Tag: therapy

sober lifestyle

Immersion

jenwielgusjournalism

The content of this blog has landed me in the crosshairs of Employee Assistance (at my first marketing job, circa mid-2019) and “Aggie Care” (during the initial culture-shock days of grad school at Delaware Valley University, in the fall of 2021).

Concerned parties read my raw reflections on mental health and addiction and sounded the alarm: 🚨 Achtung! There’s an alcoholic in our midst! 🚨 And I was taken by surprise both times, being ushered into a glass-walled conference room in the middle of a work day for an eval by an ADP consultant, and receiving an obligatory email from the head of the psych department while sitting in class. It felt like I was back in first grade on one of my frequent powwows with the principal; if there’s one thing I’ve always kicked ass at, it’s being a mischief-making squeaky wheel!

Hard to believe I’m the one who’s applying the grease now, isn’t it? This past week, I started seeing clients one-on-one at my new part-time counseling job, and it was one of the most mind-blowing experiences of my entire life.

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sober lifestyle

Hope

jenwielgusjournalism
Top: Celebrating sobriety; bottom: Starting my counseling career.

Tomorrow is the day I officially start meeting with clients — in my own office, at a real drug and alcohol treatment center, for pay.

Holy mackerel; life comes at you fast!

One month ago, I was newly a unemployed copywriter scrambling to find a counseling internship before the start of the grad school semester.

And 43 months ago, I was gutting out the first day of a scary new life without alcohol, not having the slightest inkling of the new NEW life I would be living in recovery.

So there was only one way to spend this day — my official sober month-iversary — and that was to get up at 4AM for a lovely moon- and headlamp-lit run through the state park, grab a quick shower, and log onto a virtual 12-step meeting to share my “experience, strength and hope” as a very grateful guest speaker (who kept her story under 20 minutes…score!) And then, to crash under an avalanche of emotion just after breakfast, nearly forgetting I have to show up for a class tonight — in person.

I can’t get out of it. I tried. 😩

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sober lifestyle

Leap

jenwielgusjournalism

I started my new job this week, and thank goodness they’re allowing me to ease into the actual counseling part, observing and shadowing other therapists before I meet with clients face to face on my own.

If you saw me on Day One, getting lost multiple times in the circular hallway, walking in on a colleague in the bathroom because I had a master key in my hand and too many new things overwhelming my brain, and then getting slammed with my monthly cycle, complete with painful cramps, in the middle of a staff meeting, you’d understand that I was not ready to put forth my best self in the service of others.

Then again, will I ever really be?

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sober lifestyle

Manifestation

jenwielgusjournalism

The woman sitting next to me in the conference room at my sober retreat a few weeks ago was telling a fantastical tale, and I was working hard to keep my incredulous inner cynic from bursting out.

She said she and her husband had traveled from Philly to a quaint little town in the Carolinas, and she loved it so much that she asked God for signs that they were meant to move south. Shortly thereafter, they wandered into a local church, where the door just happened to be unlocked and the priest just happened to be available to chat. He told the couple he knew of a nearby house that had just gone up for sale. They left the church to tour the house, made an offer on the spot…yada yada, it’s two months later, and they’re all set to relocate to their new home.

Pfft! Woo-woo overload, right?

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sober lifestyle

Exodus

jenwielgusjournalism

My husband and I are supposed to set off today in the ’ole four-wheel-drive sleigh, to embrace the majesty of a holiday road trip to Chicago, via Honesdale, PA.

Our annual Christmas vacation typically takes us to both his (north) and my (west) parents’ houses, and we prefer to drive, rather than fly, because it gives us greater freedom/independence at our destinations — not to mention more room to pack.

Given the chaos at my part-time marketing job (who knows if I’ll even have it when I return to Philly in January), and the uncertainty over my counseling internship at the methadone clinic (they haven’t gotten back to me about training, start date or schedule 🤷🏼‍♀️), I’m especially eager to am-scray this year. I want to travel, even though our cross-regional trek could apparently involve some weather-related perils. 🌨

I mean, at least that’s what I’ve heard from my forecast-obsessed family members, who keep texting me about storm reports they saw on the news. I know they mean well, but getting freaked out about stuff beyond our control is precisely what we recovering alcoholics are trying NOT to do, so…snow–renity now! You know what I’m saying? 🙃

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graduate school, sober lifestyle

Silence

jenwielgusjournalism

I enjoy running immensely — I mean, who wouldn’t, with this (👀⬆️) beautiful, soft, flat nature trail at their disposal? — but I am by no means a runner. Come to the Delaware Canal towpath on any Sunday morning if you want to witness the clear contrast between regular, middle-aged schmoes like me and the real deal.

I mean, besides the obvious difference in speed and overall physique, I’ve got music from a carefully curated playlist blaring in my ear buds. I will slow down or even stop, if I need to adjust said music. Serious runners don’t mess with those types of pedestrian creature comforts. They motor through the miles in steely silence.

Me, vs. Them:

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sober lifestyle

Relationship

jenwielgusjournalism

I feel bad putting my mom on blast, but this little snippet of her recent text message jumped out and smacked me in the face so hard that I felt compelled to drop everything and reflect on it the best way I know how.

That is, getting up out of bed at 2AM, pouring some coffee and pouring out my heart and soul on the internet.

I’ve expressed before how difficult it can be to measure progress in recovery, which is, to paraphrase a popular saying, an ultra-ultra-ultramarathon, as opposed to a sprint. Think: tortoise (versus hare), or better yet, stop-motion animation.

In the latter scenario, I’m arriving at the North Pole fresh off the boat from the Island of Misfit Toys, and my socialization process plays out in a series of painfully slow, nearly imperceptible movements that take forever to piece together and bring up to normal speed.

Still not sure what’s supposed to be “wrong” with this girl. She’s cute, cheerful, musical, has fashion sense and a few friends…guessing it must be perfectionism and performance-based self-worth causing her crippling anxiety and depression? (I know the type. 😉)
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sober lifestyle

Tolerance

jenwielgusjournalism
Celebrating 2 years sober (top), 1 year sober, and the end of 100+ years of World Series futility.

Not to brag, but in the span of two weeks, I handled a dental drill to the mouth AND a tattoo needle to the arm without having a complete nervous breakdown. I didn’t even cry! I mean, I’m still kind of sore from the full-body tense-up I held for an hour at a time, and my hands are still stuck in a bit of a claw from death-gripping the chair arms/table sides…but all in all, I did good.

If you want to go back a month to the date of my COVID booster shot, you can even add a drama-free injection to my big-girl resume.

I proudly texted my friend earlier this month, upon returning home from getting inked for the third time (see above: two wolves on left tricep), that my pain tolerance had finally reached adult levels. 💪🏻

I’m a couple months shy of 44. 🤷🏼‍♀️

It only took a few decades of downward-spiraling into in an alcohol addiction, and 31 action-packed months of sobriety, but I’m starting to get the hang of facing my fears — and feelings — without my old favorite security blanket.

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