Gratitude, Yesterday and Today

In January 2018, I lost everything. My job. My dignity. My ability to pretend I had it all under control. I want to share part of this story with you all — a journey of pain, probation, relapse, and eventually a recovery filled with more blessings than I could imagine — in hopes that it reaches someone who needs to hear it.

My baby girl was only three months old when I was fired. I was caught diverting drugs from the Pyxis, my hospital’s medication carousel. I’d been doing it for months before I went out on maternity leave, took the months off for the pregnancy, only to return to it when I started back at work. Long story short — I overdosed on Ativan and Morphine I had stolen from the Pyxis during a 3 pm - 11 pm shift on a Friday. My co-workers didn’t know what to think.

Is she having a stroke? When they swooped me down to the ER, my blood showed opiates and benzodiazepines. I had empty cartridges of Morphine and Ativan in my front scrub pocket. It was about 8 pm when they took me to the ER, and I had not charted anything for a single patient in the five hours I had been at work. I was totally busted. It was bound to happen. Every nurse who diverts drugs will get caught sooner or later.

I didn’t need more than a few bags of saline to bring me back to some sort of reality. I was sent home and spent the weekend reaching out to all of my co-workers by text or DM in an attempt to convince them I had collapsed because I had taken too many of my migraine pills.

However, the consequences were waiting for me. The following Monday, when I came to work, I was told to immediately go to the Director of Nursing’s office to meet with the DON and a representative from Human Resources. They accused me of diversion. They had all the evidence they needed. I broke into sobs. I admitted I needed help. Yes, I had stolen and used the medication. Thank God no patient had been harmed by my negligence. I took an oath when I graduated nursing school to take exceptional care of and protect my patients. I was now “Nurse Jackie” and caught up in my own nightmare. My addiction had risen from the ashes once again.

I was too upset to drive home, so the hospital arranged for me to take an Uber. The DON told me to admit to the Nursing Board what I had done. She promised there was help for me. All the years I had been a kind, good nurse granted me benevolence from the hospital.

When I got home, I called the State Nursing Board and the Healthcare Practitioners’ Monitoring Program and turned myself in. The people on the other end of the phone line were kind, and I appreciated that, but it didn’t change the fact that the biggest hurdle of my life was right in front of me. My future was unknown, and I was in a panic.

Just losing my job was traumatic. But being alone at home with a teenager, a nine-year-old, two toddlers, and a new baby was almost more than I could bear. I’d worked so much that I barely knew my kids. My husband was still working nights, so I was home alone all day while he slept and even more alone while he worked.

I was drowning. I was extremely depressed and anxious. I didn’t know when I would be allowed to work again. (I had to wait six months before I got approval from the Monitoring Program to begin looking for a job.) The baby cried. The toddlers screamed. I cried more than I ever have before. God bless my husband — he tried to console me. He was primarily glad the State Police didn’t come knocking on our door to take me to jail. It could have been so much worse.

So, I started going to AA meetings. I had been before, many years ago. I remembered the language of recovery and clung to it like a life preserver. Most of the vernacular made sense, but then I would hear the word “gratitude” over and over. I was not grateful for my situation or the disease of addiction that had plagued me for so many decades. I was only thirty-seven. The repercussions of my actions were so overwhelming.

Since that horrible day in January of 2018 when I was fired and forced to commit to five years of probation, including random drug tests, monthly paperwork, and mandatory therapy sessions, I have relapsed a few more times. The program was forgiving and got me back on track every time I fell. I completed my five years of probation.

But my addiction had been waiting for me.

A few months later, primarily due to nursing burnout, I walked myself back into a year-and-a-half-long relapse. I hated my job. Without drug tests and paperwork, I felt like it was okay for me to drink again.

I am sober now after the worst relapse I have ever experienced. I was depressed and paralyzed. I could not get off the couch unless it was to refill my glass of wine. It wasn’t until the end of 2024 that my husband would snap me out of it. It’s nothing short of a miracle.

The other day, I found an old gratitude journal buried deep in a cabinet I was cleaning. (These days, I am off the couch and cleaning in addition to writing.). I started this journal in March 2018 but stopped writing around August 2018. There are nine entries for March, two for April, two for May, one for June, and one for August. I wonder what would have happened if I had kept up with that journal.

Would I have gotten back on track sooner? Would my recovery have lasted? I’ll never know. But for me, today, gratitude is an action, not just a noun. I want to share a few of these excerpts with you. They helped me see where I was then and where I am now.

Entry from 03/18/2018:
I took Edmund, Gabe, and Aurora out into the front yard for some sunshine while I weeded the garden. The garden was overrun with weeds. Cleaning up the flower bed made me feel like I was actually cleaning out my head. I also took down the winter decor and replaced it with spring for a big sigh of relief.
I was on the right track. Sunshine and gardening are both healing. Ripping up those weeds was recovery work for me. And finding a way to include my children in the process was special.Entry from 03/19/2018:
Today, I am grateful for my husband. He got up early to take the baby and Gabe for their check-ups and thoughts. I just don’t have the strength. When I texted him and told him the baby’s fever was climbing despite Tylenol, due to the vaccines, he came home because he knew I needed him. I didn’t have to ask. I don’t have to do it all.
My husband was so worried about me. He knew I desperately needed help. I was physically, spiritually, and emotionally bankrupt at this point in my life. I have always been grateful for his help and support. And I also regret every time I’ve let him down through my actions during active addiction. Today, I show him how much I appreciate him by staying sober.Entry from 03/23/2018:
I had to do my first (drug) screen today. It caused me so much anxiety. Andrew let me sleep in, so when I got up, he needed to leave at 1:00 pm to go get a hair cut before work. Instead of getting upset, he was very soothing. He told me to go ahead and take the test. He ended up staying with me the whole evening as my anxiety and physical wellness are well under par.
This is an example of how much I was suffering back then. Eventually, I got used to the drug tests that came with the probation, but when I first started, I was terrified. Even though I was afraid, I stuck with that program for five years. I fought for myself, my career, and my license.But after reading this last entry, I see where I went wrong…The final entry from 08/12/2018:
One year after I ruined my husband’s birthday due to my substance abuse, we were able to have a wonderful, relaxed Sunday. Both of our mothers came over for cake. We had nap time in the afternoon and have decided we need a sitter once a month to ensure we have a “date night.” We need to focus on our relationship as we build our finances and the kids go back to school. We are both working now. Our lives are busy and we absolutely have to maintain time for each other.
I identify this as a transition period. I went back to work in July; it was now August. I was already focused on the money and the job. I was losing sight of what really mattered — my family and the daily work required for me to stay sober.

My life got busy, and I put my focus back on work, not on recovery. That’s precisely what happened.

While I was in the Monitoring Program, I relapsed twice. This cost me time at work while I was in treatment. Instead of taking that time to double down on my surrender to my powerlessness over alcohol, I became consumed with getting back to work. When I was released from treatment and allowed to resume my job, I still was not working a program of recovery. It didn’t matter how many meetings I attended.

I did not have the insight and introspection to keep myself on the true road of recovery. Work, money, and fighting for control of everything I could not control maintained all of my attention. I had one foot in the future and one foot in the past — I was not present.

Today, my life looks a lot different. I admit I don’t have control of the future. I have to let go of the past. I write every day, I pray every day, and I thank God for the grace he has shown me. Today, I do the next right thing. I concentrate on what my children need. I am completely devoted to my relationship with my husband. Most importantly, I am grounded in my recovery and keeping my feet on the right path.

It’s not easy, but I work at it every day, and the work is more than worth it.

I am now grateful for my disease. Without suffering through addiction, I would not appreciate the beautiful life I have today. I turn my gratitude (the noun) into action — I write to help others who may benefit from hearing my story. It’s not just a story about addiction and recovery. It’s a story for anyone who has experienced trauma, burnout or felt all alone.

Please know, dear reader, you are not alone. I don’t know a single person who hasn’t experienced loss or trauma of some sort. Whether you are in the middle of it—experiencing shame, confusion, or loss—there is light at the end of the tunnel. No one’s journey is the same, and no one does it perfectly. The road to healing is still there, even if you’ve wandered off the path. Don’t be afraid to reach out for help. I am here. And I am doing it one step, one moment, one day, and one prayer at a time.