Recovery is relative to YOU, as every person has a different relationship with addiction. Each person's journey is distinct. Many view recovery as a process of becoming clean by removing adverse activities and social groups from your life; it makes recovery about being able to say you are "X" number of years sober. However, that makes recovery seem quite linear, like you woke up one day, made a 180-degree change, and just "became better." Although we all hope to be better, I find that framing recovery that way makes it feel unachievable and incredibly discouraging. I attempted to go 180 degrees when addressing my addiction, but I found myself facing other challenges, like developing an eating disorder in an attempt to maintain control in my life. Instead, I believe recovery means showing up for myself. I couldn't solely focus on eliminating one "bad" thing to simply "become better," as I still had mental health challenges/addictions to work through. When we are born into this world, we are born with nothing guaranteed, except the body and mind we are born with. When we leave this world, we die with nothing but that same body and mind. I needed to show up for myself because my body and mind are the one thing guaranteed in this life, and I couldn't continue to destroy it. To me, recovery doesn't mean perfection, but it means showing up for myself each day, even if there are ups and downs along that road.

For me, nothing beats a survival multiplayer world (SMP) with my best friends. In 2013, I was a 6th grader who was struggling to make friends in a new school. That year, I begged my parents to buy me a copy of this new game called Minecraft and I watched some videos of people playing on YouTube. Seeing the way these people on YouTube were able to connect to make friends was inspiring to me. They would build farms together to share resources, build beautiful structures and creations, and explore their world. I knew I wanted to get the game to find my sense of community and start an SMP to achieve these things too. In 2014 while playing on a multiplayer sever, I found a group of 5 other friends who all wanted to hop on a group call to play the game and start our private world. From that day, we have never stopped talking to each other. They are my best friends. Each year, we create a new world where we do exactly what I dreamed. We would fight the ender dragon together, explore the nether fortress and bastions, create farms and trade resources, make magnificent builds inspired by our favorite architecture, and even attempt to achieve all the Minecraft Advancements. Everything was centered around our community on our server, and how we can have fun, but also work together on whatever our respective goals are in that survival world. We all value teamwork and collaboration, as well as supporting each other's goals, whatever that may be. As many friends get older, many can feel like they fade due to the natural changes in life, but we all have been able to maintain a connection through Minecraft, as the game has grown with us through continued updates. I am thankful for the game to continue sharing memories with these friends and working together, as we play most evenings for a couple of hours every week. As we approach 2024, I recognize that I am about to celebrate 10 years of friendship with these people I met online, and am thankful for the real-life friendships we have built as adults who have now met each other in person. My partner of 4 years is one of the friends I met in 2014 in the game, and we recently got engaged this year and now live together. I am amazed, as the friendships I made back in 2014 not only saved me by giving me an outlet as a child to explore, be creative, and make friends, but I also recognize that Minecraft has fundamentally altered my life course by giving me these wonderful relationships and my partner today. It has been an opportunity to continue working together, as well as serve as an outlet to express ourselves creatively and socially as adults after we get home from school and work, as the game is infinite and full of possibilities. With each update and year, I never feel like I run out of things to learn and try, especially with my friends alongside me in our SMP world.

I’ll never forget the night my father tainted the taste of peppermint candy canes and the smell of a wood-burning fire on Christmas Eve. In 2019, my father experienced the worst psychiatric break during our traditional Christmas Eve celebration. He became overly intoxicated and began getting agitated. He grabbed me by the shoulders, questioning me if I thought he was a good enough father, and repeatedly asking if I loved him. Confused, I questioned why he was asking these sorts of things rather than answering him, only escalating him further. He began stating that I was a terrible daughter for not recognizing how hard he worked to provide for me. His growing agitation and distrust after any reassurance I gave resulted in him storming out of the house. My mom and I followed him in the car, attempting to coax him to just come home. We ended up losing him near the forest, and we had to file a missing person’s report out of concern for him harming himself or others. We sat in the police station until dawn, praying. We never opened presents that Christmas morning, but the greatest gift was the police finding him alive that morning. This story was just one of the several times during my life when my father had a mental health episode. My father’s side has a long history of mental illness. His uncle had passed from suicide during a schizophrenic hallucination that caused him to run onto an airport runway due to improper medication. His mother had major depressive disorder and was an alcoholic, who drank during her pregnancy and his childhood. His father had generalized anxiety disorder, being extremely rigid in his behaviors, constantly asking questions repeatedly during high states of anxiety, and relying on alcohol as a way to cope. My father’s family passed it on to him, and unfortunately, this is a cycle that persisted through the generations to me. I grew up experiencing constant anxiety and depression as a result of my father’s quick changes in mood, as well as never feeling like a good enough daughter. His instability in temper made me tip-toe around him, feeling like I was forced to hold my breath to not set him off, and feeling anguish when I did. Despite this, I do not believe my father is a bad man. He is simply a broken man. He came from a generation where mental health was taboo. He suffered in the dark his entire life, not knowing how to manage or heal himself. I believe in breaking that generational cycle. I am glad some resources have helped me and my father repair our relationship, as well as address our struggles with mental illness through therapy to get the support we needed. Although change is moving towards open dialogue around mental health, many are still suffering. We may not know who is battling right now, but what I do know is that every person has something to contribute. Each person I have met has contributed to my personhood and my story; I envision my life as a mosaic, with each person I meet adding a piece to the mosaic to create and change me. Extending love, kindness, and appreciation to everyone is a core belief of mine because of my mental health experiences. Even if others don't recognize their purpose on this earth, I recognize their contribution, and I seek to remind them about their contribution to this world, too. Sometimes people need that reminder that they are contributing and loved, just like my dad needed to hear that Christmas Eve.

Speech-language pathology is an allied health profession that seeks to provide clients with the support they need to communicate meaningfully in the world. When I was an undergraduate student, I partook in a volunteer program called Music and Memory, and I witnessed the ways music and social connection changed the experiences of local nursing home residents during COVID-19, a very socially isolating experience for our elders in nursing homes. I observed firsthand how giving someone access to communication and social interaction, even through online platforms like Zoom fundamentally impacted a person's quality of life. The resident's entire demeanor lit up the moment we began to conversate about their lives, share music or movies from their youth, and connect through engaging activities like crafts. This was the launching point for growing my understanding of how social interaction and connection are fundamental to the human experience. Research has shown that humans say an average of 7000 words a day. Without the ability to communicate and connect with others, we lose a piece of our humanity that many of us take for granted each day. My passion is to find a way to support adults who have acquired a disability and may be grappling with the physical, social, and emotional impacts of that diagnosis, particularly with the way acquired disability and communication intersect. For example, life fundamentally changes when diagnosed with an acquired disability, and that change can be especially challenging for individuals who have lived entire lives having the skills to communicate with ease when engaging with their spouses, children, grandchildren, coworkers, or even random community members, like the grocery store clerk. When someone has a stroke, they can acquire conditions that make it motorically challenging to speak or struggle with language output due to struggling to find the right words to express themselves. Those 7,000 words can quickly become a couple hundred, or less, which is isolating. Although speech-language pathologists do not directly treat the acquired condition, like a stroke, we do treat the speech, language, and swallowing impacted by that condition by providing therapy to rehabilitate and compensate for the newfound challenges these patients face regarding communication afterward. That rehabilitation aims to support these folks to be able to restart connecting meaningfully with family, go back to work, read books, watch movies, maintain independence to attend doctor's appointments, order a coffee from a cafe, be able to eat and drink the foods they enjoy, and to do the things they find meaningful to their livelihood. Speech, language, and swallowing are deeply intertwined with our hobbies, interests, responsibilities, and identities. I am currently enrolled in my second year of graduate school for my Master's in speech-language pathology. I aim to move to central Oregon upon graduation from my program and have been exploring what rural towns and settings I can serve during my clinical fellowship. Hospitals and rehabilitation services are often less accessible in rural areas due to fewer professionals and resources compared to urban areas; however, there is still a need to have access to these services in rural communities that are underserved due to lack of access to medical and rehabilitative care. Meaningful change in our community is made by directly supporting others, and being able to join and serve another human on their rehabilitation journey is directly altering that person's life. There is life beyond diagnosis, and the contribution of a speech-language pathologist in serving individual patients to achieve their goals and helping individuals participate meaningfully again in their community makes waves for the better. It fuels my motivation to be in this profession.

I recall the day my freshman biology teacher gave every student a quiz that calculated each student's carbon footprint based on what they eat, what they buy, how they travel, and what felt like a hundred other components that all contribute to our carbon footprint. Ever since I was a teenager in that class, I dreamed of building an Earthship-style home on a plot of land where I could attempt to live as self-sustainably as possible, where I could grow produce, have livestock, develop a rainwater collection system that generates electricity to use renewable energy, have spaces that support pollinators and native wildlife, compost all food waste, hunt ethically, and so on. When unable to be self-sufficient, I hope to fall back on my community, such as buying produce or meat from local farmers or buying clothing from community members who knit instead. This homesteading, community-centered lifestyle where I prioritize sustainable living is still a dream I hold, and I hope to make it a reality as I begin my career and start saving in just a few short months following graduation. However, I recognize that despite being unable to live that dream now as a student, that doesn't mean I can't try to live as sustainably as possible now. I still seek to find ways to minimize my impact on the environment by being aware of how I consume. I seek to be as zero-waste as possible regarding packaging, such as going to "refill shops" to replenish items in glass containers, rather than plastics, and when I cannot find alternatives for purchasing plastics, I always recycle. I am also always conscious of my water and electricity usage, too, as I never leave water running, such as while doing dishes, and I prioritize keeping items that use electricity unplugged or off when not in use. I also value purchasing from companies that have sustainability missions, whether it be to protect land/animals or efforts to use renewable energy to be carbon-zero companies. However, I believe the largest way I have sought to fight carbon emissions is from within my community. One simple change in my community was at my apartment complex, where dumpsters were disorganized with no sorting. A group of community members collaborated to mark off recycling bins by material-type, to hopefully minimize contamination of unrecyclable products for recycling services that may result in the disposal of all the items when they reach the facility. I am also blessed with many local farms in my area, where individuals often sell animal products raised locally and ethically, as well as produce grown without fertilizers or pesticides that adversely impact soil, water, and animal health. Additionally, I always shop for "new" clothing at thrift stores or participate in community clothing swaps, and when I am done with clothing, furniture, or items, I always donate items back to the community to prevent unnecessary waste. Working together in communities is crucial, as we cannot pursue environmental sustainability alone. We only have one Earth to call home. I believe we need large-scale change among our corporations and government structures to better protect our planet; however, we cannot be ignorant of the small changes we can make as individuals, as sustainability and conservation efforts need to be onboarded by every human on this Earth. Change starts with us. That doesn't mean zero-waste or zero-carbon emissions as I acknowledge, I do drive a gas-powered vehicle. I do buy plastics. I do use a computer daily. However, we can simply do our best given the means we have, and continue working towards a better future together.

The average American has a lifespan of about 77.28 years. As humans, we often share what we hope to get out of that life. We hope to have a good paying job. We hope to buy a home. We hope to have a comfortable life. However, the number one thing elders in end-of-life care discuss recurringly is not about what they have at the end of life, but what they gave, or contributed to the world. As a result, I seek to live a life that puts effort into service and advocacy for others. I grew up in a community with demographics of 70% Hispanic/Latino identifying individuals. I had many peers in school express their hopes to attend college, as their parents urged them to after immigrating to America. Shortly after I began high school, I was approached by my English teacher to ask if I would be interested in volunteering as a tutor to support students who commonly struggled in English, as many students in the community were English language learners. There was no better purpose in helping support another human being's learning, as education betters the community and world for everyone in the long run. I continued tutoring for 3 years until I graduated high school; however, even when beginning my undergraduate degree, I soon found opportunities to continue supporting peers in their academic pursuits for the next 3 years. I served as a peer mentor for 4 semesters in phonetics & phonology and language development, and later worked as an undergraduate teaching assistant of Beginner American Sign Language. To me, the service of supporting others in their educational goals reaches far beyond what I can do alone as a student pursuing higher education. The impact of supporting a student write their college application essay, study for a major exam, or learn how to sign ASL could create waves of change in ways I could not imagine by helping them reach their goals, too. In undergrad, I partook in a volunteer program called Music and Memory, and I witnessed the ways music and social connection changed the experiences of local nursing home residents during COVID-19, a very socially isolating experience for our elders in nursing homes. I observed firsthand how giving someone access to communication and social interaction, even through online platforms like Zoom fundamentally impacted a person's quality of life. The resident's entire demeanor lit up the moment we began to conversate about their lives, share music or movies from their youth, and connect through engaging activities like crafts. Presently, I continue to do all these as a graduate student pursuing my degree in Speech-Language Pathology, but in addition, I am a graduate student assistant that works with classmates and undergraduates in learning material. I participate on the advocacy committee to promote change in the field of education by writing letters to congress, such as fighting for caseload caps to reduce burnout, which currently causes a shortage of clinicians that serve children with disabilities. Additionally, I have participated as camper support during graduate school at various summer camps designed to accommodate individuals with disabilities or who are neurodivergent, and I have observed the way accommodations can create equal access for participation. I am also working at a school with Deaf/Hard of Hearing children to support their acquisition of language and success in reading and writing. Overall, there is no end to where I can see service as a part of my future work, and I believe this is just the start of what I can do in my 77.28 years to make the world a better place.

One valuable experience in my personal and professional development has been my volunteer work with a local nursing home in DeKalb, Illinois to improve the quality of life of residents with dementia through music and social engagement in my university’s Music and Memory Program. Socialization is a need that residents were deprived of in nursing homes due to isolation from the COVID-19 pandemic due to visitor restrictions. I became involved in the program because dementia runs in my family, and I have personally witnessed the impacts on my own family system when an individual declines cognitively, and the major lack of resources and support offered to these individuals and their families. Those with dementia are significantly underserved in America, as society often views this population as a "lost cause" due to the degenerative nature of the disease, including healthcare systems that stop prioritizing this population's care once diagnosed. However, every person with a neurological, degenerative disease deserves quality of life until the end. It is not about the loss of cognitive functions, but rather the opportunities we can provide towards the end of life for these individuals. Being able to maximize cognitive functions and help residents experience social connection despite the adverse global circumstances supported their quality of life, rather than allowing social isolation to continue depriving their brains of input and worsening mental health. It was transformative observing the difference it made in the residents’ cognition by keeping their brains engaged in conversation over a Zoom call, and the joy they shared when speaking of memories and stories of their life through reminiscent activities. Currently, I am a graduate student pursuing my Master's of Science in speech-language pathology. Not only do the activities we do align with evidence-based therapeutic approaches I will use as a speech-language pathologist, but this volunteer experience has allowed me to gain the interpersonal skills necessary to have with a client, such as asking questions about the client's life and personal interests. My involvement in the program has given me the opportunity to apply and serve as the organization’s vice president, too. The role of vice president has supported me in developing skills related to collaboration on a team and coordinating with others. I host the meetings via Zoom, and I manage the attendance and involvement of a group of volunteers. I meet with the volunteers after each session to listen to their ideas or concerns, such as technical issues or if there was less engagement from a resident that particular day. I then relay those concerns and ideas back to nursing home staff and other executive board members to seek solutions as a collective, where we can problem-solve how to facilitate better engagement in the following session. This opportunity of leadership has allowed me to regularly practice listening and communication skills among groups, which are communication skills I will utilize on an interdisciplinary team in my future work (e.g., PT, OT, teachers, social workers, etc.) and when counseling with family members as a practicing SLP. Along with my work on the executive board, I have created activities such as remote crafts or PowerPoint slideshows that have a plethora of games, such as “Would you Rather?” questions or other conversational prompts to continue helping volunteers and residents build relationships and have positive experiences that improve residents’ well-being. Overall, the impact of the work is meaningful, and it impacts the lives of a vastly underserved population, but it also supports my future career in dementia care as a speech-language pathologist and the skills necessary to be a successful clinician.

As children, many kids light up with excitement when asked "What do you want to do when you grow up?" For me, that was always a daunting question. The idea of making a choice about something I loved felt impossible. I experienced uncertainty about who I wanted to be for many years, even well into high school. It was at the end of high school when filling out college applications that I had to declare a major. I paused. I clicked out of the application, waiting days before opening it again. Between my own mom, teachers at school, and school admissions, I knew I needed to narrow in on a choice. I explained to my mom that I was scared of that decision; I always had been. My mom was such a patient woman. One day while driving, she slowly began talking with me about my career, and said not to think about the position, but what I desire in life. She asked what my biggest priority was in a future career, whether that was financial stability, job security, enjoyment from the work, and so on, which I determined was a job that supported others, as I had been a tutor for 5 years and desired to continue to do work that felt rewarding, and that was one-on-one or in small groups. She asked if I was interested in healthcare, education, or public service, and I realized that healthcare was the most appealing. She asked what my favorite courses were in school, which included psychology, biology, and math, but also knew I had strong skills in literacy. After my mother's series of narrowing questions, she mentioned that I should consider a job in speech-language pathology. In that second, everything came together so clearly. This field intersected my whole life. I thought about my own difficulty with being understood when speaking due to articulation. I thought about my best friend who was born with hearing loss. I thought about my autistic neighbor who was non-speaking and whom I often babysat. I thought about my grandmother's experience following her stroke with swallowing and aphasia. I thought about my other grandmother's onset of dementia, which slowly impacted all cognitive domains. Throughout my whole life, this was a profession that had served me, and many others surrounding me. I realized the impact of being able to communicate, as it is so essential to our existence safely in the world, but also fundamental to quality of life, as humans innately desire connection, engagement, and participation. I realized so suddenly how this was the job, as it incorporated all the things my mom made me realize I prioritized in a future career. I declared a major in communication disorders, graduated high school, and I started college that following fall at Northern Illinois University. Within my first communication sciences and disorders class, I knew I made the right choice, and I never looked back. Currently, I am a graduate student at Pacific University, who is in my final year of the program. I am interested in swallowing disorders, cognition, aphasia, and end-of-life care. I am to complete my full-time externship this spring in acute and inpatient care units in a rural hospital, as I believe many people in rural communities never have access to speech and language services that can fundamentally alter their lives, as well as other allied professional services that support rehabilitation. It is my own life experiences intersecting with rehabilitative services that inspired me to continue doing that work that has changed the lives of myself, and many close to me.