Wednesday, January 21, 2026

I Did the Scary Thing (And Now I’m All In With You) ๐Ÿ˜ฑ๐Ÿ’ฅ๐Ÿค


Yesterday, I did something wild: I quit my day job as a clinical substance use counselor. ๐Ÿšช๐Ÿ‘‹๐Ÿง‘‍⚕️

If you’ve followed my journey, you know I don’t do “safe and easy.” ๐Ÿšซ๐Ÿ›‹️ I do honest. ✨๐Ÿ—ฃ️ I do progress, not perfection. ๐Ÿ›ค️✅ And right now, that means betting on myself—and you. ๐ŸŽฒ๐Ÿค๐Ÿ’ช

So here’s what’s next: I’m officially opening up more spots for recovery coaching! ๐Ÿ—“️๐Ÿ‘ Whether you’re just curious ๐Ÿค”, feeling stuck ๐Ÿชค, or deep in the trenches ๐Ÿ•ณ️๐Ÿง—‍♀️, I’m here. You can book a FREE 30-minute intro session ๐Ÿ†“⏰ to see if we’re a good fit—no strings attached! ๐Ÿงต✂️

Not ready for coaching? No problem! ๐Ÿ™Œ There are other ways to connect:
• Subscribe to this blog for real talk and support. ๐Ÿ“ฌ๐Ÿ’ฌ๐Ÿซ‚
• Join my Skool community for access to even more resources and a space to connect with others. ๐Ÿซ๐ŸŒฑ๐Ÿ’ž
• Check out all my offers/pricing (including groups!) at progressisprogress.setmore.com ๐Ÿ’ป๐Ÿ”—๐Ÿ“

If my work has helped you, consider supporting it with a paid subscription. ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ’ธ Every little bit helps me keep writing, coaching, and building this community. ๐Ÿ–Š️๐Ÿ—️๐ŸŒ

Thank you for being here. Let’s make some progress, together. ๐Ÿ–ค➡️✨

Wednesday, January 14, 2026

When Federal Cuts Hit Home: What the $2 Billion SAMHSA Grant Slashes Mean for Wisconsin’s Recovery Community


If you’re like me—a clinical substance use counselor and someone in recovery—this latest funding bombshell from SAMHSA isn’t just numbers on a page. It’s a gut punch to the programs and people we rely on every single day.

Without warning, nearly $2 billion in grants that support substance use disorder (SUD) treatment and mental health services nationwide have been abruptly cut or terminated. Wisconsin is staring down a loss of more than $225 million in federal funding for programs that have helped turn the tide on overdose deaths, support families in crisis, and keep recovery on track for thousands.

What’s Actually Happening? Immediate Terminations vs. Future Cuts

Let’s clear the air upfront: this isn’t just a future funding squeeze. Hundreds of grants were abruptly terminated recently—meaning funding for ongoing projects stopped cold. This sudden pullback is not only destabilizing but downright reckless.

At the same time, many other grants face steep cuts or elimination in the upcoming fiscal year 2026. These include block grants, prevention programs, treatment initiatives, and recovery support services—programs awarded based on documented needs and bipartisan Congressional appropriations.

According to the Department of Health and Human Services, these terminations came because some projects were deemed “no longer aligned with agency priorities.” But those priorities clash with the urgent, documented needs of communities battling record-high overdose deaths and mental health crises.

Wisconsin, like many states, is fighting back—joining a coalition suing to block these terminations and pressing Congress to restore funding during the appropriations process.

Breaking Down the Grants: What Types Are on the Chopping Block?

SAMHSA’s grants fall into several broad buckets, each critical in its own right:

  • Block Grants: These are large, flexible funds awarded to states to support a wide range of mental health and substance use services. While not all block grants were cut outright, many face severe reductions or uncertainty for 2026, threatening the backbone of state programs.
  • Prevention and Overdose Programs: Funding that supports harm reduction, overdose prevention, and education initiatives is facing sharp cuts. Nationally, about $350 million was cut from addiction and overdose-prevention funding, with Wisconsin programs at risk of losing significant chunks.
  • Treatment Grants: These support clinics, medication-assisted treatment (MAT), counseling, and wraparound services. Cuts here directly impact the availability and quality of care.
  • Recovery Support and Housing: Grants that fund sober housing, peer recovery coaching, and community supports—like the recent $45 million awarded in Wisconsin for young adult sober housing—are on the line. Losing these puts early recovery stability at risk.
  • Advocacy and Mental Health Watchdog Programs: Programs that monitor quality and protect rights, like Wisconsin’s Protection and Advocacy for Individuals with Mental Illness, are expected to lose more than 60% of their funding next year.

Why Wisconsin Feels This Harder Than Most

This isn’t just a national problem playing out in a vacuum. Wisconsin’s overdose and fentanyl crisis is severe, and these grants have been a lifeline.

  • Our rural communities rely heavily on federal dollars to bring mental health and substance use services where state resources can’t reach.
  • Wisconsin’s innovative school-based mental health initiatives, which have helped hundreds of students, face funding wipes that could force cuts or closures.
  • Local budgets are already strained. Recently, Republicans cut $10 million from school-based mental health after requests for increases. Layer on federal cuts, and the system faces collapse.
  • The state’s mental health watchdog groups, crucial for oversight, are losing the funds needed to keep programs accountable and effective.

The Human Side: Stories from the Frontlines of Recovery

I’ve seen firsthand what these programs mean—not just as a counselor but as someone deeply embedded in this community. I’m currently offering pro bono recovery coaching services to help expand access because I know what it’s like when resources vanish and people are left hanging. Recovery isn’t some abstract concept; it’s a daily grind of finding stability, battling triggers, and rebuilding a life piece by piece.

Take, for example, “Sarah” (name changed). She’s a young adult in early recovery who found a lifeline through sober housing funded by SAMHSA grants. That housing gave her a stable place to heal, connect with peers, and get back on her feet. Without that, her chances of relapse skyrocket. This story mirrors countless others I’ve coached—people who rely on these supports to keep moving forward, day after day.

Recovery coaching is about more than just motivation. It’s helping clients navigate complex systems, secure housing, find jobs, and rebuild relationships. When funds dry up, those lifelines fray, and the ripple effects are devastating.

Concrete Data: What’s at Stake in Wisconsin

Numbers don’t lie. Wisconsin saw a 14% drop in overdose deaths in 2023, a win driven largely by the prevention and treatment programs funded through SAMHSA grants. These programs serve thousands annually—providing medication-assisted treatment (MAT), overdose reversal training, crisis intervention, and peer recovery support.

  • The Protection and Advocacy for Individuals with Mental Illness program in Wisconsin faces a cut of over 60% in its 2026 budget, threatening legal and advocacy services for some of the most vulnerable.
  • Recovery housing programs, vital for young adults in early recovery, received $45 million recently from SAMHSA, a lifeline now hanging in the balance.
  • Overdose prevention programs, which include distributing naloxone (Narcan) and training community members, face cuts nationally totaling $350 million, with Wisconsin programs deeply affected.

These aren’t just abstract budget lines. They represent real people—mothers, fathers, neighbors—whose lives these programs have saved or stabilized.

Why Federal Funding Matters: Busting Myths and Breaking Stigma

A common misconception is that addiction and recovery are purely personal failings or family issues. That’s dead wrong. Substance use disorder is a complex medical condition that requires comprehensive support systems.

Federal funding isn’t a handout—it’s the backbone of public health infrastructure for mental health and addiction services, especially in rural and underserved areas like many parts of Wisconsin. State budgets and private funding can’t fill these gaps alone.

Programs funded by SAMHSA provide access to evidence-based treatments, peer recovery coaching, crisis intervention, and housing supports. These are the practical tools that help people rebuild lives and reduce the enormous societal costs of untreated addiction—like emergency medical care, incarceration, and lost productivity.

When these funds get cut, it’s not just budgets shrinking—it’s recovery chances shrinking.

Voices from the Frontlines

The National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI) Wisconsin released a statement expressing deep disappointment, urging leaders to prevent these cuts because they threaten the very services that save lives and support recovery.

Senator Tammy Baldwin called the cuts “catastrophic,” highlighting how they undermine Wisconsin’s fight against the opioid epidemic and mental health crises.

These aren’t partisan complaints—they are grounded in the real-world impact on public health and safety.

What This Means for Counselors and People in Recovery

As someone in the trenches, this hits home hard:

  • Job security and resources are on the line. Programs losing funding risk layoffs, and the loss of training and materials makes our jobs harder.
  • Caseloads will spike. Fewer programs and staff mean longer waitlists and less individual attention for people who need help now.
  • Clients lose lifelines. Recovery housing, crisis lines, peer support, and overdose prevention programs keep people alive and sober. Cut those, and relapse, overdose, and death rates climb.
  • The ripple effect. When prevention and recovery supports falter, entire communities suffer—families, workplaces, schools.

What We Still Don’t Know—and Why We Need to Stay Vigilant

There’s uncertainty about how Congress will respond in the coming weeks. Will these funds be restored? Will legal challenges succeed? The landscape is still shifting.

That means staying informed, engaged, and vocal is crucial. The people in recovery and those who support them can’t afford to be silent.

A Vision Forward: What Restored Funding Could Mean

Imagine a Wisconsin where:

  • Every person seeking help can access evidence-based treatment without delays.
  • Recovery housing is widely available to stabilize people in early recovery.
  • Schools have robust mental health programs that catch issues early and reduce crises.
  • The 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline is fully staffed and responsive 24/7.
  • Counselors and peer coaches have the resources and training to do their best work.

Restoring and expanding these funds isn’t just a wish—it’s a necessity if we want to keep moving forward in this fight.

What Can You Do?

  • Call your U.S. Representatives and Senators. Tell them Wisconsin needs these funds restored to protect lives and recovery.
  • Support local programs. Volunteer, donate, or advocate for organizations filling the gaps.
  • Spread the word. Share this information widely to build awareness and pressure.
  • Build community. Recovery thrives on connection—use your networks to organize support and action.

This isn’t just a budget issue—it’s about survival. For those of us who have faced addiction and fought for recovery, these cuts strike at the heart of what keeps us going.

We can’t let these programs fall. We owe it to ourselves, our clients, and our communities to fight back.


References



TikTok

 Holy shit, y’all — I just hit 17,000 followers on TikTok!!!

๐ŸŽ‰๐ŸŽ‰๐ŸŽ‰Who would’ve thought a 42-year-old, overweight, dysfunctional, fast wreck of a human like me would have 17,000 people out there hitting a button saying, “Yeah, I wanna hear what she’s saying. I’m here for this.” That’s fucking amazing. I’m still pinching myself.
I’m Belinda Morey — author, clinician, speaker, blogger, board member, subject matter expert, advocate, coach — and I’m here to be rich in impact. Not the money kind (though hey, that’d be nice), but rich in the kind of impact that moves people, changes lives, and connects with those of us who haven’t been buried by life yet.If you’re not following me on TikTok — @progress_is_progress — what are you even doing?? Come join the party. Help me blow this thing UP. Help me reach the people who need to hear this message but haven’t found it yet. This is my mission, my heart, my everything.
You can find me everywhere: Facebook, Instagram, X, my Facebook group, and especially my blog at progressisprogress.substack.com and the Progress is Progress Recovery School on SKOOL.
Let’s celebrate this wild ride together. Drop a comment, share this, tag a friend, scream it from the rooftops with me! I want to hear from YOU — What’s your story? How are you showing up today? Let’s build something amazing, together.17,000 strong and just getting started. LET’S GO!

Monday, January 12, 2026

Feeling like the world’s pressure is about to blow? You’re not alone. Politics, news, constant noise — it’s enough to make anyone’s head spin. I just dropped a raw, real post on my blog about surviving the stress without losing your mind. No sides, no judgment, just real talk and unconventional ways to burp that pressure cooker we’re all living in.

If you’re done with feeling overwhelmed and ready to take back your peace—come check it out. Your sanity will thank you.

Read it now at progressisprogress.substack.com and hit subscribe for more real-life tools to keep your head above water.
https://open.substack.com/pub/progressisprogress/p/surviving-stress-in-divided-times?r=5xcddw&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web&showWelcomeOnShare=true

Sunday, December 28, 2025

 I’m an Addict and I’m Not Sorry

Let’s drop the polite bullshit for once. If you made it here, you’re either in it, have clawed your way out of it, or love somebody who’s been dragged through hell by addiction. And if that’s your reality, you know exactly what I mean when I say the worst part isn’t the withdrawal sweats, or wrecking your life, or waking up face-down in your own mess. It’s the shame. That choking, oil-slick weight that seeps into your bones and tells you, over and over, “You are less. You are broken. Who the hell do you think you are?”

Well, fuck shame. I mean it. Fuck it sideways, backward, with both middle fingers up.

I’m not hiding. I’m not apologizing. I’m an addict. I’ve done things I promised myself I would never do. I’ve lied to people who trusted me. I’ve stolen. I’ve torn up every good thing I could get my hands on, thinking maybe, finally, I’d feel something other than empty. But here’s what that doesn’t mean: it doesn’t mean I’m broken past repair. It doesn’t mean I don’t get to want a life worth a damn, or that I can’t crawl toward a little peace. I still deserve moments of quiet. I still get to want love, safety, a real fucking chance. And you do too.

Our past doesn’t disappear. We drag it around with us—sometimes like a badge, sometimes like a corpse. Sometimes both. But the only thing that matters is what you do next. Not what your mom thinks, not what the neighbors gossip about, not the checklist some rehab brochure says equals “success.” What are you going to do today? That’s it.

You can hate what you did but not who you are. There’s a world of difference there—and nobody gets to decide that for you. We’ve all pulled moves we’d sell our own teeth to undo. Regret isn’t a private club. But the difference between people who sink and people who scrape out something like a life is this: the ones who stop running from themselves. The ones who show up, even when showing up means sitting alone with your own shit and doing nothing but not using, just for today.

Recovery isn’t a purity test. It’s not about gold stars, perfect attendance, or performing sainthood for people who’ll never get it. It’s about being a touch less unhinged today than you were yesterday. Eating a bowl of cereal, answering the phone, not lighting yourself on fire—progress isn’t pretty, but it counts. Every boring, brutal inch of it counts.

And yeah, you’re going to backslide. You are going to mess up. There will be nights you want to smash something just to feel real, mornings you wake up angry you woke up at all. And you’ll live through it. Sometimes easier would be relapsing, sinking, vanishing; but “easy” is the trap, not the exit. Getting free is hard, and it’s still yours for the taking.

Here’s what I’m done with: letting people who haven’t lived it tell me what I “deserve.” I get to want good things. So do you. Real rest. Love that doesn’t feel like payday loans. One day in your own skin without the urge to crawl right out of it. We deserve all that, just on the off-chance we survive long enough to see it.

So here’s the deal. No more swallowing shame. No more apologizing for surviving. You and me—we’re not just addicts. We’re survivors. We’re stubborn as hell, and we’re not fucking sorry.

Screw the shame. Live anyway.

-Belle-

 393 people.

That’s not just some random number. That’s 393 folks who are done pretending, who crave the real stuff—the late-night honesty, the scars, the ugly wins, and the truth nobody else talks about. If you’re here, you’re my kind of people. You’ve stuck around for the nights it got raw, the mornings it didn’t make sense, and the moments where progress was just dragging yourself through one more impossible day.

Every time someone hits subscribe, it reminds me there are more of us than they think. More people tired of self-help BS, sick of the highlight reels, ready to grit their teeth and get real about recovery, relapse, and fighting for something better.

Here’s the deal: I want to smash through 400. Not for the vanity, but because every new person means the stigma gets a little weaker and the truth gets a little louder. So if you know someone who’s struggling, burnt out, or just wants to stop faking it—send them my way: Progress is Progress.

Let’s hit 400. Hell, let’s blow past it. Because progress is louder—and stronger—when we’re in it together.

Thank you. For reading, for showing up, for proving that scars are just proof we kept surviving.

Ready for the next round? Share, subscribe, tell a friend. Let’s keep building this movement—one honest voice at a time.

Tuesday, December 23, 2025

 ๐ŸŽ‰ Sick of fake “New Year, New Me” posts? SAME. If you’re ready for real talk about recovery, parenting chaos, fighting for your own health, and what “progress” actually looks like in the messiest year ever—this one’s for you. ๐Ÿ‘

๐Ÿ‚ This year, my world flipped: child custody battles, adoption rollercoasters, loving someone through relapse, and how “self-care” actually works when you’re a trauma survivor AND a counselor (spoiler: it’s not bubble baths and gratitude lists ๐Ÿ˜).

๐Ÿง  Whether you’re neurodivergent, a chronic overthinker, living with addiction, or just tired of cheesy advice, I wrote the rawest New Year’s re-boot you’ll find—in therapist mode AND full-on human mode.
➡️ Creative tips for people who don’t fit the mold
➡️ Advice for counselors, professionals, & real-life helpers (let’s get honest about burnout!)
➡️ Actual, practical tools for tough brains & tender hearts

๐Ÿ’ฅ If you want #addictionrecovery, #mentalhealth, #parenting, #traumasurvivor, and real lived experience—WITHOUT the sugarcoating—click now.

✨ Progress isn’t perfect. It’s messy, stunning, hard-won, and sometimes just hanging on. Read my all-new post and let’s walk this wild year together. ๐Ÿ’ฌ

๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿ‘‡ Jump in, join the community, and subscribe now for radically honest stories, hope, and practical help:
https://progressisprogress.substack.com/

๐Ÿ‘ฃ Progress is progress, no matter how messy. Drop a comment if you’re walking your own crooked path. Let’s blow up the myth of the “perfect” New Year together! ๐Ÿ–ค๐Ÿ”ฅ

I Did the Scary Thing (And Now I’m All In With You) ๐Ÿ˜ฑ๐Ÿ’ฅ๐Ÿค

Yesterday, I did something wild: I quit my day job as a clinical substance use counselor. ๐Ÿšช๐Ÿ‘‹๐Ÿง‘‍⚕️ If you’ve followed my journey, you k...