Featured

Tunnel Vision & Addiction 

On By KSweenIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Addiction is selfish.

And don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying addicts are selfish people in this intentionally manipulative, evil way people make it out to be. But addiction itself? Yeah. It’s selfish as hell.

Maybe I can’t speak for everybody, but when I’m spiraling or on a bender, I live entirely inside my own head. My own pain becomes so loud that eventually it drowns everything else out. And when you’re deep in it, nothing outside of it really feels real anymore. Your world gets smaller and smaller until it’s just you and whatever you’re trying to numb.

That’s the scary part.

Because while you’re trapped inside your own shit, life is still happening around you. Other people are still living. Still struggling. Still existing. But addiction gives you this weird tunnel vision where your own pain feels like the only thing in the room.

And the worst part is you almost don’t even realize it’s happening.

You become consumed with yourself.
Your thoughts.
Your guilt.
Your chaos.
Your next escape.
Your next distraction.
Your next way to shut your brain off for a little while.

Days blur together and suddenly your entire life exists inside your own head. And your own head becomes a terrifying place to live full time.

I think that’s why addiction isolates people so badly. Not because addicts don’t care about anybody else. Honestly I think most addicts care way too much. I think some of us feel things so deeply that eventually sitting with ourselves becomes unbearable.

So we numb it.

We isolate.
We disappear into ourselves.
We self destruct quietly and call it coping.

But eventually your shit stops only hurting you.

That’s the part that hit me recently. I had one of those moments where I kind of snapped out of my own spiral for a second and realized… damn. I’ve been so trapped inside my own head lately that I forgot the world exists outside of me.

Not in a narcissistic way either. More like tunnel vision.

And that realization honestly made me sick for a minute because I don’t want to hurt people. I never want to hurt people. I replay conversations in my head constantly. I carry guilt over tiny things for years. I overthink everything. And yet somehow addiction still convinces me to disappear further into myself instead of outward toward people.

That’s the contradiction of addiction people don’t really talk about enough.

You can care deeply about people and still isolate yourself completely.
You can love people and still disappear.
You can feel immense guilt while actively self destructing at the same time.

Maybe that’s why I’m writing this.
Am I on a bender? Maybe.
Maybe not.
Does it matter? Probably not.

All I know is the human condition is complicated. Everybody is trying to outrun something. Addiction just magnifies it. It turns pain into obsession. Isolation. Tunnel vision.

And I keep wondering:
Am I empathetic?
Or am I just self obsessed?
Am I an empath?
Or am I a narcissist?

Honestly who knows anymore.

I think addiction blurs the line between self awareness and self destruction until eventually you can’t tell the difference.

But I do know this.

Addiction makes your world small.
Small enough that eventually you forget there’s a world outside of your own pain.

And maybe that’s the most selfish part of all.

Featured

Kratom Bans Are Coming to Long Island and My Opinion Might Surprise You

On By KSweenIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

With kratom bans starting to roll out on Long Island, including Nassau County already passing one and Suffolk County holding a hearing on it just the other night, I, someone who spent a little too much time in a toxic relationship with kratom, have some thoughts.

And they also might not be what you’d expect.

Selfishly, I would love for kratom to be completely banned in my area. Truly. Nothing says peace of mind like removing your former vice from casual driving distance. It would definitely make the whole “don’t relapse” thing a little easier.

But realistically, I do think it’s possible for some people to use kratom responsibly.

I know. Shocking. Growth. Nuance. Annoying.

I don’t think all kratom is created equal though, and that is where a lot of this conversation gets messy. Whole leaf kratom, whether in capsules, powder, or brewed as tea, is very different from the concentrated extracts and especially the newer 7-OH products flooding smoke shops.

Whole leaf kratom tends to be milder and slower. People often use it for pain management, anxiety, or energy, and while it can absolutely still become a problem, hi hello me, it is generally not the same beast as extracts.

Some people also use kratom as harm reduction for opioid addiction, and I completely understand that argument. If something helps keep someone away from heroin or pain pill addiction, I am obviously not going to sit here and argue against harm reduction.

But I also think it can be a slippery slope, especially when something starts as “this is helping me stay off something worse” and quietly turns into its own full-blown dependency. Sometimes the substitute becomes the new problem.

Extracts are concentrated. Stronger, faster, and way easier to get hooked on because your tolerance shoots to the moon and suddenly your bank account is filing a restraining order.

Then there’s 7-OH, short for 7-hydroxymitragynine, which is basically kratom’s scary overachieving cousin. It is a much more potent alkaloid found in kratom, and now companies are isolating and selling it in highly concentrated forms. Translation: stronger effects, way higher addiction potential, and significantly more risk.

Personally, I think extracts and 7-OH should absolutely be banned.

I’m also very against the idea of promoting kratom to former alcoholics as an alcohol alternative because… hello? Addiction issues?

When I first quit drinking, local kava bars were honestly a haven for me. They hold a really special place in my heart. It was nice to have somewhere to go that wasn’t a bar, somewhere you could still socialize and feel vaguely like a normal member of society instead of a gremlin clutching a Diet Coke in the corner of someone’s birthday dinner.

And I have no problem with kava.

What I do have a problem with is kratom being casually pushed in those spaces as the “better” option for people in recovery.

I remember being warned about extracts at my local kava bar. People would say, “Don’t mess with extracts, they’ll get you.”

And they were right.

But it is also important to note that while I was being warned about extracts, they were still selling the very thing I would end up getting addicted to.

Because naturally, that same place is where I had my first Feel Free. You know, the little blue bottle.

If you know, you know.

So yes, there was technically a warning label, but there was also a refrigerator stocked with temptation sitting five feet away. A very “don’t do this… anyway that’ll be $9.95” kind of vibe.

That was the beginning of a full-blown nightmare and what I ultimately became utterly addicted to.

So yes, I have complicated feelings.

But it also makes me sad to think small local kava shops could end up shutting their doors because of broad kratom bans. Those places helped a lot of people, myself included. But at the same time, the industry absolutely opened the door for products that can be incredibly addictive and, in some cases, genuinely dangerous.

The landscape is changing though. There are way more soft bars and mocktail spaces opening now, which is honestly great. People want alternative social spaces, and now there are more options that don’t involve alcohol or a substance you accidentally develop a dependency on.

I also understand that some people use kratom as a natural pain remedy and genuinely do not struggle with addiction. I don’t think they should automatically be cut off just because some people, ahem me, cannot behave normally around it.

But I do think it’s good that more of the dangers are coming to light.

Frankly, it makes me feel less insane.

Like thank you. Validation. I would like the record to show that yes, this stuff can absolutely f*ck you up.

Because for a long time, talking about kratom addiction felt like trying to explain to people that your herbal tea ruined your life.

“Wait… like tea?”

Yes, Susan. Like tea.

Ultimately, I think it’s more nuanced than “kratom is bad” or “kratom is good.”

For me, it was terrible. It absolutely wrecked my life for a while.

But I can still see the other side of it.

Which, unfortunately, is much less satisfying than a dramatic black-and-white opinion, but probably a lot more honest.

Featured

Comparing Addictions: Alcohol vs. Kratom

On By KSweenIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Having recently relapsed on alcohol, I was starkly reminded of just how bad a drunk I am. Seriously, it’s a spectacle. I turn into a walking emotional liability. I already cry a lot. Drinking just makes it less optional.

Having said this, you’d probably expect me to say alcoholism is worse than kratom… especially since most people don’t even know what kratom is (though thankfully that’s starting to change). But honestly? I don’t know which is worse. It doesn’t really feel like picking sides, more like comparing two very different kinds of mess.

Immediate vs. Gradual Consequences

Alcohol hits hard and fast. The fallout shows up right away—fights with friends and family, trouble at work, even run-ins with the law. My relationship with drinking left a trail of damage. I didn’t wake up one day suddenly addicted, but the consequences showed up long before the real spiral began.

Kratom is slower. It sneaks in, almost quietly. It didn’t wreck my friendships, but it did put a real strain on my marriage. I didn’t lose jobs or end up in court, but I did dig myself into financial holes and carry around a lot of emotional weight.

If I had to compare the two, alcohol feels like a panic attack—loud, chaotic, impossible to ignore. Kratom is more like chronic depression—quieter, heavier, and easier to hide in the moment. Neither is a good option. You just don’t get a prize for surviving one over the other.

The Jekyll and Hyde Effect

Kratom never really changed who I was. Alcohol, on the other hand, turned me into a full Jekyll-and-Hyde situation. With kratom, it wasn’t that—I was still me—but it dragged me into a depression so deep it ate away at everything. Alcohol blew things up right in front of me, but kratom was the loneliest experience I’ve ever had. Try explaining to people that you’re falling apart because of something they’ve never even heard of. At least with alcoholism, people recognize the word.

When I did open up, friends would shrug and say, “Well, at least it’s not alcohol.” And I’d sit there thinking, “Yeah… I guess?” It’s strange, comparing one addiction to another, like I’m weighing them on a scale. But that’s the reality—two completely different nightmares, and somehow I lived through both.

Quitting: A Tale of Two Addictions

When I quit drinking, I pushed through the first 24 to 48 hours and then I was basically fine. No AA, no sponsor—just therapy, willpower, and vibes. was so determined that being around alcohol didn’t even faze me. When I decided I was done, I was done.I almost checked into rehab once, but I freaked out during detox and left. I wasn’t ready yet, and I knew it.

Kratom was a whole different beast. Even when I was ready—really ready—my determination meant nothing. Quitting felt like actual hell. I only went cold turkey once, on my honeymoon of all times, and it was a nightmare. Sweating, depression, insomnia, restless legs, the full package. Truly a romantic getaway.

And the fun didn’t stop there. Once the physical part was over, my serotonin and dopamine were basically in shambles. About 30 days later it somehow got worse, thanks to PAWS (Post-Acute Withdrawal Syndrome). I got stuck in a cycle of quitting and relapsing on kratom, even while on Suboxone, which is not a great place to be. It made me feel like a hardcore addict for something you can buy at 7-Eleven.

Eventually, I got so fed up with the cycle that I went back to alcohol. Not exactly a gold-star decision, but it forced the kind of intervention I needed. So, do I regret it? Not completely.

The Trolls Come Out

Once people started to learn about kratom, the trolls emerged. They made it seem like we were trash for getting addicted to something from a gas station. Just to clarify, that’s not where I picked up my kratom habit, but once I needed more and more, the convenience of smoke shops and gas stations became my go-to. I felt like people thought I was trashy for being addicted to it. The irony is that kratom is marketed as a “healthy” alternative—to coffee, to alcohol. A mood boost, a little energy, a better option than drinking. Perfect bait for someone like me, just looking for relief. In reality, what they did was target vulnerable people, call it wellness, and cash in when they get addicted.

Then there are the pro-kratom advocates, which makes navigating this whole situation even trickier. The substance has had such a profound negative impact on my life while seemingly being positive for others. For the record, I don’t think kratom shouldn’t be banned, but it definitely needs regulation, especially extracts like “Feel Free” and “7-Oh.”

Final Thoughts

So while I’m mostly focusing on kratom since that’s what’s fresh in my mind, I can’t forget that I did recently relapse on alcohol. It took five years to get there, and strangely, that’s part of why I feel more solid in my sobriety now. I don’t have that voice in my head anymore—the one that used to wonder if maybe I could drink again someday and be fine. I can’t.

Alcohol created reckless situations that kratom never did. But kratom drained me in a different way. It left me hollowed out, with suicidal ideations I had never felt before, which was unsettling after all the progress I’d made once I quit drinking.

This comparison doesn’t really give me an answer. It just reminds me that addiction, in any form, strips you down until there’s not much left.

From Relapse to 10K

On By KSweenIn anxiety, depression, mental health, running, sobrietyLeave a comment

About a month before my six year soberversary, I relapsed on alcohol.

It wasn’t pretty. I don’t love admitting it, but it happened.

At the time, I was desperately trying to fight my cravings for kratom. In my infinite wisdom, I decided alcohol might dull my need for it. The irony here is that I originally found kratom while researching alternatives to alcohol, so my “alcohol alternative” eventually led me straight back to alcohol.

A beautiful little circle of terrible decision making.

After that relapse, I didn’t drink again for almost another year. I wanted to believe it had been a one time disaster. Maybe it had simply been a harsh reminder that alcohol and I are still not on speaking terms.

Then life stopped going according to plan (naturally).

Some personal problems came up, as they do, and a major life milestone I thought was finally going to be mine was ripped away at the last minute. I did not handle it particularly well. Around the same time, I relapsed on kratom again.

Alcohol slowly followed.

Looking back, I think that first alcohol relapse had cracked something open in me. For almost six years, I had seen myself as this incredibly strong, resilient woman who could bulldoze her way through anything. Once I relapsed, I didn’t feel like her anymore.

But maybe that was part of the problem.

I had treated sobriety like an endurance event. I never built much of a recovery plan or learned actual skills for handling cravings and dealing with the parts of my past I’d rather ignore. I just put my head down, gritted my teeth and kept going.

My entire strategy was basically: bull through it until further notice.

Well, further notice arrived.

This relapse didn’t end after one ugly night or one bad week. It became a bender, then the bender became a cycle. Some days I wouldn’t drink and would go back to kratom, telling myself it was the better option. Other days I drank because I had decided alcohol was somehow better than kratom.

On particularly chaotic days, I used both because by then all remaining logic had left the building.

I completely lost my sense of what an “appropriate” time to drink was, which, for me, is never. There were no appropriate times. That answer had already been established years ago, but I decided to conduct the experiment again anyway.

The results were still bad.

I was struggling at work, my marriage was suffering and I was becoming increasingly isolated and depressed. After a while, I started to believe things weren’t going to get better. Maybe this was just who I was now, someone trapped in a cycle of quitting, relapsing and apologizing.

Eventually, I had to admit that my recovery plan of stubbornness and vibes was no longer working.

I found a therapist who worked with addiction and helped people make sense of old patterns. My thinking was pretty simple: if I could finally process some of my shit instead of repeatedly trying to outrun it, maybe I wouldn’t be so likely to relapse whenever life went off script.

I also took a job closer to home with fewer hours. Nothing magically changed overnight, but I started making choices that felt more sustainable and hoped the rest would follow.

Meanwhile, my running had fallen apart.

It had been going downhill since the Brooklyn Half Marathon, which came less than a month after one of my best half-marathon performances. The difference between those two races was hard to ignore.

Then came the summer race series. Some races went okay. Others did not. I’m also pretty sure I competed in one while I was still drunk.

How I managed to finish it, I genuinely do not know. It was another clear sign of just how far things had slipped. The human body is capable of incredible things, although I’m fairly certain this is not what inspirational running quotes are referring to.

I knew I needed a real plan, both for my sobriety and for my running. I wanted to rebuild my health and find my way back to the version of myself who had once felt strong.

So, naturally, I decided to document the process while training for my next race, a popular local 10K that was only one month away.

Because nothing says “gentle return to healing” quite like giving yourself a deadline.

Luckily, I’m pretty stubborn about working out. Even during my bender, I hadn’t missed too many workouts, although the quality of those workouts is questionable. I was still showing up to the gym and getting my runs in.

I just felt terrible doing them.

Once I stopped drinking, my actual sober training began. Even though I had kept working out throughout everything, I could feel what those months had done to my body. I felt sluggish and puffy, and I’d gained about ten pounds. Every run seemed much harder than it should have been.

I was also carrying around the feeling that I had failed again, even though getting sober and starting over meant I was actively trying to fix it.

My brain wasn’t interested in giving me credit for that part.

I also hate downtime, so if I had an empty hour, I filled it. The gym. Pilates. Running. Yoga. I was doing something almost every day and giving myself very little time to rest.

Staying busy felt safer than sitting alone with my thoughts. It was probably also one of the reasons my runs felt so awful.

Despite working out constantly, I was running a little under 20 miles a week and couldn’t shake the sluggishness. Still, I kept going. I practiced the 10K course almost every week, hoping it would eventually start to feel easier.

It never did.

Actually, I felt worse each time.

Then my Achilles started hurting. Naturally, I immediately blamed the ten pounds I’d gained. I don’t know whether that had anything to do with it, but I was already feeling bad about my body, so that was where my brain went.

Working out had helped me mentally, but physically, I was worn down. I hadn’t given my body any chance to catch up. I finally decided to take a much easier week as a taper going into the race.

Still, I wondered whether a few easier days could undo weeks of pushing myself close to burnout.

I had trained for the race, but I didn’t feel completely prepared. All those slow, sluggish miles had affected my confidence. Even so, I was aiming to average under an 8:30 pace.

My biggest problem in races is that I tend to go out way too fast, so I knew I had to control myself during the first mile. That mattered even more on this course because mile two included the infamous uphill the race is known for.

I ran the first mile in 7:53.

A little faster than planned, yes, but nowhere near my usual opening-mile blowout. Since I already expected mile two to be slower because of the hill, I figured the two would balance each other out.

By mile three, I had settled in and was right around my target pace.

Then I started losing it.

Maybe I could have held on if I hadn’t been training so close to burnout. Maybe I needed more mileage, or faster mileage, or simply more time for my body to recover from the relapse.

There were plenty of possibilities to spiral about while actively trying to run a 10K.

About three-quarters of the way through the race, I knew my original goal was slipping away. I adjusted my race plan and tried not to let it get into my head. Mile five ended up being my slowest mile, even slower than the one with the infamous hill.

Rude.

I still refused to completely give up. Through the final mile, I kept myself at more of a tempo effort and wouldn’t let myself slow to a walk or fall into what I call the Sweeney Shuffle. That’s when my body is technically moving forward, just without any real sense of urgency.

If I wasn’t going to hit my original goal, I was at least keeping my overall pace under nine minutes.

I finished with an average pace of 8:43 per mile. My time was about two minutes slower than the year before.

It wasn’t what I wanted.

I tried not to be disappointed, but honestly, it was hard. Then I had to ask myself what I had really expected. Did I genuinely think my body would be back in peak shape after everything I had put it through?

Race day also happened to mark 30 days without alcohol or kratom. My body was still recalibrating, and no amount of impatience was going to change that. The finish time wasn’t what I wanted, but reaching 30 days and recommitting to my sobriety mattered more.

My body wasn’t back yet. It also wasn’t stuck.

It was recovering.

Maybe my comeback wasn’t happening as quickly as I wanted, but it was happening, and I had to learn to be okay with that. I also learned that I couldn’t force my body to recover faster by pushing it harder.

As it turns out, the body does not respond to bullying.

Some things simply need time.

So, I’m going to keep moving in this direction. Maybe I’m not hitting all my race milestones yet, but I’m hitting sober milestones again.

For now, that is enough.

I’ve found my footing, and I refuse to move backward.

Only forward, no matter the pace.

When Your “Alcohol Alternative” Brings You Back to Drinking

On By KSweenIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

May 21st was supposed to mark my 6-year soberversary from alcohol. Instead, I’m acknowledging a different milestone—about one month since my unexpected relapse. And trust me, no one was more surprised by this plot twist than I was.

What led to this unexpected detour? Well, it turns out my kratom addiction (which I’ve written about before) completely wrecked my body chemistry. When I finally quit kratom, my serotonin levels absolutely tanked. And I don’t mean just a little dip—I mean the lowest I’ve ever felt in my life.

On paper, my life was fine—great, even—but I felt worse than I ever had in my entire life. And I’ve been on antidepressants for years, so that’s saying something.

I later discovered I’m not alone—in recovery groups I’m part of, kratom users report suicidal ideation with alarming frequency, both while using and especially during withdrawal. The mental health impact of this substance is seriously underestimated.

For those unfamiliar, PAWS (Post-Acute Withdrawal Syndrome) is the gift that keeps on giving after you quit certain substances. Your brain chemistry goes haywire trying to rebalance itself, and it can last for months. Fun times.

In my infinite wisdom, I decided alcohol seemed like a safer alternative to going back to kratom. I told myself I could handle “just one” to take the edge off. Part of me even had been romanticizing my past reckless behavior, wondering if maybe, just maybe, I would be ok if I drank again one day.

What started as “just one drink to take the edge off” spiraled into a two-week bender. Maybe part of me thought that after almost six years, I could handle it. I couldn’t. The second alcohol hit my system, I became a completely different person—like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but with more drunk texting and fewer Victorian vibes.

I wish I could say I blacked out and don’t remember much, but no. I remember just about everything. And let me tell you, the embarrassment is strong. But in a weird way, I’m grateful for it. Seeing that version of myself again was a harsh but necessary reminder of why I quit drinking in the first place.

The truth is, I could have prevented this spiral if I’d been more honest—with myself, my doctors, and the people around me.

I had a suboxone doctor I’d only met with twice (virtually) who gave me way too many subs with little guidance. I was essentially making up my own dosing schedule (and often skipping doses because subs scared me). Meanwhile, I didn’t tell my regular psychiatrist about being on suboxone. I mentioned needing to up my antidepressants but didn’t explain why until it was too late.

I saw the train coming but didn’t move quickly enough to get off the tracks.

I’d gone on autopilot with my mental health—just going through the motions, not really engaging with the process or being honest about how I was truly feeling. That’s a dangerous place to be. Mental health requires constant vigilance and active participation, not passive management.

On the bright side—I’m about a month past that bender now, and I have zero desire to drink ever again. That little voice in the back of my head wondering if I could ever drink “normally” has been silenced for good.

I’m kratom and alcohol free, attending therapy more regularly, being transparent with my doctors, and I’ve adjusted my medication. The difference is night and day—I’m feeling 200% better. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt this… normal?

I also learned a lot about how people handle situations during this time. I’ve become extremely grateful to a handful of people who showed up for me in ways I never expected—especially my husband, who has dealt with quite a bit. Though I’m starting to remember that I too have a lot to offer and am deserving of that level of effort and compassion (even if I’m a little unhinged at times). When you’re vulnerable, it’s easy to let people into spaces they haven’t earned access to, but not everyone deserves that proximity to your healing process. And not everybody wants to be a part of it… and that is ok too. Find your people and move on. I’m so grateful to have found mine.

This experience taught me several important things:

  1. You don’t need to be embarrassed by being on antidepressants. It’s not big pharma just trying to drug me up—imbalances exist, and it’s ok if you need assistance to feel your best.
  2. I need to check in more with friends. I leaned heavily on some people during this time, and their support meant everything. But I also learned they were going through their own struggles—you truly never know what someone else is dealing with.
  3. I can control whether I have that first drink, but once alcohol is in my system, all bets are off. And I hate who I am when I drink, so it’s a hard pass from me.
  4. Never go on autopilot with your mental health. The moment you start disengaging from your own care is the moment things start to unravel.

Here’s the thing: relapse sucks. But it is a part of recovery. And when I did the math, I realized that if you include the six years from my original sobriety date and subtract those two weeks of my bender, I was still sober for 99.3% of that time. That’s pretty damn good.

So, I’m choosing to live without shame. I’m focusing on stabilizing, being honest, and just trying to be a good person. Here’s to starting the counter again. Regardless of the reasons or circumstances, I take full responsibility for my actions. Turning back to the bottle was a poor and unsafe choice—one I won’t make again.

Breaking Free: 30 Days Without Kratom

On By KSweenIn mental health, sobriety, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Alright, let’s talk about that plant—the one I won’t shut up about because it completely took over my life. I’m 30 days into quitting it, and let me tell you, PAWS (Post-Acute Withdrawal Syndrome) is apparently a thing with this stupid plant. And it sucks. It really does. The initial high of quitting is gone, and so is the high of sharing my story with everyone. But I know it’s still important to talk about, especially when so many people have no idea what it even is.

Kratom. The “all-natural” miracle plant that’s marketed as the answer to everything: stress, energy, motivation, chronic pain, bad hair days, existential dread—you name it, and there’s someone out there hyping it up. If you believe the sales pitch, it’s like the Swiss Army knife of life hacks. But the reality? It’s more like a knockoff Prada bag from Canal Street. It might look legit at first, but give it time, and you’ll realize it’s just a cheap fake that falls apart and leaves you worse off than where you started.This is just some food for thought—and honestly, mostly a reminder for myself. Because this sucks. But it’s worth it. And it’s worth talking about.

Let’s get one thing straight: Kratom isn’t just some innocent little plant that stumbled out of the forest to save humanity. It’s not a cup of tea or a yoga class. It’s a substance that binds to your opioid receptors. Yea….those same receptors that heroin and prescription painkillers latch onto. Now, I’m not saying Kratom is exactly the same as those heavy hitters, but let’s be real—if it’s knocking on the same door as opioids, it’s not here to sell Girl Scout cookies. It’s here to screw with your brain chemistry. At first, it feels like a cheat code for life. You take a dose, and suddenly you’re awake, focused, maybe even a little zen. You’re thinking, Shit, this is amazing. Why didn’t I try this sooner? But here’s the thing: Kratom isn’t creating anything new. It’s not generating energy or happiness or motivation out of thin air. All it’s doing is poking your opioid receptors and tricking your brain into dumping out its reserves of dopamine, serotonin, and endorphins. And while that feels great in the moment, it’s basically like emptying your fridge and eating all the snacks at once. Sure, you’re satisfied for a hot second, but now you’re out of food and probably feeling a little guilty.

Here’s where Kratom really starts to show its true asshole nature. After that initial high, your brain realizes it just got robbed. It’s like, Oh crap, we’re out of dopamine? Better cut production to make sure this doesn’t happen again. So now your baseline levels of happiness, energy, and motivation are lower than ever. You wake up feeling foggy, restless, and about as functional as a soggy piece of bread. And what’s the only thing that seems to help? Yea, you guessed it—more Kratom.And that’s how it traps you. It’s not just messing with your brain—it’s rewiring it. The more you take, the more dependent you become. You’re not chasing a high anymore; you’re just trying to feel normal. And the doses? They keep getting bigger. The effects? They keep getting weaker. The side effects? Oh, they’re having a goddamn party. Nausea, brain fog, exhaustion—it’s like Kratom is throwing a rager in your body, and you’re stuck cleaning up the mess.

If you’re anything like me, this is the point where you start bargaining with yourself. Maybe I just need to switch strains. Maybe I need to time my doses better. Maybe I need to switch back from extracts to capsules. Well… none of that’s going to work. You’re not going to outsmart Kratom. It’s already ten steps ahead of you, laughing its leafy little ass off while it drains you dry. At some point, you’ll hit the wall. You’ll take your usual dose, and… nothing. No energy, no focus, no relaxation. Just nausea, exhaustion, and the creeping realization that you’ve been played. You’re not even taking it to feel good anymore—you’re taking it to avoid feeling worse. And that’s when it hits you: Kratom isn’t helping. It’s hurting. It’s not giving you anything. It’s stealing everything.

Here’s the cold, hard truth: Kratom will never satisfy you. It doesn’t matter how much you take, how carefully you time your doses, or how many Reddit threads you read about “strain rotation” and “tolerance breaks.” It will never be enough. Because it doesn’t have anything to give. It’s not a source of energy or happiness or motivation. It’s a parasite. It takes what’s already yours, drains it, and then sells it back to you in weaker and weaker doses. That boost you’re chasing? That was your natural energy. That calm you’re looking for? That was your body’s ability to relax on its own. Kratom didn’t create any of it—it just stole it, and now it’s holding it hostage. And the longer you stay on this ride, the worse it gets. Higher doses, shorter effects, more side effects. Until one day, you’re left with nothing. No energy. No motivation. No joy. No money. Just an exhausted, dependent body that doesn’t even feel like you anymore.

Look, I’m not gonna sit here and pretend walking away from Kratom is easy. It’s not. It’s hard as hell. But staying on this path? That’s a guaranteed dead end. And you deserve better. You deserve to wake up and feel good without relying on a substance that’s messing with your brain and stealing your happiness. So here’s the plan: take a deep breath, flip Kratom the bird, and start taking your life back. It’s not gonna be pretty, and it’s definitely not gonna be fun, but you’re worth the effort.

My Secret Addiction: How I Got Hooked on a “Wellness Tonic” (Part 2)

On By KSweenIn Uncategorized8 Comments

Well, it’s been a week since my last post, and I’m happy to report: I’m still off kratom/ Feel Free, officially making it past the one-week mark of my millionth quit. This time feels different, though—similar to when I finally quit alcohol for good. That same sense of finality is creeping in, and I’m cautiously optimistic.

Before diving back into my story, I want to make something clear: I’m not on some crusade to ban kratom. I don’t support prohibition, but I do think people need to know what they’re getting into. Personally, I’d say stay the fuck away. That’s just me. Also, I hold no ill will toward my local kava bar—they were pretty transparent about the product, and I still think it’s a great alcohol-free space for those who want an alternative bar scene.

The Physical Toll

Let’s talk about some of the other side effects I didn’t mention last time. Besides the puking, kratom wreaked havoc on my skin. I got massive styes all the time and dry patches around my mouth that made me look like I’d been licking sandpaper. I also developed a pain in my lower left abdomen, eerily similar to the one I had during my drinking days. And while kratom sometimes helped my workouts, other times it felt like my body was completely failing me. I’d have to stop mid-run, and my husband—who knows how fit I usually am—would look at me like, “What the hell is going on?” Fun times, am I right?

Another factor that fueled my addiction? ADHD. I was diagnosed in 2019, and while Adderall helped at first, it gave me heart palpitations. Plus, knowing my addictive tendencies, I needed to be careful with controlled substances. When I switched my medication management to somewhere that didn’t allow Adderall prescriptions, I leaned hard into kratom, convincing myself it was one of the few things that could help me focus and stay energized. I convinced myself it was my lifeline. Spoiler: it wasn’t.

The Suboxone Chapter

When I left off last time, I had just started medication-assisted treatment (MAT) with Suboxone. For those unfamiliar, Suboxone is often used to treat opioid addiction by reducing cravings and withdrawal symptoms.* (Fun fact: kratom isn’t technically an opioid, but it binds to the same receptors, which is why Suboxone can still help.)*

Choosing Suboxone felt like a big step—some might even call it extreme—but I was fully informed and ready. My therapist had seen me at my worst during my alcohol addiction, and he said the reason he suggested Suboxone was because he’d never seen so much panic and desperation in my eyes before. I’m thankful I went with someone who had a conservative approach. My highest dose was just 2mg (for context, the standard dose for severe opioid addiction is 16mg).

At first, Suboxone was a godsend. I was able to quit kratom with minimal side effects, and it led to my longest quit yet—2.5 months. So, what happened?

The Perfect Storm

Well, life happened. The company I was working for suddenly moved me to part-time because they couldn’t afford a full-time marketer anymore. It wasn’t the worst thing at first—I applied for unemployment and spent my extra time job-hunting. But here’s the thing: I have never had an easy time holding down a job. During my drinking days, I’d get fired or quit constantly. After I quit alcohol, I’d finally landed some decent jobs, but thanks to COVID and layoffs, they all had short shelf lives.

When I lost my full-time role, I found myself with way too much idle time on my hands. And idle time, for me, is dangerous. I slipped back into kratom to keep myself motivated to do anything. At first, I’d take it during breaks from Suboxone, but eventually, I started taking them together. Yes, I know how insane that sounds. Suboxone is designed to block the effects of opioids (and, in theory, it should block kratom’s effects too), but I somehow convinced myself I’d still get the energy and focus—even if the euphoria was gone. Turns out, my brain is a liar.

Eventually, I landed a new job, but it came with a $17,000 pay cut. I took it out of sheer desperation, needing something—anything—to get back into a routine. Financially, it was a huge hit, and even though I was working again, I couldn’t keep up with my kratom habit. But that didn’t stop me. I started using money-borrowing apps like MoneyLion, sometimes juggling five at once. I opened a new credit card. I constantly asked my husband to help cover my overdrawn account—probably $1,000–$1,500 a month. I told him it was because my new salary couldn’t cover our bills. But I knew the truth.

Desperate for something better, I jumped at the first higher-paying opportunity I found. I ignored some glaring red flags—like the fact they didn’t want me to give a two-week notice at my current job—and took it anyway. It ended up being one of the worst culture fits I’ve ever experienced. The environment was toxic, the demands were either overwhelming or, worse, didn’t make sense. There was no proper training, I wasn’t even provided the tools I needed to do my job (like logins for the Instagram account I was supposed to manage), and the limited time off added to the frustration. I felt completely out of place—disheartened and defeated.

Between the pay cut from my previous job and the terrible fit of the new one, I was spiraling. I felt like I was going nowhere. My husband and I had been dreaming of buying a house, but here I was, drowning in debt, unable to go a week without borrowing money, and stuck in jobs that either didn’t pay enough or crushed my spirit. I felt so behind in life—like I’d never catch up.

The Mental Toll

I tried to quit Feel Free a few more times, but I always slipped back into my old habits by week two. Around this time, I started learning about PAWS (Post-Acute Withdrawal Syndrome). PAWS refers to withdrawal symptoms that kick in after the initial detox phase, typically within the first few weeks of sobriety, and can last for months—or even years. Symptoms include insomnia, anxiety, depression, fatigue, and irritability. It’s caused by brain chemistry changes from substance dependency, as your brain struggles to recalibrate without the substance.

Looking back, I’m pretty sure PAWS was a huge factor in my relapses. My quits usually lasted 1–4 weeks before the crushing depression would hit and send me spiraling back. It’s like your brain convinces you that the only way to feel “normal” again is to go back to the substance.

The depression was unbearable. I already have anxiety and ADHD and am prone to bouts of depression, so piling kratom withdrawal on top of that was a dangerous combo. I felt hopeless. There were days I genuinely didn’t think I could do it anymore. I wouldn’t say I was suicidal—death scares the shit out of me—but I did have passing suicidal thoughts. That should’ve been a wake-up call, but instead, I just kept spiraling.

Hitting Rock Bottom (again)

Between the toxic job and my kratom addiction, I hit my lowest point of isolation and depression. My husband started getting suspicious—why was I still asking for money when I had a new job? I felt like I was failing him. We’d been dreaming of buying a house together, but here I was, drowning in debt and unable to go a week without borrowing money. I felt so behind in life. Between this and my alcohol addiction, I was convinced I’d never catch up.

Only a few people knew I was still struggling with my addiction. It’s not like alcohol, where the problem is obvious to everyone around you. With kratom, I seemed totally normal to most people—if anything, they just noticed an uptick in energy. But the crashes, the depression, and the financial ruin? Those were harder to hide.

Once, I accidentally threw a full bottle of kratom into a public trash can. An hour later, I realized what I’d done and stuck my hand into the trash to fish it out. Because when you’re addicted, every $10 bottle counts.

The Turning Point

A week ago, I finally told my husband the truth. I had been planning to tell him for a while, but I kept putting it off, holding onto something he had said months earlier. In a moment of frustration, he told me he would never be able to understand if I relapsed again, especially after everything I knew about what kratom had done to me. I stewed over that offhanded comment for months, convinced I couldn’t tell him. But mostly, I think I was using it as an excuse.

My husband is literally one of the kindest people I know and has always tried so hard to be my rock. I think his comment came from a place of frustration and anger at what this product has put me through. He hates it because of how much pain it has caused me, and I don’t think he ever meant for his words to weigh so heavily on me. Of course, he also had no idea that I had already relapsed—multiple times.

Finally, during a drive to a family house for the weekend, I saw the opportunity and took it. I told him the truth. He was upset, understandably, but mostly he was supportive. We came up with a game plan to quit once and for all.

For me, disrupting my routine has always been key to quitting. Going away for the weekend was the perfect opportunity to break the cycle. I had a few Suboxone strips left and an upcoming appointment with my doctor. I’m hoping it’ll be my last.

Moving Forward

For the first time in years, I feel hopeful. My husband and I are working on a plan to get our finances back on track. I’ve also set up an appointment with my therapist to work through the anxieties and issues that make me so vulnerable to addiction.

Addiction is a sneaky bastard. Kratom and Feel Free promise energy and euphoria, but at what cost? For me, the cost was financial ruin, damaged relationships, and a mental health nosedive.

If you’re struggling, please know you’re not alone. Recovery is messy, but it’s worth it. If you’re struggling, please know you’re not alone. Recovery is messy, but it’s worth it. And if you’re considering kratom or spot those blue bottles at your local 7-Eleven? My advice: stay the fuck away.

Resources for help below

My Secret Addiction: How I Got Hooked on a “Wellness Tonic” Prt. 1

On By KSweenIn Uncategorized1 Comment

Well, here we are again. Another year, another “oops, I forgot to cancel my website domain,” which means it’s time for me to share something deeply personal. Fuck it—let’s dive in.

So, here’s my cautionary tale of how I sort of accidentally got addicted to a so-called “wellness tonic.” Yep, you read that right. Me, a person who’s been sober from alcohol for 5 years, 7 months, and 22 days, found myself hooked on a little bottle of liquid marketed as a health drink. I don’t even check my sober app anymore unless it’s my anniversary, but I logged in while writing this to confirm the exact number of days since I quit drinking. And there it was, staring me in the face: the reason I quit alcohol in the first place—“I want to gain control of my life and future.” Heartbreaking, right? Because here I am, realizing that these little bottles of Feel Free have done the exact opposite. They’ve taken away the control I fought so hard to gain.

What the Hell is Feel Free?

Before we get into the nitty-gritty, let me explain what Feel Free is. It’s a two-ounce tonic extract that combines two plants: kava and kratom. Both have been gaining popularity as alcohol alternatives, and while that sounds great in theory, there’s a darker side to this story.

Kava is known for its relaxing effects and is often brewed into teas or served at kava bars. It’s not addictive, and honestly, I still enjoy it from time to time. Kratom, on the other hand, is a different beast. It interacts with the same receptors in your brain as opioids and can be highly addictive. Spoiler alert: Feel Free contains kratom—and not just a little bit—but they didn’t exactly make that clear on the label for years. In fact, at one point, Feel Free didn’t even list kratom as an ingredient at all, making it impossible for people who were trying to educate themselves to know what they were consuming. A lawsuit has even claimed that Botanic Tonics advertised Feel Free as a “safe, sober and healthy alternative to alcohol” without clearly disclosing the side effects of kratom, leaving consumers unaware of the risks.

Oh, and there are rumors that Feel Free ferments their kratom, which allegedly makes it even more addictive. People have also claimed that kratom can cause false positives on drug tests for hard drugs like MDMA. Now imagine the chaos when you realize Feel Free was the official tonic of various college athletic teams—teams whose athletes are liable to be randomly drug tested. I believe those relationships have since ended, but still—wild.

How It All Started

My journey with kava and kratom began innocently enough. When I first quit alcohol, I discovered kava bars, and they were a godsend. On my first sober birthday, I dragged my friends to one in the city. It was the best birthday I’d had in years—just me, my crew, and a space where I could feel normal without alcohol. That night, I stuck to kava, but I noticed something intriguing behind the bar: a little bottle called “Stinger,” a kratom extract. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but that was my first taste of kratom.

Fast forward to a few years later, and kava bars started popping up in my area. I was excited to have a place nearby where I could grab fresh-brewed kava, which is way better than the instant powder I’d been ordering online. But then I saw they had kratom tea. I remembered liking the Stinger extract from before, so I gave it a shot. Literally. I even took home a growler of the tea that day, and it became a regular thing. I liked the energy boost it gave me, and for a while, it felt harmless.

Enter Feel Free

My first encounter with Feel Free was at one of these kava bars. The bottle claimed to contain kava and a “proprietary blend” of other plant extracts. What it didn’t clearly state was how much kratom was in it—or as I mentioned before, that kratom was even a main ingredient. This lack of transparency is what makes Feel Free feel so much ickier to me than other clearly marketed kratom products. They tried to market themselves as a kava-based wellness drink, conveniently glossing over the kratom content for as long as they could.

To make matters worse, combining kava and kratom can possibly amplify their effects, making the drink even more potent. And because kratom doesn’t make you appear “high” in the traditional sense, it’s an easy addiction to hide. Like I said, at a certain point, I did know there was a potential for risk with kratom, but I hadn’t shown any signs of a problem yet, so I convinced myself my issue must just be with alcohol. I was “California Sober,” meaning I still smoked weed and didn’t abstain from all substances that could alter my state. AA can be very strict about this. For example, kava wouldn’t be allowed if you wanted to be successful in AA, and that’s probably another reason why AA never worked for me. Some people wouldn’t consider me sober at all, and I always make the distinction that my sobriety is from alcohol. But I’ve learned that sobriety has many shades of gray, and I’ll never knock what works for someone else’s journey. At that point, I didn’t do any “hard” drugs and only had an issue with alcohol, so I didn’t see a problem with my occasional use of kratom.

At first, I thought I could manage it. I’d have a bottle here and there, usually at social events where I didn’t want to feel left out. I even served kratom tea at my wedding, thinking it was just another fun, harmless alternative. But soon, it became an everyday thing. Then multiple times a day. I started ordering capsules to use on days between trips to the kava bar, but eventually, I got tired of waiting for the mail. That’s when I discovered that every smoke shop in my area carried kratom, and not just the capsules or tea—I found kratom extracts. Extracts are exponentially more potent. The first one I tried was called OPMS, and they were $20 a pop. I told myself I’d only use them occasionally for parties or an energy boost, but it quickly escalated to daily use, then multiple times a day.

I told myself, “Shit, this is getting expensive, and I’m having way too much—I need to slow my roll.” Then, one day, I found a smoke shop that carried my old friend Feel Free. They were only $10 a bottle and also had kava, which I loved. At this point it was now known it contained Kratom, but I was still unclear on how much. I thought I’d be saving money by purchasing Feel Free and that it might help me taper down my use. But boy, was I wrong. My local smoke shop even started giving me deals on cartons because I was such a regular. If that’s not a red flag, I don’t know what is.

The Downward Spiral

Things really hit the fan on my honeymoon. I didn’t bring any Feel Free with me because, hello, they’re liquid, and I honestly wasn’t sure if kratom was legal in St. Thomas (fun fact: it’s not legal everywhere). But I had to have something, so I brought some kratom capsules, thinking they’d less risky to bring and be enough to tide me over. Spoiler: they weren’t. Capsules were actually the only form of kratom I could keep in the house for more than a few days without devouring them because, let’s face it, they just didn’t pack the same punch as the mysterious, turbocharged Feel Free proprietary blend. I didn’t realize how much of a drastic cutback the capsules would be, nor did it even cross my mind that I could go into withdrawal.

By the second night, I was a mess. I couldn’t sleep, my legs wouldn’t stop twitching (hello, restless leg syndrome), and I was drenched in sweat. At first, I thought it was just the tropical heat—I mean, I was in St. fucking Thomas, after all—but then it hit me: I was in withdrawal. Fucking kratom withdrawal. On my honeymoon. During the day, I managed to scrape by, convincing myself I was just sweating buckets because of the sun and humidity. Plus, I’d bought a pot brownie from a local, which I hoped would help me chill out. Spoiler again: it didn’t. If anything, it just made me feel like I was in some weird fever dream where I was simultaneously too hot, too twitchy, and too stoned to function.

The nights, though? Absolute hell. I tossed and turned, jolted awake with anxiety, and wrestled with legs that seemed to have a mind of their own. If you don’t know what restless leg syndrome is, go ahead and look it up—it’s like your legs are trying to moonwalk out of your body while you’re lying there helpless. I even tried popping Advil PM and melatonin to knock myself out, but fun fact: those can actually make withdrawal and RLS worse. Oops!

By the end of the trip, I was a shell of myself. The lack of sleep, constant sweating, and overall misery had started to pile up, and I was slowly becoming more and more miserable—on my honeymoon. It eventually dawned on me that it wasn’t just the heat or the travel stress. It was the fucking kratom. When I finally put two and two together, I told my husband, and we started doing some research. That’s when we learned more about kratom withdrawals and just how addictive it could be.

I made it about 15 days without kratom after that trip, and I even started sleeping again around day seven. I promised my husband I’d never touch kratom again because, understandably, he was worried. And I meant it—I really did. And I meant it—I really did. My husband had been with me through my alcoholic years as well as my sobriety journey, and it broke my heart to think he might have to go through it all over again. That year was packed with weddings and events, and I hadn’t yet learned how to socialize or party without my trusty Feel Free. In fact, one of the only reasons I’d gotten so comfortable with not drinking around others was because of kava and kratom. (And honestly, a part of me will always be weirdly thankful for that.)

So, come the first wedding after quitting, I caved. I told myself I’d just have one bottle of Feel Free for the event. Just one. But one turned into two, two turned into six, and before I knew it, I was back to hiding bottles, puking from overuse, and scoring deals on cartons at my local smoke shop like some kind of Feel Free VIP.

Things Started Getting Out of Control

At my worst, I was drinking six to eight bottles of Feel Free a day. I was hiding it from my husband, puking regularly, and draining my bank account. Despite all of this, I convinced myself it was helping me focus and giving me energy, though the reality was far different. My workouts were suffering, my body was shutting down, and I’d wake up every morning in withdrawal (just from taking 7hrs to sleep off) panicking if I didn’t have a bottle within an hour.

I had promised my husband I wouldn’t take kratom again, and it broke my heart to hide it from him. I tried tapering but couldn’t do it, and I was too scared to quit cold turkey after experiencing withdrawal before.

Eventually, I told my husband the truth and reached out to my old addiction therapist. We discussed options, and ultimately, we decided on medication-assisted treatment (MAT) with Suboxone. This was a big, controversial step as opinions are divided on MAT for kratom addiction. Some people swear by it, while others think it’s too extreme. But for me, it felt like the best option.

I’ll go into more detail about my experience with Suboxone and how it works in Part 2, but I’ll leave you with this: the Suboxone worked really well at first—until it didn’t. Somehow, because I’m me, I managed to relapse even while on MAT. What followed was a dark, painful cycle of trying to quit and falling back into addiction.

Final Thoughts (For Now)

If you’re struggling with kratom addiction—or any addiction—please know you’re not alone. I’ll share more about my journey with Suboxone and the dark cycles of relapse in the next post, but for now, I want to leave you with this: addiction doesn’t make you weak. It doesn’t make you a failure. It’s a battle, and it’s one you don’t have to fight alone.

Resources for help below

Why I Fired my Psychiatrist

On By KSweenIn anxiety, depression, mental healthLeave a comment

It’s difficult to evaluate a psychiatrist during a 50-minute session — and then decide whether to see them again — when the real value of the relationship may come years and hundreds of sessions later. This problem becomes even more compounded because you rely on this person in order to get the medication you need to function like a halfway normal person. 

Nobody brags about needing to be on anti-depressants. In fact, it’s still something that people feel the need to be hush. Because no one wants to be a failure, and the world has made it clear that people who are on antidepressants are somehow weak, even though it’s no more different than someone who might be prescribed insulin for diabetes. The truth is, sometimes our brains need a little help too.  But that’s another thought for another time… what I wanted to talk about today is what to do when your relationship with your Doctor goes south (In a sense though, both topics go hand and hand).

There are no referees in the room; it’s just you, your psychiatrist, and whatever problems you’re facing or want to unpack. Sometimes, the relationship starts out great but erodes over time or lingers for years without inertia, or you call it off for small, seemingly silly reasons. And sometimes, there are incidences that lead to only one course of action. FInding a psychiatrist is hard. Finding one who takes your insurance is even harder. I had spent a little over 2 years with who I thought was the right Dr. I mean, we went through a fricken pandemic together, I thought we’d be in it for the long haul. I was wrong. 

I had so much invested in the relationship at this point—money, time, and my innermost demons—that I didn’t want to rewind my progress or start over from square one. So when things got particularly nasty over an insurance situation I was hesitant to leave at first. 

The problem was that she was out of network, but we had taken care of this issue right when I had begun seeing her. We had put in for a preauthorization to see her, which was approved by my insurance. At some point, I’m not sure when it was no longer approved by my insurance. There was some back and forth on this and we had both tried talking to my insurance and that is when things got nasty. The insurance company insisted it was because she had never put in for a new renewal for my visits and when I told her this she would get defensive and told me I wasn’t saying the correct things to the insurance company and that it was my fault. 

I never felt like I could talk to her about the situation without being demeaned or being accused of doing something wrong. She told me several times that I wasn’t doing what she asked me to do but I never knew what that meant or how to respond because what she was telling would contradict the insurance. In one particular nasty text message, I got scolded for not getting the first and last name of the person I spoke with about my insurance. When I told her, they only provided a first name she scoffed at me. Later, when I inquired with my insurance on this they told me it was in fact a violation to give out first and last names. 

I was crushed by her comments and stunned by how mean and insensitive she was being. After all the work we had done together around my issues, how could talk this way to me? It seemed like a cruel joke or a very insensitive mistake. I spent days agonizing over her text messages and every time she would reach out to me, it would end with me in tears and having a panic attack. Finally, it got to the point where I told her, I would do my best to try and figure this out, but afterward, we should end our relationship together. It wasn’t healthy for me and it was causing me distress and panic attacks. I won’t go into detail on how she responded to that, but spoiler alert, it was not well. 

We ended up having one last “session” together because I think she realized that some of the stuff she was sending over text messages was not the most secure. The session ended with me in tears and slamming my laptop on my virtual appointment. I was happy I stepped away, but it left me feeling very shaken. I knew I had to end this toxic relationship, but now I also had to figure out how I was going to get my medication. 

I was walking around trying to process it for weeks. Everybody I had talked about the situation to or shown the messages to were stunned. Luckily, I have a very good relationship with a therapist I’ve seen off and on for years. We set up a meeting to come up with a new game plan for my mental health. Unfortunately for me, not being on medication is not an option. A fact I still sometimes still have problems coming to terms with. I eventually came up with a solution for my situation because I really had no other choice- but it’s not ideal.  

It empowering however and kind of cathartic to walk away. Often, it can be tempting to just resign ourselves to an inadequate level of support. We’ve been taught to never question the competence of our clinicians, without realizing that they aren’t always a good fit. You deserve a  physiatrist or therapist that you like, respect, and who makes you feel good. If who you are seeing does none of these things for you, don’t settle for less. You are allowed to “fire” your physiatrist. And if it could improve your health, there’s no good reason not to.

❤ Sweeney

Imposter Syndrome Got Me Like…

On By KSweenIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Is it a coincidence that I haven’t written a blog post since being diagnosed with ADHD back in February? Probably not, but that’s not what I am here to talk about something. Today I wanted to write about something everybody, adhd or not, gets to experience from time to time, imposter syndrome. If you haven’t experienced this, I’d like to know where you get your confidence from, and if you have or liked to know what the heck I’m talking about continue reading below!

According to the first result I pulled up on google (lol) “Imposter syndrome, also called perceived fraudulence (how fancy!), involves feelings of self-doubt and personal incompetence that persist despite your education, experience and accomplishments. To counter these feelings, you might end up working harder and holding yourself to ever higher standards”. So in summary, it’s a mind fuck of your own creation. Do you ever feel like a phony? A fraud? That you don’t belong where you are? Guess what!?!?! Maybe its true (jk) or maybe you’re just experiencing imposter syndrome.

So this is all sounds pretty general, and I’m sure it’s possible to feel any or all of these things at a certain point without it falling into the realm of imposter syndrome. The biggest problem with imposter syndrome though is that the experience of doing well at something does nothing to change your beliefs.

Recently I found out that imposter syndrome and adhd is a common pairing (along with adhd and anxiety…. and adhd and substance abuse… welp guess that makes sense). For me, I recognize that my struggles with executive functioning (i.e staying organized, planning multi- tasking ect) often times make me feel like a failure. Is there something going on in your life you can identify that makes you feel this way? It’s important to remember that “The Real You” is full of amazing qualities too.

This can hard when in the thick of some serious negative self talk, but here are some ways to help combat falling into the trap of imposter syndrome.

  • Separate feelings from fact
  • Develop a healthy response to failure and mistake making
  • Know the signs
  • Be authentically you
  • Give it Name
  • Get comfortable with saying “I don’t know”
  • Track and Measure your successes
  • Practice self love, grace and kindness
  • Know you’re not alone

Imposter syndrome can make you feel inadequate. Practice some of the tips above and see how they work! My biggest bit of advice however, is just to acknowledge it and learn more about yourself and how it affects you. If you’re lying to yourself out of dear or shame, you’re lying to everyone else too. When you embrace yourself, how can you be considered an imposter?