, it would be him. Oddly, he has never surfaced in my dreams. That's probably a whole other blog entry on why I think that is. Anyway, the ex-husband keeps showing up. The only thing that comes to mind is some unresolved things I wish I could have said or feel I need to say. Maybe I still have some unanswered questions. One thing I can say for sure is that it took several years to come to grips with accepting that my drinking, my behavior, and my depression all played a role in our divorce. He was not 100% responsible for all of it, and neither was I. I spent the first 5 years post-divorce letting anyone listen that it was 100% him and I was totally perfect. I don't think that is very abnormal; a little self-preservation, if you will. It was a hard pill to swallow. I am past that, though. When I talk about my divorce, I talked about how sick I was during the marriage, and he didn't know what to do. We both were excellent at avoidant behavior. He had his own things he was working through. No way could I be a supportive partner; I was a total mess. 

I don't feel a need to reach out to him in any way either. It's been 13+ years. In the amends steps, it states to make amends where ever possible except when to do so would cause harm to yourself or the other person. We were both different people. I have forgiven him and accepted my role. I really don't think he would like me to resurface in his life and talk about that time in his life. However, I could be wrong; the last correspondence we had was vicious, angry, sarcastic, and rude. If he wanted to make amends for that, he would have by now. I sort of feel the same way about that relationship now. I was a different person then. I am a different person now. I would not have likely gotten involved with him if I were more of the person I am today back then. When he married me, he knew my level of drinking. I think had he not believed what I told him about my drinking and took it at face value, he would not have wanted a relationship with me. I was just an extension of his dysfunctional family at that point. 

So, I don't know what the meaning of this reoccurring dream is all about. All I know is that when I do wake up, I am relieved it is a dream. The feelings I have in these dreams about lying to my family is a huge reminder to me about the love and respect I have for my family now. When I wake up, I also think about the authenticity I live in today. If I were to return to that relationship, I feel like I would go back to that time and start trying to be the person he would want to be with, sober or not. Everyone changes over time. Maybe I want to show off who I am now? Maybe I want him to see that I did get sober for real? I do have that side of me as well. At least in my dreams, I am very bossy and directive about what I want out of that relationship. The bad part, though, regardless of that, I am hiding from my family. So, who knows?

So, life continues to move forward. That's about all I can wish for!

​Jules

It was about this time 11 years ago that I was spiraling down, thinking about making a change. It would be another week or two before I would be admitted to detox for the first time. I remember that I was working my 24-hour shift and really struggling to not drink. I was pretty new to transplant call. I knew that I should never drink while on call. I shouldn't drink while working ever. When I switched to 12 hour nights in December 2009, I was struggling to keep it together. I would drink between my shifts without enough time to be 100% sober by the time I got to work. I loved what I was doing for transplant and knew something needed to change if I wanted to stay in this job. Something also required to change if I wanted to continue to live. I was dying a slow death, and it was starting to be not only mentally painful but physically painful as well. 

My first attempt at treatment was technically 2007. I was hospitalized for 10 days after a suicide attempt. I wanted to go to treatment then. It was the first time I was ever honest with anyone about the extent of my drinking. At that time, it was 1/2 liter a day, 3-4 times per week. My insurance was allowed to deny me the appropriate treatment level because I didn't "fail" on a lower level. I remember feeling like the wind got punched out of me. I would see the MI/CD (mental illness/chemical dependency) treatment groups going on, and I wanted to attend. The social worker presented me with some options for outpatient groups. I took the one where I could still drink. I attended 1 group and decided that I didn't like treatment. 

By the time I got into inpatient treatment in 2010, I was a daily drinker who was shaking like a leaf after not drinking for 5-6 hours. I was obsessed with drinking. I made all sorts of justifications about what I was doing. "I am not hurting anyone." "I could quit, but I don't want to." I totally dismissed all the people I was hurting and annoying with all of my antics. I knew that I was going to have some health ramifications because of this. I knew I would have to make some significant changes, with the first admitting what was happening with me and taking responsibility for all that I did. Let me tell you, I really, really did not want to have to do that. I wanted all the lies and justification for my actions to be true. I was embarrassed. I feared everyone would reject me. I felt like I was going to lose the only life I had ever known. I didn't want to be held accountable. 

In my first treatment, I learned a lot. I was in a very stuck place emotionally. I was a good little patient. Terribly compliant and did everything I was told to do (except the whole part about reporting myself to the nursing board). I did the extra meetings that were available. I collected numbers of other patients who seemed to be looking at sobriety seriously. I asked for a temporary sponsor and got one. I felt physically better than I had felt in years. Thanks to detox, my cravings were significantly less because I wasn't withdrawing so hard. I started on a new anti-depressant before leaving. I had a therapist. I was signed up for aftercare. I knew which meetings I was going to do. Honestly, none of it felt terribly authentic. I still saw myself as different. I was excited to get back to work. I was not excited to talk about my absence from work.

Knowing what I know now, I was missing some critical pieces to finding recovery. With my depression came a lot of shame. I was (and still am a little at times) embarrassed for my actions. I would have these vague drunken memories of things that I did and said. I felt horrible for my family and everything that I had put them through—all they ever wanted to do what see me well. I dodged questions and concerns for several years. So, as I was walking out of treatment the first time, I had no distress tolerance. It wouldn't be until late 2010, when I started with an outpatient mental health group, that I would learn about distress tolerance. I was unable to identify the levels of distress I was experiencing. Everything that was triggering an emotion was either 0 or 1,000. There was no in-between. Many of the situations didn't warrant a 1,000 response. Not to mention my 1,000 response was drinking. 

Regulating emotions is interesting to learn. Most of the skills I learned in relation to emotional regulation seemed really obvious. When I felt my feelings getting stronger, I distract myself for a few minutes. If I was thinking about drinking, delay the thought for a few minutes and see if I still want to after engaging my logical mind. If I was feeling particularly depressed, attempt to do one thing and rest. If I was stuck on a thought, quiet the mind with meditation. I was looking at the list as we were learning and thought, "geez, this isn't so hard." Well, yes and no. The skills are reasonably straightforward. The trick is knowing what skill works in what situation. Not to mention, I have to take some time to rewire my brain. My brain had 1 track, and it was the track to get overly emotional at everything. I had to build some new paths in my brain, with the foundation being - "I can handle this." 

I almost gave up halfway through these groups. There was a woman in my group who I called the "skills master." She would review her days and talk about being in a manic state. She used every skill offered to her to get her symptoms in better control. She worked so hard and tried so hard. I didn't feel like I had the same commitment to the process as she did. I was reminded, though, I get out of this what I put into it. I met with my counselor weekly, and she kept me forward-facing. OK, I didn't like how scenario #1 went. OK - now that you are in a different place, how would you like to handle this situation? Then we would put a plan together and practice. I started to believe that these skills could work for me. I just needed some guidance. It was the most profound thing I learned in my early recovery.

I still rely on those skills today. Sometimes I need to be reminded of them. I don't find my emotions to be as overwhelming as they used to be. That doesn't mean that I don't struggle with emotion. For the past couple of years, my emotions were sort of all over the place. My emotions were slowly elevating to my pre-sober days/early sober days. It's easier to see that now with some distance between me and that time. I did try to use my skills, and I did. The biggest struggle was regardless of my interventions, the situation was not changing. I have been in situations like this before - no matter how skillful I am, there are times when the situation has to change to get any relief. I think I reverted back to a little bit of denial back then too. It's a coping mechanism of sorts, but not very effective. Hindsight is always 20/20.

One of the best things that came out of recovery for me is that I have more control over my mind than I ever believed. Just because I have a negative thought doesn't mean it's true. Just because I am thinking about something, it doesn't mean I need to get stuck there. I may not be able to control my drinking; however, once I accepted that, I became empowered to do many other things. There are times that I wished I had found recovery sooner since I ended up wasting so many years. At the same time, things happen the way that they were supposed to. I have to believe that deep down. I have had to get myself away from language like "mistake" and "wasted time." Some people came in and out of my life during those years. I learned a lot. Even if counseling didn't end up being my career of choice, the experience and knowledge will stay with me forever. 

I feel like I am on a good path right now. I am still happy with my current job and, of course, I love school. My school is very challenging, and I am missing that in-person component. One of the best things about my practical nursing program was the people I met. A few of those folks are life long friends. I think people bond very quickly in nursing school. We have to have each other's back. It's hard enough to know everything we need to know. I have met some folks, and we chat online and via text. It's not quite the same, but I will take what I can get right now! I hope to continue to revive old passions that I may have forgotten about. Hospice nursing is still a forerunner. I know that transplant is still an option as well. I do plan on just a little bit more schooling when I am done....I'll keep you posted on that.

Hope everyone is staying healthy and happy!
J

Since I am down to only one class this quarter, I have a bit more free time than I am normally used to. Without much in the way of a social agenda these days, I have been watching a lot of Netflix. Last night, I watched a documentary about genetics. The bulk of the documentary focused on the advances that have been made and how the discussion around the possibilities has changed greatly in the past 10-15 years because major advancements to the field. Years ago it was easy to say what a person may or may not agree to when it is theoretical. It encompassed a passionate debate about stopping horrific genetic diseases from afflicting the next generation (Huntington's disease, early onset Alzheimer's disease, BRCA 1 and 2 genes for aggressive breast cancer, etc.) 

The documentary followed a boy who was about 11 or 12 years old. He has sickle cell anemia which is a genetic disorder of the red blood cells. For those without this genetic disease, the red blood cells are round and efficiently carry oxygen throughout the body. His red blood cells are moon-shaped or "sickle" shaped which reduces the oxygen they carry and can get stuck in transport throughout the body. He was hospitalized during his interview with a sickle cell crisis which is extremely painful for him. The filmmakers interviewed his grandmother who was his caregiver. She would give anything to make this disease go away and have him not suffer. Toward the end of the film, the filmmaker asked this boy if he would like to have kids some day. "I don't know, but that might change." The interviewer explained that maybe by the time he was interested in having children, genetic alterations might be available so that his children would not develop sickle cell. "The gene would be turned off." 

The child was almost confused by this concept. On one hand, he said, "well, you turn that one off, how do you know that you aren't going to turn off the one for growing hair or something." Smart kid. He, then, started talking about how he learned a lot about having this disease. "I learned patience. I learned how to be happy for great days. I met many people." A child shall lead us! He was a lovely addition to the discussion. First, there always could be unintended consequences to manipulating DNA. Second, which disorders meet the criteria for the eradication list? Personally, I hate ALS. If they were able to deactivate the gene or genes for ALS, I am all for it. As a person with a genetic predisposition to addiction, would I want this gene deactivated for my children to reduce the risk of developing addiction? There was a mention of addiction genes in a hypothetical scenario with a set of parents reviewing their genetic "disadvantages" and listing the genes that could be deactivated to take these concerns out of the equation. In that, they mentioned addiction. "We took care of the gene for alcoholism and other addictive disorders. The child is still you, just the best version of you."

I immediately thought of the "grateful alcoholic" post I did years ago. In a quick summary, at a meeting this guy says, "Hi! I am Tom and a grateful alcoholic." I thought he was nuts. Who is grateful for this crap? After establishing more recovery time, I got what he was saying. The child with sickle cell anemia reminded me of him. Yeah, we got this thing, but it's not all bad. In my favorite movie about addiction, Pleasure Unwoven, the narrator of the film talks about developing addiction and overcoming it is a good thing. We teach others (the children as well) the concepts of coping and acceptance. There is also an acknowledgement that the recovery process is tough but worth it because life looks so much different now, not to mention I found a new respect for gratitude for all that I have. 

Generally speaking, I don't like to play the "what if" game. What's the point, really? Even if I could fully map a situation out, I still cannot change what has happened. I have wondered, at times, if  addiction hadn't taken over so quickly and at such a young age, what would I have done differently? I often took the path the least resistance. I took classes in college that I knew I would be good at because I didn't want to have to work really hard at something and then fail at it. Initially, when I was applying for college after high school, I wanted to do nursing. I got super scared of taking chemistry, biology, and anatomy. I knew that I would have to work at it because those are not the most intuitive subjects for me.  So, I never pursued it in college. I was scared of failure. Alcohol was my escape from a lot of self-doubt and fear. Would I have gone for it out of the gates instead of getting my RN at 43 years old? Probably not because the issues around my own abilities were still there. My personality was still there. My avoidance was still there. 

Those years of addiction were not easy. I lost a lot. The hardest thing to lose was me. Anything that was important to me got thrown out of the window. If I didn't have addiction issues, what would my life look like? I don't know. Part of me thinks I would have found something else to be unhealthy about. I just can't image my life without those times. I would have found another way to hide. Part of me thinks of those times and would say, take that genetic component out of my kid. I don't want him/her to EVER suffer through something like that. Addiction and, more so, recovery are such a huge part of who and what I am. It's hard to imagine a life without those experiences. Every decision I have made, every step that I took, right or wrong, has led me to where I am today. Since I can't even imagine what I would have done differently, having the gene removed for alcoholism probably would have manifested in a different way. Not much would have really changed from a 10,000 foot level.

I have a certain personality. I don't think you can turn off the genes for that. I will always have an impulsive part of me. I have a thrill seeking side. Heck, even if the gene was turned off, I probably would have developed addiction anyway. The way I understand it is that the genetic component has more to do with how I physically process alcohol. I can tell you, alcohol does not make me sleepy. Alcohol makes me feel like I am on meth (or what I assume that feels like). I have grandiose thoughts. I run 1000 miles per hour. I have little to no forethought about consequences to actions. I want to conquer the world. I want to run and do crazy things. That, my friends, is not how "normal" people process alcohol. So, to suppress that process probably wouldn't be enough for me to love the feeling of being buzzed even it the buzzed were taken down a notch or two. 

If I were to have a child, would I look at silencing the gene for addiction? In grad school, one of my professors gave us the "rule of thirds". One-third of people who are clinical and diagnostically addicted to a substance will stand up and walk away for good with very few changes needed to stay away. One-third of people will need some type of assistance including treatment, counseling, medications, etc. And the final one-third will, no matter what intervention, not get better. Ever. When I think of 23 million people having addictions issues, that last 1/3 is a whole heck of a lot of people who will succumb to the consequences of addiction or of the addiction itself. Having spent those years in the counseling field, these stats felt about right. Would it be worth attempting to save some of those lives in the next generation by muting a component of addiction?

What about recovery though? I would say about 1/4 of the friends I have made as an adult have come from the recovery community. A lot of the appreciation I have for life is because life was so bleak for so long, I have learned to appreciate every color now. No matter what I do for a living, recovery will always be a part of the journey. I learned how strong I can be. I learned how to put boundaries in place. I learned to respect myself more. I have come to know what acceptance is. I took a leap of faith that I could do something different and I did. I have spiritual connections I never dared to dream of while I was actively using. I feel like if I hadn't gone through this recovery process, something would feel very empty in my life. 

Technology and science move quickly these days. A lot is possible now of days. I won't have to make that decision and, for that, I am grateful. I truly can see the argument from both sides about any disease, not just addiction. Are we playing God? Will nature get back at us for trying to manipulate it? Can we ease the suffering of a child? Can we give a child an opportunity to grow up free of disease and pain? What about the diversity of the world? All great philosophical questions with hundreds of different answers. So, I have no answer for you because, honestly, I am not in the situation where I would have to make it. It's easy to make decisions when there is no immediate or long-term consequence to that decision.

That's all I got for tonight! 

​Julie 

About a month ago, a Facebook connection of mine posted about mental health awareness. While most of the people offered support, there was a long thread of back and forth about those who think mental illness is made up or "over-dramatized". I rarely get involved in online battles. For one, if people are just trying to get a rise out of other people, there is no point in engaging. Second, if they are so entrenched in their views that they feel compelled to respond to a short message of support, what could I possibly say that is going to change their minds? 

I have been bothered by that interaction even though I never responded to anything. Since getting sober, one of my prime focuses has been staying true to my value system. I know what I need to do for my sobriety. I know what I need to do for my mental health. I know what I believe in. Trust me, having an opinion and a stance is one of the most freeing things about addiction. When I was using and in early recovery, I didn't know anything about what I believed in anymore. I threw all my priorities and passions out the window and spend so much time convincing everyone I was just fine. It took a lot of years to get to the place I am today and I am sure not going to take advice from a random person on the internet that doesn't agree with my plan of care. 

This discussion is a piggy-back off of my last entry. Can the internet be a source of hurt or a source of help? Of course, there is no black and white answer. I think the effectiveness of using social media or the internet in general, depends on who you are and what you are seeking. I would say my recovery efforts started in late 2009. I was starting to come around to the fact that drinking was the sole issue of all my misery in life. I didn't really use the internet much to research about my condition. Actually, I was kinda scared to do that because I was pretty sure that I was dying. There was no way I could drink for that long at that rate and not have adverse health effects. I relied on talking with people. I started these weird conversation that would give me some idea about treatment. If they had know anyone that went or if they had any experience. I walked into treatment without a single clue of what to expect. 

In the beginning stages of recovery, I felt pretty fragile. The first six months of recovery was just taking it one day at a time and work on staying sober for that day. Those first six months were not about digging deep into my character defects or past issues. I just needed to stay sober. At six months is when I started DBT which I knew nothing about until I was back in treatment again after several relapses. I didn't ask anyone's opinion about. I attended one class, decided I needed it, and enrolled. Once I started learning about my emotions and the control I could have after some practice, then I was ready to dive deeper into the reasons for drinking and how to resolve those issues. That was a lot of work with my therapist and also working on finding the right combination of medications to treat depression. Along with AA, DBT, individual work, medications, and some willingness on my part, my recovery came together and today I am at 10 1/2 years. 

I started with blog after hitting my first year of recovery because I felt that I was learning so much and I wanted to share what I was learning with other people. I also wanted to be out there and say "yup, I had a serious problem with alcohol and got into recovery. I have severe depression and now I have found the right treatments to keep that near remission." I wanted to keep feeling that freedom of releasing my own stigma of mental health and chemical dependency. All these years later, the focus has changed to living life on life's terms. I am in the maintenance phase of recovery, meaning I know how to take care of my recovery and it's up to me to do that. 

The purpose of reviewing all this history is to remind me where I have been and where I am now. I used social media when I was using as a way to connect to others and make me feel important. I could be at home and connect with others whether they were healthy or not. Most of my life was online. When I got into recovery, I spent 2 days a week in classes, work, in person meetings, and limited time on social media. In fact, social media was a fairly big trigger for me in the beginning. So, I rarely sought support from social media in those yearly years. I took everything so personally in those early days, it's probably a good thing things like Facebook, Twitter, and Reddit weren't my go-to places for support. 

Fast forward to today, when I see those types of conversations out there that are either trolling someone or someone spewing grave ignorance, I often wonder if I should just leave social media. It's weird, because it was never aimed at me. I didn't even engage. I have this slight sense of guilt that I didn't. If I am so ready to advocate for recovery, why don't I ever say anything? Am I justifying staying at bay by assuming there is nothing that can be done to change their opinion? Is it just safer for me to stay away and connect with people who are like-minded? I suppose it comes down to what I am seeking when I go to sites like these. 98% of the time, I am seeing what people are up to, watch a bunch of cat videos, and post a little humor on my site for others (and me) to enjoy. I sometimes seek out comment sections on articles to see how people are responding. Often times, I feel disappointed and let down to see how radicalized and often times selfish people have become. I try to remember there are literally a billion other people who are not on this comment thread that are probably decent people. 

The world is online these days. Technology is moving so fast. I am coming to realize that there are effects to this technology. I worry about my brothers and sisters who are in early stages of recovery or understanding their diseases and find rejection online. I worry about those who internalize all the negativity. I worry about the recovery community becoming radicalized. The beginning of change for anyone is a fragile time. There can be a lot of self-doubt and negative talk. The scariest thing I think the internet/social media can do at that point is validate all the negativity and push someone away from the changes they would like to make. Not to mention offer 300 "fabulous new offers" to distract from the real issue at hand. Sure, if I lose weight I will be happier (never mind that I am drinking a liter of hard liquor a day). 

I felt a need to write tonight. Not sure if I solved any dilemma here or not. Maybe I created one for myself. I hope everyone is hanging in there!!!

​Jules

When I started my addiction studies degree, I was interested in social media's role in recovery. It's been six years since graduation, and my opinions are no more solidified. The pandemic really brought this topic as people seek out recovery support online to substitute for in-person meetings. A few clubs arranged to get a waiver from the state here in MN, which allows for limited in-person meetings. These Alano clubs were/are considered essential in these cases. 

What that initial research project concluded is that within the recovery community, online meetings were not all that popular. Most of the people who I interviewed felt that people could potentially hide behind a screen instead of being present and around their peers. Others thought it was "too easy" to roll over in bed and join an online meeting. "Are we really willing to go to any lengths for recovery if we can't even get out of bed to make it to a meeting?" Others felt like I did and still do to a certain extent. Getting the courage to walk in those doors is one of the hardest parts of recovery. Can I an online meeting offer some introduction so people can dip their toes to see if AA is the right fit for them? Online meetings are offer something for areas with limited meetings. I would think it would be hard to live in a town of 10,000 people with 2 meetings a week. Also, small towns can mean knowing a lot of people. The anonymous part of AA kinda flies out the window when you know everyone in town. 

I have been highly interested in documentaries that talk about social media and the effect that it has had on our culture and politics. While the original mission was to connect us, I think most of us can agree that social media has, in some cases, brought out the very worst in us. I scroll through comment sections on articles and find myself getting sad about the aggression people display. To some degree, most people have become more radicalized in their perspective as social media uses artificial intelligence to watch our behavior and give us content that fits this view and areas of interest. Our realities have become skewed whether we would like to admit it or not. 

So, how does recovery fit into all of this? The saddest thing I have noticed about the online social media-based recovery groups is twofold. First, people will join groups just to argue about the type of recovery they choose. "AA is a cult." "Addiction is not a disease; just suck it up." "You will stop being depressed once you choose Jesus." "Medication is just a government conspiracy to control your mind." The last one is my favorite. A woman was reaching out for suggestions about managing her depression after getting sober. These were the responses that I remember that offered anything but support. 

Secondly, the trolls. When meetings started moving online, Zoom meetings were hacked, and people were doxing the sites with triggering speech. I clearly remember a person logging on to a meeting who, during the introductions, stated, "I own a bar down the street. You get a free drink when you give me your chip." He stayed on for 20 minutes with similar messages. While some people might think this is funny, it's hurtful for people who are trying to improve the quality of their lives. If you hate AA, don't go. If you hate SMART recovery, don't go. If you think therapy is for babies, don't go. If you think medications are for the weak, don't take them. Because recovery takes so many different shapes and forms, I rarely judge (I try not to anyway) how other people get to where they want to go. 

Our recovery community has become polarized as well. I think to a degree, it always has been. There are a great number of people who have to succeed with AA/NA and believe this program is the only way to get sober. If you don't choose AA/NA, you will not get sober. End of conversation. There are others who are huge supporters of medication-assisted recovery. They often fight a battle regarding stigma more than any other program. The opinions are explicit, and I have seen those attempting to get into NA who are taking Suboxone be shunned for not really being sober. There are others who want and need something more than just AA. Like me, I use AA for some of my recovery. I use mental health work as part of my recovery. DBT has been the most successful intervention, along with medications for my recovery. DBT helps me regulate myself, medications help me keep my depression symptoms at bay, and AA reminds me to own my stuff and do better. 

So, I think social media gave all of these opinions a new platform, much like politics. I didn't know that people actively requested people to leave AA/NA if they were taking medications. I didn't know this because I don't attend NA. The topic hasn't really come up that I can think of in the meetings that I attend. Naloxone is often used to help people with cravings. People don't seem to be up in arms as much about that as they are about methadone or Suboxone treatments.  I have experienced the "AA is the only way" crowd. I don't engage in the other components of my recovery. I know what works for me. I am thrilled that AA worked so well for them. I don't feel like it is my place to convince them that other things can work and AA is not for everyone.

Over the years, I have had people comment on my blog since I do talk about AA. The comments are harsh and accuse me of perpetuating a destructive cult. I have been accused of being brainwashed. When I talk about taking medications for depression and anxiety, the comments even go further south. I am, apparently, a victim of big Pharma. I am also not sober. Antidepressants are mood-altering drugs, and I shouldn't be telling people that I am sober. Also, mental health does not really exist. I am whining. Just step up, get out of bed, accept Jesus, and move on already. I have chosen to delete them. So, I alter the reality of this blog and post the positive things only. That is my choice but also speaks to a part of the problem.

One thing I struggle with while working in the field was that advocacy piece. When do I engage and try to educate? When do I just walk away because there is no point? I had an easier time advocating for mental health than I did for chemical health. I got stuck in the corner with "you won't understand unless you have been there." I limited myself to thinking that no one else can understand, which is not valid. I think what comes up is the first time I walked into treatment and bawled for 20 minutes. I was so relieved that I wasn't alone, the cat was out of the bag, and maybe I had a shot at doing something different. I felt like I wasn't being judged in that moment. Judgment was one of my worse fears. People would think less of me. People would feel sorry for me. People wouldn't respect me. None of that ended up being true. However, that is precisely what I see when I look at my online recovery groups, with the exception of a rare few, who have serious rules to participation.

There is no black and white answer to this one. I think there can be a place and a time for recovery online. I also worry about the state of the world and being inundated with so much negativity. Those things can chip away at recovery. Personally, I don't feel the same connection with online meetings as I do in person. I have heard others say it's been great because it takes the stress off of getting to appointments and meetings. It's much easier to shut the door for an hour instead of finding a sitter for the kids, finding money for gas, and commuting. I can absolutely appreciate that. 

In all honesty, I have stepped away from a lot of my social media-based recovery groups. There is a private group I belong to that I like. I also have one that people post their recovery anniversaries. Not a whole lot of controversy there. However, the last time I posted at my ten years, someone posted, "Nice start, I guess." That didn't sit with me well. I found myself wanting to aggressively respond. I know, though, that that response says more about me than him. His response is about him and not me. So I guess there are lessons of the real-world on social media as well. People are generally very passionate about their recovery, and I enjoy that energy. It can be hard at times when people are judging others and disguising it as passion.  Who knows? Maybe they are no aware of how their passion for one recovery method comes off to those of us who believe that people have more than one option to get to sobriety. 

So, the new year is going as well as expected. I did reduce my school credit load, and it feels much more manageable. Work continues to go well, and having a reduced schedule will allow me to work a touch more than I was. The fewer loans, the better! :)

'Til next time!
​Julie 

One of my classes this semester is Nursing Care for the Older Adult. With all the pandemic stuff going around, we are unable to go to a clinical site for that portion of the class. We are making it work with having a clinical group online. For the past 3 Saturdays, I have spent 8 hours a day with 10 others learning about different ways to be mindful of working with the older adult population. I first got my nursing license in 2004 and spent just short of five years in various facets of long-term care. I worked in transitional care units, memory care units, long-term residential units, in an adult day center, and lastly, in a hospice unit. The hospice unit was my last direct nursing care job before I started with transplant in 2009. 

Our topic today was palliative and end-of-life care. I have a very concrete view of this area of care. Before I got sober, there were very few things about which I felt strongly. I had lost a lot of my identity in those years and just talked out both sides of my mouth. With hospice and palliative care, however, I knew and know where I stand. Those views were formed when my dad was ill for the last several months of his life, battling cancer. In those last months, it was nothing but an amazing honor to have been with him and there for him in a meaningful way. He died at home, surrounded by love and his family. This time of my life was very hard, of course, with losing a parent and being an early teen. However, the nurses I got to know when he was hospitalized were terrific. The family and friends that surrounded us for the months leading up to his death and afterward showed me how gracious the world can be in a time of sadness. What stands out most is that I was part of his care team and had these intimate moments of caring that not everyone gets to experience.

I shared a different story with the clinical group today. It's a story that I only share with select people. It's a patient that has stuck with me for over 12 years. I get emotional when I talk about her because the situation was so sad. I was working at Redeemer Health & Rehab, and I was on the hospice wing there. We had several patients pass during the eight months I was there. It's part of the job. It's challenging, but when I think of end-of-life care, I think of the incredible honor it is to care for someone and allow for a peaceful, comfortable transition to the next life. It was the first time in my nursing career (only really 3 years old at that point) when I felt like I was providing the kind of care that I wanted to provide as a nurse. It was incredibly difficult and incredibly rewarding. 

Our patient, D, was young. She came to our facility in her late forties with stage 4 breast cancer. She was visiting her family in MN (home was out of state) when she started feeling poorly and went to the ED at one of the local hospitals. She was immediately admitted and aggressively treated. She became so quickly deconditioned, she came to the rehab floor to get back on her feet. She was an incredibly neat lady. She was very anxious and terrified. She didn't like being with all these old people. She was a thousand miles away from home and wondered how her life ended up here. She was back and forth to the hospital for treatments and complications. One evening, I received a call from the nurse on the floor where she was at. "She is going on hospice care; her body has failed." I immediately advocated that she needed "to come home to us." The plan was to transfer her to a hospice floor at the hospital. Nothing against them, but she knew us. She should come home to us.

When she transferred back to us, her son came with her. He thought she was going back to rehab and was going to be OK. No one had the conversation with him that she was actively dying and only had less than a week to live. I finished my shift at 11:00pm that night and pulled him out of her room. I talked with him for nearly 2 hours about what was really happening. We were keeping her sedated because she would be in immense pain if we didn't. We were keeping her comfortable. He cried and wanted her to wake up to say goodbye. I had to rely on my experience with a parent's death and talk with him about things I had come to believe. "She can hear you. She knows you are there. I asked my dad to stay with us until I was done with something important to us both. He waited. I knew he heard me." 

D passed only a few days later. The aunt and the son decided to have her wake and funeral at our little chapel. "She received more love and care from you guys in the last 2 months of her life than she probably received in her whole life. We wanted for you guys to say goodbye." Many nurses attended the service. I said a prayer to her thanking her for having a significant impact on my life. I thanked God that she was free of pain now. I prayed for her son and family, who lost someone so quickly and so young. I walked back to the floor and started to care for my other hospice patients. I lost another patient that night who I had also come to enjoy. D has stuck with me for a couple of reasons. I advocated for something I truly believed in - something that rarely happened in those drunken years. She made me the nurse I wanted to be. She allowed us to take care of her at her most vulnerable time. She helped me to understand compassion. She was not always pleasant to us. She had a sharp tongue. However, I believe that our request to have her come home to us made a difference in the end. She passed comfortably in her sleep with love and her family. Her family allowed us to honor her and say our goodbyes.

I teared up a bit as I shared this story. If you talk to any nurse, some patients and situations just stay with us. I had the whole clinical group on the verge of tears too! I received all this beautiful feedback from the group via private messages. One of my classmates said, "What is your sign?" I am a full-fledged Aquarius. "Your Aquarian heart is going to change the world," she wrote. "Just don't forget to slow down and realize that you already have." Pretty wise advice from a person I have known for 18 hours of my life. I just stared at those words. Since getting sober, I have felt like I have something big to do. I don't know what it is. I feel like I can make this huge impact. Aquarians (or maybe it's just me) tend to think big. I want to make a huge impact. I want to be a motivational speaker that changes lives for the masses. I guess I can get sort of loss and pass over the differences I have made to people over the years. 

I still think my biggest accomplishment in my life was getting sober and staying sober. The empowerment I felt in changing my own life was so refreshing that I want the world to feel that way! I want to talk to people to let them know that they can do it too. I will never forget the darkness, and I will always remember who were the lights that help me find my way out. I suppose I could say I have a message that I want to share with the world. I am now working a job where recovery isn't an active subject, and there isn't a whole lot of reason to say anything about it at this point. I am in a school where substance use disorders are not the main topic (yet). It just made me realize that I have passions outside of recovery. It's not like I forgot about them; I have been just super focused on the recovery piece for the last six or so years. It is sorta nice to connect again with a few things outside of recovery that are important to me.

I tell people that I am not sure what I want to do when I grow up. That has to be pretty obvious as I am sitting here in school for the 4th time. Recovery is so important to me, so I keep thinking that a career related to recovery must be the place I need to go. What I fail to consider some days is that recovery is a part of everything I do. Today, I woke up in recovery so that I could go to school, get some errands done, and write this blog. Recovery has given me my passion for life back and a connection to the value system that is most important to me. So, should I become a mental health nurse or an ICU nurse, recovery plays a huge role. I have learned resiliency with recovery. After D's death, I went on a bender for a week or so. I didn't want to feel the emotions of her loss. Today, I shared the difference her passing made in my life. Being sober and resilient makes me a candidate for all sorts of options. Recovery is the foundation of it all. 

The last few weeks have been such a fun ride. I enjoy my work so far and engaging back in that technical nursing piece. I feel like all these experiences I have had in life (good, bad, or otherwise) have a new purpose through this clinical experience. I am actually enjoying that not everything is about recovery at the moment. Recovery will always be the most important thing for me because I will have nothing without it. I am starting to realize that maybe working full-time in recovery services is not quite the answer. One way or another, I will always remain connected to it, and it will always be a part of my perspective of things. There is no shortage of addiction issues in nursing in any specialty. I see it in transplant regularly. I see it in working with the older adult populations. I see it in mental health. I think I am coming closer to finding the balance.   

So, all in all, life is moving along. I am taking a moment to think of the people who have told me I made a difference in their lives. I am fortunate to have heard this more than once. These moments are changing the world just a little bit. A change of focus is never a bad thing. My Aquarian heart still has lots of love and compassion yet to share. Eventually, I will figure out the best place for it.

J