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-