The Great Expectations Game in Recovery: Why Perfect is the Enemy of Progress

Let me paint you a picture: There I was, fresh into recovery, thinking I had it all figured out. "Once I get clean, everything's going to fall into place like some kind of magical sobriety domino effect." Spoiler alert: That's not exactly how it went down.

Here's the thing about recovery that nobody tells you in the brochures: getting clean is just the opening act. It's like thinking you've won the marathon because you finally put on your running shoes. Don't get me wrong – putting on those shoes is huge. It's necessary. It's brave. But it's just the beginning.

From someone who's made the journey from dealing drugs to dealing with mortgage payments (plot twist: the paperwork for the latter is way more intimidating), I've learned a few things about expectations in recovery. And as both a person in long-term recovery and now a substance use counselor, I've seen this story from both sides of the desk.

Let's talk about the expectation trap.

You know the one – where you think you need to transform from a person struggling with substance use into a Pinterest-worthy lifestyle guru overnight. Where your house needs to be spotless, your relationships need to be perfect, and your life needs to look like it was arranged by a professional organizer with OCD. Been there, tried that, watched it spectacularly implode.

Here's what actually happens: You might make your bed one day and feel like you deserve a medal. The next day, you might barely manage to change out of your pajamas. And you know what? Both of those days count as progress.

The reality is, recovery looks different for everyone because – shocking revelation – everyone is different. Some people meditation their way through it. Others find their zen in CrossFit. Some need every support group meeting they can find, while others thrive with one-on-one counseling. There's no universal roadmap because we're all taking different roads to the same destination: a better life.

But here's where it gets interesting (and by interesting, I mean potentially frustrating): Recovery isn't just about stopping substance use. That's like thinking a house is finished because you've laid the foundation. You've still got to deal with all the fun stuff underneath – relationship dynamics that make reality TV look tame, financial decisions that need untangling, education gaps that need filling, and emotional wounds that need healing.

As a counselor, I see people come in expecting to sprint through recovery like it's a hundred-meter dash. But recovery is more like learning to dance – you're going to step on some toes, probably look ridiculous at times, and eventually find your rhythm. And just when you think you've got it down, someone changes the music.

So what does realistic progress look like? It looks like:

• Sometimes taking two steps forward and one step back (still nets you one step forward, my friends)
• Celebrating small wins, like paying a bill on time or finally calling that person back
• Understanding that "good enough" is sometimes better than "perfect"
• Accepting that some days, just staying clean is enough of an accomplishment

To my fellow professionals in the field: Remember this when working with clients. Their progress might not fit into our neat little treatment plan boxes, and that's okay. Our job isn't to make everyone follow the same path; it's to help them find their own way forward.

And to everyone in recovery: Your journey is your journey. It doesn't have to look like anyone else's. Progress isn't measured by how fast you get there or how pretty it looks – it's measured by the fact that you're still moving forward, even if some days that movement is microscopic.

I didn't go from doing dope to having a mortgage and car payment overnight. There were plenty of messy moments, setbacks, and days where success meant simply not giving up. And you know what? That was enough. That IS enough.

Because at the end of the day, progress is progress. Whether you're taking baby steps or giant leaps, you're still moving forward. And in recovery, any forward movement is worth celebrating – even if your celebration is just a quiet fist bump with yourself in the mirror.

Remember: Recovery isn't about becoming perfect. It's about becoming better than you were yesterday. Sometimes that means huge transformations, and sometimes it means just making your bed. Both count. Both matter. Both are progress.

And if anyone tells you different, feel free to remind them that the person writing this used to sell drugs and now helps people get clean for a living. Life's funny like that.-Belle-

The Addiction Treatment Workforce Crisis: A View from Both Sides of the Desk

I never thought I'd end up here. Sitting behind a desk, armed with a collection of credentials that look like alphabet soup after my name, helping people navigate the same darkness I once called home. Life has a funny way of coming full circle, doesn't it?

For those who don't know me, I'm both a person in recovery and a substance abuse counselor. Yes, I'm that person who went from "I'll never get better" to "Let me help you get better." The irony isn't lost on me.

But here's the thing: Our field is in crisis. Not the kind of crisis where you wake up in strange places wondering where your shoes are (been there, done that, got the mugshot), but a different kind of emergency altogether. We're facing a severe shortage of addiction treatment professionals, and it's hitting harder than a Monday morning hangover.

The Numbers Don't Lie (Unlike I Used To)

Let's get real for a minute. According to recent data, the substance use disorder (SUD) treatment landscape is facing an unprecedented workforce crisis. Rural counties are particularly struggling, with many lacking any behavioral health providers at all. It's like trying to fight a forest fire with a water pistol – the demand is overwhelming our resources.

But here's where it gets interesting: Many of us who've walked the recovery path are uniquely positioned to help fill this gap. We're the ones who've been there, done that, and actually remember it (well, most of it).

The Good, The Bad, and The "Why Didn't Anyone Tell Me This?"

Working in addiction treatment as a person in recovery is like being a tour guide in a country where you used to be a confused tourist. There are incredible advantages:

• We speak the language (including all the colorful metaphors)
• We can spot BS from a mile away (because we used to be professional BS artists)
• Our "been there" stories actually mean something
• We understand the recovery journey at a bone-deep level

But it's not all group circles and breakthrough moments. There are challenges that nobody warns you about:

1. Boundaries become your new best friend (sorry, old best friend)
2. You'll need to learn the delicate art of sharing without oversharing
3. Your personal recovery takes on a whole new dimension
4. Sometimes, you'll see yourself in your clients (and not always in a good way)

The Path Forward: More Than Just "One Day at a Time"

So, how do we address this workforce crisis while supporting people in recovery who want to enter the field? Here's my professional (and slightly battle-scarred) perspective:

For Treatment Centers and Organizations:

• Create clear career advancement pathways (because "you're hired" shouldn't be the end of the story)
• Offer mentorship programs (because nobody should have to figure this out alone)
• Provide tuition assistance (because education costs more than our first drug dealer's phone bill)
• Implement solid self-care policies (because burnout is real, and we've already had enough "rock bottoms")

For Those Considering the Field:

• Start with peer support roles (crawl before you walk, walk before you run)
• Build your support network (recovery + work stress = need extra support)
• Maintain focus on personal recovery (you can't pour from an empty cup)
• Connect with others who've made the transition (we're usually happy to share our war stories)

A Call to Action (Not to be Confused with a 12th Step Call)

To my fellow professionals: We need to do more than just acknowledge this crisis. We need to actively mentor, support, and encourage those coming up behind us. Remember how scary it was when you started? Yeah, let's help others through that.

To those in recovery considering this field: We need you. Your experience matters. Your story matters. And yes, even those dark moments you're not proud of can become powerful tools for helping others.

To treatment center administrators: Investment in workforce development isn't just a nice-to-have – it's crucial for survival. And no, offering pizza parties instead of proper compensation and support isn't going to cut it.

The Bottom Line (Because We're All About Recovery, Not Rock Bottom)

The addiction treatment field needs passionate, dedicated professionals who understand recovery from the inside out. Yes, there are challenges. Yes, it's complicated. And yes, sometimes you'll question your life choices (especially during group sessions gone wrong).

But here's what I know for sure: There's nothing quite like watching someone transform their life, knowing you played a small part in their journey. It's even more special when you can look them in the eye and say, "I get it. I've been there. And if I made it, so can you."

We're not just filling positions – we're building a workforce that understands recovery at its core. And maybe, just maybe, that's exactly what this field needs.

P.S. If you're in recovery and thinking about entering this field, feel free to connect. I promise to share all the things I wish someone had told me (including why you should never schedule group therapy right after lunch).-Belle-

Recovery Groups: Where Social Anxiety Meets Folding Chairs

Recovery Groups: Where Social Anxiety Meets Folding Chairs 

Let's talk about that moment. You know the one. As you sit in your vehicle outside the recovery meeting with a tight grip on the steering wheel you debate facing your inner struggles or taking a drive to Taco Bell instead. Your phone's GPS is quietly judging you: "You have arrived at your destination." Yeah, thanks for the reminder, Captain Obvious. 

Everyone who attends recovery meetings knows this common experience as pre-group paralysis. You find yourself trapped between two fears as you enter recovery meetings because you feel scared of both attending and leaving. Fun times. 

Here's what your brain is probably telling you: Each person inside functions flawlessly as a recovery robot who maintains a perfectly organized life. They all know each other. These individuals sit in a circle (ugh, circles) and share profound wisdom while knitting sweaters to help homeless kittens. You stand before the door, your human chaos about to crash through like a bull disrupting an emotional china shop.

Reality check: Every person present in that room has experienced the same meltdown you're facing. 

People's Expectations About Group Settings Compared To Real-Life Group Experiences

What we imagine: 

The meeting space operated like a cult environment where participants used recovery-related phrases to speak.

Participants must reveal their most personal secrets immediately on their first day.

Judge-y McJudgerson alongside their partner in recovery perfection.

Endless coffee in sticky-rimmed styrofoam cups 

The individual who transforms each group share session into a personal TED talk presentation.

What they're actually like: 

A group of people who share similar social discomfort while searching for life's meaning.

The individual who never fails to bring delicious snacks to every meeting.

Everyone shares an authentic laugh at things which would shock average people

Real talk about real stuff explores both profound topics and everyday frustrations like the urge to punch your boss.

In this environment asking "How are you?" demands more than the standard "I'm fine" reply.

Plot Twist: Groups Aren't One-Size-Fits-All 

Here's something they don't tell you in the brochures: Recovery groups are like Netflix genres. There's literally something for everyone. Don't vibe with traditional 12-step meetings? Cool. Music-based groups exist where individuals can work through their trauma by singing powerful ballads. Groups that let you heal while wearing pajamas through online platforms. Art therapy groups provide a space where your stick figure drawings receive no judgment. SMART Recovery for the science nerds. Celebrate Recovery for the spiritually inclined. Recovery groups convene their meetings in coffee shops alongside hiking trails and through virtual reality platforms.

When Things Go Sideways (Because They Will) 

We need to face the elephant in the room which represents recovery group mishaps. You might have relapsed and believe you cannot face your group members again. You started dating someone from the group despite universal warnings and now feel extremely uncomfortable. You probably ugly-cried during your share and snot-bubbled in front of everyone.

Guess what? You're not special. We've all been there. The power of recovery groups lies in their members who have perfected how to recover from shameful events. Your relapse story? Someone's got one that's worse. That awkward dating situation? Please. Half the room has been there. Your ugly cry? That's just Tuesday. 

For the Practitioners: Time to Think Outside the Circle 

To my fellow practitioners: We need to get creative. The era where "sit in a circle and talk about your feelings" served as the sole recovery method has ended. Clients possess intricate human characteristics alongside varied interests and requirements. The people we serve include artists and musicians as well as gamers and writers while also featuring athletes together with many other types of individuals.

Why not start: 

The recovery book club will explore comic books and graphic novels.

A group that combines hiking and processing 

This music therapy group allows individuals to exchange playlists that support their recovery journey

This online platform serves introverted individuals who want to undergo recovery without wearing pants.

The Bottom Line 

Joining recovery groups requires trial and error before you discover your ideal group. But when you find the right one? It's magic. Discovering your unique recovery family who connects with your dark humor while accepting your struggles and tolerates your venting about sobriety-induced rage is what makes these groups special.

Take some time in your car to deal with your pre-group anxiety. But then do yourself a favor: Turn your vehicle engine off and walk through the door for one last try. The absolute worst outcome would be drinking mediocre coffee while hearing an interesting story. The best that can happen? You might just find your people. 

Feeling unready for face-to-face meetings is completely acceptable. Start with online groups. Join from your couch. Keep your camera off. Baby steps count. 

Remember: Recovery isn't about being perfect. Your recovery depends on securing the type of support that fits your needs. Your method of recovery could include both interpretive dance and headbanging to metal music while working through your emotions.

You've got this. The group exists precisely for those who lack this ability.-Belle- 

Breaking Free: The Real Talk About Shame, Trauma, and Recovery

Let me paint you a picture. Ever seen those old kung-fu movies where some dude punches straight through another guy, and you can see right through the hole? That's us – walking around like human Swiss cheese, full of holes punched through by trauma. And what do we do? We slap whatever band-aids we can find over those holes just to keep moving.

Sometimes those band-aids look like drugs. Sometimes they look like crime. Sometimes they're toxic relationships or behaviors that would make your therapist need therapy. But here's the thing – we did what we had to do to survive.

The Street-Smart Guide to Trauma

Here's something wild: half the time, we don't even realize we're traumatized. When you grow up in dysfunction, dysfunction becomes your normal. Trust me, I know. It took me years to connect the dots that my abandonment issues started in infancy when my biological mother bounced. That's the thing about trauma – it's sneaky like that.

You want to talk about normal? Let me tell you what passed for "normal" in my world:

• Hustling just to make it through the day
• Trust issues deeper than the Grand Canyon
• Survival instincts that would make a Navy SEAL proud
• A PhD in street economics (yeah, that's what we're calling it now)

The Resiliency Trap

Here's a plot twist for you: Sometimes being too resilient is actually part of the problem. Yeah, you heard that right. When you're so used to taking hits that you don't even flinch anymore, that's not strength – that's trauma wearing a superhero cape.

In residential treatment, I've seen people walk in with backstories that would make a horror movie look like a Disney film. And you know what they say? "But my life wasn't that bad." Meanwhile, they're carrying enough trauma to fill a library of tragedy.

The Criminal Element

Let's talk about labels for a minute. I was a criminal. Notice the past tense there. Just because you did criminal things doesn't mean you're permanently stamped with "CRIMINAL" across your forehead. Unless you got it tattooed there – in which case, well, that's a different conversation about life choices.

Breaking Free from the Shame Game

Here's the real talk: Shame is like that toxic ex who keeps trying to slide into your DMs at 2 AM. It's persistent, it's manipulative, and it's really good at making you feel like garbage. But just like that ex, it's time to block and delete.

The Recovery Reality Check

Recovery isn't just about putting down the substances. It's about:

• Learning that your trauma responses aren't character flaws
• Understanding that survival mode isn't meant to be permanent
• Realizing that "normal" is a setting on a washing machine, not a life goal
• Finding better band-aids (spoiler alert: therapy is actually pretty dope)

A Message to My People

To everyone out there still trying to make sense of their Swiss cheese existence:

• Forgive yourself for not knowing better when you didn't know better
• Your survival methods might have been ugly, but they kept you alive
• You're not your past, even if your past keeps trying to friend request you
• Recovery is possible, even for those of us who came from the trenches

The Plot Twist

Want to know the wildest part of recovery? Those holes in us? They don't just heal – they become windows. Windows that help us see and connect with others who are still stuck in their own trauma loops. Your mess becomes your message, your pain becomes your power, and your story becomes someone else's survival guide.

The Bottom Line

You survived 100% of your worst days. You made it through stuff that would make most people tap out. Now it's time to learn how to live instead of just survive. It's messy, it's hard, and sometimes it feels like trying to learn calculus while riding a unicycle. But it's worth it.

Remember: You're not broken – you're battle-tested. And now it's time to learn some new ways to win the war.

Keep it real. Keep it moving. And most importantly, keep growing.

P.S. If your trauma therapist needs trauma therapy after hearing your story, that's not a failure on your part – that's just you being an overachiever.-Belle-

"Am I Actually Addicted?" - A No-BS Guide from Someone Who's Been There, Done That, and Now Has the Counseling Degree to Prove It

"Am I Actually Addicted?" - A No-BS Guide from Someone Who's Been There, Done That, and Now Has the Counseling Degree to Prove It

Look, I've got a unique view on this whole "am I actually addicted?" question. Not just because I've spent the last six years as a substance use counselor, but because I asked myself the same damn question back when I was convinced I had everything "totally under control." (Narrator: I did not, in fact, have anything under control.)

Here's the thing - before I was the one giving the advice, I was the one trying to convince my own counselor that I only did everything under the sun on "special occasions." (Plot twist: I considered making it through Tuesday a special occasion.) Now, with both personal recovery and professional experience under my belt, I'm going to translate the official diagnostic criteria into what I call "oh shit, that's me" moments - no sugar coating, no BS, just real talk from someone who's been on both sides of the desk.

1. Losing Your Off Switch (AKA The "Just One More" Lie)
   Official term: Impaired Control
   Real talk:

   • You've said "just two drinks" so many times your friends have turned it into a drinking game
   • Your dealer is saved in your phone as "DO NOT CALL - SERIOUSLY" (yet here we are)
   • "I'll start fresh Monday" has become such a frequent phrase you're considering getting it tattooed
   • You keep using even when your internal voice is screaming "DUDE, NO" in five different languages

2. The Incredible Shrinking Life (Where Did Everybody Go?)
   Official term: Social Impairment
   Real talk:

   • Your group chat thinks you died six months ago
   • Your boss's "can we talk?" emails are piling up faster than your laundry
   • Your Amazon Prime driver is literally your most consistent relationship
   • Your only friends are people you'd never trust to watch your phone

3. The Risk vs. Reward Equation Gets Fuzzy (Or: Decisions That Would Make Your Mother Cry)
   Official term: Risky Use
   Real talk:

   • You've got more hiding spots than a squirrel with a hoarding problem
   • That dealer who looks like a rejected extra from Breaking Bad? Suddenly seems trustworthy at 3 AM
   • Driving while high because "I actually drive better this way" (Narrator: They don't)
   • You're mixing substances with the confidence of a mad scientist and the wisdom of a potato

4. Your Body's Getting Real With You (The Physical Rebellion)
   Official term: Pharmacological Indicators
   Real talk:

   • Your tolerance is so high you could probably drink a frat house under the table
   • Without your morning "fix," you shake more than a chihuahua in a snowstorm
   • You need substances just to achieve what most people call "slightly below average"
   • The thought of running out gives you the kind of panic usually reserved for seeing your ex in public

Here's the thing about addiction - and this is where my harm reduction perspective comes in: You don't need to hit rock bottom to deserve help. Rock bottom is just the place where you stop digging. Some people have a basement, others have a wine cellar, but everyone's bottom is different.

The Reality Check (The "Where You At?" Scale):

• Mild: 2-3 boxes checked (Your life's getting messy)
• Moderate: 4-5 boxes checked (Your life's about as organized as a tornado in a trailer park)
• Severe: 6+ boxes checked (Your life's gone full dumpster fire)

What They Don't Tell You in Counseling School (But I Learned the Hard Way):
These patterns show up differently for everyone. Maybe you're still crushing your career while your personal life looks like a reality TV show gone wrong. Or maybe you're maintaining perfect Instagram appearances while your bank account screams in terror every time you hit up your dealer.

Why This Matters:
Getting real about where you're at isn't about joining the "my life is a mess" club (though meetings do have great snacks). It's about understanding your relationship with substances so you can make informed decisions. Maybe that means quitting, maybe that means cutting back, or maybe that just means not mixing tequila with decisions about your ex.

The Bottom Line:
If you're reading this thinking, "Well, shit," welcome to the club. You're not broken, you're not doomed, and you're definitely not alone. You're just human, and humans sometimes get tangled up with substances. It happens. What matters is what you do next.

Next Steps:

• Talk to someone who isn't currently high (professional preferred, but hey, baby steps)
• Track your use (there are apps for this - technology finally doing something useful)
• Think about what safer use looks like (because "YOLO" isn't actually a harm reduction strategy)
• Remember: asking for help isn't admitting defeat - it's more like calling tech support for your life

Remember, as someone who's been on both sides of this fence: Progress isn't about perfection. It's about being slightly less messy today than you were yesterday. And sometimes, that starts with simply asking, "Damn, am I actually addicted?"

And if you're still not sure? That's what professionals like me are for. We're basically like substance use Sherlocks, minus the cool hat. (Though I've been lobbying for office deerstalkers for years.) Trust me, whatever you're going through, I've either done it, seen it, or heard a story about it that would make your current situation look like a Disney movie.-Belle-

 

When Death Keeps Showing Up Uninvited: A Not-So-Gentle Guide to Grief

Death is like that annoying relative who shows up at the worst possible moments, doesn't call ahead, and leaves your entire life in disarray. Except you can't just hide in your bedroom until they leave.

I should know. By 25, I'd lost my first set of parents, then lost the other set before I hit 40. Yeah, you read that right – both sets. Life has a twisted sense of humor sometimes.

First went my adoptive parents (who were actually my grandparents, but try explaining that family tree at parties). Bob and Betty – the ones who raised me, dealt with my teenage drama, and tried their best to maintain that picture-perfect family facade while our dysfunction simmered underneath like a pot about to boil over. They were both gone by 2008, and let me tell you, I handled it with all the grace of a drunk elephant on roller skates. (maybe I was the drunk elephant on roller skates actually)

I did what any reasonable person would do: completely lost my shit, dove headfirst into drugs, strip clubs, affairs and traded one toxic relationship for an even worse one. Because apparently, when life hands you lemons, sometimes you decide to squeeze them in your own eyes.

Then 2020 happened. Because the universe wasn't done with its cosmic joke, both my biological parents – who I'd reconnected with – died within three months of each other. If grief was a Netflix series, this would be the point where viewers would call bullshit on the writers.

Here's the thing they don't tell you about grief: it's as unique as a fingerprint and just as messy. There's no "five stages and you're done" warranty. It's more like a choose-your-own-adventure book where all the choices kind of suck, but you have to pick something anyway.

Some days, you're fine. You're adulting like a champion, paying bills, wearing matching socks, maybe even remembering to water your plants. Then boom – you're sobbing in your car because a song came on that your dad used to sing badly in the shower, or you find an old voicemail from your mom that you forgot to delete.

As an addiction counselor (plot twist, right?), I've seen grief wear many masks. It disguises itself as anger, numbness, workaholism, or that sudden urge to completely reorganized your sock drawer at 3 AM. Sometimes it shows up as a bottle, a needle, or whatever poison people choose to numb the pain. But here's the kicker – grief is like a game of whack-a-mole. The more you try to smack it down, the more it pops up somewhere else.

So what do we do? How do we navigate this mess without completely losing our marbles?

First, let's throw out the rulebook. There's no "right" way to grieve. If you need to ugly cry while watching cat videos, do it. If you need to laugh at a funeral because your brain short-circuits and you remember something ridiculous, that's okay too (just maybe try to do it quietly).

Second, grief isn't just about death. It's about endings. Leaving jobs, ending relationships, getting sober – these are all little deaths in their own way. Each one deserves its moment of recognition, even if society tells you to "just get over it."

Here's what I've learned from my own personal grief circus:

1. The pain doesn't really go away – you just build a bigger life around it. Some days it's a whisper, others it's a marching band in your head.

2. Dark humor helps. A lot. Death is already awkward enough without trying to be solemn all the time.

3. It's okay to not be okay. Really. The whole "staying strong" thing is overrated. Sometimes being strong means crying in the bathroom at work or eating cereal for dinner three nights in a row.

As I plan my wedding (yes, life goes on, surprisingly), I've got these little locket pins for my dress to hold pictures of my parents – all four of them. Because grief and joy often share the same space, like roommates who don't particularly like each other but have learned to coexist.

For those of you reading this who are in the thick of it – whether you're grieving a person, a relationship, a version of yourself, or something else entirely – I see you. This shit is hard. It's okay to stumble. It's okay to fall. Just try not to set up permanent residence in the pit.

And remember, grief is proof that love existed. It's the price we pay for caring about people. Is it worth it? Most days, yes. On the days it's not, well, that's what ice cream and questionable Netflix choices are for.

Keep breathing. Keep moving. And when you can't do either, that's okay too. Tomorrow's another day to try again.

Because in the end, we're all just walking each other home, aren't we? Even if some of us are stumbling, some are taking detours, and some of us are pretending we're not completely lost.

Welcome to the grief club. The membership fee sucks, but the company's not half bad.-Belle-

Join clinician Belinda Bickford and I in redefining substance use disorder treatment through personalized approaches. Our latest blog explores how to meet clients where they are and why it matters. Check it out here: https://lnkd.in/gjD8w9d4 #SubstanceUseDisorder #MentalHealthProfessionals #TreatmentApproaches

When Rock Bottom Has a Basement: A Real Talk About Community-Based Recovery in Wisconsin

Let's face it - if you're reading this, you're probably not having your best day. Maybe you're the one fighting the battle, maybe you're watching someone you love wage war with addiction, or maybe you're a professional wondering why your coffee maker isn't dispensing vodka yet. Wherever you're at, pull up a chair. We need to talk about something that's actually working in the world of recovery: community-based support.

"But wait," you say, "isn't community support just a fancy term for awkward church basement meetings and stale cookies?" Not anymore, friends. Not anymore.

The Revolution Is Local (And It's Not Taking Insurance)

Here in Wisconsin, we're doing something different. While the rest of the country is still arguing about whether addiction is a moral failing or a disease (spoiler alert: it's neither - it's more like that one relative who shows up uninvited and refuses to leave), we're building a recovery ecosystem that actually makes sense.

Take WisHope Recovery Center, for example. Founded by Peter Brunzelle, a guy who's actually been there (yes, really), WisHope was created because, as Brunzelle puts it, "there wasn't a place where one could go for treatment that supported multiple pathways to recovery." Translation: They figured out that not everyone gets sober the same way. Mind-blowing, right?

The Northern Woods Are Getting Wiser

Up in the Northwoods (where the bears are more understanding than some therapists), things are changing. Vilas County and its neighbors are rolling out innovative programs faster than you can say "just one more time." Here's what's actually working:

1. The New Digital Frontier
   Remember when we thought technology was just for doom-scrolling and drunk-texting our exes? Well, Oneida County just launched CredibleMind, a 24/7 online mental health platform that's actually free. Yes, FREE. As in, costs nothing. As in, you can get help without selling your kidney on the black market.

2. Community Support Programs (CSP)
   These aren't your grandmother's support groups. Modern CSPs offer coordinated professional care that treats you like a whole person, not just a collection of poor life choices. Revolutionary, I know.

3. Recovery Housing Revolution
   Wisconsin's using $2 million in opioid settlement money for recovery housing. Because apparently, having a safe place to live is kind of important for staying sober. Who knew?

For the Families (Because Y'all Need Help Too)

Let's be real - watching someone you love battle addiction is like watching someone try to parallel park for three hours. It's painful, it's frustrating, and you desperately want to take the wheel but can't.

The good news? Wisconsin's community-based recovery programs are finally including family support that doesn't suck. WisHope, for instance, integrates family programming because they understand that addiction is a family disease (like male pattern baldness, but with more drama).

For the Professionals (Put Down Your DSM-5 for a Minute)

Hey there, treatment providers! Yes, you with the eye twitch and the coffee addiction. Wisconsin's community-based approach is changing the game, and here's why you should care:

• Multiple pathways to recovery are now supported (because shocking as it may be, not everyone's journey looks the same)
• Integration of mental health and addiction services (because apparently, people can have more than one problem at a time)
• New resources like CredibleMind that complement existing treatment (and don't require more paperwork - you're welcome)

Breaking Boundaries: Technology Meets Recovery

Enter IGNTD (pronounced "ignited") - a game-changer in the recovery landscape. Founded by Dr. Adi Jaffe, a UCLA-trained psychologist and world-renowned expert on mental health and addiction, this isn't your grandpa's recovery program. Dr. Jaffe, who has personally navigated the challenging path of addiction, created something revolutionary.

The Wisconsin Department of Corrections is turning heads by partnering with IGNTD for Regions 5 and 6 in Northern Wisconsin. Why? Because recovery doesn't clock out at 5 PM. This digital platform provides 24/7 support, breaking down the traditional barriers of treatment accessibility. Clients now have access to personalized tools, group sessions, and individual coaching - all from their phone.  P.S. one of your favorite bloggers just may also be an Accountability Coach for this amazing recovery app and platform to! 

The Stigma Stoppers: Why Community Matters

Let's get real about stigma. It's the invisible monster that keeps people from seeking help. The more we talk, the more we normalize, the more we break down those walls of shame and judgment.

Recovery isn't a linear path. It's not about being perfect. It's about being human. For the person who's been fighting for 25 years, for the newbie terrified of their first meeting, for the family member watching a loved one struggle - we see you. We hear you.

Clinical professionals have a critical role to play. Every dismissive comment, every raised eyebrow, every moment of judgment perpetuates the cycle of shame. But every moment of compassion, every open conversation, every supportive gesture chips away at the stigma.

Community-Based Recovery: Your Turn

Here's where you come in. We want to create the most comprehensive list of community-based recovery resources EVER. So we're asking:

What recovery resources exist in YOUR community?

Drop them in the comments. Share them on social media. Tag us. Create a thread. Whether it's:

• Local support groups
• Online communities
• Workplace wellness programs
• Faith-based recovery initiatives
• Peer support networks
• Innovative digital platforms

If it helps people heal, we want to know about it.

The Bottom Line (Because We All Need One)

Recovery isn't just about stopping the use of substances - it's about building a life worth staying sober for. Wisconsin's community-based approach is doing just that, one person, one family, and one slightly dysfunctional but well-meaning community at a time.

Need Help? (Because We All Do Sometimes)

• Wisconsin Addiction Recovery Helpline: 211
• CredibleMind Oneida County: oneidacountywi.crediblemind.com
• WisHope Recovery: wishoperecovery.com
• Crisis Line: 988 (Because sometimes you need to talk to someone who isn't your cat)

Remember, recovery is like Wisconsin weather - if you don't like what's happening right now, wait five minutes. It might get worse, but eventually, it has to get better.

And hey, if you're still reading this, you're already doing better than you think. Keep going. We're rooting for you, even if we're doing it awkwardly and from a distance.-Belle- 

When Your College Assignment Becomes a Blog Post (Because Why Not Double-Dip?)

So here's the deal - I've got this assignment for my final semester at Ottawa University where I'm supposed to reflect on my "college journey." insert eye roll here But you know what? This is actually kind of perfect for the blog because holy shit, what a ride it's been.

Picture this: 2015, middle-of-nowhere Wisconsin (specifically Lac du Flambeau reservation), and there I am - a high school dropout with more issues than National Geographic - deciding to take an EMT course. Why? Because it was free, and free is my favorite price point. Plot twist: I actually passed it. Mind. Blown.

Let me tell you about EMT training, because that shit was wild. Imagine a bunch of adults crawling around on floors, strapping each other to boards, and aggressively pumping on dummies. It's like BDSM meets healthcare, minus the safe word. But it introduced me to the special brand of dark humor you only find in emergency medicine. There's something about regularly asking "So... is anyone else hungry?" after particularly graphic trauma scenarios that bonds people for life.

That success went straight to my head, and I thought, "Hey, maybe I could do more school!" Classic mistake, right? Started chasing a Medical Assistant degree because apparently, I hate myself. Spoiler alert: Got taken down by a typing test. Yes, you read that right. A TYPING TEST. In an age where autocorrect practically writes our grocery lists, some sadist decided perfect typing speed matters. To whoever invented typing tests: I hope both sides of your pillow are warm. Forever.

But here's where it gets interesting (and by interesting, I mean tragically hilarious). I switched to substance use counseling courses because - get this - I thought I could "fix" my then-husband. pause for collective laughter Yeah, because that's totally how addiction works. Oh, and let's be real - I was also in it for that sweet, sweet financial aid money. Single mom survival tactics 101, am I right?

Speaking of being a single mom - holy shit, what a juggling act. There I was, trying to balance work, school, and kids, failing spectacularly at times. My solution? Material gifts! Because nothing says "Sorry Mommy's always working" like throwing presents at the problem. Spoiler alert: had to actually learn how to parent eventually. But watching my kids emerge from dysfunction into these amazing human beings? Worth every sleep-deprived moment. Special shoutout to my oldest who rocks the autism spectrum and can info-dump like a champion - you're basically a walking Wikipedia and I'm here for it.

The real kicker? I'm sitting in class one day, thinking I'm absolutely crushing it (narrator: she wasn't), when this professor drops this bomb: "You have to be healthier than your clients." Well, shit. Talk about a reality check that feels like getting hit with a baseball bat wrapped in truth and wrapped again in "get your life together."

Let's talk about online learning because that deserves its own special circle of hell. My dog ate my homework - literally ate my computer cord. I've lost more assignments to tech failures than I care to count. I've bought computers, lost computers, had internet, didn't have internet, and pulled out enough hair to make a small wig. To all my classmates whose discussion posts I've read at 3 AM: some of you are secret geniuses, and some of you... well, I'm genuinely concerned about how you found the power button.

The real fire under my ass came when I was working in residential treatment and realized my in-training license was about to expire. Nothing quite motivates you like the threat of career death, am I right? Four years of intense work in residential - loving it but feeling like I'd been put through an emotional wood chipper - and I wasn't about to let it slip away.

But you want to know the real gag? This high school dropout, this former addict from the backwoods of Wisconsin, now owns a house. Has a car that actually runs. Works not one, but two jobs she actually loves (shocking, I know). I'm talking patient-centered outpatient treatment where they actually let me have autonomy (dangerous, I know), and this cool gig with an online recovery platform called IGNDT where I get to be an accountability coach. Plot twist: I'm actually good at this stuff.

The most unexpected thing I've learned? That I'm not a failure. I know, weird right? Turns out all that stuff about core values and dysfunction we learn about in counseling hits different when you're unpacking your own baggage while helping others with theirs.

None of this would've happened without my significant other - the real MVP who's been holding down the fort and consistently telling me I can do this while I've been slowly losing my mind over the past six years. Having someone actually proud of you? That shit hits different when you're not used to it.

So yeah, this is technically a college assignment. But it's also a middle finger to everyone who said I couldn't do it. It's a love letter to second chances. And it's proof that sometimes the most messed up starting points lead to the best stories.

P.S. - To my professor who's reading this (because hi, this is also my assignment): See how I reflected on my journey AND maintained my brand voice? That's what we call efficiency. Or rebellion. Maybe both. Also, thanks for making me write this because turns out, I've come a pretty long way from that person who thought a typing test was going to end her career.-Belle- 

 

Rethinking Addiction: A Counselor's Journey from Recovery to Revolutionary Thinking

Picture this: there I was, fresh from my stint as a treatment specialist with the Wisconsin Department of Corrections, where I'd mastered the fine art of drill sergeant-style rehabilitation (because nothing says "recovery" quite like being barked at to get your life together). I found myself sitting in my first staff meeting at a residential treatment center, armed with my personal recovery experience and the kind of rigid structure that only working in corrections can drill into your soul. Talk about culture shock - I'd traded my corrections clipboard for a treatment center's manual of absolutes, only to find they had more in common than anyone would care to admit.

The message being hammered home was crystal clear: abstinence or death, addiction is a lifelong disease, and if you even think about deviating from this doctrine, you might as well hand your clients their relapse on a silver platter with a side of "I told you so." Coming from a system where control was currency, I thought I'd seen it all - but trading one absolutist approach for another felt like switching seats on the Titanic. Still extremely green in what I was doing, I had that dangerous combination of enough personal experience to think I knew something and enough influanced mindset to think the structure could fix everything.

When we treat addiction as merely a primary condition, we miss the forest for the trees. The story of addiction is often written long before the first drink or drug - in childhood trauma, in generational patterns, in systemic inequities, and in the complex web of human suffering. Recent research supports this view, suggesting that viewing addiction solely as a chronic brain disease can actually limit treatment options and increase stigma.

Working with Native American communities opened my eyes to this reality in ways no textbook ever could. I've witnessed how historical trauma, poverty, and systemic barriers create perfect storms for addiction to take root. These experiences forced me to question the one-size-fits-all approach to recovery that dominates much of the treatment industry.

Breaking Down the Disease Model

The traditional disease model of addiction has served an important purpose. It helped move us away from viewing addiction as a moral failing and toward treating it as a health issue. But emerging perspectives challenge this model, pointing out its limitations in accounting for the diverse paths to recovery that many people take.

When we frame addiction solely as an incurable, progressive disease, we inadvertently create a narrative that can become a self-fulfilling prophecy. It's not that the disease model is wrong - it's that it's incomplete. Addiction manifests differently in each person because its roots are unique to each individual's life story.

The Power of Individualized Treatment

In my continued practice, I've learned that effective treatment isn't about adhering to a single methodology - it's about meeting clients where they are and crafting approaches that resonate with their lived experience. Some clients thrive with traditional 12-step approaches, while others find healing through harm reduction strategies. The treatment field is increasingly embracing this spectrum of approaches, recognizing that recovery isn't one-dimensional.

This shift in perspective raises important questions:

• What if we viewed addiction not as the core problem, but as a maladaptive solution to deeper issues?

• How might treatment change if we focused first on understanding what pain or trauma the addiction is attempting to medicate?

• What possibilities open up when we stop insisting on lifetime abstinence as the only valid goal?

A New Framework for Recovery

When we begin to see addiction as a symptom rather than the primary disease, our entire approach to treatment transforms. Instead of focusing solely on stopping the addictive behavior, we can:

1. Explore the underlying trauma, anxiety, or depression that may be driving the addiction

2. Address systemic and environmental factors that contribute to substance use

3. Develop personalized recovery goals that match each individual's circumstances and readiness for change

4. Recognize that healing happens in stages, and that progress isn't always linear

This perspective doesn't minimize the seriousness of addiction - rather, it expands our understanding of its complexity and the many paths to healing.

Moving Forward (Or: Trading Our Old Maps for a Better GPS)

Let's be real - the gap between what we're taught and what we actually encounter in addiction treatment is about as wide as the Grand Canyon. But hey, that gap? It's not just empty space - it's where the magic happens. It's where we get to throw out the "my way or the highway" manual (which, let's face it, has sent too many people down that highway) and start writing some new chapters.

As someone who's walked both sides of this road - from being the person who needed help to being the person giving it, from being the client to counselor - I've learned that the most powerful thing we can do is admit that sometimes, we don't know what the hell we're doing. And that's okay! Because the moment we stop pretending to have all the answers is the moment we can actually start finding some that work.

Here's the beautiful truth I've discovered along the way: recovery isn't about forcing yourself into someone else's box of sobriety. It's about finding your own path to healing, even if that path looks more like a drunk squirrel's trail than a straight line. (Spoiler alert: most authentic journeys look exactly like that drunk squirrel's trail, and that's perfectly fine.)

The future of addiction treatment isn't about finding the one perfect way - because if there was one perfect way, someone would have trademarked it and sold it for millions by now. It's about recognizing that everyone's journey is as unique as their fingerprint, their trauma, and their story. And yes, sometimes that means throwing out everything we think we know and starting fresh.

So here's my invitation to you, whether you're struggling, recovering, helping others, or just trying to understand: Let's get comfortable with being uncomfortable. Let's embrace the mess of healing. Let's acknowledge that sometimes the most professional thing we can do is admit we're all just humans trying our best to figure this out.

Because at the end of the day, real healing doesn't happen in the rigid spaces of "must" and "should" - it happens in the beautiful, chaotic, sometimes hilarious space of "what if?" What if we tried something different? What if we listened more and preached less? What if we treated people like people instead of problems to be solved?

And hey, if you're reading this thinking your recovery doesn't look like what everyone told you it should - welcome to the club. We meet at the intersection of Reality and Hope, and there's always room for one more. Because the truth is, the only "right" way to recover is the way that keeps you alive, growing, and moving forward - even if that movement sometimes looks like a three-legged dog chasing its tail.

Here's to finding our way together, one beautifully imperfect step at a time. And remember - if your path to healing looks a little weird, you're probably doing it right. After all, normal hasn't worked out so great for any of us so far, has it?-Belle-

When Your Counselor's Been There: The Raw Truth About Being on Both Sides of the Desk

 

When Your Counselor's Been There: The Raw Truth About Being on Both Sides of the Desk

I used to count shots, hits, milligrams. Now I count days of not using meth, opiates, benzos and collections of other what I used to think were “fun” treats. And somewhere between those two realities, I found myself on both sides of the counselor's desk – first as the client trying to keep my shit together, then as the professional helping others do the same.

Plot twist, right?

Here's the thing about being both a recovering addict and an addiction counselor in rural Wisconsin: it's complicated. Like, "trying to explain TikTok to your grandma" complicated. When you live in a small town, everyone knows everyone's business. The person you're counseling today might have been the same person who watched you stumble out of the local bar five years ago or read about your criminal enterprises in the local papers. That's not just awkward – it's a masterclass in humility.

But you know what? That's exactly why I'm writing this post. Because in northern Wisconsin, where our postcard-pretty landscapes hide some pretty ugly truths about addiction, we need to get real about recovery. Really real. I am sure many of you can relate and “insert your town here”.

Living here, where the nearest treatment center might be an hour's drive away and everyone's cousin's friend's sister has "that problem," we face unique challenges. The isolation can be suffocating. The resources? Sometimes they feel as sparse as parking spots during hunting season.

But here's where my double life gives me a perspective that not everyone has: I know both the desperation of addiction and the hope of recovery from the inside out. I've sat in those uncomfortable chairs as a client, fighting the urge to bolt. I've also sat in the counselor's chair, watching someone else fight that same battle.

Let me tell you something they don't teach you in counseling school: sometimes the most powerful thing you can offer someone isn't your professional expertise – it's your humanity. It's being able to say, "Yeah, I remember when breathing felt like an Olympic sport too."

But this isn't just my story. It's about breaking down the walls between "us" and "them." Because, there is no us and them. There are just people, trying their best to heal, to help, and sometimes to do both simultaneously.

So here's my promise to you, dear reader: My blog and writing won't ever be your typical recovery narrative. It won't be all sunshine and rainbows, and it definitely won't be what my professors would call "maintaining professional distance." Instead, it'll be honest. Sometimes painfully so. Sometimes funny (because if you can't laugh at the darkness, what's the point?). Always real.

We'll talk about the stuff nobody wants to talk about. Like how recovery in a small town means running into your old drinking buddies or drugged-out one-night stands at the only grocery store in town. Or how being a counselor with a past means constantly walking the line between professional boundaries and authentic connection (for real).

Here's what I've learned from straddling both worlds: Healing isn't about pretending the scars don't exist. It's about wearing them with grace and using them to help others find their way.

So whether you're in recovery, thinking about recovery, working in recovery, or just trying to understand what this whole journey is about, welcome. Pull up a chair. The coffee's usually on (or an energy drink), and judgment's always off.

This is just the beginning of our conversation. And trust me, it's going to get interesting.-Belle-