I know I said I was ready to change. I know I said I wanted things to be different. But I do not know anymore. I'm tired of all the self-help/dating content, all the therapists, being on medication, getting no sleep, never eating enough, hating myself, wanting to break a mirror when I see myself in one, being seen as a failure by my relatives and friends, losing people, and being a bore. That's the worst part of it. I'm nothing but a big, sad bore. I can't decide if I want to live anymore. I'm flunking school, my classmates do not like me, and my professors are even worse. I can never focus, I can never relax, and I can never get anything done because of all these heavy emotions and regrets and anguish that I'm in. Yet for some reason, I crave success. I crave driving on the open road with people going to all kinds of cool places, making memories, and leaving everything behind. I crave falling in love, being successful, and being happy, but it all seems out of my reach. I constantly see all the people my age getting into relationships, graduating from school, and getting jobs. I know it's comparing, but there's nothing else that I can do. I'm also tired of all the phony advice I get, like "love yourself" or "focus on you," or any shitty sayings that don't do shit and that are empty. It's like bandages for a bullet wound for me. I know what I want to do and exactly how to do it, but I don't have the energy for it. But it seems like when I see someone having something I want, I go right back to having that same problem. I'm also tired of my parents pretending like it's nothing that they're participating in my trauma, and all of a sudden, they want to do family stuff. It's an insult and a waste of my time. I think what I hate the most is just how people act around me or think that they can treat me or talk to me like I'm a baby. It's like they see through me and they think, "I wish I were hanging out with another person instead," whether it be girls, guys, relatives, or strangers I sometimes dare to talk to. Every night, I cry my eyes out to sleep because of just how my life has turned out. I wish I were someone else. I wish I were charming, witty, funny, and laid-back. But I'm not. I'm a paranoid, enraged, envious, devastated, distraught, lonely, fat, anxious, addicted, and complicated mess. And I don't know how to get out of this hole I'm in. I'm seeing a therapist on Tuesday, but I don't know where to start. I've spilled my guts out in the past, but I've gotten nothing in return. I'm stitching myself back up over and over and over and over. I wish I could quit school, pack up, move out to the middle of nowhere, and get away from my life. I'm miserable, and I feel empty, cold, and dead inside. Nothing brings me joy anymore. I can't remember the last time that I felt happy. I'm running out of patience and energy to turn things around for myself, and the light at the end of the tunnel gets smaller and smaller and smaller. The urges do not stop, the anger does not stop, the nightmares and the dreams do not stop, the memories do not stop, and the flashbacks are still coming. The tears keep falling, and the voices get louder every day. I'm at the end of my rope. As the post says, I don't know what I want to do with my life. I don't know how to bring change in my life, and I don't know what to do until I see this therapist.

Ever been so burned out from helping someone else that you lost yourself completely? I have. Caregiver burnout is real, ugly, and it doesn’t just go away when the crisis is over. I wrote about what it’s really like, how codependency keeps us trapped, and what actually helps (from someone who’s lived it, not just studied it). If you’re exhausted from always being the strong one—or if you love someone who is—read this. And if it hits home, please share it. Word of mouth is everything, and you never know who might need to hear they’re not alone. https://open.substack.com/pub/progressisprogress/p/when-helping-hurts-surviving-caretaker?utm_campaign=post-expanded-share&utm_medium=web

I Quit My Job Today—And It Broke Me I quit my job today. After everything, I finally hit my limit. I wish I could say it was liberating. I wish I could say I felt proud. The truth? It felt like defeat. It felt like losing a fight I’ve been in for years—the kind of fight you take on because you believe you can make things better, and then realize the rules were never fair to begin with. But let’s back up. This didn’t happen out of nowhere. The Build-Up: When “Support” Is Just a Slogan Some days, the exhaustion isn’t just physical—it’s emotional, bone-deep, and it follows you home.For months, I tried to speak up. I raised concerns about moral, direction and communication. I talked about the front desk mistakes, the burnout, the ways we were being stretched thinner and that we seemed to have no real leadership. Every time, the message was the same: I will let someone know… well, that someone finally answered, and it was “It’s your job to fix it. You’re the expert. If there’s a conflict, compromise.” They then drew a fish skeleton on the board and talked about taco pizza. There was no offer of support. No help. Just the sense that we were supposed to handle it all ourselves, while the people with the power to change things stood back and watched or told us that things don’t work that way. I tried to be vulnerable with my new Director of Substance Abuse (poor thing) and the COO—who, by the way, comes from dental, not behavioral health. Why are we working with directors and upper management with no experience in behavioral health and SUDs? I explained what was really happening, how it felt to see substance use services treated as an afterthought in an organization with dental and primary care that talks a big game about “community.” But I didn’t feel heard. I walked away with the sinking feeling that, to them, we’re all just replaceable. Fall in line, or move the fuck on. The Breaking Point: Boundaries and Ultimatums I volunteered for over a year to drive two hours out of town so clients could see someone in person. Monthly, I showed up for a community that had nobody else. But yesterday, after a meeting that left me sick to my stomach, I drew a line: I told my work I would no longer make that drive.

https://open.substack.com/pub/progressisprogress/p/dear-next-generation-20-why-lived?utm_campaign=post-expanded-share&utm_medium=web ** To read the entire post please see the above link! ** Dear Next Generation 2.0: Why Lived Experience Isn’t a Bonus—It’s the Backbone of Real Social Service Belinda (Belle) Morey Jan 08, 2026 ∙ Paid Ok, are you ready for this one? I’ve been lucky enough to wear a lot of different hats so far in this field. I’m starting my own business—Progress is Progress Recovery Coaching—working on multiple online platforms, doing the daily grind as a clinical substance abuse counselor, sitting on boards of directors for projects that actually matter in addiction recovery and mental health, and getting called in as a subject matter expert when people finally realize the textbooks aren’t enough. I’ve seen this work from just about every angle: the frontline, the boardroom, and the trenches in between. And I can say this, with no hesitation: Lived experience is not a bonus. It is not an “extra.” It is a core competency. Here’s the ugly truth that too many organizations still don’t want to hear: When decisions are made without voices who have lived the system—who have survived it, been failed by it, fought their way through it—outcomes suffer. Full stop. You can have all the “best practices” in the world, but if you don’t have people with scars and stories in the room, you’re missing the point. And you’re missing the chance to actually change anything. This isn’t a blame game. I know most people in leadership mean well. I know they want to help. But good intentions aren’t enough. You can’t fix what you don’t understand, and you damn sure can’t serve a community you don’t actually talk to—or listen to. Here’s what I see, again and again: Organizations perform better—real, measurable, sustainable results—when governance reflects the realities of the communities they claim to serve. Research backs it up. Practice proves it. The people on the ground have always known it. But we still see lived experience treated like a box to check, not a skill set to honor.

Don't forget to check out the Classroom for the Professionals in the room!