As part of the Library of Lived Experiences series by Ryan's Hope, local artist and advocate Dustin Pineau—known to many by his stage name, Slick—shared a deeply personal story of hardship, healing, and hope. In a heartfelt conversation with Christine Nayler, Co-founder of Ryan’s Hope, Dustin opened up about growing up in subsidized housing, stepping into adult responsibilities far too early, and surviving the long, dark corridors of addiction and depression.

Raised by a single mother in a low-income neighborhood, Dustin assumed a caregiver role for his younger sister at a young age—well before he had the emotional tools to process what that meant. “It wasn’t just about making lunches or helping with homework,” he said. “It was about trying to be a stable person when I didn’t feel stable myself.”

That weight left a mark. Dustin spoke candidly about the emotional toll of feeling isolated, the sting of being bullied, and the internal battles that followed him through adolescence and early adulthood. "I grew up fast, but not in the way people think. It wasn’t maturity—it was survival,” he said.

His path eventually led to dangerous coping mechanisms—substance use, suicidal ideation, and a growing sense of disconnection from the world around him. He recalled the deep pain of watching friends and peers succumb to addiction, with grief becoming a familiar presence. “It got to the point where I lost count of how many people I’d lost,” he said quietly.

But Dustin’s story didn’t end there.

Now in recovery, he has found strength and solace through creative expression. Music and art have become not just hobbies, but lifelines—ways to process his experiences and offer something back to the community. He credits his sister, the same one he helped raise, as one of his most consistent and grounding sources of support. “She’s been there even when I didn’t want her to be,” he laughed. “She’s my anchor.”

Dustin now uses his voice—and his stage name Slick—as tools for connection. He encourages others to open up about their mental health and addiction struggles and not to shy away from vulnerability. For him, healing isn’t just personal—it’s collective. “We need to stop pretending we’re all okay,” he said. “That silence kills more people than addiction ever could.”

His message is one of resilience and reflection, but also action. He urges others not to give up, especially when the path forward seems foggy or steep. “This is maybe my reason,” Dustin said. “To speak about what I experience, and maybe I can help somebody down the road.”

Through raw honesty and hard-won wisdom, Dustin offers something rare: a reminder that healing is messy, but possible—and that even the darkest stories can become beacons for others searching for light.