Three hundred, and turning 31

A few weeks ago, I sat for the certified addictions RN exam (CARN). 

And I passed. 

I don't have my official certificate yet; that will come in a few weeks. This is something I am extremely proud of. I absolutely love working in the field of addictions, and this partially was a penance to the brave men and women I have the privilege to try and help every day. Being in this line of work, it's challenging, rewarding and extremely humbling. A while ago we had a former client come in wanting to come back to treatment with us. Was very under the influence of God knows what. After some phone calls and a few strings pulled, we got them a detox bed. I stood with the client waiting for the cab to pick them up. We were just talking about all sorts of random things, and I'm not entirely sure how the conversation got to food but it did. "I don't even remember what a hot meal tastes like," they said. Cab pulls up, I teach the driver how to use Narcan, just in case. I mentally pat myself on the back, my boss says what a good work we did, I clock out, get in my car and drive home. And for the rest of the night pouring into the next day, I am completely over taken by sadness. Immense sadness. No waterworks of tears, just a lackluster approach to the day. I had to pick up a new brace for my foot/ankle after work, and it's very uncomfortable. Thinking about that, wondering if it's going to work, wondering if' I'll eventually need surgery. The sadness poured into the next evening when I felt very dismissed by trying to talk to my parents about something important to me. I reached out to social media with the picture of my brace. 

Felt better the next day. Slept well, was very thankful and grateful for the support. Penned a letter to my parents. I try my hardest to not take my work home, but some days are tougher than others. Certain patients and situations stick with me more than others. I said this line of work is very humbling; I've very much "checked" myself since I started it. I've had exposure to addiction at my other jobs before, but not nearly as much as I am in it now. I've walked into work and have found needles and Fireball bottles in the parking lot or under the awning by our office's front door. I often think about how I don't have to spend so much of my day trying to find money to support myself and fight this disease for one more day, one more minute. I have a refrigerator and pantry full of food. I have a car I can drive. Despite my back issues and ongoing foot/ankle problems, I'm relatively healthy. Last Friday was my 31st birthday. Perhaps some of the sadness I was experiencing earlier this week was because of that; I'm getting older. I'm now in my early 30's. I don't look it, but I am. Some of my clients who are younger than me or about my age have aged much quicker than I have. It's sad, really. But I'm just so grateful for this journey; this journey of knowing more about addiction, walking alongside these men and women, trying to better myself mentally. 

And here's to 300 posts!