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-

 

Love and Addiction: When Your Brain Can't Tell the Difference Between Romance and Rehab

Let's talk about love and addiction - two things that can make you lose your mind, empty your bank account, and have you crying in a Walmart parking lot at 3 AM. As someone who's been both a substance abuse counselor and a card-carrying member of the "my ex probably deserves their own DSM category" club, I've seen these parallels from every angle possible.

The Science of Love: Your Brain on Romance (Spoiler: It's a Mess)

Remember that feeling of being high? Well, your brain literally can't tell the difference between that and falling in love. Both flood your system with dopamine, serotonin, and norepinephrine - nature's own chemical cocktail that makes you feel invincible while simultaneously destroying your ability to make rational decisions. It's like your brain threw a party and forgot to invite your common sense.

When you fall in love, your dopamine levels spike like you just hit the neurochemical jackpot. Your prefrontal cortex - that responsible adult in your brain - basically goes on vacation. Scientists have found that the same reward pathways that light up during drug use start doing the cha-cha when you're looking at pictures of your beloved. It's why both love and addiction can have you planning your entire life around your next "fix," whether that's a substance or just one more text from someone who's definitely not good for you.

And here's the kicker: oxytocin, often called the "love hormone," creates intense bonding that can keep you stuck in toxic relationships. It's like your brain's version of superglue, making you attach to people who are about as stable as a Jenga tower in an earthquake.

Breaking the Cycle: When "Crazy in Love" Is Just Plain Crazy

Let's be honest - breaking free from codependency is about as fun as doing taxes while getting a root canal. But here's what they don't tell you in those cheerful self-help books:

The Uncomfortable Truth About Codependency

Remember thinking you could fix someone who treated their emotional issues like a collect-them-all Pokemon game? Yeah, me too. Codependency isn't just about being "too nice" or "caring too much" - it's about being so focused on someone else's disaster of a life that you forget you're starring in your own train wreck.

Signs you might be codependent (aka love addiction's favorite cousin):

• You've ever said "but they need me" about someone who treats you like a backup plan
• Your mood depends on someone else's mood like you're emotionally joined at the hip
• You've become an Olympic-level mental gymnast trying to justify someone's behavior
• Your boundaries are so non-existent, they make invisible ink look obvious

The Real Work of Breaking Free

Breaking free from codependency is like trying to untangle yourself from emotional kudzu. It's a process that usually involves:

1. Recognizing Your Patterns: Understanding why you're attracted to people who have more red flags than a Soviet parade.

2. Dealing with Withdrawal: Yes, breaking up with toxic people causes actual withdrawal symptoms. Your brain doesn't know the difference between quitting substances and quitting that person who's "not really that bad" (spoiler: they probably are).

3. Building a New Normal: Learning to feel comfortable with calm instead of chaos. It's like moving from an action movie to a documentary - less exciting at first, but way better for your long-term survival.

Recovery Skills: Your Relationship Superhero Cape

The plot twist? Those same skills that got you clean and sober are your secret weapons for building healthy relationships. It's like discovering that your sobriety toolbox is actually a relationship Swiss Army knife.

Recovery teaches us:

• How to sit with uncomfortable feelings without trying to fix, change, or numb them
• The art of saying "no" without writing a five-page explanation
• That feeling your feelings won't actually kill you (even though it sometimes feels like it might)
• How to build relationships that don't require a therapist's intervention team on speed dial

Moving Forward: Love in Recovery (Without the Drama)

Healthy love in recovery feels different. It's calmer, clearer, and doesn't involve checking your partner's phone while they're in the shower. It's about finding someone who makes your life better, not someone who makes it more "exciting" by keeping you in a constant state of emotional whiplash.

The truth is, recovery gives us something invaluable: the ability to recognize the difference between love and addiction, between chemistry and chaos. It teaches us that the best relationships aren't about losing yourself in another person - they're about showing up as your whole, messy, recovering self and finding someone who appreciates the work you've done to get there.

This Valentine's Day, whether you're single, dating, or somewhere in between, remember: your recovery skills are your relationship superpowers. Use them wisely, and maybe skip the Walmart parking lot crying sessions this time around.

Because let's face it - the best love story isn't about finding someone to complete you; it's about being complete enough on your own that you can actually show up for a healthy relationship. And if that's not worth celebrating, I don't know what is.-Belle-

Finding Your Tribe When AA Isn't Your Vibe: A Rebel's Guide to Recovery Support

Let's talk about support systems, shall we? And no, I don't mean your cousin's Facebook group where Karen posts daily affirmations and everyone pretends to care.

Here's the thing about recovery, personal change, or whatever you want to call your attempt at not being a mess anymore: The standard playbook doesn't work for everyone. Shocking, I know. While Dave from accounting might thrive in his daily Zoom support meetings, some of us would rather eat glass than stare at Brady Bunch squares of strangers talking about their feelings.

The Struggle Is Real (Especially When You're Really Rural)

If you live in Nowhere, Population: Cows, your options might seem limited. According to recent studies, rural residents face significant disparities in accessing mental health and recovery support. But here's where it gets interesting: Rural communities are getting creative, and some of their solutions are actually pretty brilliant.

Take, for example, the rise of "Recovery Ranches" - because apparently, horses are better therapists than humans. Who knew? These alternative approaches combine outdoor activities with recovery support, and turns out, mucking stalls while talking about your problems is surprisingly effective. Plus, horses don't judge you for your questionable life choices. They just want carrots.

Urban Warriors: Finding Your People in the Concrete Jungle

City dwellers, you've got your own unique challenges. Sure, there might be 47 different support groups within walking distance, but maybe you're looking for something... different. Here's where it gets interesting:

1. Recovery Book Clubs: Because reading "The Great Gatsby" while sober reveals plot twists you definitely missed the first time around.

2. Art therapy groups that don't require you to be good at art (thank god). Nothing says "processing trauma" like aggressive finger painting.

3. Adventure therapy programs where you can channel your self-destructive tendencies into actually climbing mountains instead of creating them.

The Digital Dilemma (Or: Why Your Phone Might Not Be The Enemy)

Yes, we've all heard about the 500 recovery apps available. But here's something interesting: New innovative practices in behavioral health are showing that digital support can work - if you use it right. The key? Finding platforms that feel less like a digital AA meeting and more like a community of people who get your weird sense of humor about recovery.

The Lost Arts of Connection

Remember when people used to just... talk to each other? Some communities are bringing back old-school connection methods with a twist:

• Community gardens (because nothing says "I'm working on myself" like failing to keep a tomato plant alive)
• Skill-sharing workshops (learn to fix a car while fixing your life)
• Recovery-friendly sports leagues (where "one day at a time" meets "keep your eye on the ball")

Finding Your Weird

Here's the truth: Recovery support is evolving beyond traditional methods, and thank goodness for that. Maybe your version of support is a heavy metal meditation group. Maybe it's joining a pottery class where you can literally throw things when you're angry. The point is, your recovery, your rules.

The Only Rule That Matters

The secret to finding support isn't following someone else's blueprint - it's creating your own. Whether that means starting a knitting circle for recovering anarchists or joining a hiking group that combines trail cleaning with peer support, the best support system is the one that doesn't make you want to run screaming in the opposite direction.

Because at the end of the day, the goal isn't just to recover - it's to build a life that doesn't make you want to return to old habits. And sometimes, that means thinking way outside the church basement.

Remember: If your support system doesn't occasionally make you laugh, you're probably doing it wrong. After all, we're trying to change our lives, not join a cult.

So go forth, you beautiful disaster. Find your people. They're out there, probably feeling just as awkward about traditional support systems as you are. And they might even have snacks.-Belle-

Recovery: The Journey to Becoming Who We Never Were

 

Recovery: The Journey to Becoming Who We Never Were

"I just want to be the person I was before addiction."

Yeah, about that... Let's talk about why that's the worst idea since trying to negotiate with your dealer at 3 AM. That person you're so nostalgic about? They're the one who got you into this mess in the first place. Sorry, not sorry.

I'm both a recovering addict and a substance use disorder counselor, which basically means I went from being the problem to helping solve it. Talk about a plot twist, right?

Here's the thing about recovery that nobody tells you in those glossy rehab brochures: it's not about finding yourself – it's about creating yourself. While everyone else is out there trying to "discover their authentic self" (whatever that means), we're in the trenches building ourselves from scratch, like some kind of sober Frankenstein's monster, except with better coping skills and fewer villagers with pitchforks.

Let's be real – addiction didn't steal who we were; it revealed who we needed to become. That's the dirty little secret of recovery that makes people uncomfortable at dinner parties. We're not trying to go backwards to some imagined golden age of our lives. We're fumbling forward, creating something entirely new, probably making a mess of it sometimes, but hey – at least we're conscious for it now.

You want to know what recovery really looks like? It's showing up to therapy wearing yesterday's clothes because you had a breakthrough at 2 AM and couldn't sleep. It's laughing inappropriately during group sessions because someone's rock-bottom story involves a stolen garden gnome. It's realizing that your emotional growth was stuck at whatever age you started using, and now you're basically a teenager in an adult body, learning how to human all over again.

But here's where it gets good.

Every day you stay sober, you're building something unprecedented – a version of yourself that never existed before. Your brain is literally rewiring itself, creating new neural pathways that don't lead to your dealer's house. That's not just recovery; that's evolution, baby.

To my fellow recovering souls: your path won't look like anyone else's, and that's perfect. Maybe you're the one making inappropriate jokes in group therapy (guilty as charged), or maybe you're the one journaling so intensely you've developed carpal tunnel. Either way, you're doing it right because you're doing it at all.

And to the professionals working in this field: remember that behind every eye roll, beneath every defense mechanism, there's someone desperately trying to build themselves a new life with tools they're just learning how to use. It's like watching someone try to assemble IKEA furniture without instructions – frustrating, sometimes hilarious, but ultimately worth it.

Recovery isn't about returning to who you were. It's about becoming who you never had the chance to be. It's about building something new from the rubble of who you used to be, and maybe keeping a few of the funnier war stories to share at meetings.

Because at the end of the day, recovery isn't just about staying clean – it's about creating a life so good you don't need to escape from it. And sometimes, that means embracing the chaos, finding humor in the darkness, and realizing that the person you're becoming is far more interesting than the person you're trying to remember.

So here's to not being who we were. Here's to being who we never were – but always had the potential to become. And here's to laughing about it along the way, because if we can't find humor in this journey, we're doing it wrong.

Keep going. Keep growing. Keep laughing. The person you're becoming is waiting to meet you.

-Belle-