Every day, I wake up with a choice to keep going, to serve with compassion, and to trust in the path I am walking. That choice is not always easy, but it is always clear. I know why I am here. I know my purpose. I am a 34-year-old medical student in recovery, and on April 8, 2025, I will celebrate five years clean. My journey has been anything but traditional. I have faced failure, self-doubt, and obstacles that at times felt insurmountable. I once believed my dreams were out of reach when addiction caused me to fail out of RN school. I thought I had lost my chance. But recovery gave me something I never expected, the understanding that love, perseverance, and service could rebuild everything I thought was broken. Recovery showed me how beautiful love is. It is in the simple moments, the small acts of kindness that carry more weight than words ever could. It is walking up to a friend’s house during COVID, holding up birthday signs to remind her she is not alone. It is making an hour-long drive just to bring Oreos to a friend in a nursing home because I know it will brighten his day. It is the unconditional love that I was taught that keeps me going, the love of showing up, of giving without expectation, of lifting others the way I was lifted. That same love carried me through my father’s battle with ALS. I became his advocate and his source of comfort. Sitting beside him in the ICU, I saw how dignity could be preserved through the smallest gestures, a steady hand, a quiet presence, a patient ear when words failed. And in that moment, in the midst of fear and uncertainty, I told him, “I am going to apply to medical school.” I will never forget the look in his eyes, the way he found the strength to squeeze my hand, the silent yet deep-rooted belief he had in me. That moment became the turning point of my life. I know what it is like to lose your way. I know what it is like to need someone to believe in you. And now, I stand on the other side, ready to be that person for someone else. I will face the long hours, the sacrifices, and the challenges ahead because I know this is not just a career, it is my calling. Andrea Worden saw people for who they truly were, their struggles, their resilience, their hearts. I hope to carry that same vision forward, not just as a physician, but as someone who understands the power of compassion, of second chances, and of choosing every single day to walk a path of purpose. This is not sacrifice. This is love in its purest form. And I will give it everything I have.

Mental health has profoundly shaped not only who I am but how I view the world, interact with others, and aspire to serve those in need. It’s a part of me, woven into the fabric of my life, and it has informed my beliefs in ways I never imagined. The struggles I’ve faced with depression and anxiety have altered my perspective on resilience, empathy, and the importance of compassion in every aspect of life. They have given me a deep, unshakable belief that mental health is just as vital as physical health and deserves the same level of care, understanding, and respect. Living with depression has taught me what it feels like to be unseen, to struggle silently, and to long for someone to just understand. There are moments when the weight of it feels unbearable—like walking through life in a fog, where every task feels insurmountable. Anxiety, too, has its grip on me, creating a constant hum of worry that makes even the most ordinary moments feel overwhelming. But in those dark, lonely places, I found that healing begins with compassion, from myself and from others. I learned that vulnerability is not a weakness; it’s a bridge that connects us all. When we open up about our struggles, we invite others to do the same, and it is in that shared space of understanding that we begin to heal. These experiences have transformed my relationships. They’ve made me more patient, more compassionate, and more attuned to the emotional needs of those around me. I’ve learned that every person is fighting their own battle, even if it’s not visible on the outside. I’ve come to value the importance of listening without judgment, offering support without expectation, and creating spaces where people feel safe to express their pain. I’ve learned that sometimes the most powerful thing we can offer someone is not advice or solutions, but simply our presence. Sometimes, just being there to listen is all it takes for someone to begin to feel seen, heard, and understood. In my career aspirations, these struggles have been a guiding force. They’ve ignited a deep desire to pursue a path in healthcare, not just because of the science and the knowledge, but because of the opportunity to make a tangible difference in people’s lives. I want to be the kind of healthcare provider who sees the whole person—not just their symptoms or their diagnosis, but the person behind it all. I want to advocate for those whose pain is invisible, to offer hope to those who feel lost, and to remind every patient that they are not defined by their struggles but by their strength to keep going despite them. My experiences with mental health have given me the passion and the drive to help others in their darkest moments. They’ve shown me that healing is not a linear process, but one that takes time, patience, and above all, understanding. As I continue my journey toward a career in medicine, I carry these lessons with me, determined to create a space where mental health is valued and addressed with the same seriousness as any physical ailment. My struggles with mental health may have shaped my path, but they have also made me who I am today—a person who is driven by empathy, compassion, and a deep desire to serve others in the most meaningful way possible.

Recovery has brought different meanings into my life throughout my 4 years, 8 months, and 18 days of being clean. Yet, one constant keeps me grounded and connected is love. When I first began this journey, recovery was sparked by someone believing in me. Over time, my definition of recovery has evolved, just as I have. It’s no longer just about staying clean—it’s about embracing a new way of living. The one thing that has remained unchanged since day one is my commitment to not give up and to give myself a chance to live differently. Recovery isn’t a destination; it’s an ongoing process, a lifestyle that shapes who I am. It’s about self-awareness—acknowledging those old, self-centered attitudes and behaviors—and letting the pain guide me toward love and service. There are tough days, days when I need to lean on my tools more: calling my sponsor, attending a meeting, or doing acts of service. Gratitude, to me, is the essence of recovery. Recovery is about never forgetting where you once were—and how easily you could return there. It’s a journey that requires work, effort, and the courage to keep going.