The journey to where I stand today has been anything but easy. It’s a story of hope, despair, resilience, and transformation—a deeply personal narrative that began in 2017 when I stepped into the role of a Peer with lived expertise in substance use and mental health.
I still remember those early days vividly. My first job was at a Supervised Consumption site, and I walked in bright-eyed, filled with passion, and determined to make a difference. But I was also unprepared. There was no training, no guidance, no manual to help me navigate the immense responsibility I had taken on. Day after day, I found myself overwhelmed—trying to help others while quietly drowning myself. The burnout came fast and hard, leaving me questioning my place in this field.
By the end of that first year, I had to step away. I enrolled in a two-month trauma recovery program, followed by several months off to piece myself back together. It was during this time of deep reflection and healing through extensive trauma therapy that I realized something important: I wanted to keep going. I wanted to do this work—not just for others, but for myself.
When 2019 rolled around, I thought I was ready. I joined a large mental health and addictions organization, filled with cautious optimism. I hoped that this time would be different, that I would be supported and valued. But reality soon hit me.
I was only one of a few Peers with lived experience in substance use. And while my role existed because of my expertise, I quickly realized that “being hired for it” didn’t mean “being supported in it.” I didn’t have the training or supervision I desperately needed. The isolation I felt was suffocating. Once again, I burned out, and once again, I had to leave to heal.
It wasn’t just the lack of guidance that broke me—it was the systemic barriers I encountered everywhere I turned. Stigma was one of the most painful. My lived experience was supposed to be an asset, but instead, I felt like an outsider in a room full of clinicians/doctors. My voice wasn’t heard; my contributions were often tokenized. Sometimes, I felt like I was there just to check a box.
Hierarchy added another layer of struggle. As a Peer, I was at the bottom rung of the ladder, and no matter how many ideas or harm reduction initiatives I proposed, they often stalled before they could take off. The excitement I saw in top management’s eyes at first would fade, and my efforts felt like whispers lost in a roaring crowd.
Even among the clinicians I worked with, I often felt like an anomaly. Being the only person with lived experience on a team of 20 professionals wasn’t empowering—it was isolating. Instead of being given tools to navigate these power dynamics, I was left to figure it out on my own.
Perhaps most heartbreaking was the lateral violence I faced within the Peer community itself. Instead of the solidarity I had hoped for, there was competition and division. Instead of building each other up, we were breaking each other down. It felt like one more blow in an already uphill battle.
But through it all, I held onto something stronger than the pain: my purpose. I’ve seen the power of peer support firsthand. I’ve witnessed the light return to someone’s eyes after they’ve been met with compassion instead of judgment. I’ve felt the deep, unspoken connection that comes from saying, “I’ve been where you are.”
Those moments kept me going when I wanted to give up. They reminded me why I started this journey in the first place.
I’ve learned so much along the way, but perhaps the most important lesson is this: if organizations want Peers to thrive, they must do better. It’s not enough to hire people with lived expertise and hope for the best. We need proper training, meaningful supervision, and workplaces that value what we bring to the table.
Change won’t happen overnight, but it’s possible. Organizations must dismantle the stigma, hierarchy, and barriers that hold us back. They need to embrace lived expertise as a cornerstone of care, not a checkbox on a diversity list. Only then can we create a system where Peers feel empowered and supported—and where the people we serve receive the transformative care they deserve.
Looking back, my journey has been filled with struggle, but also with growth. I’ve come to see my scars as proof of my resilience. I’ve learned that even when the path seems impossible, it’s worth walking.
The road ahead may still be steep, but I believe in the power of change. I believe in the value of lived experience. And most of all, I believe in the incredible strength of the human spirit—mine, and yours.
I also feel deeply grateful for one advantage that has allowed me to continue this work: having access to trauma therapy and comprehensive health benefits. These resources have been critical to my healing and ability to return to work. However, I know that most Peers do not have access to such vital benefits, and this inequity is simply not acceptable. Access to trauma therapy and proper support should be the norm for all Peers, not the exception.
Tonya Evans
Cofounder/Peer Specialist
Reclaim Collective