It feels strange to be writing a blog post again – something I haven’t done in nearly three years. I wrote my last blog post when I was about two months into my Clinical Mental Health Counseling masters program, and I told myself then that school, work, and motherhood were my priorities. If inspiration struck and I wanted to write, I would write – no pressure.

I graduated from that program last month, May 2024. I’m taking a glorious two month break before starting my very first full-time job as a clinical mental health counselor, and I am thrilled, excited, nervous, proud – all of it. That said, I feel like I’ve spent the last month detoxing from an incredibly challenging and tumultuous three years, and today I felt that urge to write.

I vividly remember the first time I had to stand up in front of my classmates and present my proposal for a therapy group I’d love to start. I created my presentation on a support group for college-aged women struggling with problem drinking or who described themselves as “sober-curious.” If you know me at all, you know why I chose this topic and this population. At the end of my presentation, I took questions from classmates. One of my classmates asked me why I chose this topic, and I answered transparently: because I’m an alcoholic and my drinking escalated to dangerous levels in college. Then, quite pointedly, she stated, “Just make sure you don’t start a group like this before you’ve actually done the work on yourself.”

I took my seat confused and hurt. The work on myself? I had been doing nothing but work on myself for the past six years – since the first day I walked into my intensive outpatient rehab program in Chicago in June 2014. I’d navigated some horrifically painful life circumstances without any anesthetic. I’d developed entirely new coping mechanisms and, quite honestly, rebuilt myself from the ground up to become a woman I was incredibly proud of.

I pulled a friend aside. What do you think she meant by that? Do I seem like someone who hasn’t “done the work”? My friend laughed. “Probably, to someone who doesn’t know you.” She elaborated: “You seem kind of… peppy and optimistic, not tortured and ‘deep.’ You seem like a cheerleader, not someone who has gone through a lot.”

This came up over and over and over again throughout my time in the program and internship. When I decided to go back to school to pursue this career, I felt like it was a perfect time because I felt healthier and happier than ever before. I was comfortable in my skin, even the metaphorical blemishes and bumps. I knew I could be empathetic and care about others without taking on their pain as my own burden. I knew the traits I had that would make me a good counselor, because I’d fought extremely hard for them for years. I’d learned to sit through pain and discomfort and self-doubt and anxiety without resorting to distraction or escape.

I am a firm believer that healing and wholeness looks very different on everyone. For me, it does look like peppiness and optimism – because that was the polar opposite of what I came from. For years, I wanted everyone to know that I was the girl with the dead dad, the girl with the complex family dynamics, the girl with the drinking problem, the girl who had been betrayed and let down and abandoned. I WAS tortured and conflicted and oh so deep. I wore my brokenness like a badge of honor, as if this darkness and heaviness somehow made me stronger and smarter and braver than everyone around me. And let me tell you, that is a f*cking exhausting way to live.

It was liberating to get sober and clearheaded and discover that I am actually pretty hopeful and happy. I like a glass half full, and I like finding the strengths in people. I am perfectly OK with being a “cheerleader” because I think there is a lot to cheer for. And, I learned quickly, a lot of people will see these things and sum it up as, “She’s not doing the hard work,” or, “She has no depth.”

One of the gifts of sobriety has been a deep, unwavering trust in myself. Over the past three years, however, my trust and confidence in myself was shaken a lot. Maybe I am superficial or dumb because I didn’t take everything to heart – I frequently found myself wanting to say, “Maybe it’s not that deep?” during meetings and classes. Maybe I am “toxicly” positive because I’d rather look on the bright side. Maybe I am defensive because I stand up for myself when I feel like people have crossed a line. I hadn’t been so unsure of myself since early sobriety and it was a really shitty place to be.

Part of my detox over the past month has been regaining my trust in myself. I’m allowed to be positive and hopeful, and it doesn’t mean I lack depth. I’m allowed to advocate for myself and hold boundaries, and it doesn’t mean I’m selfish, defensive, or avoidant. I’m allowed to feel authentically whole and happy and confident without needing to explain myself or defend that I’m “doing the work.”

In short, I’m allowed to trust myself and be myself. I’m allowed to do the hard work without staying in that hard place. And that’s what I hope for you, too.

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