The beginning of a new year often gives us pause to reflect on the year past and to think about the year to come. I have to admit, I am pretty happy to see 2021 exit. It was a stressful year on many fronts. Remaining mostly distanced from family and friends was a huge part of it. Not to mention, the personal losses I witnessed and experienced contributed to this year of chaos. While I like attending school, school was a challenge on many fronts. Because of the lack of flexibility with my school schedule, 2021 brought yet another job change. It was a rough start; however, as my assignments continued, I enjoyed where I landed, much to my surprise. School was a whole other kind of stress. Most days, I was left wondering if I would ever successfully complete the program. The requirements and rules changed more frequently than I ever imagined on top of test after test after test. 

As I look back on the year, I can't seem to grasp how the year is over "already," yet feeling like 2021 lasted forever. It was sort of one chaotic moment after another. And just as things started to slowly drift back to "normal" (by my standards anyway), a new, unexpected wrench would be thrown in. I felt like I had so much to write about. Every time I sat down to do so, my mind would just go blank. Writing has become my way of processing feelings. During this year, I would have thought I would have written more, given the emotional nature of the 2021 life. I couldn't help but ask myself if I "had the right" to say what I wanted to say. Here is what I mean by that.

I saw people post about experiencing unbelievable losses from suicide, substance use, complications from Covid-19, strokes, heart attacks, etc. I spent a lot of time figuring out how the people closest to these individuals were getting through these losses. I was having a hard time with these losses, and I would say in most of these situations, I was merely an outsider looking in. I wanted to offer something. I wanted to talk about the dark place of not wanting to live anymore and how the decision to end life is not a spontaneous, selfish act. I wanted to be mad at alcohol and drugs for taking another person in my life. I wanted to talk about what it is like to be sick with addiction. I wanted to talk about grief as if I had any idea how to really discuss that topic. I think in my heart of hearts, I wanted to fix something. Each of these situations evoked a pretty strong response inside of me. What was it like for those losing a sibling, best friend, or spouse? I could only imagine the process to be infinitely more painful than I was feeling, and I just didn't want the survivors to feel that way.

To get into recovery, part of the process is looking at and dealing with events of the past. Many of us who turn to substances use the drug to escape or avoid feelings/situations that are uncomfortable. What I think I learned this year is that grief makes me uncomfortable. Other people's grief makes me doubly uncomfortable. One "skill" that became quite well-honed was avoidance. I avoided everything - feelings, taking responsibility, owning up to mistakes, apologizing, admitting defeat, and so on. I haven't been able to avoid grief in recovery, but I have been playing a different card - rationalizing. Instead of sitting in the emotion and admitting to myself and others that I am hurting, I flip on my intellectual rationalization skill. "Loss is part of life." "At least, {name} isn't suffering anymore." "It's a sad situation." Using an "I" statement when I think about grief is nearly impossible. Intellectualizing or rationalizing is basically what I substitute substances with to avoid dealing with the powerful emotions that are triggered at a loss. For whatever reason, 2021 hit me like a brick. Trying to whole intellectualize and/or rationalize wasn't effective. It just didn't work. 2021 gave me the opportunity to start digging deeper into grief. I wanted to understand it. I wanted to figure out how to be with grief instead of avoiding it. 

This process is ongoing. Learning about grief opened up a lot of doors I wasn't expecting - some of those doors offered a bit of freedom from the heaviness of the topics. Other doors reminded me that despite having over 11 years of recovery, this particular topic is a heavy and awkward piece of luggage I carry around despite my desire not to. Also, I feel like I discovered that grief is a process, not the feeling. The feelings are highly individual to each person. So, no matter what I find or figure out in this exploration, the conclusion and understanding only belong to me. I can't fix anything for anyone else.

Ultimately, I feel powerless. I hate that feeling. I mean, really, who likes it, right? If recovery has taught me anything, it is that there are things in life that I will never have control over. I can get upset about that, fight against it, get resentful, or whatever. It does not change the fact that I am powerless over someone else's process of grief and loss. I can't fix it or make it better. I have to learn to be with grief even if the grief is not my own. I don't want to avoid the person because s/he is experiencing grief. To be there for the person, I have to be with grief. 

 When I look forward to 2022, I am not exactly sure what to think about. Life has changed in so many ways that I dare not expect much of anything so that I don't have to deal with the inevitable frustration or disappointment. As I mentioned in a previous entry, I really need to sit for a minute. Do nothing. Just have one (or two) jobs, no school, and have some fun. Engage in all of the normal fun stuff that either got canceled with Covid or put on a temporary delay because of school. I am honestly not sure if I can do it. I always have something cooking in the back of my mind. I can tell you with the utmost certainty, I have minimal clarity on my "end game," so to speak. I don't know what I want to be when I grow up other than I want to be in nursing. What I want to do in nursing is a whole other "I don't know." I am doing my best not to get ahead of myself and stick with the plan to slow down for a bit.

I hope to write more often now that some of the chaos in my life is finally over. As always, I appreciate all of you who take the time to read!!!

​Julie

A couple of things about this post: I believe in self-care. It is an integral part of anyone's life, especially those who give themselves to others personally or professionally. This post is more about how the concept of self-care became weaponized in my life for years. The term "self-care" makes me cringe because of what I experienced. That does not diminish the importance of taking care of yourself. This post is more about resentment that I still carry on some level. The fact that I react simply to the words "self-care" tells me I have yet to release this resentment. 
 
 I saw this meme posted on Facebook a couple of different times. It surprised me that my visceral reaction to even seeing the words "self-care" is still present despite almost two years passing since I had the concept used against me. One of the more challenging parts of recovery for me is letting go, especially when I feel like I have been wronged. I remember that first year of recovery; I felt that almost everyone and everything had done me wrong at some point or another. I was literally mad at everything. Over time, I understood that resentments were driving that behavior, and if I wanted to stay sober, I would have to find a way to come to terms with my anger. 
 
 In school right now, I am taking a course in leadership. While I don't have a particular interest in being in a leadership/management position in the future, it reminds me of what I need in a supervisor/manager to succeed. Those needs had changed over the years and definitely changed when I moved from nursing to counseling. Now that I am back in nursing and with years of experience, I think of leadership differently. I could see myself as a leader and would want to model myself after the core tenets of nursing: compassion, care, and advocacy. Even if I don't want to supervise people, I can model behavior that exemplifies those virtues.
 
 I had a variety of supervisors during my time in counseling. I had one who was very hands-off and told me that I was smart and to let her know if I needed anything. She was so swamped that even if I did need something, I had to wait in line. I opted to talk with my co-workers; however, we were all pretty new to the practice, and it was not the type of support I needed to be successful. The next supervisor was a micro-manager. I'm not too fond of that extreme either. It was so severe that I found a camera in my office that was placed behind a bookshelf. She recorded my sessions and provided very specific criticisms of what word I used in a particular part of my assessment and compared everything with my notes to "see if you were making up anything there." She also had all of our emails blind cc:ed to her so that I was emailing asking about what time my co-workers and I were going to lunch, and she would deduct that from our time. I have never been in a situation like that.
 
 The job I stayed in the longest had many supervisors and managers. Because our department intersected with many other teams, it felt like I had 4-6 people I answered to, and I would have to change the way I presented something based on who was in the room. One of the things that I had to fight myself for in recovery is being OK with the authentic me. I was already second-guessing myself, being relatively new to the field, spending time trying to figure out what "Julie" to be in what meeting was exhausting. It brought me back to obsessing over how every interaction went and what I did wrong. I needed to be worried about advocating for my client, not about whether I was making someone mad by not perfectly saying something. 
 
 About a year or two in, the "self-care kick" started at my job. It was very evident that many of us were burned out. We were down on staff members for about two years, and our caseloads were huge. Not to mention, we were constantly under a microscope for having long waitlists for services. So, every staffing meeting, every supervision appointment, I would be asked, "what are you doing for self-care." When I would say, I didn't really know. The response was quite shocking. "Why don't you know??" Well, I am barely getting through the day, so thinking about doing something for myself that requires any amount of energy is overwhelming. 
 
 Day after day, as my physical and mental health was falling apart, I was put in a position where I "needed to do more self-care." I was obviously "not able to care" for myself adequately. I was asked what was so hard about knowing what I needed to feel better. I started to believe that I genuinely didn't know myself well enough to do the right thing. I was "failing." If I just learned how to do self-care correctly, I would be fine. The stress of the job was not the problem - it was me. My family of co-workers was always telling me this wasn't true. On some level, I knew that, but when people in authority are constantly bombarding me with the same criticism week over week, how can someone not start to believe it? I have a strong desire to please other people to a fault sometimes. So the people I wanted to be impressed with my abilities were hyper-focused on self-care and what I was personally doing wrong. It wasn't easy to see the situation any other way.
 
 Over time, I became paralyzed. The sheer fact that I was getting out of bed and taking a shower off of work was the best I could do. Did you know that getting out of bed and taking a shower is self-care? It is for me because I feel better. I went on vacation. I went on crafting retreats. I spent time with my family and friend. While that was probably technically self-care, it was not going to change the fact that I was burned out. No amount of "self-care" was going to change the fact that I was so overwhelmed and upset about my job that I couldn't even manage to get out of bed. Well, guess what happens when I don't get out of bed? No dishes get done. No laundry gets done. No grocery shopping gets done. The tasks of my personal life pile up, causing even more stress. 
 
 What thing I still do to this day for self-care is therapy. Therapy was one of the few things that kept me from relapsing and helped me get through the last year of that job. I talked with my therapist about whether or not self-care could be used as a weapon. He said he imagined it could be. What I was clearly explaining was exactly that. Self-care had been used against me to blame me for my level of stress. He was actually saddened that this had happened. He could see the resentment building and would see my reaction if he used the word self-care. Two years later, he still avoids that term because it changes my composure. Until I am ready to work through or let go of those things that happened, I will continue to have that response. Honestly, this meme felt like the world understood me on this point. In reading the responses by others, I thought, yeah, most of what was going on was not an issue of self-care. It was a result of unrealistic expectations and burnout. 
 
 I have learned a valuable lesson from all of that. One, I know what I need in a manager/supervisor. Where I am at right now is honestly pretty perfect for me. I know my job. I know what I need to do. If there is a problem, I know exactly where to go, and if I seek help, I will be respected for my observations. There is a respect that I get as a nurse that I failed to get from my counselor career from the people that oversaw my work. I was berated frequently, questioned about my abilities, and often cut off at the knees when trying to do what I thought was right. Worst of all for me, my integrity was questioned. I hadn't had that happen before. There are times when I didn't do things right, but I made my decision with the information I had and what I thought was best. 
 
 The other lesson learned - what self-care really is. Self-care is not a $1,000 trip to the Bahamas to recharge (although that would be nice). Self-care is different for everyone. For me, it's keeping on top of my homework and housework. It is making sure I have healthy food around my house. It is making sure that I don't start berating myself for taking a day to do nothing. Some days it is still getting out of bed and taking a shower. Other days it is talking to someone on the phone. Each day's self-care looks different to me. I have found, though, when I pursue my passions, that is part of self-care to me. There is a certain pressure that I enjoy, as strange as it sounds. Maybe counseling would have been more of a passion had I been in a different environment. However, the way I feel in nursing is more fulfilling to me. Nothing wrong with that. I can think of several other areas I have worked in that I didn't care for, but the experience offered me something that got me to where I am today. As resentful as I am can be about my experience, I learned something. It brought into focus that which is most important to me.
 
 Take care all,
 ​Julie

Image by Pexels from Pixabay ​

​One of my least favorite questions, when I am interviewing, is: "Where do you see yourself in five years?" Honestly? I barely know what day of the week it is right now. Thinking out more than about six months is difficult enough. The lack of knowing what I see myself doing is nothing new. Whether I was in active addiction or recovery, that answer has not come clearly to me. 

For most of my life, I have tended to live in the past and not so much in the future. There are things I was certainly excited about things like college, moving to the big city, etc. I tended to carry the baggage of the past with me, though, and to some degree, I tend to do that today. I wouldn't say that I find myself in a place of regret necessarily. I feel more than the self-limiting beliefs and fears stick around when I think about planning or changing something in my life. I wonder if I will succeed. I wonder if "this is it", "it" being the answer to the elusive question - What do I want to do with my life? Many times, I have the immediate goal of changing something without much an idea in my mind of how things will look once the change is complete. 

I am now in my last quarter of school. This quarter has been challenging, and I really hope that I can make it. One of my classes is not going as well as I hoped it would. I have time to make things better and will likely do OK. I just have this nagging feeling that I might not pass. Of all the schooling I have completed, this is the program I avoided because I feared that I wouldn't pass. I feared I would work really hard and still not make it. To date, I have done very well, so the likelihood of me failing at this point is slim as long as I am strategic about my studies. 

That being said, my therapist once told me that I need to have things to look forward to in my life. For me, that has been meeting up with friends and traveling. What I have missed the most with Covid has been the time with my family and going on crafting retreats. These are the top activities to recharge myself and find the next goal to chase after. I started thinking about what I was going to do when school was done. These two years of my life have flown by so quickly, I almost can't believe that I am here - almost done. I think about the reasons I went back to school. I wanted my RN and felt that I could follow my passions for mental health and addiction recovery as a nurse. That may still be in the cards; however, I am not so sure anymore.

One of the things I loved about nursing school the first time around was being put in a clinical setting and finding all this passion and desire. "Oh my gosh, I want to do this...." Next semester, "nevermind, I am going to this!" I changed my mind about 100 times as I was going through that program. No way did I ever imagine that I would land in transplant, which has been, by far, the coolest of all my nursing jobs. This time around, the clinical experience went online, and we talked about many different avenues. It was a little easier to think about what I didn't want to do than it was about what I wanted to do. Yes, going back to nursing was an excellent decision. I belong here. When I throw on my scrubs, I feel capable, intelligent, and ready to do my job. In no other career path has this feeling been apparent like it is with nursing. 

Earlier this year, I was looking for a job. I needed a flexible schedule and wanted to get back into some hands-on nursing. It had been a good 12-13 years since I did all that technical nursing. I started working with clients 1:1 in the home. I wasn't as excited about the job. I knew I would be able to do it. I would be able to manage the hours well. "I'll give it a year and see." For the first several months, I was plagued with self-doubt. I didn't feel like I was doing a good job. I would be holding my breath going in for the next shift, thinking I did something wrong or simply didn't do something well. In general, I don't like starting new jobs. That learning curve drives me nuts, and I want to be "good" right away. 

Since July, my feelings have really changed about this job. I am content. I really like it. I am surprised I like it so much. After I felt comfortable with my assignments and was able to talk with folks about how I was doing, everything just sort of clicked. I honestly didn't have a specific plan coming out of school. I was going to play it by ear and see what opportunities are out there. Of course, I also need to finish school and pass the boards. More and more often, I am asked, "what's next?" 

The Plan: For the first six months after school, I am going to have fun. Period. I am going to continue to work where I am at. I am going to register for at least 2 crafting retreats. I am going to take my niece and nephew on a trip each. I am going to hang out with my family and friends. I am going to finish the painting at home. I am going to refinance my house and complete some other renovations. I am going to volunteer (more to come on this....). I think back to one of my motivations for returning to school. I want to earn more money, have less stress, work less, and get back to my life. In previous blogs, I talk about 2012 being "the year". When I am asked what a good year looked like, that was it. I worked 13 days a month, spent boat-loads of time with my family. I was organized. I was hopeful. I was good at my job. I hung out with friends all the time. I used to think what I liked about my work was that I had a specific set of tasks, I did my thing, and I went home. Yes, that is part of it. What I liked the most is that in a given month, I was there less often than not. I had more days off than on. It gave me the freedom to do a million other things I liked to do when I wasn't there. That is what I missed. No 40 hours a week, week after week. It was 32-36 hours jammed into 7 days with 7 days off. 

This time around, it is not about the prestigious job or the most dollars per hour. It's not about the name of the place. It's about truly going back to the life/work balance I used to have. It's about having the right schedule for me. It's about having weekdays off and working nights. It's about earning enough money for the bills and using the remainder to play. Of course, I like to be proud of my work. And I am proud of what I do. My clients teach me a lot, and I am honored they feel comfortable placing their care in my hands. I got lost for a while thinking about what others would think about "my success." What I am learning is that regardless of my job, I am a nurse, and that is what I am most proud of. Even during the years of counseling work, nursing remained my passion. In fact, my boss's boss heard me answer the question about where I was going after putting in my notice. I said, "I am going back to nursing." His response? "You never left. You are just going back home." And nursing does feel like home for me.

So, I am doing this crazy 40 hours a week of school, 16-20 hours of work a week, I drive almost 1,000 miles a week to get everything done. I am the happiest I have ever been. I am stressed with school, but not an unhealthy stress. It's the stress I need to get things done. Work is great. I had to reduce my hours, and I am missing work. I looked at my January schedule to see all these days I am NOT working, thinking about how to plug that time with the things I love. I will have the needed income to take care of the bills so there will not be working three jobs to make ends meet. I am in the pursuit of personal exploration about a new passion that has developed since starting school. Yes, I realize I am being vague here. It's just something I want to be really sure about before going "public," so to speak. 

I tell people often that I have to care for my recovery first and foremost because, without it, I have nothing. For the past two years, my recovery has thrived in ways I was not expecting. I may still pursue a position in nursing that deals with addiction recovery and/or mental health. At this time, stepping away from combining my career and recovery seems to have been the best move for me. I still contend that I have a calling in recovery. I still don't know exactly what it is. I think about advocacy and education. I want to be the voice for recovery. I don't exactly know what this looks like. Some day I will figure it out. In the meantime, I have talked about my experiences with my fellow students and offered some insights when we talk about addiction and mental health in our classes. I remain very passionate about recovery and connecting people to recovery. 

Lastly, I want to write more. I would like to write my story. Personally, I don't find my story all that interesting compared to some of the other stories of those in recovery. However, I have been told on multiple occasions that my story has power. I am honest about the depth of sorrow and despair I experience. I am honest that my early recovery was plagued with anger, rage, and a deep sense of self-hatred. I openly talk about needing years of intensive mental health and addiction counseling to rewire my brain. I am not embarrassed about needing significant external motivation to get into recovery. It all happened the way it needed to happen. At least, I believe that to be true for myself right now. 

I thank you all for the support and for reading this blog!!!

Peace,
J

Although I am 11 years into my recovery, I still spent a majority of my adult life suffering from active addiction (~15-16 years). Honestly, it is kind of exciting for me to be getting closer to the time when I spent more of my time sober than intoxicated. I can say when I first got sober, I just really didn't think that I would ever get to this point. I could not see a life without alcohol. Eleven years later, it is feeling more and more weird to think of having a life with alcohol in it. Let me tell you, though, it took a long time to feel that way. Even as little as a few years ago, I was internally weighing the benefits of going back to drinking. The desire for escape and altered reality never really goes away permanently. The strength of those feelings decrease, but never fade. It's the most important thing in recovery is to be aware of when those desires start to lean towards action.

September is recovery month and addiction awareness. Addiction is hard to understand from both sides. Those of us who are in the midst of it can hardly understand ourselves. We are conflicted, feel great shame, hurt others, make promised we can't or won't keep, and express defensive/aggressive behavior when anyone speaks about who we've become or what we are doing. We want to make a better choice but find ourselves doing the opposite. We sacrifice relationships, jobs, family, and life. On the other side, watching someone with addiction is frustrating, sad, angering. We don't know how to help or when to help. We can watch a person become a shell of their former selves. We watch them lose everything and continue to make the same choice day in and day out. We yell, we talk, we empathize, we threaten, and we try to love. Sometimes we lose hope, on both sides. 

When I was first in treatment, I was trying to figure out what I was going to say to people about my life. My work world certainly knew that a person doesn't just take a month off with some pretty big issues going on. I kept it to myself for the most part. My boss was amazing and respected my privacy. Part of me didn't want to say anything for a couple of reasons. One, I thought people would see me as weak. I saw myself as weak. Why wouldn't they? Two, if people knew, then they might hold me accountable for my actions. Mind you, I didn't exactly stay sober after my first treatment. I voluntarily went to treatment, I begged to go to treatment. I called my mom knowing that I was about to tell the one person who was REALLY going to stick my feet to the fire to get better. So, like 62% of me was willing. 

As I made my way through treatment, I realized that my brain was different. I had to commit to some pretty drastic lifestyle changes. I needed to find a new support system. I needed to be honest. I needed to be willing to take advice from others. I thought that treatment was going to fix me. I had watched about 80 episodes of Intervention. People looked like I felt, they went to treatment and looked better. Some stayed sober and some didn't. I didn't really know exactly what treatment did. But people looked pretty happy so it must do something, right? And my inpatient treatment did do something. I learned about what I was dealing with and what I would need to do if I was willing to make the changes. I wasn't willing to commit 100%. Recovery is an all or nothing deal.

When I went back to treatment again, I had significant external pressure from the monitoring program for my nursing license. If you knew me or talked to me during the first six months of that program, you would have been able to see recovery Julie and addicted Julie fighting it out. Recovery Julie is saying "hey, you need this. It's what it is going to take. You are lucky you didn't lose your license to practice already. Get sober. It's time." Meanwhile, addicted Julie was livid. "HPSP took away my ability to drink. I can't drink now. They are treating me like a criminal. I never hurt anyone. I am not hurting anyone. Just leave me alone. I hate everything." I turned on the old blame hose and complained for months in treatment and to my therapist. 

Obviously, recovery Julie prevailed eventually. Between treatment and finding my personal recovery plan, I found it necessary to honest and open about what happened. I lived in the shadows of shame for so many years. I lived this lie of being a functional human being. In reality, I was a lying, distrustful individuals with profound denial who would be willing to throw you off of a bridge to get alcohol. I honestly didn't like the person I had become. However, addiction had be convinced that I was beyond help, beyond saving. Who would ever love me? Who could ever trust me? I am such an enormous failure. I should be able to stop drinking. But, I can't. I don't know why. I can't change. On and on and on. The shame spiral was spinning fast and I was circling the drain. 

In order for me to really embrace recovery and sobriety, I felt I had to be "all-in". For me, "all-in" meant talking about the fact that I was hopeless addicted to alcohol. Yes, I went to treatment. Yes, I relapsed. Yes, I have been to detox. No, I am not insane (although one could argue while under the influence I was not sane). Yes, I go to meetings. Yes, I am still in treatment. Yes, I am mentally ill. Yes, I see a therapist. Yes, I take anti-depressants. Once I was willing to say these things to other people, my whole life changed. My world became so small, so isolated, and so lonely when I was drinking. I felt like I was breaking free from that shell and presenting myself to the world "as-is". Take it or leave it. I was nervous about this transition. I thought I would be judged or shunned. In some cases, that happened. However, 95% of the time, people embraced my journey. I would hear things like "You? I had no idea! So happy you are getting better." Yup, I was great at hiding. "Wow.....good for you. Let me know if I can help." Sure thing! "Hey, you know, I have a problem too...." Please, let's talk.

For one reason or another, I have felt a lot shame in my life. My greatest shame came from being an alcoholic. Like I have said in other posts, I knew I was an alcoholic from the first time I drank. I was never normal in my use. The compulsions were so incredibly strong. I felt like I was a failure for not being able to control my use. I was more ashamed of who I had become, who I had hurt, and how far I was willing to go to meet my needs. I made terrible decisions at times. I should have been in legal trouble more than once for more than one thing. Shame drove me so far into myself that I lost almost all human connections of meaning. I felt that not talking about what I had been through was giving back into that shame cycle and would lead me back to drinking. I just wanted to be me. Being me means that I am an alcoholic. By practicing some self-acceptance, I started writing this blog. I talked to people very openly about my struggles and recovery. Life got a lot better. Being me now means you will know about my past. I have a story to tell. If you think I suck because of it, sorry, I don't need you.

If you are friends with me on FB, I got another tattoo added to my "recovery arm" I call it. I am building a tattoo sleeve on my arm with flowers that indicate the number of years of recovery. I went to work to work for the past two nights and everyone I came in contact with asked about the tattoo. At one job, I haven't really said very much about my recovery. Not because of shame or anything, it just really never came up. I work nights so there is only a few of us there. It's pretty quiet. So, when I went in, one of my co-workers asked if my tattoos had any meaning. I hesitated at first. And just busted right through that. I told a little bit of my story and why I get these tattoos. There was a sense of disbelief that "you?? You were addicted? It just doesn't seem like you." Well, because I am in recovery now, I am not that person, so she wasn't wrong. One of my co-workers gave me a hug "you have a story to tell the young kids. They would listen to you." I got some serious warm feelings from that interaction. 

So, I shall celebrate recovery month. I will continue to say prayers for my brother and sister who are still suffering. Believe me, guys, when I say that alcoholics are suffering whether they present that way or not. We often think about ending our lives because addiction has us by the throat. We can be nasty and mean to you. When we are along after those interactions, we want to avoid the feelings of regret and shame at all cost. I would wake up in the morning with terrible headaches, shaking, and vomiting. I would pray that I would never pick up again. 8 hours later, I was back at it wondering how a person could be so weak, so pathetic. I judged myself in moral terms. I think most alcoholics do. Our behavior while using is very opposite of the values and morals we hold dear. We do things against our better judgement and against our value systems on a near daily basis. That inner turmoil of failure, loss, grief, anger, insecurity, and profound depression is overwhelming and keeps us reaching for the bottle. 

How I want to end this entry is with the word "hope". People on both sides of addiction can lose hope. The world has lost too many people to addiction and mental illness. I have hope for continued recovery for myself. I have hope that others can and will make a change. I never gave up on any of my clients when I was working in treatment. Staying sober for 2 days is 2 days that you weren't drinking. It starts somewhere. The 22 million of us that are in recovery all started out with day 1. For the 20 million or so that are still in the grips of active use, I will pass along the gift of hope to you and tell you not to lose it. You are worth it. You can change. We do recover. We recover together. Never alone. 

Take care everyone,
​Julie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peace all,
​Julie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lots of love guys!
​Julie

Photo by Sebin Thomas on Unsplash

It feels good to be writing again. I guess I need to be more aware that there is a therapeutic value to this process. I started my blog almost 10 years ago now. I wanted to share what it was like getting sober. It was challenging and exciting all at the same time. I was feeling motivated to share my story and my experiences with the world to hope that those suffering from addiction might feel like they are worth it too.

​In August, I will be celebrating 11 years of recovery. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever think that I was ever going to get that far. I remember for the first 2 years, I would say, “please just let me know where I am in 5 years. If I am still sober, then I know this was all worth it.” Getting to five years was huge, and I was so excited. I couldn’t believe it. And, all of those tough times were VERY worth staying in recovery for. Most of the time, those hard times were not as tumultuous as being an active user. I didn’t feel that way at the time; however, as I got through those toughs days and learned that I could get through them, the pain of the feelings started to fade in intensity.

The following five years of recovery have been quite interesting. There were only a handful of times when I thought about really going back to drinking. I was always able to remind myself that I definitely have another drunk in me, just not sure that I have another recovery. For how far I had progressed in my using years, my death would be quick and very painful. Not only that, but also I had become a fierce advocate for recovery. I wouldn’t want my legacy to be that I died from a relapse on alcohol. Maybe that is a little selfish, but I have to say, whatever works to keep the “plug in the jug,” as we say in AA.

I think recovery changes over time. The initial years were basically learning how to function. I needed to learn how to socialize without alcohol. I needed to learn to communicate without alcohol. I needed to learn how to deal with emotions and thoughts in a reasonable manner. I needed to relearn how to live life. It was certainly a challenge. I, now, can’t see how I was living the way I was. I rarely ever feel like I am missing out on something because I am not drinking. I have chosen to not partake in some situations now and again. However, I was protected that which I hold most dear, which is my recovery. So whatever I missed? It’s A-OK with me that I did.

Once I got a handle on living life in a new way, I rode this wave of motivation to save the world from addiction! It was a decent thought, and I know I was not the only one who was feeling this way when we started studying to be addictions counselors. What I can say is that I was so incredibly grateful for my own recovery. I wanted to help other people find theirs if they were looking for it. Much like when I started nursing, there were all these ideas of what I would be able to accomplish. And, much like nursing, we can only do what we can do. We can’t force help on people. We can’t want something for them that they don’t want. I used to call it “Super Nurse Syndrome” when new nurses believed that they were the only ones capable of taking care of our patients. I had it for about a year and realized quickly that it’s a team effort. I don’t work 24 hours a day, and yet people are still alive when I return.

When it came to counseling, I thought I would have a better check on that syndrome. I did to a degree. I tried hard to remember that if I took credit for people’s successes, then I would have to take credit for the lapses and failures. It wasn’t my journey, after all. I was just a guide of sorts. I never quite learned out to fit that into the work I was doing. I can distance myself from nursing. I couldn’t distance myself enough in counseling. It nearly drove me crazy. I was despondent for that on a lot of levels. I had hoped for more out of the experience. I made some fantastic friends throughout my days in the field. I learned a lot about myself and the recovery process. I also know that my mental health is more than just about self-care. It’s about doing something I feel go at and productive at. I never got to feel that way with counseling.

As I came back to the nursing world, I jumped back into what kind of drove me nuts about myself in nursing. Frequently changing jobs. Since leaving counseling, I have had three jobs in about 18 months. Two of the situations were really unavoidable changes, in my opinion. It was for my safety and my scheduling needs that I needed to move on. All legitimate reasons. I keep trying to remind myself that when I was nursing while using, I was transferring jobs because I was close to being caught for drinking. I was also not doing such a great job, so before I could be confronted, I would leave. One job I got laid off from, which wasn’t my fault. They hired me thinking they were going to get a huge contract, and that contract never came through.

It makes me nervous as I am about to finish school about what my next steps are. I have less than 6 months of school, and I plan to take the boards immediately after I graduate. I have some ideas, and being in school has definitely spurred some old passions I had in my earlier career. I still think about continuing on for additional education so that I might be able to teach someday. I feel very drawn to that. As I look forward to the next level of my nursing career, whatever that may be, I feel like my recovery remains in a more vital place coming up on year 11. Since my mental and chemical health is so intertwined, I renew my efforts to focus on my mental health to ensure my chemical health.

I am an emotional person. I am a sensitive person. I am empathic to a fault. My compassion for others can drain all of my energy. As I look toward this next step, I want to be mindful of what I chose to do. I am always attracted to highly emotional positions. I live for the high of the great times and struggle with what to do with the low times. I wonder what the right path will be for me. I remain hopeful it will be more evident to me over the following months. I know that all of this work will be worth it. It always has been, even if the result wasn’t exactly what I expected.

I had a rough couple of weeks in terms of getting stuck on my own head. It is probably one of the most annoying things I can do to myself when a bit of depression hits. I remember having all of these super deep philosophical debates when I was in college with friends. I loved doing that! When it is me against me, though? Not so much. Down the rabbit hole, we shall go.....

There are always going to be times when I experience distorted thoughts, grief, loss, or depression. When I am struggling, sometimes I feel well enough to start using some skills to take care of myself. At other times, I just don't want to do anything. When I look at all the skills that I learned over the years, one of the most challenging was "COMPARISION." This skill comes out of the DBT world and is pretty specific in its application. I can tell you that I used it incorrectly in the past few weeks, and it got me nowhere. 

Comparing is what I think drives many people into a depressive state. Facebook would be my #1 example of causing significant distress in life if we don't carefully watch. I could look at the people who got married and started families and somehow coin myself a failure. I can look at where my high school, college, and graduate friends are now and think, "at least they have it together to be working in the field," or feeling like they have a better job. I taught most of my clients during my years of counseling about social media in general. It's not real. It is highly edited and photoshopped with gross omissions of the real story. As long as I can keep this frame of mind in place when I am looking, I generally am OK with social media. I can tell; however, there are times when I have been on too long.

After experiencing loss, I think it is natural to question things. On a semi-conscious level, I was taking down the list of good and bad things that have happened over the years. I started getting stuck about the way I have gone about things. I have been all over the place with my career. I have had difficulties with maintaining a consistent work history. It seems that I can only stick with something for about 5 years before I get restless again. While I can understand that none of this is necessarily bad, when I am in a more fragile state, that's all I can think about. The million "what if's" that could have taken life in a different direction. What if I hadn't gone out of state for school? What if I had majored in something else? What if I hadn't gotten married? What if I had been able to get sober sooner? This, unfortunately, is where comparing things gets me. The grass is greener on the other side. Then I get there, and I don't think it is all that green. Where's the next spot?

Comparing is supposed to be used in a totally different way as a skill to combat negative thinking patterns and depression. Comparing is not saying my experience is better or worse than anyone. For example: "I should just suck this up because children are starving everywhere, and at least you have a roof over your head and food." While that is true, I am certainly not going to be in a mood to do something about child hunger if I am constantly belittling my own experiences. It's not about right or wrong or too much or too little. Comparing is used to say things like, "I am doing better today than I was yesterday." "I put more effort into doing something this time around than the last time I was experiencing a downturn in mood." "12 years ago, I was not sober; today I am." It's more of an internal comparison. Any other use of it can be dangerous. And, comparing might not be the skill ever for some people. When comparing, it seems to be easier to compare the negative aspects of my reality and situation than it is to say, hey, one little thing IS better today. You ARE going to get better, little by little.

I got stuck in my head. Pretty significantly. I write this not to shame myself; instead, chalk up another lesson in the Julie Depression Episode Guidebook. In my early years of recovery, I learned that one of the foundational pieces to the recovery base is getting out of one's own head. That is why we do services. That is why we come together to talk to each other, whether it is about recovery or not. That is why we preach unity to hold each other up when those times become more intense. I think most addicts and alcoholics will tell you that being in their heads is a perilous place. All the reasons I need/have to relapse are right there. Self-esteem takes a hit because I have 1,200 reasons to give you on why I am not a good person or worthy of a bit of grace or forgiveness. Low self-esteem turned into the Regret Game, as I like to call it. The shoulda, woulda, coulda scenarios that will drive most people mad. That tumbles into seeking out more regrets about the path that life took. 

When I am in a better headspace, like now, I can easily see that going down that rabbit hole was never going to fix anything. I am now feeling like everything I have ever done has served a purpose, and it was meant to be. When my mood starts to decline, all of this can get easily tossed out the window. I did meet with my therapist, and he commented that I was truly stuck in my head. And that happens. And that is OK if I am willing to at least see that is what's going on. The answer is often much simpler for me than I have some new raging disorder that has rendered me non-functional. At the base of most of it is self-esteem. When I start to question things or start to lose passion in something, I start to compare. I start to second guess myself. I start listing out the reasons that I don't deserve what I have worked for. Part of that, in my opinion, is my addiction brain just testing the waters to see if there is a shot. Fortunately, I am coming up on 11 years of recovery soon, and I remain steadfast in pushing that temptation back. The next phase, I guess, is to learn not to firebomb my self-esteem instead. 

I think I came upon a perfect storm of complex feelings, justifiable sadness, and grief, along with the general stress of starting a new job, doing school, and working 2 jobs. I have to say I am pretty proud of coming around faster than I usually do. I was able to focus on some things that I could change and started turning myself toward the future instead of staring at the past I can't change. As weird as it feels, I did start saying a few nice things to myself. I do understand the power of my words.

Thanks to everyone that checked in on me. I have a few weeks of break from school now. I am working a lot; however, with the intention of socking away some money, so I don't have to work so much with this upcoming quarter. I am down to two quarters left to get this elusive RN done. I hope to take the boards ASAP when I am done and see what the future holds. As always, I have a lot of ideas.

Keep taking care of yourself and each other.
​J

When you think about it, we really don't have much choice other than to move forward in life. Time is always moving forward whether or not we want it to. There are times when I got stuck in the past or stuck in place; yet, time continued to move forward with or without me. The more time got ahead of me, the more miserable life seemed to be. I experienced this concept very clearly when I returned home from studying abroad for a year. I wanted life to be right where I left it - my friends, my life. I was shocked, saddened, and angry that life had moved entirely forward without me. I spent a year missing everything at home, only to find out that people still lived their lives and moved forward while I was gone. It was a concept that was profoundly changing for me. 

In my years of active use, I would become increasingly upset at the notion of life moving on while I was sitting at home doing nothing. I think I even had a therapist tell me at one point that I was the one that wasn't living life. There was no reason to carry all these resentments about other people moving on when I was not choosing to move forward with my own life. Very true, I agree. Also, moving forward with life doesn't seem as easy as it sounds. The first complexity is: How? How do I move forward? I clearly remember what I felt to be my biggest obstacle was financial. Money makes the world go around. How can I rebuild the life I want if I don't have any money? The other part of "how" is knowing what to do. How do I live life now? Does life actually have to change? Do I substitute what I lost, or do I learn to live without it? 

The second complexity, for me anyway, is feeling like I deserve to move forward. Because there are things I have clearly done wrong and people I have genuinely hurt, I feel a need to punish myself for a long time. Part of that punishment is keeping myself from being happy and content. I am not always convinced that I do that consciously. It has been a pattern that I have noticed more in the past few years. The pattern has been there for a long time; I am just coming into some level of awareness about it. I have been told, by more than one person, that the biggest challenge in my life is me. I was told this in a very blunt way in 2016. While I felt it was true, I didn't know (and still don't know) how to get out of my own way. Well, it is coming into clearer focus. It's this whole conundrum of whether I "get to" or "should"' move forward. Have I punished myself sufficiently yet for the past? Have I felt enough guilt? The biggest question: If I do move on from my mistakes and harm to others, does that mean I am no longer taking responsibility for my actions? Let me see if I can explain this concept a little better.

I feel horrible about situation A. Situation A happened over 10 years ago. If I let it go, I feel like I am taking the easy way out. I am just letting myself get away with bad behavior and bad actions. Oddly, if a friend or family member was explaining this exact situation, I would say, "Oh boy! You have suffered enough. The only way you would be taking the easy way out is if you didn't change your behavior or learn what you needed to learn!" I can't seem to grant myself the same opportunity/advice. That whole "letting go" part of recovery can be a challenge for me. In quiet times, I will have a memory of a time when I did something entirely stupid. Instead of maybe just saying, "Hey, brain, that happened a long time ago," I will get stuck jumping back to that time and experiencing the embarrassment or shame all over again for probably the 10,000th time. At times I wonder if the people who were involved in that situation even remember it. If they do, do they think about it as much as I do? 

At this point, I will experience my black and white thinking. For some reason, I developed this belief that once someone does wrong by another person, that is it. No forgiveness. Banishment for life. I was very quick to do with other's who I felt had wronged me. One mistake or bad day, my perception of them would change, and I didn't want anything to do with them anymore. I have lost a lot of relationships over the years for reasonably minor things. All of that was me. Because I reacted like this, I assume that others function this way. Therefore, there is no forgiveness for me. Nothing more moving forward. I feared that my mistake or error would forever alter the way people thought of me, and I would no longer be likable. 

I have spent lots of time trying to understand this pattern and break this belief of mine. I have no idea where I picked it up. It wasn't from my family because I did enough stupid things over the years, and they are still all talking to me. In fact, they all love me. I have had a few very close friends who have confronted me on things, accepted my apology, and still love me too. Yet, in the back of my mind, I question why they don't think of me as different or in a worse light? When push comes to shove, I don't like feeling like an idiot. I mean, really, who does? But, therein lies the problem: a mistake = I'm an idiot. That can't be accurate every single time I do something incorrectly.

I started a new job in May. I hate starting new jobs because I am not perfect at what I am doing out of the gates. Every job has a learning curve. I know that, but I hate it. The transition to this job was one of my rougher experiences, which is odd because I also picked up things quickly. I would absolutely lose my mind when I would make small errors (nothing life-threatening, of course). I found myself beating myself up and thinking, "this person thinks I am an idiot." I started getting myself so worried that I didn't even want to go to work. I did. But, I was anxious on my way in. Here is the kicker: none of the people I am working with right now care. They know that I am pretty new and don't know everything after a shift or two. They are all OK with walking me through tasks. What the heck is wrong with me?

I have distorted thinking. Let's be real; everyone has distorted thinking at times. My therapist tries to keep me more present when we talk about stuff like this. I tend to either want to have a diagnosis for why I feel so reactive and negative or want to know why the hell I think this way. A diagnosis is not going to change anything. What if it was called "Reactive Dysmorphic Syndrome"? Does that change anything? What if I could pinpoint that in 3rd grade at 12:32 pm this concept entered my mind because of a kickball incident. Does that change anything? No. What matters is I have developed this belief of "no forgiveness" or "no mercy" at some point. This same belief is causing me issues with developing the relationships I want. This belief is very strongly present right now. It is making an anxious mood wander into a more depressive territory.

What I took from therapy this week was a frank discussion about chronic low self-esteem. I am able to identify about 30% of the good things about myself and 150% of what is "wrong" with me. During my career years of counseling, my self-esteem took a hit. A huge hit, actually. I had hoped that once I left the field, this self-esteem stuff would fade away. It has to a certain extent. I don't feel like I am faking it when I am working in nursing. Either I know it, or I don't. School is showing I know my stuff. I didn't use to have a lot of negative thoughts about myself as a nurse. Now I do, and I don't know what happened. My distorted thinking has wandered into my professional life as a nurse. When I was getting sober, nursing was the only thing I had that I was still reasonably decent at. I was not a good daughter, I was not a good sister, I was not a good friend, I was not a good girlfriend, etc., etc. But, I was still an OK nurse. From 2015-2020, I was working transplant, and while I had frustrations at times, in general, I felt pretty damn competent. In fact, transplant was the only thing I felt good about for a long time.

The environment during my counseling years is obviously still with me. Maybe I have just become so accustomed to feeling bad about my work performance that I am creating a place in my brain to keep it alive. This idea that I need to suffer, whether for personal or professional reasons, is super frustrating. It's me standing in my own way about some expectation of repentance I can't achieve or won't let myself achieve. So back to, did I suffer enough? Did I beat myself up enough? Will people cast me aside for minor concerns? Yes. Yes. No. Intellectually I get this all 100%. My emotions are a little more stubborn. I can say that I am grateful to see the pattern and to see the thought distortions. I have done a lot of this work in the past around thought distortions. It's hard work and apparently also never done. Now that school is done for the quarter, I will be spending some time to see if I can get my thought process to reflect reality more accurately. 

I feel ready, though, to move forward and hopefully get out of my own way. I am feeling ready for some things to change right now. I am starting to get tired of spending all of this energy on things that don't really matter right now or in the bigger picture. I want to enjoy life more than I am allowing myself to right now. 

Give yourself a break today, for me, OK?
​Julie

Photo by Mike Labrum on Unsplash

I have really been struggling with writer's block for the past few months. I have probably started at least 20 different entries and just stopped a few paragraphs in, feeling lost about what I really wanted or needed to say. I am not usually a person short of words. However, at the moment, it feels like the cat has my tongue. As I was driving to work tonight, I felt compelled to speak a bit more about grief. It seems like the topic that is creating my writer's block, and hopefully, I can tell you why.

I completed my mental health nursing course for the quarter along with the clinical placement. I believe I was feeling a little triggered by both of these classes. I remember this happening when I was taking my graduate classes as well. Because mental health and addictions are so personal to me, it's difficult for me not to take things so personally or to back up and look at things from a clinician's perspective. It was a much-improved experience this time around. When I was in LPN school, we had a guy in my clinical setting that refused to believe that mental health existed. He felt that everyone was acting, being lazy, or just being stupid. A good friend of mine spoke about her experiences, and he was insulting with his response. I took that class and clinical back in 2003. Fast forward 18 years, and there is a great deal more understanding and compassion about mental health and more about addiction.

Being triggered isn't the worst thing in the world. In fact, that is what I spent the first five years of my recovery figuring out. What are my triggers? Once I know them, how do I deal with them? As I am coming up on 11 years of recovery in August, I would have to say my work and investment in this topic were worthwhile. I can still be surprised from time to time about things that trigger me. I really wasn't expecting this class to be an issue. I think it has more to do with the timing. Had I took this last quarter as planned, I don't think it would have affected me the way it did this quarter. Why you ask? Loss. Grief. 

One of the topics that we covered was about grief and loss. Apparently, we are predictable to a certain point. There are stages of grieving, and specific behaviors indicate the stage of grief someone is in. It is fluid. A person can go back and forth between the phases. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. Seems pretty simple, right? "I can't or won't believe it." Then, "I am super mad about it, and someone or something needs to be held accountable." Moving on to "Well, if I can get something to change, I will change or give up something." Well, that didn't work, so we move onto "My life will never go on. I can't do this. I am too upset to function." Lastly, we accept the world as it is now. We may never stop feeling sadness or anger; however, we know that whatever we are grieving is now gone, and we will need to find a different way through life.

The year 2021 has been full of some very tragic losses. When I heard about what had happened to these individuals, my heart broke for the families, children, parents, siblings, friends, and colleagues. Because mental health and addiction played a role in some of these losses, I feel compelled to say something. But, I can't find the words or the right topic. Do I talk about mental health? Do I talk about addiction? Do I talk about grief? Will I be offending others by talking about what I know about these issues? Is my experience even relevant? How arrogant am I that my experience is even remotely close? As I was writing my other 20 entries, I started to ask these questions and got lost. I closed the post down and ultimately erased it.  

Here's what I know. Mental health is challenging. Addiction sucks. When I hear about the deaths of people I know related to either of these issues, I go through the stages of grief. I sort of stop in the depression place. Initially, I was in a bit of denial. There was just no way. I moved onto anger pretty quickly. Losses related to mental health and addiction make my blood boil. I know that dark, empty place of depression. I know what trauma feels like. I know the battle with alcohol and drugs. I feel this renewed desire to start counseling again. That was my motivation for going into it: To spare people this pain. At least from my vantage point, addiction and mental illness are painful at times. It takes a lot of work to find remission and stay in recovery. What about my brothers and sisters that didn't make it? I feel guilty. How did I make it through when the people who succumb to either felt stronger than me (from my perspective)? Although I understand some of it, I don't know how each individual is experiencing mental illness and addiction. If these were so easy to predict, we would be able to provide treatment that has more success rate than 50%. 

I think what it comes down to: I feel helpless with these most recent losses. I don't want to bury another friend. I don't want an amazing family I know to suffer this kind of loss. Was there something more I could have done? Is there something I could say or do now to make things better? Obviously, I have a lot of questions. And very few answers. These types of answers get into a more philosophical realm that will likely not provide much solace. So, I am feeling kinda stuck in this depression place of grief. I don't deny the losses or what contributed to the losses. I am done being angry at alcohol and stigma for the time being. That anger serves no purpose. I don't really bargain much because I just can't in this scenario. So, I am sad about these losses. I am sad for all of those who are closest to these individuals. I am sad that these individuals suffered the way they did. 

While acceptance isn't possible today, maybe acceptance will come as the days move forward. I know those who are experiencing the most grief are learning how life works now. It will never be the same. I wish it could be for them. I keep the family and friends in my heart, praying everyday for healing and comfort for them. I guess at the moment, that is what I can offer.

So, thank you all for hanging with me on this post. I am not sure that it makes sense, but I need to start writing again and I think getting some of this stuff out will help me to start moving forward again. 

​J