Good Morning Fellow inhabitants of Nazi Monitoring Land:
Well friends yesterday was my first day of my last semester of my DNP studies. To say that I'm overwhelmed is a little like saying the late great John Candy should have lost a couple pounds. These studies are not meant to be resumed after a year's absence. Presently I feel lost and disoriented. I took today off work so I can take the next four days to at least develop some sort of plan on how to salvage this part of my life. I've lost a lot I ain't getting back but I don't want to lose this too.
I didn't really sleep much last night so I checked my phone to see if I had a pee test today and I did. I gave my sample at about 3AM & the first thing that stuck my mind was that a drink would sure be nice. I can do the math. I can drink today and almost certainly pass the ETG test even in the unlikely event that I get tested again Monday (I doubt it its a holiday). I'm not going to drink today. Why? I'm not going to drink because I made a deal with PNAP. If I comply with the terms and conditions of this hellish program they will get out of my life in about 4 years. I'm gonna hold up my end and will not give them the satisfaction of beating me.
My question is weather any of you think this spite and hate driven goal of not letting PNAP win recovery? I don't think it is. Do any of you? Can recovery be imposed on somebody or is it an individual choice.
No, recovery/sobriety cannot be forced. Not for any considerable length of time. Not if you're truly and alcoholic/addict. Did I screw up? Yup. Did I make stupid a** choices? yup. Will I ever do it again? Nope. I would've shaped up with just the THREAT of having to be in a monitoring program.
Have I gained anything from all the IOP, individual & group sessions, nurse support groups, and AA/NA meetings? IOP-Nope; individual & group-nope; nurse support group-yeah, how to better navigate the BON/monitor nazis; AA/NA meetings-generally a headache from the meetings. I met a few good people in the "fellowship"but I'm not drinking the kool-aid.
The BON evaluator decided my use didn't warrant admission to inpatient rehab. I never went through withdrawal from anything. When they said no more DOC/ETOH for 5 years it was like telling me I couldn't have chocolate chip cookies for 5 years. It sucks but no big deal. Not with my license on the line. Know what I miss? Not being able to take a freakin Sudafed when I have a cold.
What I did learn from all this mess was that I headed down a bad road. I was seriously suffering from secondary trauma syndrome, burnout, compassion fatigue, whatever you want to call it. I had a lot of personal and professional trauma happen all at the same time. I lost my faith. I had no coping skills. Now I have both. My perspective has changed drastically and I've gained a better understanding of myself.
So in order to keep my license clean and sparkly I will walk the walk and talk the talk. I will endure the microscope. I will jump through the flaming circus hoops while doing spins and flips and stomp the landing. When I walk out of that last meeting with my completion letter in hand I will be giving them the double salute as I drive away. But I have to admit that when it's all said and done I will better for it.
I do like this and it is well said, also from the mental illness perspective. I made some amazingly stupid choices. Yes, due to my illness (those choices were in fact what finally led to my diagnosis and thereby put some answers to a lot of my past choices) but even so, I cannot and will not lay complete blame on the "well I have ----, so it's okay. I have long believed that there are consequences for every thing we do.
That being said, the in and outpatient rehab that I was sentenced to? The only thing I got from that was a good case of PTSD. The NSGs? I've learned how to just keep my mouth shut because the only thing anyone wants to hear is banal chit chat over movies or the party line. There is no support. The AA meetings? For me, those are to be endured. I am a major introvert and cannot be forced to walk into a room full of people and be sociable. Especially when I have nothing in common with them. All it does is trigger the PTSD.
Onto what I have learned. I have learned that my theory that people are basically good until proven otherwise is pure BS. My general trust radar is now permanently offline and that is sad. I have learned that in addition to the burnout, compassion fatigue, etc, what the signs and symptoms are of certain mood changes and of the self care that I need to do to prevent that. I have found a group of people that fight the same fight I do on a daily basis and understand what it's like.
I have learned that nursing will now be secondary to taking care of myself. I have learned a tiny bit how to come out of my shell. It used to be that shell cracked open only while I was at work. My nurse personality and my real me were two entirely different people. When nurse Cats was no longer, I had nothing. Now I do. I give the credit for this to a great therapist, a great psychiatrist, a supportive family. Notice absolutely no credit goes to this program. They have in fact made it most difficult.
So I will will continue to traverse the ridiculous hoops of this unnecessary program so that I can put this trash behind me. Unfortunately, due to thier stupidity and unethical machinations (or just plain carelessness) my license will never be clean and sparkly. I will forever carry the scarlet letter of my stupid choice. So consequences, fine. Permanent scarring? Beyond the pale. I will still be better but there will always be an element of disgust and bitterness. I am after all still human. (Or cat)
catsmeow1972, BSN, RN
1,314 Posts
I do like this and it is well said, also from the mental illness perspective. I made some amazingly stupid choices. Yes, due to my illness (those choices were in fact what finally led to my diagnosis and thereby put some answers to a lot of my past choices) but even so, I cannot and will not lay complete blame on the "well I have ----, so it's okay. I have long believed that there are consequences for every thing we do.
That being said, the in and outpatient rehab that I was sentenced to? The only thing I got from that was a good case of PTSD. The NSGs? I've learned how to just keep my mouth shut because the only thing anyone wants to hear is banal chit chat over movies or the party line. There is no support. The AA meetings? For me, those are to be endured. I am a major introvert and cannot be forced to walk into a room full of people and be sociable. Especially when I have nothing in common with them. All it does is trigger the PTSD.
Onto what I have learned. I have learned that my theory that people are basically good until proven otherwise is pure BS. My general trust radar is now permanently offline and that is sad. I have learned that in addition to the burnout, compassion fatigue, etc, what the signs and symptoms are of certain mood changes and of the self care that I need to do to prevent that. I have found a group of people that fight the same fight I do on a daily basis and understand what it's like.
I have learned that nursing will now be secondary to taking care of myself. I have learned a tiny bit how to come out of my shell. It used to be that shell cracked open only while I was at work. My nurse personality and my real me were two entirely different people. When nurse Cats was no longer, I had nothing. Now I do. I give the credit for this to a great therapist, a great psychiatrist, a supportive family. Notice absolutely no credit goes to this program. They have in fact made it most difficult.
So I will will continue to traverse the ridiculous hoops of this unnecessary program so that I can put this trash behind me. Unfortunately, due to thier stupidity and unethical machinations (or just plain carelessness) my license will never be clean and sparkly. I will forever carry the scarlet letter of my stupid choice. So consequences, fine. Permanent scarring? Beyond the pale. I will still be better but there will always be an element of disgust and bitterness. I am after all still human. (Or cat)