Why I Want to Help Others Struggling with Addiction By Madilyn Didier Addiction stole years from me — years I can’t get back. It numbed the pain of trauma, silenced my voice, and disconnected me from everything that made me feel human. But it also led me to one of the deepest truths I’ve ever learned: healing is possible. Not easy. Not perfect. But possible. That truth is what keeps me moving forward — and it’s why I’ve dedicated my life to helping others who are still stuck in that darkness. I know what it’s like to be the one everyone gave up on. I know how it feels to wake up ashamed, to chase a high just to quiet the noise inside, to lose relationships, memories, opportunities — all for a temporary escape. I also know the strength it takes to try again. To fail. To try again anyway. That’s what recovery is. It’s not a straight line. It’s messy and painful and full of doubt. But it’s worth it. When I finally got clean, I didn’t just want to survive — I wanted to understand why I had gone down that road in the first place. I started working in behavioral health, first in group homes, then as a Registered Behavior Technician. What started as a job became a calling. I realized that the very things I struggled with — emotional regulation, impulsivity, communication — were at the heart of so many of my clients’ stories too. I wasn’t broken. I was misunderstood. And so were they. That realization lit a fire in me. Now, I’m pursuing a degree in Psychology with a focus on Mental Health, with the goal of becoming a BCaBA (Board Certified Assistant Behavior Analyst). I plan to use everything I’ve lived through — the addiction, the autism diagnosis, the trauma, the recovery — to help others who feel like they’ll never get out. I want to work with individuals who struggle with addiction and co-occurring disorders, especially those who are neurodivergent or have been overlooked by traditional systems of care. In my career, I’ll use behavior analysis not just to reduce harmful behaviors but to build meaningful lives. To teach coping strategies that actually work. To create reinforcement systems that support recovery. To help people rediscover who they are underneath the addiction. Because it’s not just about removing the substance — it’s about replacing it with something worth living for. I also plan to write and publish a book — a memoir about addiction, autism, trauma, and healing. It won’t be pretty or polished. It’ll be real. Honest. Messy. Just like recovery. My hope is that someone, somewhere, will read it and feel seen. That it’ll reach the people who are hanging on by a thread and remind them that they’re not alone. Helping others with addiction is personal to me because I was them. I still carry that part of me every day. But now I carry it with pride — not because I’m proud of what I went through, but because I survived it. And if I can survive it, maybe I can help someone else believe they can too. This career isn’t just about helping others. It’s about breaking cycles. It’s about healing generations. And it’s about proving that no matter how far gone you think you are, there is always a way back

Why I’m Pursuing a Degree in the Mental Health Field By Madilyn Didier For most of my life, I’ve been trying to make sense of pain — mine, and everyone else’s. I didn’t grow up thinking I’d go into mental health. Honestly, I just wanted to survive. But somewhere between the trauma, the chaos, the cancer, and the addiction, I realized that if I didn’t learn to understand my own mind, I wouldn’t make it out. That’s what brought me here — not just to school, but to a mission. I’m autistic, though that wasn’t something I always knew. For years, I thought I was just “too sensitive” or “too much.” I masked. I people-pleased. I internalized every harsh word and carried every abandonment like a scar. And still, I tried to smile through it. But I was unraveling inside. When I was diagnosed with cancer, I fought with everything I had. When I got sober, I rebuilt my life one day at a time. But the biggest battle I ever fought was the one no one could see — learning how to heal the parts of me that were never nurtured in the first place. I chose to become a Registered Behavior Technician not because it was easy, but because I knew what it was like to feel broken and voiceless — and I didn’t want anyone else to feel that way. Now, every day, I show up for clients who struggle to communicate, regulate, or connect. Many of them have autism or behavioral challenges. Some of them scream instead of speak, hit instead of ask. And when they do, I don’t flinch. I stay. I help them find the words, or the gestures, or the device that helps them say: I’m here. I matter. That’s why I’m pursuing a degree in Psychology with a focus on Mental Health. Because I want to do more than support people — I want to understand them deeply. I want to become a BCaBA so I can design better programs, advocate for more compassionate care, and teach others how to see behavior not as defiance, but as communication. I want to be the person I needed when I was younger — someone who sees past the meltdown, the silence, the pushback, and meets people where they are. I’m also writing a book — a raw, honest memoir about being an autistic addict who feels deeply and learns to heal loudly. It’s the book I wish I had when I was drowning in silence. I believe our stories save lives, and I want mine to reach the ones who think no one could ever understand what they’re going through. Because I do. This isn’t just a career to me. It’s personal. Every time I help a client ask for help instead of screaming… every time I see someone smile after a hard day because they were finally understood… I remember why I chose this. Not for recognition. Not for a title. But because I believe everyone deserves someone who refuses to give up on them — even when they’ve already given up on themselves. This degree is one step closer to becoming that person — for others, and for myself.