Psychology has always held my interest but my background in nursing has helped me understand why I want to pursue counseling specifically as a way to help others. For the last five years I have worked as a dialysis nurse and it’s shown me the importance of mental health care, not only by itself but also as it relates to physical care of the body. Time and time again I’ve seen it. The patients who have strong social connections, a sense of resilience, and an ability to take things one step at a time typically have better outcomes than those without the above mentioned. Those who are unhappy in their lives are more prone to skipping treatments, gaining excessive fluid and generally not following the instructions that put them on a trajectory for a transplant. As someone who cares about these people, I want all of my patients to recover function or receive a transplant, but it’s solidified my thinking. If people feel better mentally, they are more likely to take care of themselves physically. Since I see the same group of patients three times a week for years at a time, I’ve gotten to know them and their families and there are days where what they need most, is someone to listen and offer advice. As a nurse I try to be that for them but with twenty patients at a time, time management does not always allow me to give them the kind of attention they need. As a counselor, I can focus solely on mental health care and being that compassionate ear for those seeking help. Outside of nursing, my interest in counseling has also come from a need to pay it forward. Counseling helped me turn my life around when I was in my darkest moments. I was raised in a loving but alcoholic household. This meant while I knew my parents cared for me, they would leave me alone often and had nights where they could prove to be volatile. When I was thirteen they let me start drinking with them. By the time I reached 25 I was a full blown alcoholic. I don’t solely blame them, I made my own choices but regardless I found myself in the hellish feedback loop every addict comes to know. I couldn’t see a way out and didn’t care about myself enough to try and find one. At 27, I found myself surprised by a pregnancy and I knew I had a choice to make. I could be a drinker or I could be a mother but I could not be both. While the fear of death had not been enough to make me take action, the fear of losing my daughter was enough. I found an excellent counselor, joined a 12-step program and slowly began trekking the road to recovery. It’s been six years now since my last drink and my beautiful daughter is five years old and my son three. We don’t keep alcohol in our house because I don’t want my children to grow up like I did. This experience showed me, people want to help if you’ll let them and as long as we are alive, there is hope. I hope to help others as I was helped before.

Psychology has always held my interest but my background in nursing has helped me understand why I want to pursue counseling specifically as a way to help others. For the last five years I have worked as a dialysis nurse and it’s shown me the importance of mental health care, not only by itself but also as it relates to physical care of the body. Time and time again I’ve seen it. The patients who have strong social connections, a sense of resilience, and an ability to take things one step at a time typically have better outcomes than those without the above mentioned. Those who are unhappy in their lives are more prone to skipping treatments, gaining excessive fluid and generally not following the instructions that put them on a trajectory for a transplant. As someone who cares about these people, I want all of my patients to recover function or receive a transplant, but it’s solidified my thinking. If people feel better mentally, they are more likely to take care of themselves physically. Since I see the same group of patients three times a week for years at a time, I’ve gotten to know them and their families and there are days where what they need most, is someone to listen and offer advice. As a nurse I try to be that for them but with twenty patients at a time, time management does not always allow me to give them the kind of attention they need. As a counselor, I can focus solely on mental health care and being that compassionate ear for those seeking help. Outside of nursing, my interest in counseling has also come from a need to pay it forward. Counseling helped me turn my life around when I was in my darkest moments. I was raised in a loving but alcoholic household. This meant while I knew my parents cared for me, they would leave me alone often and had nights where they could prove to be volatile. When I was thirteen they let me start drinking with them. By the time I reached 25 I was a full blown alcoholic. I don’t solely blame them, I made my own choices but regardless I found myself in the hellish feedback loop every addict comes to know. I couldn’t see a way out and didn’t care about myself enough to try and find one. At 27, I found myself surprised by a pregnancy and I knew I had a choice to make. I could be a drinker or I could be a mother but I could not be both. While the fear of death had not been enough to make me take action, the fear of losing my daughter was enough. I found an excellent counselor, joined a 12-step program and slowly began trekking the road to recovery. It’s been six years now since my last drink and my beautiful daughter is five years old and my son three. We don’t keep alcohol in our house because I don’t want my children to grow up like I did. This experience showed me, people want to help if you’ll let them and as long as we are alive, there is hope. I hope to help others as I was helped before.

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.