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-