by Linsey Carducci | Jul 15, 2025 | DSP Profiles
When I first started working as a direct support professional, I never imagined it would become a career I genuinely love. Before this, I bounced between jobs—fast food, Taco Bell—just chasing a paycheck. I’d call off work for no reason, make excuses. But here, I show up early. I stay late. It’s about the first job I’ve ever actually liked going to.
Now, I’m the assistant manager at my site, and I’m proud of how far I’ve come. I still fix cars on the side—that’s something I’ve been doing since I was 17—but supporting people with intellectual and developmental disabilities is different. It’s meaningful. I’m 21 now, still young, but I know this job is teaching me skills that are changing who I am for the better.
Patience is the biggest one. When I first started, I didn’t have much of it. I hated repeating myself. But in this job, I’ve learned that patience isn’t just helpful, it’s essential. You work with people who might not hear well or who need extra time to process things. You can’t rush them. You have to meet them where they are, and when you do, the day goes smoother for everyone. A simple conversation, even if it’s the same one over and over, can mean the world to someone.
We have a real family bond at the home I work in. We throw cookouts, celebrate birthdays with the people we support, and show up for each other no matter what. That sense of community is something I never had in other jobs. Here, we’re all in this together—staff, specialists, families, and the people we support.
If you’re thinking about becoming a DSP, my advice is simple: try it. Ask questions. Take your time. Be patient, with yourself and others. And most importantly, believe in yourself. I was skeptical at first too, but this job grew on me. It helped me grow as a person.
This field isn’t for everybody. Every house, every shift is different, and every person you support will have different needs. But if you come in with an open mind and a willingness to learn, you might find a calling here like I did.
Do I know what’s next for me? Not exactly. I’m keeping my options open. Maybe I’ll own a mechanic shop one day. Maybe I’ll work in another part of this agency. But I’m not going anywhere just yet. This job means too much to me. And I still love it, more than I ever thought I could love any job.
by Linsey Carducci | Jul 15, 2025 | DSP Profiles
I’m a direct support professional. Before this, I worked as a housekeeper in a nursing home. My mom worked at Cardinal Hayes in direct support, and when I told her I was looking for a new job, she immediately said, “Come to where I am.” So I did.
People ask, “What’s a DSP?” I say we help people live their best lives. Yes, we do medical tasks—like physical care, feeding through G-tubes, giving medications—but it’s so much more. It’s person-centered. We help people do things they’ve never done, take them places, and experience new things. We all bring ideas and try to engage the people we support in different ways. You’re really just supplementing their life.
I work a lot with Josh and some other young adults in our home. Josh gets his food and meds through a G-tube. When I started, I didn’t know how to do that—much of this, you learn as you go. Honestly, even in hospitals, we’ve had to explain G-tubes to nurses. It’s not just physical—it’s understanding, adapting, and educating others too. Once you get to know the people we support and their personalities, everything gets easier. Josh and I, we joke, we talk. This is his house. We watch shows, listen to music, make him comfortable. He gets a say in what happens, and that matters.
This job has made me more empathetic. It’s shown me how much the world still isn’t built for people with disabilities. I’ve found the advocate in me because of this work. Whether someone’s in a wheelchair, has a learning disability, or uses a feeding tube—those are all normal things. But the world doesn’t treat them that way, and that’s what has to change. At doctor’s appointments, I go with Josh. I advocate, but I also give him space to speak and ask questions. He loves that. He wants to know what they’re doing and be part of it.
Josh and I talk a lot. He asks, “How do I ask for that?” and I tell him, “Use your voice.” That’s how we start. Conversations lead to ideas. That’s how he ended up at a wrestling event. Then a concert—he saw Ariana Grande live in New York City. He loved it. He got to meet some of my friends. He loves music, people, socializing. I even took him to my powerlifting gym. He loved that too.
The hardest part of this job? The emotional weight. We lose people. We get attached. It hits like losing a friend or family member. And we’re short-staffed, like everyone right now, so we work a lot. But the joy outweighs it. Seeing someone like Josh experience something new—it’s worth it.
People think this is just caretaking. It’s not. We’re helping people live. I’m going to college now through this job, taking human services classes. I started in business, but now I’m here. And it opened my eyes. I don’t know my five-year plan, but I know this—I’m in this. Maybe I’ll stay a DSP. I kind of enjoy it. I like the flexibility. And I’ve got support no matter what.
We need to talk more about this job and normalize it, like we do for CNAs or nurses. The more we talk about the good parts, the more people might join us. Josh is a normal person, and just because he needs help doesn’t mean he shouldn’t live a full life. DSPs make that life possible. For anyone thinking about this work, I say try it. Dip your toes in. You’ll learn something about yourself. It’s human services. It’s not always easy, but it’s real. It’s human, and it’s needed.
by Linsey Carducci | Jul 15, 2025 | DSP Profiles
I’ve been doing this work for 26 years. I’m a direct support professional and also the residential program manager for a supportive living program. My role is to help people live as independently as possible, whatever that looks like for them.
That support can be anything: going to medical appointments, managing medications, meal planning, budgeting. I help them look over their pay stubs, figure out what bills are due, and make sure they can still do the things they want to do. It’s not just about tasks—it’s about supporting people in living the life they choose.
Even though I’m a manager, I still love the DSP part of the job most. That hands-on work is where you build relationships and really make a difference. Paperwork is part of it but being present in their lives, that’s the heart of it.
My passion for this started with my brother. He was diagnosed with mild autism, and I fought hard for him to get the services he deserved. Someone once told me, “You’re really good at this,” and that was it. I made a career out of it.
The program I work in isn’t 24/7. People might need daily support at first, or just a check-in once a week. It’s all based on what they need and their goals. We have people in the program as young as 22 and others close to 67. Some come in with very basic skills and may not know how to turn on a burner or boil water. Others are like little chefs who hardly need help at all. We start where they are.
Technology helps a lot. We use things like the Pill Drill, which lets them sort their meds ahead of time, and it alerts them when it’s time to take them. They scan it so staff can see they took it without having to be there. That kind of tech helps people live more independently.
What keeps me going is that I love what I do. I never wake up thinking, “Ugh, I have to work today.” Some days are nonstop, but I don’t mind. I’m helping someone live on their own, make their own choices. That means something.
What’s hard is that we’re short-staffed. People come in, see the responsibilities, and leave. You can flip burgers for more money. But in this work, you’re helping someone build a life. Shouldn’t that be valued more?
This work matters. Without us, how do people reach their goals? How do they live on their own, cook their meals, pay their bills? We’re here to support that. To be part of someone’s success story. There’s nothing like it.
by Linsey Carducci | Apr 23, 2025 | DSP Profiles
I’ve been doing this work for over 20 years, and I still get emotional talking about it. That’s how I know I’m where I’m supposed to be.
Right now, I support people with intellectual and developmental disabilities in finding and keeping jobs. Sometimes that means helping with applications and interviews. Sometimes it means checking in with a phone call or meeting with a manager. Other times, I’m in high schools, teaching students job skills as they prepare for what’s next. It all depends on what that person needs, and that’s what I love most. It’s not one-size-fits-all. It’s personal.
To me, being a DSP means treating people like people. Not just a job title. Not a diagnosis. Just another human being with hopes, strengths, struggles, and dreams. I want people to feel seen and heard. I want them to know they matter.
I started when I was 19, working in a house with 12 residents. A lot has changed since then, but some things haven’t. Like how powerful it is when someone trusts you—really trusts you—to support them. That doesn’t come easy. With so much turnover in this field, people have learned to protect themselves. Why open up when the next staff might be gone in a week?
That’s the hard part, earning someone’s trust when they’ve been let down before. But I stick with it. I take the time, even when I don’t have it. Because once that trust is there, everything changes. That’s when you see someone grow, take risks, and start to believe in themselves.
That’s what keeps me going, watching people realize what they’re capable of. I tell them all the time: “Be yourself. You can do anything.” And I mean it.
I’ve worked in group homes, day programs, and community-based programs. I’ve made calls to care coordinators, talked with doctors, and handled all kinds of paperwork. But none of that compares to the feeling you get when someone you’ve supported lands a job they love or tells you they feel confident for the first time. That’s what matters.
It’s hard sometimes, especially lately. Wages are going up everywhere, and it’s scary to think I might not be able to afford to stay in a job I love. But I’m doing everything I can to keep going, to hold onto this work that means so much to me. Because being a DSP isn’t just what I do. It’s who I am. And if I can show even one person that they’re valued, capable, and not alone, then I’ve done something right.
by Linsey Carducci | Apr 23, 2025 | DSP Profiles
I’ve been a direct support professional for about five years now, and I honestly love the work. I didn’t set out on this path—I kind of fell into it. A friend of mine worked for AHRC NYC and mentioned they were looking for people to join. I was curious, ready for something new, and started in an entry-level position. I’ve been here ever since.
In this role, I support people with disabilities in their day-to-day lives, but it’s more than just that. A big part of what I do is helping folks build skills—job skills, life skills, communication skills. We spend time in the community volunteering, attending book clubs to build reading skills, and just being out in the world doing things that matter. It’s all about working on goals that they set—things that are meaningful to them.
We’ve done everything from sorting baby donations for families in need in the Bronx, to organizing art supplies that go out to public schools, to delivering meals with different Meals on Wheels programs. Sometimes we help with landscaping and clean-up in Prospect Park. All of it is real work that gives back to the community, and the people I support take pride in that.
This job has taught me a lot, especially about patience. There are tasks I could do quickly, but the point isn’t for me to do them. It’s about giving the person I’m supporting the time and space to learn and do it themselves. That’s where the growth happens.
In this job, you have to learn to go with the flow. You can have a plan for the day, but things come up—unexpected stuff. You just figure it out in the moment. I’ve really learned to let go of the idea that everything has to go perfectly. Sometimes we’re late. Sometimes the plan changes. That’s life, and that’s okay.
What keeps me here is how meaningful the work is. I love working directly with people. It’s not always easy—it takes a lot of effort and flexibility—but it’s fun, too. You’re not just clocking in and out; you’re building relationships, and that’s powerful.
If someone’s thinking about getting into this work, I’d say: don’t expect to learn about people just from labels. You might be told, “This person has autism,” or “This person has a disability,” but none of that really tells you who they are. You have to take the time to get to know them. That’s how you really learn.
I see myself staying in this field long term. In the next few years, I’d love to grow within the organization and find new ways to help people even more. This work matters, and I’m proud to be part of it.
by Linsey Carducci | Apr 23, 2025 | DSP Profiles
I’ve been working as a direct support professional for 22 years, and I’m currently a house manager, supporting seven individuals with intellectual and developmental disabilities.
I didn’t always see myself in this line of work. I actually started out studying computer science. But a friend of mine who worked in the field told me, “You’re full of empathy and compassion. I think this job is for you.” So I gave it a try. My first weekend on the job, I ended up in the ER with someone—and I got chased around the kitchen by a man I supported! It was a rough start, but I didn’t walk away. I wanted to learn more. I changed my major from computer science to human services, and I’ve been doing this work ever since.
Today, I manage a home where we support seven people. About half have families who are involved, and I make it a point to build strong relationships with them. Their loved ones may not see what’s happening every day, so I do what I can to keep them informed and feeling confident. If someone has a doctor’s appointment or needs something explained, I make sure I’m there and can follow up with their family. That’s just how I like to work.
I took my time moving into management. I wanted to make sure I was ready to give it 110%. Now that I’m in the role, I do just that. I care deeply about the people we support, and I also care about supporting the staff team. Teamwork and communication are key. If the staff is good, then the people we support are going to be good.
This work isn’t easy. Sometimes the people we support have tough days. Sometimes there’s an emergency. And honestly, the hardest part for me is the paperwork—not the people. But if you’re dedicated, you get it done.
The best part of this job? It’s the thank-yous. When someone I support says, “Thank you,” I know I’ve made a difference in their day. That makes it all worth it.
If you’re thinking about this kind of work, my advice is simple: Make sure your heart is in it. Even a little bit of compassion and empathy goes a long way. And don’t ever judge someone by their disability. The people we support are smart. They’re capable. And they teach me something new every day.