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.

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.