Recovery Is Weird and So Am I

Let’s start this post the way all emotionally fragile raccoons should: with a deep breath and a fantasy of fresh air.

Ahhhhh. 😌

Okay. So. I spent this past weekend scurrying around NECYPAA35 (the 35th anniversary New England—now North Eastern—Conference of Young People in Alcoholics Anonymous) at the Hilton DoubleTree in Manchester, New Hampshire (the southern one, because apparently that matters). What an absolute zoo. Truly. A beautiful, chaotic, recovery-flavored safari. 🐒🎪

A friend swooped in last minute, invited me along, and generously covered my stay—an act of kindness I will be emotionally unpacking for at least three business years. Connecticut won the bid to host next year’s conference, which is hella exciting. Did my presence statistically sway the vote? Probably not. Did it feel like I was part of something bigger than my own neurotic spiral? Yes. And I’ll take the win. 🏆

On the employment front: I have an interview next Tuesday for a desk attendant position at the New Britain–Berlin YMCA, and listen… this is my preferred gig. Of all the applications I’ve launched into the void, this one has my little raccoon heart. 🧡 I’m also applying to Stop & Shop and an employment agency because ✨responsibility✨, but we’ll see what the Good Lord, the universe, or the cosmic HR department has planned for me.

Now for the less sparkly part: my depression has been kicking my ass like it owes it money. ❄️🧠 The frigid temperatures plus a general lack of social activity have turned my brain into a sad Victorian orphan with Wi-Fi. I’m meeting with my psych APRN virtually this Saturday to talk meds. While amphetamines might temporarily slap a pep sticker on my forehead, they don’t feel like a long-term solution. I genuinely don’t know what will help—but current contenders include Wellbutrin, ketamine (nasal spray, probably… baby steps), or possibly MDMA via a Yale Fineberg Lab BPD study… assuming I discontinue my current SNRI and survive the paperwork boss battle. 🧪📋

I’m also deeply, profoundly tired of begging for financial help. Like… spiritually over it. This chapter will end soon. Thank you—sincerely—to everyone who’s helped keep me afloat so far. Truly. I am once again asking (said gently, with crumbs in my paws) for any help you can offer. Venmo is preferred. 🦝💸

I am really, really looking forward to the day when I’m stable, standing tall, and able to pay it forward—preferably with interest and snacks.