It’s always just a name until it isn’t. When I found out a past client of mine died, it took me a minute to put the name with the face. You know how it is—we see so many people come and go. But I’m a crazy Facebook stalker, so I did what everyone does: I plugged the name in, started scrolling, and then—boom. There it was. This face staring back at me. Not just a face, but a person surrounded by kids, smiling, alive. Suddenly, all the memories come pouring in. The moments of optimism, the strengths, the qualities that made this person more than a client. And then the ugly, brutal reality hits: this is someone who is no longer here. Someone with loved ones, now just a hole in their lives where a person used to be. Before you read: This post is raw. It’s a rant. I’m writing straight from the gut, and I’m not holding back. If you’re here for polished optimism, you won’t find it today. I’m frustrated, I’m grieving, and I’m sick of pretending these issues aren’t tearing our communities apart. If you work in this field, if you’re a patient, a client, or just someone who cares—read on, but know this comes from a place of deep caring and deep exhaustion. I Am So Fucking Tired of This System I wish I could say this gets easier. It doesn’t. The pain just stacks up, year after year, funeral after funeral. Sometimes I wonder if I’m the only one who feels it this sharply, or if everyone else has just gotten really fucking good at pretending. What makes it even worse is the frustration—watching the same disaster play out on repeat. HR, legal, the C-suite, all getting involved in “client care” and turning it into a checklist hell. The people who need help get lost in the shuffle, buried under policies and profit margins. How many times do we have to see this before someone with power gives a damn about something other than their own ass? It’s not just my clients. It’s my family, too. I watched someone I love get jerked around by their doctor after two years of stability—because a new provider decided the THC she’s used for pain is suddenly a problem. No issues before, no mixing meds—just a new set of arbitrary rules. Now she’s scrambling, making plans for plans, feeling punished for something she can’t even understand. Treated like an addict, because that’s the easiest label to slap on anyone when the system wants to stop dealing with them as a person.

Real Talk: Perfection Is a BS Trap 🎭🚫 You’ve been lied to. Told if you just “tried harder,” did it “perfectly,” and “got your shit together,” life would finally be easy—or at least bearable. Newsflash: perfection is a moving target set by fear, shame, and old stories that keep us stuck in the mud. Perfectionism isn’t your friend. It’s a prison guard dressed like a cheerleader. It tells you: - “If you can’t do it right, don’t do it at all.” - “If you mess up even once, you might as well quit.” - “Others are watching—you have to look good forever.” These thoughts aren’t facts—they’re lies designed to make you freeze. Why Does This Matter? 🧠⚡ Clinically speaking, perfectionism is poison in recovery and growth. It creates: - Paralysis and procrastination ⏳ - Shame spirals that fuel relapse 😞 - Crushing anxiety and depression 🕳️ - Isolation because you think you’re alone in your mess 🏝️ If you’ve ever skipped a meeting because you missed one, or quit a diet because you ate one cookie, you’ve been dancing with this beast. The truth? Perfectionism kills progress way more than any slip you ever have. My Own Story—No Filter 🗣️💢 I spent years chasing “perfect recovery.” I hid relapses because “real addicts don’t mess up.” I waited for the “right moment” to start fresh—and almost died waiting. It wasn’t until I owned my mess, my imperfect comeback, and my ugly wins that I got free. You don’t have to wait to be good enough to start moving. You get to start messy. You get to stumble and keep going. The Science Behind It 🔍⚖️ - Your brain hates uncertainty and mistakes—hence the perfection trap. - Shame lights up the same brain areas as physical pain. That’s why a little failure feels like a gut punch. - When you chase perfection, your brain can’t register progress because its scanning for flaws is on overdrive. In other words? Shame + perfectionism = stuck. DARE: The “Museum of Mess” 🎨🖼️ Your mission, should you choose to accept it: 1. Find something in your life right now that you usually hide because it’s messy, imperfect, or embarrassing.It can be anything: a cluttered desk, a forgotten bill, an unfinished project, a thought you wouldn’t admit out loud, a recent slip or relapse. 2. Take a photo or write a wildly honest description. No photos? No worries. Paint the picture with words. 3. Give it a ridiculous, over-the-top museum exhibit name. For example: 4. Write down what your perfectionist brain says when it sees this mess. Then write what you’d say to a friend who showed you theirs.

Hey, it’s Belle. This week? It’s all about showing up for your messy progress—no filters, no shame, no pretending. Whether you’re fighting your own battles or loving someone who is, you know how brutal addiction and recovery can be. But here’s the truth: progress counts, no matter how small or ugly. Day 1 is about setting intentions and getting real. We kick off with a reflection: What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear “progress”? No overthinking—just honesty. You’ll get a journal prompt to dig into those moments when shame, fear, or self-doubt felt like a prison. And a simple 5-minute mindfulness practice to breathe out the shame and breathe in some damn self-kindness. Plus, I’ll share a raw story—no sugarcoating—of a guy named Terry, who took that scary first step into recovery. His story isn’t neat or perfect, but it’s real. And it’s proof that showing up is the bravest thing you can do. Ready to stop waiting for perfect and start owning your progress? This challenge is your place. Drop a comment if you want in or just to say “I’m ready.” Let’s get messy, honest, and unstoppable. — Belle

Giving this to my members for FREE today! https://progressisprogress.my.canva.site/recovery-roadmap