The most meaningful relationship in my life, and the one that has shaped who I am today, is the relationship I had with my mother. Her struggle with alcoholism, her warmth, her love, and ultimately her death shaped the way I see people, the way I show up for others, and the way I build connections in every part of my life. Losing her to addiction was the hardest experience I have ever lived through, but it also taught me lessons about compassion, patience, and understanding that continue to guide me every day.
My mother was gentle, loving, and the heart of our family. Even when she was struggling, she tried to protect us from the worst parts of her addiction. Growing up, I saw both sides of her. I saw the mother who laughed with us, cooked for us, and made our home feel safe. I also saw the mother who was hurting, who tried to hide her drinking, and who slowly lost pieces of herself to an illness she could not control. Her death was caused by drinking, but it was ultimately a form of suicide. Accepting that truth changed me. It forced me to confront the reality of addiction in a way that was painful but honest.
My relationship with her shaped the way I connect with others because it taught me that people are more than their struggles. It taught me that addiction is not a choice and that mental health challenges are often invisible until they become overwhelming. It taught me to look deeper, to listen more carefully, and to approach people with empathy instead of judgment. These lessons have influenced every relationship I have built since then, including the relationship I had with my younger brother Cory.
Cory and I shared the same childhood, the same confusion, and the same hope that our mother would get better. After she passed, we leaned on each other in ways we never had before. We understood each other without needing to explain anything. When Cory died by suicide in 2023, it broke something inside me that I am still learning how to rebuild. Losing him made me realize how deeply mental health struggles can hide beneath humor, strength, and the desire to protect others. It also made me more aware of how important it is to check in on people, even when they seem fine.
My relationship with my mother, and later with Cory, shaped the way I show up for others. I listen differently now. I pay attention to the small things. I understand that people often carry pain they never talk about. I have learned to be patient, to give people space when they need it, and to be present when they are ready to open up. These lessons have shaped my personal relationships, my professional life, and my long‑term goals.
Working in a nonprofit hospital for the past six years has given me countless opportunities to apply what I learned from my mother. I specialize in nerve conduction studies and EMGs, and many of the patients I see are facing the possibility of life‑changing diagnoses like ALS. Sitting with someone during that process requires compassion, steadiness, and the ability to make someone feel safe even when they are scared. My mother taught me how to do that. She taught me how to see the person behind the illness. She taught me how to show up with kindness even when someone is hurting.
Her influence is also a major reason I am pursuing my MSN and becoming a nurse practitioner. I want to work in mental health and addiction because I know what it feels like to lose someone to these struggles. I know how complicated it is, how silent it can be, and how much it affects families. My mother’s story is the reason I want to be a provider who listens without judgment, who understands the emotional weight behind someone’s symptoms, and who helps people feel less alone.
My relationship with her also shaped the way I connect with my nephew, Levi, who is Cory’s son. I want him to grow up knowing who his father was. I want him to feel the love Cory would have given him. Being present in his life is one of the most important responsibilities I carry, and it is something my mother would have wanted. Supporting him has taught me that connection is not just about shared blood. It is about choosing to show up, choosing to love, and choosing to carry forward the best parts of the people you have lost.