Growing up, I lived with two loving but alcoholic parents. My father had grown up in an abusive household and has an anger at the world he's never been able to manage They did their best but there was always a volatile aspect to my life as I never knew what to expect when they started drinking. Growing up, I thought everyone's parents drank tequila and Coors Light every night. It wasn't until I got older that I realized it wasn't normal. At the age of thirteen, they allowed me to begin drinking with them. By the time I was twenty, I had a problem with alcohol. This compounded with an abusive relationship left me with a diagnosis of PTSD, still drinking to numb my pain. I was not in a good place. Somehow, I made it through nursing school and began working as a New Mexico registered nurse. My drinking continued and, to my shame, affected my work. I was offered the diversion program. This happened the same month I discovered I was pregnant. I was terrified. I learned at that time I could either be a drinker or a mother. I couldn't be both. I accepted the program and began treatment. After I had my daughter, I knew I had made the right choice. The first year was one of the hardest but best of my life. In the first year of recovery, you are like a raw nerve. Every feeling you've ever tried to hide from is right there. Those feelings, that pain, they were always there. The thing I learned about pain in that year is this. You can try to hide from it, act like it doesn't exist, avoid it but it will always be there waiting for you until you face it. I faced my pain, and my shame, and things got better. I learned to channel my energy through weightlifting, a solid social circle, embracing motherhood and making time for myself. Five years later, I graduated from the Diversion Program and began volunteering as a Nurse Facilitator for other nurses who may be suffering the effects of addiction. My goal was to pursue a degree in Psychology and help people. The first time I tried to attend school, I lacked the self-discipline to stay on top of my courses. Nursing school was different. It was militant in a sense. They told you where to go when, what to do, and how to do it. Now that I'm older, I can see how I used that educational style as a crutch. Now, I want to do things differently. Being a dialysis nurse has taught me a lot. The biggest lesson I've learned is, when people feel better mentally, they take care of themselves physically. The patients who have an active support network and goals of their own have better outcomes. The ones who feel positive despite their diagnosis are less likely to give up. They have better treatment adherence and are more likely to be selected for transplant. I want to help people learn to take care of their mental health and understand that it's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to feel all the hard feelings and they aren't alone. It's something my parents can't understand, and I want something better for them and everyone else. I want to help people the same way others have helped me.

Growing up, I lived with two loving but alcoholic parents. My father had grown up in an abusive household and has an anger at the world he's never been able to manage They did their best but there was always a volatile aspect to my life as I never knew what to expect when they started drinking. Growing up, I thought everyone's parents drank tequila and Coors Light every night. It wasn't until I got older that I realized it wasn't normal. At the age of thirteen, they allowed me to begin drinking with them. By the time I was twenty, I had a problem with alcohol. This compounded with an abusive relationship left me with a diagnosis of PTSD, still drinking to numb my pain. I was not in a good place. Somehow, I made it through nursing school and began working as a New Mexico registered nurse. My drinking continued and, to my shame, affected my work. I was offered the diversion program. This happened the same month I discovered I was pregnant. I was terrified. I learned at that time I could either be a drinker or a mother. I couldn't be both. I accepted the program and began treatment. After I had my daughter, I knew I had made the right choice. The first year was one of the hardest but best of my life. In the first year of recovery, you are like a raw nerve. Every feeling you've ever tried to hide from is right there. Those feelings, that pain, they were always there. The thing I learned about pain in that year is this. You can try to hide from it, act like it doesn't exist, avoid it but it will always be there waiting for you until you face it. I faced my pain, and my shame, and things got better. Five years later, I graduated from the Diversion Program and began volunteering as a Nurse Facilitator for other nurses who may be suffering the effects of addiction. My goal was to pursue a degree in Psychology and help people. The first time I tried to attend school, I lacked the self-discipline to stay on top of my courses. Nursing school was different. It was militant in a sense. They told you where to go when, what to do, and how to do it. Now that I'm older, I can see how I used that educational style as a crutch. Now, I want to do things differently. Being a dialysis nurse has taught me a lot. The biggest lesson I've learned is, when people feel better mentally, they take care of themselves physically. The patients who have an active support network and goals of their own have better outcomes. The ones who feel positive despite their diagnosis are less likely to give up. They have better treatment adherence and are more likely to be selected for transplant. I want to help people learn to take care of their mental health and understand that it's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to feel all the hard feelings and they aren't alone. It's something my parents can't understand, and I want something better for them and everyone else. I want to help people the same way others have helped me.

Growing up, I lived with two loving but alcoholic parents. My father had grown up in an abusive household and has an anger at the world he's never been able to manage They did their best but there was always a volatile aspect to my life as I never knew what to expect when they started drinking. Growing up, I thought everyone's parents drank tequila and Coors Light every night. It wasn't until I got older that I realized it wasn't normal. At the age of thirteen, they allowed me to begin drinking with them. By the time I was twenty, I had a problem with alcohol. This compounded with an abusive relationship left me with a diagnosis of PTSD, still drinking to numb my pain. I was not in a good place. Somehow, I made it through nursing school and began working as a New Mexico registered nurse. My drinking continued and, to my shame, affected my work. I was offered the diversion program. This happened the same month I discovered I was pregnant. I was terrified. I learned at that time I could either be a drinker or a mother. I couldn't be both. I accepted the program and began treatment. After I had my daughter, I knew I had made the right choice. The first year was one of the hardest but best of my life. In the first year of recovery, you are like a raw nerve. Every feeling you've ever tried to hide from is right there. Those feelings, that pain, they were always there. The thing I learned about pain in that year is this. You can try to hide from it, act like it doesn't exist, avoid it but it will always be there waiting for you until you face it. I faced my pain, and my shame, and things got better. Five years later, I graduated from the Diversion Program and began volunteering as a Nurse Facilitator for other nurses who may be suffering the effects of addiction. My goal was to pursue a degree in Psychology and help people. Being a dialysis nurse has taught me a lot. The biggest lesson I've learned is that when people feel better mentally, they care for themselves physically. The patient's with an active support network and their own goals have better outcomes. The ones who feel positive despite their diagnosis are less likely to give up. They have better treatment adherence and are more likely to be selected for transplant. I want to help people learn to take care of their mental health and understand that it's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to feel all the hard feelings and they aren't alone. It's something my parents can't understand, and I want something better for them and everyone else. I want to help people the same way others have helped me.

Growing up, I lived with two loving but alcoholic parents. My father had grown up in an abusive household and has an anger at the world he's never been able to manage. They did their best but there was always a volatile aspect to my life as I never knew what to expect when they started drinking. Growing up, I thought everyone's parents drank tequila and Coors Light every night. It wasn't until I got older that I realized it wasn't normal. At the age of thirteen, they allowed me to begin drinking with them. By the time I was twenty, I had a problem with alcohol. This compounded with an abusive relationship left me with a diagnosis of PTSD, still drinking to numb my pain. I was not in a good place. Somehow, I made it through nursing school and began working as a New Mexico registered nurse. My drinking continued and, to my shame, affected my work. I was offered the diversion program. This happened the same month I discovered I was pregnant. I was terrified. I learned at that time I could either be a drinker or a mother. I couldn't be both. I accepted the program and began treatment. After I had my daughter, I knew I had made the right choice. The first year was one of the hardest but best of my life. In the first year of recovery, you are like a raw nerve. Every feeling you've ever tried to hide from is right there. Those feelings, that pain, they were always there. The thing I learned about pain in that year is this. You can try to hide from it, act like it doesn't exist, avoid it but it will always be there waiting for you until you face it. I faced my pain, and my shame, and things got better. Five years later, I graduated from the Diversion Program and began volunteering as a Nurse Facilitator for other nurses who may be suffering the effects of addiction. My goal was to pursue a degree in Psychology and help people. The first time I tried to attend school, I lacked the self-discipline to stay on top of my courses. Nursing school was different. It was militant in a sense. They told you where to go when, what to do, and how to do it. Now that I'm older, I can see how I used that educational style as a crutch. Now, I want to do things differently. Being a dialysis nurse has taught me a lot. The biggest lesson I've learned is, when people feel better mentally, they take care of themselves physically. The patients who have an active support network and goals of their own have better outcomes. The ones who feel positive despite their diagnosis are less likely to give up. They have better treatment adherence and are more likely to be selected for transplant. I want to help people learn to take care of their mental health and understand, that it's okay to be vulnerable. It's okay to feel all of the hard feelings and they aren't alone. It's something my parents can't understand and I want something better for them and everyone else. I want to help people the same way others have helped me.

Growing up, I lived with two loving but alcoholic parents. They did their best but there was always a volatile aspect to my life as I never knew what to expect when they started drinking. Growing up, I thought everyone's parents drank tequila and Coors Light every night. It wasn't until I got older that I realized it wasn't normal. At the age of thirteen, they allowed me to begin drinking with them. By the time I was twenty, I had a problem with alcohol. This compounded with an abusive relationship left me with a diagnosis of PTSD, still drinking to numb my pain. I was not in a good place. Somehow, I made it through nursing school and began work as a registered nurse in New Mexico. My drinking continued and, to my shame, affected my work. I was offered the diversion program. This happened the same month I discovered I was pregnant. I was terrified. I learned at that time I could either be a drinker or a mother. I couldn't be both. I accepted the program and began treatment. After I had my daughter, I knew I had made the right choice. The first year was one of the hardest but best of my life. In the first year of recovery, you are like a raw nerve. Every feeling you've ever tried to hide from is right there. Those feelings, that pain, they were always there. The thing I learned about pain in that year is this. You can try to hide from it, act like it doesn't exist, avoid it but it will always be there waiting for you until you face it. I faced my pain, and my shame and things got better. Five years later, I graduated from the Diversion Program and began volunteering as a Nurse Facilitator for other nurses who may be suffering the effects of addiction. My goal was to pursue a degree in Psychology and help people. The first time I tried to go to school, I lacked the self-discipline to stay on top of my courses. Nursing school was different. It was militant in a sense. They told you where to go and when and what to do and how to do it. Now that I'm older, I can see how I used that educational style as a crutch. Now, I want to do things differently. My children have both been diagnosed with Autism and after spending many hours with a variety of therapists, getting them the extra help they need, I realized the final thing I was missing. I was missing the education that would let me help people the way I wanted to, the way others had helped me. My goal is to pursue a graduate degree in psychology to participate in the clinical aspects that will give people the emotional, medical, and spiritual help they need so others may see the beauty in recovery too. I got sober for my daughter. I stayed sober after I realized I was worth saving too. My ultimate goal is to show others that they too are worth it and they are not their worst mistakes.

Growing up, I lived with two loving but alcoholic parents. They did their best but there was always a volatile aspect to my life as I never knew what to expect when they started drinking. Growing up, I thought everyone's parents drank tequila and Coors Light every night. It wasn't until I got older that I realized it wasn't normal. At the age of thirteen, they allowed me to begin drinking with them. By the time I was twenty, I had a problem with alcohol. This compounded with an abusive relationship left me with a diagnosis of PTSD, still drinking to numb my pain. I was not in a good place. Somehow, I made it through nursing school and began work as a registered nurse in New Mexico. My drinking continued and, to my shame, affected my work. I was offered the diversion program. This happened the same month I discovered I was pregnant. I was terrified. I learned at that time I could either be a drinker or a mother. I couldn't be both. I accepted the program and began treatment. After I had my daughter, I knew I had made the right choice. The first year was one of the hardest but best of my life. In the first year of recovery, you are like a raw nerve. Every feeling you've ever tried to hide from is right there. Those feelings, that pain, they were always there. The thing I learned about pain in that year is this. You can try to hide from it, act like it doesn't exist, avoid it but it will always be there waiting for you until you face it. I faced my pain, and my shame and things got better. Five years later, I graduated from the Diversion Program and began volunteering as a Nurse Facilitator for other nurses who may be suffering the effects of addiction. My goal was to pursue a degree in Psychology and help people. The first time I tried to go to school, I lacked the self-discipline to stay on top of my courses. Nursing school was different. It was militant in a sense. They told you where to go and when and what to do and how to do it. Now that I'm older, I can see how I used that educational style as a crutch. Now, I want to do things differently. My children have both been diagnosed with Autism and after spending many hours with a variety of therapists, getting them the extra help they need, I realized the final thing I was missing. I was missing the education that would let me help people the way I wanted to, the way others had helped me. My goal is to pursue a graduate degree in psychology to participate in the clinical aspects that will give people the emotional, medical, and spiritual help they need so others may see the beauty in recovery too. I got sober for my daughter. I stayed sober after I realized I was worth saving too. My ultimate goal is to show others that they too are worth it and they are not their worst mistakes.

Growing up, I lived with two loving but alcoholic parents. They did their best but there was always a volatile aspect to my life as I never knew what to expect when they started drinking. Growing up, I thought everyone's parents drank tequila and Coors Light every night. It wasn't until I got older that I realized it wasn't normal. At the age of thirteen, they allowed me to begin drinking with them. By the time I was twenty, I had a problem with alcohol. This compounded with an abusive relationship left me with a diagnosis of PTSD, still drinking to numb my pain. I was not in a good place. Somehow, I made it through nursing school and began work as a registered nurse in New Mexico. My drinking continued and, to my shame, affected my work. I was offered the diversion program. This happened the same month I discovered I was pregnant. I was terrified. I learned at that time I could either be a drinker or a mother. I couldn't be both. I accepted the program and began treatment. After I had my daughter, I knew I had made the right choice. The first year was one of the hardest but best of my life. In the first year of recovery, you are like a raw nerve. Every feeling you've ever tried to hide from is right there. Those feelings, that pain, they were always there. The thing I learned about pain in that year is this. You can try to hide from it, act like it doesn't exist, avoid it but it will always be there waiting for you until you face it. I faced my pain, and my shame and things got better. Five years later, I graduated from the Diversion Program and began volunteering as a Nurse Facilitator for other nurses who may be suffering the effects of addiction. My goal was to pursue a degree in Psychology and help people. The first time I tried to go to school, I lacked the self-discipline to stay on top of my courses. Nursing school was different. It was militant in a sense. They told you where to go and when and what to do and how to do it. Now that I'm older, I can see how I used that educational style as a crutch. Now, I want to do things differently. My children have both been diagnosed with Autism and after spending many hours with a variety of therapists, getting them the extra help they need, I realized the final thing I was missing. I was missing the education that would let me help people the way I wanted to, the way others had helped me. My goal is to pursue a graduate degree in psychology to participate in the clinical aspects that will give people the emotional, medical, and spiritual help they need so others may see the beauty in recovery too.

As a dialysis nurse, I am always amazed by the technology that makes dialysis work. Our machines are programmed to optimally replace the function of the kidney allowing patients to live years longer than they otherwise would have. New technological advances are in the works that aim to portability replace the function of the kidney to give patients more autonomy. When I first started in dialysis, everything about it was alien to me. I was sure I would never understand the technology and chemistry that went into the process. For five years, I have had many mentors who have taught me not just how the process works but why it works and how it works to treat the patient as a whole by treating the sum of the parts their missing organs need. One doctor, in particular, shared his excitement with me at the prospect of a portable "kidney". Our patients often complain of the restrictions that are inherent in end-stage renal disease. Every week they must come, three times a week, and spend between four to five hours hooked up to the machines and by the time they leave, they are tired. Dialysis technology is incredible because the kidneys do so much more than dispose of bodily waste. They are responsible. in part, for blood pressure, vitamin D absorption, red blood cell production, and some hormone production. They function 24/7 and our machines work to replace as much of that function as possible in 12-16 hours a week. A portable/attachable machine would give them the freedom to travel, provide more gentle treatment that more closely matches the normal function of a kidney, and most importantly, return their autonomy. One hundred years ago, these people would have died. I spend 12-16 hours a week with them and I get to know them. I get to hear their stories, celebrate their successes, and mourn their downfalls. This technology is important and gives me hope for a future where the people I've come to call friends get their lives back, full autonomy and all.