I grew up in the Dominican Republic and moved to the U.S. when I was five. My childhood was shaped by the reality of addiction, my cousin was using cocaine and I’d watch him sleep all day and stay up all night. He was kind, but deeply ashamed, and I remember how hard it was to see someone I loved struggle so much. My grandfather also struggled with alcoholism and eventually died from liver failure. Watching two people I cared about suffer like that taught me that addiction isn’t about being bad, it’s about being stuck in something painful. It hurts the person using, and it hurts the people who love them too. I barely drink now because of what I lived through, but I’ve never stopped believing there’s hope for people who use. I’ve shared my story with friends who were drinking heavily, and sometimes it helped them pause and think differently. I’ve been that listener for others who are hurting: someone who doesn’t judge, who gets it, and who knows what it’s like to love someone who can’t seem to stop. If you’re going through that now, I’d be honored to sit with you in it.