My ADHD diagnosis in third grade was not exactly a surprise to anyone. Both my mother and my brother had been diagnosed with the condition, and I displayed very similar signs to the ones they showed. Also not a surprise was my anxiety and depression diagnoses that came a year later. ADHD and anxiety do not exactly go well hand in hand. Thanks to my ADHD, I am disorganized, have trouble focusing, and talk too much because I struggle to focus on how much I am talking. I say unnecessary things to try to seem funny and likable. Thanks to my anxiety, my disorganization makes me stressed easily, I panic when I lose focus and miss something important, and I become self-conscious when people look at or say something about me when I talk just a little too much. As a neurodivergent person in a public school system, I have experienced firsthand my fair share of bullying, exclusion, and shaming. Many people think that I am too “naive” to notice it, and sometimes I do not, but I feel pain, too, if not even more so than my neurotypical peers. And I have been let down many times after going to adults in the school system I should be able to trust. And I’m not alone. Many students that have been bullied believe that schools do not care enough about their situation and do not respond properly to it, which is concerning, especially considering that most people with autism or other social, emotional, and mental health difficulties or learning disabilities experience bullying. For many years, I was denied a 504 plan due to my high test scores as a twice exceptional student. I struggled in classes, getting average grades, but lower than I was satisfied with or could get at my highest potential. I was disappointed with myself and my performance, but I couldn't achieve what I wanted, no matter how hard I tried. I felt extremely unmotivated. However, there were a couple people who fought hard and long for my ability to finally get my 504 plan: my mother and my middle school principal. For years, they fought with the school board to allow me to acquire my needed accommodations until I was finally given them during my sophomore year. I truly believe I would not be where I am now if it were not for them—I would have lost many opportunities, likely including many scholarships. My ADHD means I am more creative than many people. My imagination is wilder than most others’ and I tend to be good at finding creative solutions for problem solving. One of my skills in particular is creative writing. In college, I am considering minoring in creative writing, whilst majoring in film and digital media, which will include writing scripts for documentaries and short films. Furthermore, I hope to become a tv and film actor and/or voice actor in the future in which my creativity will help me succeed. I hope to use my neurodivergent traits to encourage and motivate myself, rather than thinking of them as hindrances or impassible obstacles. My disabilities will not disable me.

Up through middle school, I was a confident person. I definitely wasn't popular by any means, but I was happy with who I was and didn't care what other people thought. I also talked a lot. So other people talked about me. I knew they talked about me, but I didn't care, somehow. That all changed in high school. Everything changed in high school. I changed in high school. I always say that my freshman year of high school was the most difficult time of my life. I was bullied and threatened, causing me to hate everything about myself. I wished someone would tell me that the scars on my heart were from fighting, but I knew the truth. The scars were from giving up, not from fighting back. I was thrown into a deep depression and struggled in my classes. I knew there were some people who were worried about me, but I told them I was fine—one of the biggest lies I’ve ever told. When I finally went to an adult at school about the bullying, nothing was done. Instead, I was told that my pain wasn’t “that bad” compared to others’. I felt completely abandoned, helpless, and alone. But I wasn't alone. I recently had a girl ask me what to be ready for in high school, and I laughed. She was only in fourth grade, which I mentioned to her, but she still wanted to know, so I told her, “find a good, solid group of friends that will be there for you, no matter what.” I don’t think I could have gone through that time without my friends. They listened to me as I vented, yelled, and cried. They constantly assured me that I was not a burden to them despite how often I went to them for support. When I began my healing process, I made a promise to myself to be as good a friend to others as they were to me. Late 2022, I met someone online who, for the sake of his anonymity, I will refer to as Oliver. Oliver and I became close friends very quickly, talking many times a day despite our time zone differences. Over time, our conversations grew deeper and more personal. We told each other about our struggles with depression and anxiety. There were many times when we went to each other to vent, but one time was different: he told me he had tried to kill himself. I was terrified; I didn't know what to do. None of the suicide prevention speakers at school over the years had taught me what to do if I couldn't physically be there for the person. He didn't have a good relationship with his dad, and I had no way to contact his mom, or any other trusted adult in his life, but I knew I had to do something. I knew his mom’s name, so I typed it into Google and prayed I could find them, and God answered my prayers. The first result was his mom’s LinkedIn profile, which had their phone number. I, with my own mom’s help, texted them and waited anxiously for a reply. When they did respond, they thanked me for telling them and realized that he needed help. Oliver started therapy, testosterone, and is overall doing better mentally, and we still talk daily. I don't think I would have ever been able to heal myself, or help Oliver, if it hadn't been for my friends, who continue to inspire me to be the best and most confident person I can be. As a person whose career aspiration is to become an actor, I hope to portray characters who accurately display real life mental health struggles in order to educate people on those issues. Doing so can help spread awareness to such conditions that are often stereotyped and/or misunderstood. I aspire to create change that pushes society to build a more understanding world. Through film, I hope to produce pieces that highlight the lives of those with mental health struggles by creating films that provide real life accounts from affected people and stories that feature struggling characters. I believe that my own hardships and those of my loved ones will help me portray and create relatable and sympathetic characters the world will grow to understand on a deeper level.

Ever since I can remember, I’ve been called “weird.” I have always been “that weird kid,” in school, specifically. I never cared, though. Well, I never cared until high school. When I entered high school, I cared about everything. Also in high school, I was bullied, harassed, and threatened regularly. This one girl had determined that I was her target. I tried to avoid her, but there was one place I was always vulnerable: the bathroom. There was one day that I couldn’t avoid it, however, because we were taking a large test in Honors Biology and I knew, given that I needed to use the restroom, I wouldn’t do well if I was uncomfortable while taking it. I asked my teacher, Mrs. Borgia, to use the restroom, to which she agreed under the condition that I go quickly. I used the restroom and was about to exit my stall when I heard people enter the restroom. When I identified the voice, I froze in panic. It was her. My anxiety told me to wait in the stall for her to leave, but I knew I needed to return to class and take my test. I pushed my anxiety aside, took a deep breath, and exited the stall. As I was washing my hands, however, she decided that was the perfect time to threaten me, my brother, and my family. I said nothing and left the bathroom, my body trembling. On the way back to the classroom, I broke down and had a panic attack. I entered the classroom, sat at my desk, and hyperventilated. When Mrs. Borgia came over to give me my test, she noticed something was very wrong. When she asked me what had happened, I told her everything. She simply sat there and listened, never interrupting or stopping me. When I finished, she told me to go to the counselor and not to worry about the test. Rather than ignoring what I was going through and how I felt, she acknowledged it and showed compassion. This small act of kindness meant a lot to me during a time when I felt unloved and uncared for, and I believe she is what pushed me to begin the healing process that helped me become the confident person I am now. She made me realize my importance to others, and myself. I now approach life with a more loving, caring attitude, constantly trying to show others the same love she showed me.

I was nine when I was first "introduced" to Chris Colfer. I was going through one of the scariest times of my life at that point, going to the doctor and getting blood tests daily because I showed signs of lymphoma, a type of cancer in the lymph nodes. As a child, I was terrified, and I didn't fully understand what was going on or wrong with me, so I turned to reading for comfort. That's when I discovered the children's series, "The Land of Stories" written by one Chris Colfer. Reading the series, I was whisked away to a land of eloquent frogmen, evil enchantresses, and snarky teenage queens. When reading it, all my worries and fears disappeared, replaced by wonder and joy. It got me through all my tests, hospital visits, and screenings until they ultimately discovered I was cancer-free. I still thank my cousin for gifting me that first book of the series that introduced me to a person that influenced not only my childhood, but also my teenage years. During my freshman year of high school, I experienced bullying and threats that caused me to hate everything about myself. I was torn down until I was at the lowest point of my life, and then ripped apart even further. I felt alone, unloved, and depressed. Near the end of that year, I discovered "Glee", a show from the 2010s about a diverse group of high school outcasts. This show, although now somewhat controversial, helped change the tides on many LGBTQIAP+ issues. One of the characters, Kurt Hummel, is a gay student who is bullied relentlessly, but never loses his strength or courage. When researching about the show, I learned that Kurt was played by the author of my favorite series, Chris Colfer. I also learned that Chris Colfer, also a gay man, was bullied similarly to his character when he was in high school. I then spent hours watching interviews of Chris Colfer discussing his experiences in high school and how he has strengthened and grown since then. I realized then that I wasn't alone, and I could also be strong, even when I felt the opposite. I am not only queer, but I am also Christian, and one of the ways I stay strong in my faith is by attending a spiritual weekend called Chrysalis, where I was once asked to give a short speech to other teenage girls. During my speech, I discussed my experience freshman year and how I learned to grow from it, rather than continue to let it negatively affect me years later. After my speech, one of the girls ran up to me crying, giving me a hug. She told me about her own experience with bullying and how she then realized that she can also be strong, despite it. Another person, who also happened to be a queer Christian, told me how they felt recognized and strengthened by my story and how they planned to use it as a reminder of strength. Throughout the past three years, I've grown into a strong queer young woman who is no longer afraid of being herself. I am still healing from that year, and I think I will be for a long time, but I'm no longer afraid to go to school or speak up in class. When I do feel low again, however, I lean on this quote from Chris Colfer: "There's nothing wrong with you. There's a lot wrong with the world you live in. And definitely get out of high school and make everyone sorry." And that I will.