Mental Health Profession Scholarship

People assume that mental health care is always healing. I learned early that it isn’t. At twelve years old, I entered an inpatient mental health program, expecting it to be the place that finally made things feel safe again. Instead, it showed me how quickly young people can be overlooked, misunderstood, or silenced inside systems meant to protect them. That experience didn’t just shape how I see mental health—it shaped the kind of person I want to become. Even now, as I work through my own mental health challenges, I carry the belief that no teenager should ever have to question whether they’re truly being cared for when they’re at their most vulnerable. At my lowest point, I wasn’t just struggling emotionally—I was trying to survive my own mind. I was struggling with depression, suicidal ideation, and self-harm. It felt impossible to get out of bed every day to take care of myself, and I felt trapped in my own mind. Healing wasn’t a switch—it was a practice. I finally started to heal through therapy, faith, journaling, and leaving everything out on the volleyball court. My progress hasn’t been linear, but I can proudly say that this January, I’m four years free of anorexia and three years free of self-harm. Even after I started healing, grief tested everything I’d learned about staying afloat. My dad passed away at the end of my freshman year, and once again, it felt impossible to get out of bed. When life finally started to feel as normal as it could four months later, my best friend passed away, too. I was so angry at the world and lived in constant anxiety about who would be next, but then I realized I couldn’t control the losses I experienced—I could only control what I did with the love I still had. I still feel my grief daily, but I’ve learned how to carry it and use it for good. Healing became even more meaningful when I stopped hiding and began helping others feel less alone. This past summer, I spoke about my grief publicly to four hundred people at camp and shared my story. It was fulfilling to see how many people it touched and to be able to speak to them about their struggles afterwards. After my dad passed away, I met so many people who were starting their own grief journeys, and in the midst of all of my pain, I’ve been able to help them through theirs. I’ve learned that honesty reduces the stigma surrounding mental health. Sharing my story became a way of giving other people permission to talk about theirs. Moving forward, I aspire to become a clinical psychologist and establish the kind of teen mental health center I needed. My future center will be teen-focused, with inpatient and outpatient treatment. It will focus on therapy and mentorship for people struggling, providing a place of accountability and safety that is not corrupt or harmful, where residents are actually listened to. I hope to improve the standard of care through my own close management and fix the stigma surrounding mental health. I refuse to wait until I get my degree, so throughout college, I hope to volunteer in homeless shelters and rehab centers. I want to focus on outreach to the people who are often overlooked and dedicate my time to research and community partnerships. I want to turn what nearly broke me into something that heals others. I know my dream is big, but I never thought I’d make it past thirteen—so why not reach for the stars?

I have dealt with many mental health challenges throughout my teenage years. I struggled with severe depression and an eating disorder. I have worked on myself and my mental health immensely since then. I was hospitalized several times and it took a long time for me to gain the motivation to put full effort into my recovery, but eventually I got there. I still struggle every day, but I have gotten through all of my most difficult days, and I feel a lot better than I used to. When I first started dealing with mental health issues, I kept it a secret. However, that led to intense loneliness and hopelessness. It took a few years, but I got to the point where I was finally able to be fully honest with my parents and treatment providers. I was frustrated with the many months of simply waiting for a bed in a hospital years ago, so I wrote an essay about the difficulty finding care and beds in mental health facilities during the pandemic. I was able to express my struggles in a productive way, and I submitted it to the National Association of Mental Illness. They published it in May of 2022, titled “Surviving the Bed Shortage: A Teenager’s Experience.” I now write poetry as a release and coping skill for my emotions, and have published a book as well as won several contests. I read excerpts of my book to a group of people at a local library, and was told by some people that I inspired them and helped them put thoughts into words that they had difficulty doing. That is one of my main goals in writing and sharing my poetry, and it makes me happy to hear that I helped even one person. Moving forward, I plan to share my gained experiences and knowledge with others, spreading kindness and compassion. I aim to become a psychiatrist in the future. I want to help others in a way I often was not helped. I want to be a psychiatrist, rather than a psychologist or other career in the psychology field, because I like the combination of medication and therapy for treatment. I want to do both, most likely with teenagers and young adults. I also know that medical school is tedious and difficult, and many people do not have the determination and willpower to get through it. Because of this, as well as the increase in need for mental health services, there is a shortage of psychiatrists in the country. I know I have the motivation, personal experiences, empathy, and the intelligence to push myself through medical school. I am looking forward to my future - being able to help others, improve their lives, and bring happiness to people who struggle to feel that.