Christopher Charles Owan Memorial Scholarship

At first glance, I do not look like the typical face of mental health care. Standing 6-foot-4, weighing 250 pounds, and wearing a full beard, I am often told I look like a bouncer or someone who served in the Special Forces. Strangers see my size and instinctively step back. But in my community of Surprise, Arizona, that size has become a shelter. I am a husband, a father of four, and a non-traditional student returning to Arizona State University to complete a mission that life, and necessity, has placed before me. Why the Mental Health Field? I currently serve as the Young Life Area Director for the West Valley. In this role, I am often the first call when a teenager is in crisis. However, the decision to pursue the mental health field was not born out of a desire for a job change, it was born out of a frantic need to fill a void. My work places me at ground zero of a generational emergency. With Generation Z and the emerging Generation Alpha, I am witnessing a tidal wave of mental health crises that previous generations simply did not face. It is no longer just teenage angst; I am seeing a terrifying baseline of crippling anxiety, dissociation, and the normalization of self-harm. I sit with middle schoolers, Gen Alpha kids, who are already trauma-weary, and high schoolers paralyzed by a digital world that never sleeps. The crisis is not theoretical to me. I have personally intervened in multiple suicide attempts and countless instances of severe ideation. I have sat in living rooms and emergency rooms with families who are watching their children unravel, knowing that the waitlist for a counselor is months long. Cruelly, this generational crisis coincided with a systemic failure. In 2023, the local school board voted to remove licensed social workers and mental health counselors from our campuses due to budget cuts. The "triage units" were stripped away just as student suicidality reached historic highs. I found myself sitting with teenagers grappling with severe victimization, realizing that while I could offer mentorship and a listening ear, I lacked the clinical tools to provide the professional intervention they desperately needed to survive. I am pursuing my Bachelor of Science in Counseling and Applied Psychological Science because I am tired of putting band-aids on bullet wounds. I am currently working on a state-level case involving severe trauma, and every day I am reminded that empathy alone is not enough; these students need expertise. I left a successful corporate management career, where I managed 135 employees at Costco, to work for a non-profit on a $250 monthly stipend because I believe this work is a matter of life and death. My goal is to become a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC) and establish a community-based counseling center in the West Valley. I want to be the resource that was taken away, a clinician who can handle the darkest traumas while remaining the "gentle giant" that makes a scared teenager feel safe enough to speak.

Despite having to traverse and survive abuse in a statutory relationship with someone 14 years my senior, who not only abused me but also sold heavy, illegal drugs and used these drugs to keep me subdued, surviving homelessness, and profound trauma, I have maintained a 3.5+ GPA across four demanding semesters of college. My resilience, intelligence, and unwavering drive fuel a vision that extends far beyond my own success: I aspire to create a holistic inpatient mental health facility that transforms the way individuals experience care and recovery. Through every hardship, I have chosen to prioritize my education and my future. I have maintained my standing in the Phi Theta Kappa National Honor Society while navigating significant personal obstacles, proving that perseverance and commitment can overcome even the most difficult circumstances. These experiences have strengthened my adaptability, sharpened my determination, and reinforced my ability to dream boldly and plan for the future. For these reasons, I believe I am not only deserving of financial support but also a meaningful investment. Giving back to my community is an integral part of who I am, as I have dedicated many hours volunteering with Feed My Starving Children in Mesa, AZ, and coordinated book drives with the South Mountain Community College Black Student Union, of which I was treasurer and then president during my graduating year. I have received generosity during times of severe need, and I feel a deep responsibility to extend that same branch of kindness to others. Volunteering brings me warmth, purpose, and healing; it helps me manage the lasting effects of PTSD, reminding me that compassion can profoundly change lives. Aspiring to create a holistic inpatient mental health facility, my ultimate goal is to improve the mental health care experience in the United States by opening a holistic inpatient treatment facility. This center would provide residents with personalized behavioral and life-development plans tailored to their unique needs. Patients would receive consistent, compassionate care from interdisciplinary teams whose methods are grounded in empirical research and proven therapeutic practices. I want to build a place where healing addresses the whole person—mind, body, and future. To achieve such a vision of altruistic entrepreneurship, I must pursue advanced education. I plan to earn at least a master’s degree, and if possible, ultimately strive for a doctorate in Neuropsychology so I can develop the expertise necessary to lead and innovate in the mental health field. However, continuing my education requires financial support. Assistance through this scholarship would help me afford housing, food, trauma-related medications, and the rising costs of tuition and academic expenses. Your investment would not only support my education but also empower me to dedicate my life to helping others heal. Thank you for hearing part of my story.

My mother remains the primary architect of my motivation. As a teenage mother who raised three sons independently, she embodied resilience long before I understood the meaning of the word. My grandmother, a lifelong educator, instilled in her a foundational belief that higher education was the key to purpose, self-determination, and community. Inspired by this, my mother enrolled in nursing school shortly after my birth. We navigated the complexities of Section 8 housing, chronic food insecurity, and the daily pressures of a high-crime neighborhood. Amidst these systemic hurdles, she balanced the rigors of clinical studies with the demands of raising three boys alone. Her dream was for her sons to follow her path into higher education and service; however, my journey was derailed by the heavy shadow of my father’s cycle of incarceration and substance use. Seeking an escape from that reality, I began using substances at a young age. Almost overnight, I traded my aspirations for the temporary relief found in a bag of drugs. For years, I felt as though I was suffocating under the weight of my environment. I entered the juvenile justice system at only 14 years old and did not "hit the surface" to breathe again until I was 28. This path led to a "revolving door" existence defined by depression, anxiety, and a "permanently bruised" psyche resulting in a diagnosis of PTSD. I ultimately lost—and then found—myself within the confines of an 8x12 concrete cell. It was there that a simple spiritual kit was laid at my feet; by kneeling to pick it up, I began a process of mental liberation that no razor-wire fence could contain. I enrolled in the Exodus program while incarcerated, a turning point that shifted my trajectory. During my final period of incarceration, I spent a year in isolation—a period that catalyzed my commitment to change. Upon my release, I entered Recovery Court, a diversion program that finally provided the trauma-informed therapy I had needed for decades. It is a poignant irony that the system often provides the necessary tools for survival only when one is on the brink of death. Empowered by my recovery, I entered the Behavioral Health field as a Forensic Peer Support Specialist. I returned to the same detention centers where I was once a number, this time providing re-entry resources. This work launched me into a plane of existence I once thought impossible. My professional growth since has been exponential. I made history as the first person with an extensive criminal record to be hired by the Recovery Court program—the same program I graduated from—eventually rising to become its Director. In this capacity, I have assisted thousands of individuals navigating the justice system. I have built strategic partnerships with the Mayor’s office, the Board of Supervisors, and the County Attorney’s Office. I am a proud alumnus of the Flagstaff Leadership Program and serve as an Executive Board Member of the Criminal Justice Coordinating Committee. I have traveled nationally to speak on justice reform and have consulted the Supreme Court of Arizona on numerous occasions. Today, I serve as a counselor for the Exodus program, coming full circle to the program that saved my life. I am currently pursuing my undergraduate degree with the goal of obtaining a Master of Social Work (MSW) to become a Licensed Clinical Social Worker (LCSW). I am dedicated to serving the most vulnerable sectors of our society. I am not just a product of the system; I am a leader working to redefine it.

When people ask me to describe myself, I think first about the quiet observer I have always been. I am someone who notices shifts in tone, the pause before someone answers a question, the difference between a real smile and one that is practiced. I grew up learning how to read a room before I spoke, and over time, that sensitivity became one of my greatest strengths. I am compassionate but grounded, empathetic yet practical. I believe deeply in connection, in listening without interrupting, and in the idea that small moments of care can change the direction of someone’s life. My decision to pursue a career in mental health is rooted in both love and loss. My cousin Ethan was only thirteen when he lost his battle with mental health. He was the kind of person who filled a room with laughter, who asked thoughtful questions, and who made others feel included. From the outside, he seemed bright and full of potential. But beneath that light was a struggle he carried quietly. Losing him reshaped my life. Grief is not a single emotion; it is shock, guilt, confusion, anger, and heartbreak layered together. After he passed, I struggled with my own mental health in ways I never anticipated. There were nights when everything felt heavy and endless. I began to understand, in a deeply personal way, how isolating internal battles can be. What I learned during that time is something I carry with me now: people can be surrounded by others and still feel completely alone. And sometimes, what saves a life is not a grand gesture, but one person who notices. I want to work with adolescents because they are navigating identity, pressure, and emotion all at once. It is a season of life where feelings are intense and support systems can feel fragile. I want to be the kind of professional who looks beyond behavior and asks, “What happened?” instead of “What’s wrong with you?” I want young people to feel safe enough to say the hard things out loud. Pursuing a degree in mental health is my way of transforming grief into purpose. I am currently studying behavioral health with an emphasis on adolescents and children because I believe early intervention changes outcomes. I am passionate about prevention, education, and accessibility. In schools and community settings, I hope to help create environments where conversations about anxiety, depression, and trauma are normalized rather than stigmatized. I want to equip students with coping tools before they reach a crisis point. What sets me apart is not only my personal connection to this work, but my commitment to professional growth. I understand that empathy alone is not enough; knowledge, ethical practice, and evidence-based strategies matter. I am dedicated to becoming a clinician who combines compassion with competence. Mental health care, to me, is about presence. It is about sitting in the discomfort with someone and reminding them that they are not broken. It is about validating experiences while also gently guiding growth. It is about ensuring that no young person feels invisible. I cannot change what happened, but I can honor him by showing up for others. I can listen longer. I can ask deeper questions. I can advocate for resources and reduce stigma. Most importantly, I can help adolescents see that even in their darkest moments, there is a path forward. My goal in the mental health field is simple yet profound: to be the person who notices, who listens, and who helps turn the light back on before it goes out.

The fundamentals of achieving goals, especially academically have been a challenging considering mental health, stability, and stress management. Mental health being most important, it has impacted daily lives when left alone, uncared for. Similar to a wound— one must pay attention to it and care for it so it can heal, at least clean it, right? It’s not as easy as it seems, and unfortunately it has impacted my daily life as well. As a recovering addict at the age of 16, and starting full time work at the same time, my academic journey was nonetheless an out of reach experience to me. I dropped out of high school at the same time, heading down a path I would either learn from or let consume me. During this period of my life, I came to a close overdose one night and had a choice of either staying on my carpet floor, scarping up bits of my life while I scavenge for another fix, or stand up and provide a solution to a problem that has to be recognized by me, and only me. This was a shifting moment of my life, after 6 months of depression, anxiety, addiction, and substance abuse I have been sober since 2017. Since then, I’ve enrolled back into high school in 2018 after moving to Colorado on my own and working full-time, becoming apart of the Class of 2020. Moving into my own apartment, finding work in Tucson, AZ after COVID hit, and going to psychotherapy and psychiatric appointment to stabilize my mental health, and cope with dilemmas as experiences in my life. It has not been easy, as there are dark days when I do not see the light at the end of the tunnel. Recovering from addiction, depression and being diagnosed as Bipolar has been a challenge, learning experience, and a long journey. It’s affected my confidence, stress levels, and handling/ regulating emotions. Daily life events that prove stressful may become overwhelming, pushing doubt into existence instead of willpower. Since starting college in 2021, I have been through so much mental health journeys of ups and downs, doubts and fears, but only to be graduating 4 years later with my associates in business administration. My social life had a great impact as isolation from addiction caused me to lose a lot of close people in my life, which taught me the value of family, community, education, and connection. I’ve struggled making simple friends, as many do, and forced myself to face the uncomfortable again, and again. This has built me into the resilient leader I am confident to say I am. Running a residential home cleaning business and working full-time while attending college full-time has taught me much about myself, my abilities, my weaknesses and strengths. Through the years, and til this day, mental health and my diagnoses and experiences have had negative impacts on both my academic journey and social life, it’s also shaped me into the person I am today, and someone who is always looking for ways to grow, improve and make better decisions everyday. Speaking of the month of April, this was the month in 2018 I also decided to quit substance abuse and journey into the unknown. Here I am today, graduating with my associates in business administration and leading a team of 18 people and running my own business. It’s always a journey, and a learning experience we all go through differently.