The last thing I remember, I was sitting on the black couch with my mom, about to have the hardest conversation of my life. Trying to work up the courage to tell her I was gay invoked a fear like none I had ever felt before. My heart began racing, my stomach turning and my skin was cold and wet. Then it happened—again. I opened my eyes with EMTs standing over me, lying on the cot in the ambulance on the way to the hospital for what felt like the hundredth time. I had been passing out for months. The technical diagnosis was vasovagal syncope. The first two times I passed out were in the neurologist’s office while receiving occipital nerve block injections for chronic migraines. The neurologist said it happened quite often and nobody seemed to be concerned, including me. He said that people get anxious with injections and that anxiety can cause a person to pass out. I never felt anxious. At least, I didn’t think I did. I learned two things that day: anxiety can cause a person to pass out and you can be anxious without knowing it. I left the doctor’s office that day without knowing that passing out would dominate my life for the remainder of that year. Over the next several months, I would pass out over two dozen additional times. While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I was in and out of doctor’s offices, ambulances, emergency rooms, imaging facilities and labs. There wasn’t a single thing that they could find wrong with me. All tests and labs came back normal. It wasn’t until the ER visit that followed that night on the black couch that my mom connected the dots between the episodes in the neurologist's office with all the others that followed. In the emergency room that night, I finally trusted my mom with the secret I had been keeping for as long as I could remember. I told her I was gay. At that time, it became obvious that anxiety was the culprit and had been causing both my migraines and the syncope. With the help of a therapist, I began to confront my anxiety. I discovered that I was dealing with something much deeper and more complicated than just being gay. My father died when I was three years old and, when I was in middle school, I learned he committed suicide. That revelation shook me to the core and I couldn’t get the crippling questions out of my mind. Why did he do it? How could he “choose” to leave me, his son? Why wasn’t I enough to make him want to live? My therapist taught me how those unanswered questions triggered a fear of abandonment and that was the root cause of my anxiety. In my mind, if people knew the real me, the gay me, I would be abandoned. I began to process my father’s death in more positive ways by participating in suicide awareness walks and making suicide prevention videos. I used the piano to journal my thoughts and feelings through songwriting. By choosing not to ruminate on negative, distorted thinking, I was able to empathize with my dad’s struggles and realize that he didn’t “choose” to leave me. This breakthrough paved the way for me to accept myself, which in turn allowed me to trust others to accept me and not abandon me. I still struggle with anxiety from time to time, but I no longer suffer from migraines and haven’t passed out in almost six years.

Deciding on a career path was fairly easy for me. I have been intrigued with the medical field since high school, when I began having severe migraines and syncope episodes. It was terrifying! While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I developed sincere gratitude for the professionals that took the time to be patient, thorough and compassionate with me. It was a scary time in my life; I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Without such caring and compassionate people, I don’t know how I would have made it through. They truly cared about my suffering and they all worked as a team to figure out what was going on with me. The person that had the biggest impact on me was the nurse practitioner in my pediatric neurologist's office. She had a profound impact on me and sparked my interest in nursing. Because of this new interest, I applied to the Academy of Health Professionals program at our county’s Career and Technology Center and spent my last two years of high school there studying nursing, medical assisting and physical therapy. I loved it and wanted more, so I joined the local volunteer fire department and became a NationalIy Registered EMT. I still remember my first call; it was a cardiac arrest. When we arrived on the scene, the family was pouring out of the house. They were sobbing uncontrollably and couldn’t articulate their words to tell us where the patient was located. I went upstairs with a paramedic to search and I found the patient on the bathroom floor with no pulse. The room felt like death. The paramedic asked if I knew CPR and I immediately began compressions while they set up the LUCAS device. After the LUCAS was ready, I took over on the BVM while the paramedic began administering epinephrine. We did CPR for forty minutes, but we could not bring him back. At one point, I started to feel scared and sick, like I didn’t have the stomach to be an EMT. But then I realized, I could do it. I wanted to do it. And somebody needs to do it. That experience solidified my desire to spend my career helping people and saving lives. Fast forward three years and I am now a nursing student, starting my senior year in the fall. I intend to apply to graduate school and my dream is to become a nurse practitioner, just like the one in my pediatric neurologist's office. Over the past year, the clinical setting has allowed me to explore different specialties. Initially, I thought I wanted to work in a pediatric neurology office because I have a desire to help other kids that are suffering like I did. However, I had a clinical rotation in the NICU and absolutely loved it. I administered oxygen to a newborn that wasn’t breathing after an emergency c-section and witnessed how to deliver a baby when its shoulder got stuck on the mother’s pelvic bone. I also noticed a baby was having trouble breathing and pointed it out to my supervisor. The respiratory therapist was called to suction the baby’s airway and perform special maneuvers to promote breathing. Being as though my life began in the NICU, those experiences gave me a whole new respect for the nurses that took care of me when I was born. Now, I can definitely see myself working in a NICU taking care of precious newborns. Regardless of where my career in nursing leads me, it will be incredibly rewarding and give me a strong sense of purpose.

The last thing I remember, I was sitting on the black couch with my mom, about to have the hardest conversation of my life. Trying to work up the courage to tell her I was gay invoked a fear like none I had ever felt before. My heart began racing, my stomach turning and my skin was cold and wet. Then it happened—again. I opened my eyes with EMTs standing over me, lying on a cot in an ambulance on the way to the hospital for what felt like the hundredth time. I had been passing out for months. The first two times I passed out were in the neurologist’s office while receiving occipital nerve block injections for chronic migraines. Neither time concerned the neurologist; he shrugged it off and said that it was not uncommon for patients to pass out following injections. However, there was a reason for concern. Over the next eight months, I passed out 26 times; none of which were in the neurologist’s office. While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I was in and out of doctor’s offices, ambulances, emergency rooms, imaging facilities and labs. There wasn’t a single thing that they could find wrong with me. All tests and blood work came back normal. Getting back to that night on the black couch, when I got to the ER, I finally trusted my mom with the secret I had been keeping for as long as I could remember. I told her I was gay. My mom connected the dots between the episodes in the neurologist's office with all the others that followed. At that instant, it became obvious that anxiety was the culprit and had been causing both my migraines and the syncope. Finally, there was an answer! With the help of a therapist, I began to confront my anxiety. I discovered that I was dealing with something much deeper and more complicated than just being gay. My father died when I was three years old and, when I was in middle school, I learned he committed suicide. That revelation shook me to the core and I couldn’t get the crippling questions out of my mind. Why did he do it? How could he “choose” to leave me, his son? Why wasn’t I enough to make him want to live? My therapist taught me how those unanswered questions triggered a fear of abandonment and that was the root cause of my anxiety. In my mind, if people knew the real me, the gay me, they would abandon me. By educating myself and changing my distorted thinking, I was able to empathize with my dad’s struggles and realize that he suffered from bipolar disorder and addiction and didn’t “choose” to leave me. This breakthrough paved the way for me to accept myself, which in turn, allowed me to trust others to accept me and not abandon me. I no longer suffer from migraines and haven’t passed out since that night on the black couch almost six years ago. The medical professionals that helped me reclaim my life had a profound impact on me. They provided me with a strong desire to help others. I have EMT experience and I’m currently a nursing student, working toward my BSN. Both the Army and Navy are actively recruiting nurses from my program and I am considering that path after graduation, so that I may explore other locations and specialties. Wherever my career in nursing leads me, I trust that it will be incredibly rewarding and provide me with a strong sense of purpose.

I consider myself a survivor. My father committed suicide in 2005 when I was only three years old. Although I was too young to recognize and understand the full magnitude of what was happening in my life, it was the first time I remember experiencing fear and sadness. There is no doubt that the absence of my father significantly impacted my life. The void of not having my dad is something that can’t be explained; Only those that have experienced it can understand it. Unfortunately, my father’s death wasn’t the only one I would experience. I lost my grandmother and grandfather, my great-grandfather and two dogs. All of these losses deeply affected me, but the complicated grief and unresolved feelings regarding my father’s suicide were debilitating. I began having severe migraines and syncope episodes in high school. While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I spent a lot of time interacting with various medical professionals. Eventually, I was lucky enough to be treated by a nurse practitioner who suggested that there was a mental health component and determined that intense anxiety was the culprit. That discovery allowed me to finally get the treatment I needed. That’s when my interest in neurology and psychiatry took root. With the help of a grief counselor, I began to process my father’s death in more positive ways. Instead of ruminating on the negative feelings and the distorted thinking regarding my father’s death, I started volunteering and participating in suicide prevention walks. I also made a few suicide prevention videos. Then, I discovered the piano and I used it to journal my thoughts and feelings through songwriting. That was by far the most therapeutic. Taking these steps, I began to empathize with my dad’s struggles and started to let go of some of the anger. A semicolon tattoo, in honor of him, is now displayed on my wrist and his necklace hangs around my neck. Taking some control over the effects of my father’s suicide has allowed it to be something that happened in my life, not something that defines my life. I am currently a nursing student with dreams of becoming a nurse practitioner. I plan to draw on my experience as an EMT and work at a Level 1 Trauma Center after graduating with my BSN. While there, I plan to continue my education and work towards becoming a nurse practitioner. On one hand, I can envision myself continuing to work in trauma even after I receive my doctorate. On the other hand, my personal experience, coupled with the fact that there is a mental health crisis in our country, might guide me into neurology or psychiatry. Either way, I am determined to be a productive part of society that makes a difference in people's lives. The doctors and nurses that helped me through my health crisis had a profound impact on me. I want to have that effect on others. After two semesters of clinicals, I am already seeing how my own experiences have given me the foundation to help others in their time of need. Therefore, I embrace my challenges and I am thankful for the ways in which they have helped prepare me for my career in nursing. When I was young, I spent six years training to be a second-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Master Choi had a plaque on his desk that read, “Choose a Job You Love and You’ll Never Have to Work a Day in Your Life.” I always thought that seemed like an impossible dream. Now, I see it as very possible.

There is no doubt that the absence of my father significantly impacted my life. I lost him to suicide when I was just three years old. The void of not having my dad while growing up is something that can’t be explained; only those who have experienced it can understand it. Suffering a tragic loss so young definitely made me recognize and appreciate the presence of my mother. She has been my rock and biggest supporter. No matter how much she has on her plate at any given time, she always makes time for me. In high school, I struggled with anxiety and depression brought on by bullying due to my homosexuality. My anxiety was so bad that it was causing severe migraines and syncope. I faced times of doubt, not only in myself but in the world around me. I felt “boxed in” within the city limits of my small town. But in my darkest times, my mother was always this glimmering light of hope that there were, in fact, good people in the world. She is always there to constantly remind me that I am loved for exactly who I am. Not only has she always encouraged me to choose my own path and direction in life, but she has also guided me toward the decisions I needed to make in order to reach my goals. She helped me build resumes and provided transportation to and from jobs before I had my driver’s license. She supported my decision to volunteer as an Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) and attend a trade school during high school to earn my Certified Medical Assistant (CMA) and Certified Personal Trainer (CPT) certifications. My mother even assisted me in searching for a nursing program and university that was best suited for me. I will always remember, and be grateful for, how much time she spent researching different universities and their inclusivity ratings to ensure that she sent me to a campus where I would be accepted and not discriminated against for being gay, as I was during my high school years. Once I narrowed down my options, she even took time out of her busy schedule to fly me to Florida for in-person tours so that I could be confident in my final decision. I truly owe all of my success to her and everything she has done for me. She always preached that with hard work, determination, and ignoring others’ ignorance, I could accomplish anything I put my mind to. If it wasn’t for her I would probably still be in bed with the curtains closed, avoiding school, binge eating, and wallowing in my own self-pity. Not only has my mother helped me accomplish my crazy dreams of leaving my small town, fenced in by cornfields, to attend one of the top nursing schools in Florida, but she also helped me accept myself for who I am and blossom into the person I am today. She helped me love myself when the world led me to believe that was wrong. She taught me to always reach for the moon and not to settle for less. She taught me to always give 110% effort and never, ever, give up. Whenever I face times of self-doubt or believe, “this next nursing exam will be the death of me,” I remember what my mother always said: “Even when you don’t believe in yourself, I will always believe in you enough for the both of us.”

The last thing I remember, I was sitting on the black couch with my mom, about to have the hardest conversation of my life. Trying to work up the courage to tell her I was gay invoked a fear like none I had ever felt before. My heart began racing, my stomach turning and my skin was cold and wet. Then it happened—again. I opened my eyes with EMTs standing over me, lying on the cot in the ambulance on the way to the hospital for what felt like the hundredth time. I had been passing out for months. The technical diagnosis was vasovagal syncope. The first two times I passed out were in the neurologist’s office while receiving occipital nerve block injections for chronic migraines. The neurologist said it happened quite often and nobody seemed to be concerned, including me. He said that people get anxious with injections and that anxiety can cause a person to pass out. I never felt anxious. At least, I didn’t think I did. I learned two things that day: anxiety can cause a person to pass out and you can be anxious without knowing it. I left the doctor’s office that day without knowing that passing out would dominate my life for the remainder of that year. Over the next several months, I would pass out over two dozen additional times. While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I was in and out of doctor’s offices, ambulances, emergency rooms, imaging facilities and labs. There wasn’t a single thing that they could find wrong with me. All tests and labs came back normal. It wasn’t until the ER visit that followed that night on the black couch that my mom connected the dots between the episodes in the neurologist's office with all the others that followed. In the emergency room that night, I finally trusted my mom with the secret I had been keeping for as long as I could remember. I told her I was gay. At that time, it became obvious that anxiety was the culprit and had been causing both my migraines and the syncope. With the help of a therapist, I began to confront my anxiety. I discovered that I was dealing with something much deeper and more complicated than just being gay. My father died when I was three years old and, when I was in middle school, I learned he committed suicide. That revelation shook me to the core and I couldn’t get the crippling questions out of my mind. Why did he do it? How could he “choose” to leave me, his son? Why wasn’t I enough to make him want to live? My therapist taught me how those unanswered questions triggered a fear of abandonment and that was the root cause of my anxiety. In my mind, if people knew the real me, the gay me, I would be abandoned. I began to process my father’s death in more positive ways by participating in suicide awareness walks and making suicide prevention videos. I used the piano to journal my thoughts and feelings through songwriting. By choosing not to ruminate on negative, distorted thinking, I was able to empathize with my dad’s struggles and realize that he didn’t “choose” to leave me. This breakthrough paved the way for me to accept myself, which in turn allowed me to trust others to accept me and not abandon me. I still struggle with anxiety from time to time, but I no longer suffer from migraines and haven’t passed out in almost six years.

There is no doubt that mental health significantly impacted my life and influenced my beliefs, relationships and career aspirations. Although I was too young to recognize and understand the full magnitude of what was happening in my life, my first experience with mental health was when I was only three years old. That’s when my father died and, unbeknownst to me, bipolar and depression were to blame. Losing him in such a tragic way led to my own health crisis years later. For many years, I was content with what I had been told when I was three: “Daddy’s brain was sick.” However, complicated grief is a process with many stages. As I got older, my inquisitive brain was trying to process my father’s death all over again and, through probing questions, I found out that my dad committed suicide. That revelation shook me to the core and caused me to go through a whole new stage of mourning. I sat in this stage for years and couldn’t get the crippling questions out of my mind. Why did he do it? How could he “choose” to leave me, his son? Why wasn’t I enough to make him want to live? The unanswered questions and feelings of abandonment triggered anger, hurt and sadness that was unlike anything I had felt before. That’s when my health crisis began. I started suffering from severe migraines and syncope episodes, which affected every aspect of my life. I withdrew from everything: school, family, friends—everything. I had no idea what was happening to me; it was terrifying! While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I spent over a year interacting with various medical professionals and developed sincere gratitude for them. Eventually, it was determined that intense anxiety was the culprit for both the migraines and the syncope. With the help of a grief counselor, I began to process my father’s death in more positive ways. Instead of ruminating on the negative feelings and the distorted thinking regarding my father’s death, I started volunteering and participating in suicide prevention walks. I also made a few suicide prevention videos. Then, I discovered the piano and I used it to journal my thoughts and feelings through songwriting. This was by far the most therapeutic. Taking these steps, I began to empathize with my dad’s struggles and started to let go of some of the anger. A semicolon tattoo, in honor of him, is now displayed on my wrist and his necklace hangs around my neck. Taking some control over the effects of my father’s suicide has allowed it to be something that happened in my life, not something that defines my life. The nurses that helped me through my health crisis had a profound impact on me. They triggered a strong desire to give back to my community by being there for others in their times of need. My challenges with mental health strengthened me and provided me with coping skills, empathy, compassion and patience that I may not have acquired otherwise. This gave me a strong foundation to help others as they go through their own crises. I spent several years as an EMT and I’m currently a nursing student, working toward my BSN. Being a small part of saving someone’s life, easing their pain or calming their fears is incredibly rewarding and gives me a strong sense of purpose. I am determined to have a positive impact on my patients and their families throughout my career. Therefore, I choose to embrace my challenges with mental health, knowing that I will be a better nurse because of them.

I still remember my first call; it was a cardiac arrest. The blaring siren sent us rushing to the ambulance. When we arrived on the scene, the family was pouring out of the house. They were sobbing uncontrollably and couldn’t speak to tell us where the patient was located. I went upstairs with a paramedic to search. I found the patient on the bathroom floor, stuck in front of the door, with no pulse. The paramedic asked if I knew CPR and I nodded. I immediately began compressions while they set up the LUCAS device. After the LUCAS was ready, I took over on the BVM while the paramedic began administering epinephrine. We did CPR for forty minutes, but we could not bring him back. At one point during compressions, I started to feel scared and sick to my stomach. “I don’t want to do this anymore.” But then I realized, I could do it. I wanted to do it. And somebody needs to do it. I have been intrigued with the medical field since going through my own health crisis in high school. I began having severe migraines and syncope episodes. While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I spent over a year interacting with nurses. They showed empathy, compassion and patience, while also providing a high degree of professionalism. I developed sincere gratitude for them. It was a scary time in my life; I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Without such attentive nurses, I don’t know how I would have made it through. They truly cared about my suffering and worked with my medical team to figure out what was going on with me and how to fix it. I am truly blessed to have encountered such great people. The nurses that helped me through my crisis had a profound impact on me. They gave me a strong desire to help people the same way they helped me and inspired me to do it with the same care and concern that they extended to me. Not surprisingly, from the moment I was introduced to the idea of becoming an EMT, I had a call to service. I never made a decision so quickly and confidently in my life. Within days of meeting the recruiter, I took a tour of the fire station and learned more about the program. After the tour, I immediately began doing what I needed to do to join. The process included a lot of paperwork and being voted in by members of the board. Becoming an EMT was a time-consuming, rewarding venture. After hundreds of hours of training, I became a Nationally Registered Emergency Medical Technician. My EMT responsibilities entailed a lot of triaging patients and taking vitals. I also gained experience communicating with the patients and their families so that they could understand what was happening. I am currently a nursing student at The University of Tampa. I just finished my second semester of clinicals and found that volunteering as an EMT gave me the strong foundation needed to be comfortable in such a setting. After graduation, I plan to continue drawing on my EMT experience and work at a Level 1 Trauma Center. While there, my goal is to continue my education and eventually become a nurse practitioner. Being a small part of saving someone’s life, easing their pain or calming their fears is incredibly rewarding and gives me a strong sense of purpose. Wherever my career in nursing leads me, I am determined to have a positive impact on my patients and their families throughout my career.

I have been intrigued with the medical field since going through my own health crisis in high school. I began having severe migraines and syncope episodes. While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I spent over a year interacting with nurses. Many of them showed empathy, compassion and patience, while also providing a high degree of professionalism. I developed sincere gratitude for them. It was a scary time in my life; I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Without such attentive nurses, I don’t know how I would have made it through. They truly cared about my suffering and worked with my medical team to figure out what was going on with me and how to fix it. I am truly blessed to have encountered such great people. They had a profound impact on me and I developed a strong desire to help others with the same care and concern that they extended to me. Because of this realization, I spent my final two years of high school in the Academy of Health Professions program, studying Intro to Nursing, Medical Assisting and Physical Rehabilitation. Through that program, I met a recruiter from the local fire department. I never made a decision so quickly and confidently in my life. Within days of meeting him, I began the process of becoming an EMT. I still remember my first call; it was a cardiac arrest. The blaring siren sent us rushing to the ambulance. When we arrived on the scene, the family was pouring out of the house. They were sobbing uncontrollably and couldn’t speak to tell us where the patient was located. I went upstairs with a paramedic to search, while two other guys looked downstairs. I found the patient on the bathroom floor, stuck in front of the door with no pulse. We pulled him into the bedroom. The paramedic asked if I knew CPR and I nodded. I immediately began compressions while they set up the LUCAS device. After the LUCAS was ready, I took over on the BVM while the paramedic began administering epinephrine. We did CPR for forty minutes, but we could not bring him back. At one point during compressions, I started to feel scared and sick. My eyes were opened to what nurses go through. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t be a nurse.” But then I realized, I could do it. I wanted to do it. My desire to spend my career helping people and saving lives was solidified. I am currently a nursing student at The University of Tampa. I just finished my second semester of clinicals and I am already seeing how my own experiences have given me the foundation to help others in their time of need. After graduation, I plan to draw on my EMT experience and work at a Level 1 Trauma Center. While there, I plan to continue my education and eventually become a nurse practitioner. Wherever my career in nursing leads me, I am determined to be a productive part of society that makes a difference in people's lives. When I was young, I spent six years training to be a second-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Master Choi had a plaque on his desk that read, “Choose a job you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.” I always thought that seemed like an impossible dream. However, I am confident that a career in nursing will fulfill that impossible dream.

Challenges are the fundamental building blocks of our character. They sculpt whether we respond or react to things and ultimately make us who we are. I’d be curious to see who I would be today without all the past obstacles I have encountered. How would I be different? Would I be as strong? Would I have the same resilience? Would I be less independent? I will never definitively know the answers to these questions. However, I have no doubt that every challenge in my life had a purpose and was necessary to mold me into the person that I am today. When faced with an obstacle you have two options: overcome and conquer it or let it prevent you from reaching your goals. Therefore, I completely agree that how we choose to respond to life’s challenges shapes our lives. There is no doubt that the absence of my father significantly impacted my life. The void of not having my dad while growing up is something that can’t be explained; only those that have experienced it can understand it. My father died in 2005 when I was only three years old. I was too young to recognize and understand the full magnitude of what was happening in my life. At the time, I had no idea how my life would be forever affected by that moment. I now know that my dad suffered from bipolar disorder, alcoholism and addiction. Although my mom shielded me from all the effects of his illnesses before he died, that does not mean that I didn’t suffer detrimental, lingering effects afterward. Through the years, I discovered that complicated grief is a process with many stages. Up until middle school, I was content with what I had been told when I was three: “Daddy’s brain was sick.” However, now that I was older, I started to ask detailed questions. In this new stage of grief, my inquisitive brain was trying to process my father’s death all over again. Through probing questions, I found out that my dad committed suicide. That revelation shocked me to the core and caused me to go through a whole new stage of mourning. I sat in this stage for years and couldn’t get the crippling questions out of my mind. Why did he do it? How could he “choose” to leave me, his son? Why wasn’t I enough to make him want to live? The unanswered questions and feelings of abandonment triggered a whole new level of anger, hurt and sadness. With the help of a grief counselor, I addressed the feelings these thoughts and questions evoked. Instead of ruminating on the negative feelings and the distorted thinking regarding my father’s death, I began to process his death in more positive ways. I started volunteering and participating in suicide prevention walks. I also made a couple of suicide prevention videos to post on social media. I began to learn and understand more about the alcoholism and addiction that contributed to his irreversible “choice.” Additionally, I discovered the piano and I used it to journal my thoughts and feelings through songwriting. This was by far the most therapeutic. Taking these steps, I began to empathize with my dad’s struggles and started to let go of some of the anger. A semicolon tattoo, in honor of him, is now displayed on my wrist and his necklace hangs around my neck. By taking some control over the effects of my father’s suicide and the substance abuse that led to it, it became something that happened in my life, not something that defines my life.

I have been intrigued with the medical field since going through my own health crisis in high school. I began having severe migraines and syncope episodes. While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I spent over a year interacting with nurses. Many of them showed empathy, compassion and intentionality while also providing a high degree of professionalism. I developed sincere gratitude for them. It was a scary time in my life; I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Without such attentive nurses, I don’t know how I would have made it through. They truly cared about my suffering and worked with my medical team to figure out what was going on with me and how to fix it. I am truly blessed to have encountered such great people. They had a profound impact on me and caused me to develop a strong desire to help others with the same care and concern that they extended to me. Because of this realization, I spent my final two years of high school in the Academy of Health Professions program, studying Intro to Nursing, Medical Assisting and Physical Rehabilitation. Through that program, I met a recruiter from the local fire department. I never made a decision so quickly and confidently in my life. Within days of meeting him, I began the process of becoming an EMT. I still remember my first call; it was a cardiac arrest. The blaring siren sent us rushing to the ambulance. When we arrived on the scene, the family was pouring out of the house. They were sobbing uncontrollably and couldn’t speak to tell us where the patient was located. I went upstairs with a paramedic to search, while two other guys looked downstairs. I found the patient on the bathroom floor, stuck in front of the door with no pulse. We pulled him into the bedroom. The paramedic asked if I knew CPR and I nodded. I immediately began compressions while they set up the LUCAS device. After the LUCAS was ready, I took over on the BVM while the paramedic began administering epinephrine. We did CPR for forty minutes, but we could not bring him back. At one point during compressions, I started to feel scared and sick. My eyes were opened to what nurses go through. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t be a nurse.” But then I realized, I could do it. I wanted to do it. My desire to spend my career helping people and saving lives was solidified. I am currently a nursing student at The University of Tampa. I am at the end of my second semester of clinicals and I am already seeing how my own experiences have given me the foundation to help others in their time of need. After graduation, I plan to draw on my EMT experience and work at a Level 1 Trauma Center. While there, I plan to continue my education and eventually become a nurse practitioner. Wherever my career in nursing leads me, I am determined to be a productive part of society that makes a difference in people's lives. When I was young, I spent six years training to be a second-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Master Choi had a plaque on his desk that read, “Choose a job you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.” I always thought that seemed like an impossible dream. However, I am confident that a career in nursing will fulfill that impossible dream.

There is no doubt that the absence of my father significantly impacted my life. The void of not having my dad is something that can’t be explained; Only those that have experienced it can understand it. My father died in 2005 when I was only three years old. Although I was too young to recognize and understand the full magnitude of what was happening in my life, it was the first time I remember experiencing fear and sadness. For a long time, I didn’t want my mom out of my sight because I was terrified that she would die too. Through the years, I discovered that complicated grief is a process with many stages. Up until middle school, I was content with what I had been told when I was three: “Daddy’s brain was sick.” However, now that I was older, I started to ask detailed questions. In this new stage of grief, my inquisitive brain was trying to process my father’s death all over again. Through probing questions, I found out that my dad committed suicide. That revelation shook me to the core and caused me to go through a whole new stage of mourning. I sat in this stage for years and couldn’t get the crippling questions out of my mind. Why did he do it? How could he “choose” to leave me, his son? Why wasn’t I enough to make him want to live? The unanswered questions and feelings of abandonment triggered a whole new level of anger, hurt and sadness. That’s when my own health crisis began. I started suffering from severe migraines and syncope episodes. It was terrifying! While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I spent a lot of time interacting with various medical professionals and developed sincere gratitude for them. Eventually, it was determined that intense anxiety was the culprit for both the migraines and the syncope. With the help of a grief counselor, I began to process my father’s death in more positive ways. Instead of ruminating on the negative feelings and the distorted thinking regarding my father’s death, I started volunteering and participating in suicide prevention walks. I also made a few suicide prevention videos. Then, I discovered the piano and I used it to journal my thoughts and feelings through songwriting. This was by far the most therapeutic. Taking these steps, I began to empathize with my dad’s struggles and started to let go of some of the anger. A semicolon tattoo, in honor of him, is now displayed on my wrist and his necklace hangs around my neck. Taking some control over the effects of my father’s suicide has allowed it to be something that happened in my life, not something that defines my life. The doctors and nurses that helped me through my health crisis had a profound impact on me. I am currently a nursing student and my dream is to become a nurse practitioner. I started clinical this semester and am already seeing how my own experiences have given me the foundation to help others in their time of need. Therefore, I embrace my challenges and am thankful for the way they have helped to prepare me for my career in nursing. When I was young, I spent six years training to be a second-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Master Choi had a plaque on his desk that read, “Choose a Job You Love and You’ll Never Have to Work a Day in Your Life.” I always thought that seemed like an impossible dream. However, now I believe that it will become my reality!

I’ve been intrigued with the medical field since going through a health crisis while in high school. I was having severe migraines and syncope episodes. While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I spent over a year interacting with nurses. I developed sincere gratitude for them. It was a scary time in my life; I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Without such attentive nurses, I don’t know how I would have made it through. They truly cared about my suffering and worked with my medical team to figure out what was going on with me and how to fix it. I’m truly blessed to have encountered such great people. They had a profound impact on me and caused me to develop a strong desire to help others with the same care and concern that they extended to me. Because of this realization, I spent my final two years of high school in the Academy of Health Professions program, studying Intro to Nursing, Medical Assisting and Physical Rehabilitation. Through that program, I met a recruiter from the local fire department. I never made a decision so quickly and confidently in my life. Within days of meeting him, I began the process of becoming an EMT. I still remember my first call; it was a cardiac arrest. The blaring siren sent us rushing to the ambulance. When we arrived on the scene, the family was pouring out of the house. They were sobbing uncontrollably and couldn’t speak to tell us where the patient was located. I went upstairs with a paramedic to search, while two other guys looked downstairs. I found the patient on the bathroom floor, stuck in front of the door with no pulse. We pulled him into the bedroom. The paramedic asked if I knew CPR and I nodded. I immediately began compressions while they set up the LUCAS device. After the LUCAS was ready, I took over on the BVM while the paramedic began administering epinephrine. We did CPR for forty minutes, but we could not bring him back. At one point during compressions, I started to feel scared and sick. My eyes were opened to what nurses go through. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t be a nurse.” But then I realized, I could do it. I wanted to do it. My desire to spend my career helping people and saving lives was solidified. I am currently a nursing student at The University of Tampa. I started clinical last semester and I am already seeing how my own experiences have given me the foundation to help others in their time of need. After graduation, I plan to draw on my EMT experience and work at a Level 1 Trauma Center. While there, I plan to continue my education and eventually become a nurse practitioner. I am determined to have a positive impact on the nursing profession by being there for my patients the same way those nurses were there for me.

I have been intrigued with the medical field since going through my own health crisis in high school. I began having severe migraines and syncope episodes. While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I spent over a year interacting with nurses. Like Cindy J. Visser, many of them showed empathy, compassion and intentionality while also providing a high degree of professionalism. I developed sincere gratitude for them. It was a scary time in my life; I didn’t know what was wrong with me. Without such attentive nurses, I don’t know how I would have made it through. They truly cared about my suffering and worked with my medical team to figure out what was going on with me and how to fix it. I am truly blessed to have encountered such great people. They had a profound impact on me and caused me to develop a strong desire to help others with the same care and concern that they extended to me. In other words, I want to be like Cindy. Because of this realization, I spent my final two years of high school in the Academy of Health Professions program, studying Intro to Nursing, Medical Assisting and Physical Rehabilitation. Through that program, I met a recruiter from the local fire department. I never made a decision so quickly and confidently in my life. Within days of meeting him, I began the process of becoming an EMT. I still remember my first call; it was a cardiac arrest. The blaring siren sent us rushing to the ambulance. When we arrived on the scene, the family was pouring out of the house. They were sobbing uncontrollably and couldn’t speak to tell us where the patient was located. I went upstairs with a paramedic to search, while two other guys looked downstairs. I found the patient on the bathroom floor, stuck in front of the door with no pulse. We pulled him into the bedroom. The paramedic asked if I knew CPR and I nodded. I immediately began compressions while they set up the LUCAS device. After the LUCAS was ready, I took over on the BVM while the paramedic began administering epinephrine. We did CPR for forty minutes, but we could not bring him back. At one point during compressions, I started to feel scared and sick. My eyes were opened to what nurses go through. “I don’t want to do this anymore. I can’t be a nurse.” But then I realized, I could do it. I wanted to do it. My desire to spend my career helping people and saving lives was solidified. I am currently a nursing student at The University of Tampa. I started clinicals on a medical surgical floor this semester and I am already seeing how my own experiences have given me the foundation to help others in their time of need. After graduation, I plan to draw on my EMT experience and work at a Level 1 Trauma Center. While there, I plan to continue my education and eventually become a nurse practitioner. Wherever my career in nursing leads me, I am determined to be a productive part of society that makes a difference in people's lives. When I was young, I spent six years training to be a second-degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Master Choi had a plaque on his desk that read, “Choose a job you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.” I always thought that seemed like an impossible dream. However, I am confident that a career in nursing will fulfill that impossible dream.

Challenges are the fundamental building blocks of our character. They sculpt whether we respond or react to things and ultimately make us who we are. I’d be curious to see who I would be today without all the past obstacles I have encountered. How would I be different? Would I be as strong? Would I have the same resilience? Would I be less independent? I will never definitively know the answers to these questions. However, I have no doubt that every challenge in my life had purpose and was necessary to mold me into the person that I am today. When faced with an obstacle you have two options: overcome and conquer or let it prevent you from reaching your goals. Therefore, I completely agree that how we choose to respond to life’s challenges shapes our lives. There is no doubt that the absence of my father significantly impacted my life. The void of not having my dad while growing up is something that can’t be explained; only those that have experienced it can understand it. My father died in 2005 when I was only three years old. I was too young to recognize and understand the full magnitude of what was happening in my life. At the time, I had no idea how my life would be forever affected by that moment. I now know that my dad suffered from bipolar disorder, alcoholism and addiction. Although my mom shielded me from all the effects of his illnesses before he died, that does not mean that I didn’t suffer detrimental, lingering effects afterwards. Through the years, I discovered that complicated grief is a process with many stages. Up until middle school, I was content with what I had been told when I was three: “Daddy’s brain was sick.” However, now that I was older, I started to ask detailed questions. In this new stage of grief, my inquisitive brain was trying to process my father’s death all over again. Through probing questions, I found out that my dad committed suicide. That revelation shocked me to the core and caused me to go through a whole new stage of mourning. I sat in this stage for years and couldn’t get the crippling questions out of my mind. Why did he do it? How could he “choose” to leave me, his son? Why wasn’t I enough to make him want to live? The unanswered questions and feelings of abandonment triggered a whole new level of anger, hurt and sadness. With the help of a grief counselor, I addressed the feelings these thoughts and questions evoked. Instead of ruminating on the negative feelings and the distorted thinking regarding my father’s death, I began to process his death in more positive ways. I started volunteering and participating in suicide prevention walks. I also made a couple of suicide prevention videos to post on social media. I began to learn and understand more about the alcoholism and addiction that contributed to his irreversible “choice.” Additionally, I discovered piano and I used it to journal my thoughts and feelings through songwriting. This was by far the most therapeutic. Taking these steps, I began to empathize with my dad’s struggles and started to let go of some of the anger. A semicolon tattoo, in honor of him, is now displayed on my wrist and his necklace hangs around my neck. By taking some control over the effects of my father’s suicide and the substance abuse that led to it, it became something that happened in my life, not something that defines my life.

I consider myself a survivor. My father committed suicide in 2005 when I was only three years old. Although I was too young to recognize and understand the full magnitude of what was happening in my life, it was the first time I remember experiencing fear and sadness. There is no doubt that the absence of my father significantly impacted my life. The void of not having my dad is something that can’t be explained; Only those that have experienced it can understand it. Unfortunately, my father’s death wasn’t the only one I would experience. I lost my grandmother and grandfather, my great-grandfather and two dogs. All of these losses deeply affected me, but the complicated grief and unresolved feelings regarding my father’s suicide were debilitating. I began having severe migraines and syncope episodes in high school. While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I spent a lot of time interacting with various medical professionals. Eventually, I was lucky enough to be treated by a nurse practitioner who suggested that there was a mental health component and determined that intense anxiety was the culprit. That discovery allowed me to finally get the treatment I needed. That’s when my interest in neurology and psychiatry took root. With the help of a grief counselor, I began to process my father’s death in more positive ways. Instead of ruminating on the negative feelings and the distorted thinking regarding my father’s death, I started volunteering and participating in suicide prevention walks. I also made a few suicide prevention videos. Then, I discovered piano and I used it to journal my thoughts and feelings through songwriting. That was by far the most therapeutic. Taking these steps, I began to empathize with my dad’s struggles and started to let go of some of the anger. A semicolon tattoo, in honor of him, is now displayed on my wrist and his necklace hangs around my neck. Taking some control over the effects of my father’s suicide has allowed it to be something that happened in my life, not something that defines my life. I am currently a nursing student with dreams of becoming a nurse practitioner. I plan to draw on my experience as an EMT and work at a Level 1 Trauma Center after graduating with my BSN. While there, I plan to continue my education and work towards becoming a nurse practitioner. On one hand, I can envision myself continuing to work in trauma even after I receive my doctorate. On the other hand, my personal experience, coupled with the fact that there is a mental health crisis in our country, might guide me into neurology or psychiatry. Either way, I am determined to be a productive part of society that makes a difference in people's lives. The doctors and nurses that helped me through my health crisis had a profound impact on me. I want to have that effect on others. I started clinicals this semester and I am already seeing how my own experiences have given me the foundation to help others in their time of need. Therefore, I embrace my challenges and I am thankful for the ways in which they have helped prepare me for my career in nursing. When I was young, I spent six years training to be a second degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Master Choi had a plaque on his desk that read, “Choose a Job You Love and You’ll Never Have to Work a Day in Your Life.” I always thought that seemed like an impossible dream. Now, I see it as very possible.

There is no doubt that the absence of my father significantly impacted my life. The void of not having my dad is something that can’t be explained; Only those that have experienced it can understand it. My father died in 2005 when I was only three years old. Although I was too young to recognize and understand the full magnitude of what was happening in my life, it was the first time I remember experiencing fear and sadness. For a long time, I didn’t want my mom out of my sight because I was terrified that she would die too. Through the years, I discovered that complicated grief is a process with many stages. Up until middle school, I was content with what I had been told when I was three: “Daddy’s brain was sick.” However, now that I was older, I started to ask detailed questions. In this new stage of grief, my inquisitive brain was trying to process my father’s death all over again. Through probing questions, I found out that my dad committed suicide. That revelation shook me to the core and caused me to go through a whole new stage of mourning. I sat in this stage for years and couldn’t get the crippling questions out of my mind. Why did he do it? How could he “choose” to leave me, his son? Why wasn’t I enough to make him want to live? The unanswered questions and feelings of abandonment triggered a whole new level of anger, hurt and sadness. That’s when my own health crisis began. I started suffering from severe migraines and syncope episodes. It was terrifying! While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I spent a lot of time interacting with various medical professionals and developed sincere gratitude for them. Eventually, it was determined that intense anxiety was the culprit for both the migraines and the syncope. With the help of a grief counselor, I began to process my father’s death in more positive ways. Instead of ruminating on the negative feelings and the distorted thinking regarding my father’s death, I started volunteering and participating in suicide prevention walks. I also made a few suicide prevention videos. Then, I discovered piano and I used it to journal my thoughts and feelings through songwriting. This was by far the most therapeutic. Taking these steps, I began to empathize with my dad’s struggles and started to let go of some of the anger. A semicolon tattoo, in honor of him, is now displayed on my wrist and his necklace hangs around my neck. Taking some control over the effects of my father’s suicide has allowed it to be something that happened in my life, not something that defines my life. The doctors and nurses that helped me through my health crisis had a profound impact on me. I am currently a nursing student and my dream is to become a nurse practitioner. I started clinicals this semester and am already seeing how my own experiences have given me the foundation to help others in their time of need. Therefore, I embrace my challenges and am thankful for the way they have helped to prepare me for my career in nursing. When I was young, I spent six years training to be a second degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Master Choi had a plaque on his desk that read, “Choose a Job You Love and You’ll Never Have to Work a Day in Your Life.” I always thought that seemed like an impossible dream. However, now I believe that it will become my reality!

The last thing I remember, I was sitting on the couch with my mom about to have the hardest conversation of my life. My heart began racing, my stomach turning and my skin was cold and wet. Then it happened—again. I opened my eyes with EMTs standing over me, lying on the cot in the ambulance on the way to the hospital for what felt like the hundredth time. I had been passing out for months. The technical diagnosis was vasovagal syncope. Prior to the first episode, I had been battling chronic migraines for over a year. In fact, the first two times I passed out was in the neurologist’s office during occipital nerve block injections at the beginning of 2017. The neurologist told us it happened quite often and nobody seemed to be concerned, including me. He said that people get anxious with injections and that anxiety can cause a person to pass out. I never felt anxious. At least, I didn’t think I did. I learned two things that day: anxiety can cause a person to pass out and you can be anxious without knowing it. I left the doctor’s office that day without knowing that passing out would dominate my life for the remainder of that year. Over the course of the next several months, I would pass out over two dozen additional times at places such as baseball, classes, car rides and even in my own home. While searching for answers and a diagnosis, I was in and out of doctor’s offices, ambulances, emergency rooms, imaging facilities and labs. There wasn’t a single thing that they could find wrong with me. All tests and labs came back normal. It wasn’t until the night I came out that my family connected the dots between the episodes in the neurologist’s office with all the others. It became obvious I had been passing out due to anxiety. Anxieties such as coming out to my family, going to school and even simply getting up in the morning had become debilitating. They started affecting my life, and in turn, my future. I needed something to change. I needed to take control of my own life and acknowledging my anxiety was the first step towards conquering it. I haven’t fainted since. Through it all, I developed sincere gratitude for all of the professionals that took the time to be patient, thorough and compassionate with me. The nurses that helped me through my crisis had a profound impact on me, which led me to dream of a career in nursing. I had a strong desire to help people the same way they helped me and I wanted to do it with the same care and empathy that they extended to me. Because of that realization, I enrolled in the Career and Technology Center for my final two years of high school. I attended Introduction to Nursing, Medical Assisting and Physical Rehabilitation classes. Through that program, I met a recruiter from the local fire department. I had never made a decision so quickly and confidently in my life. Within days of meeting him, I began the process of becoming an EMT. I still remember my first call; it was a cardiac arrest. When we arrived on the scene, the family was pouring out of the house. They were sobbing uncontrollably and couldn’t articulate their words to tell us where the patient was located. I went upstairs with a paramedic to search, while two other EMTs looked downstairs. I found the patient on the bathroom floor, stuck in front of the door, with no pulse. We pulled him into the bedroom. The room felt like death. The paramedic asked if I knew CPR and I immediately began compressions while they set up the LUCAS device. After the LUCAS was ready, I took over on the BVM while the paramedic began administering epinephrine. We did CPR for 40 minutes, but we could not bring him back. At one point, I started to feel scared and sick, like I didn’t have the stomach to be a nurse. But then I realized, I could do it. I wanted to do it. And somebody needs to do it. It opened my eyes to what nurses go through daily and solidified my desire to spend my career helping people and saving lives. That’s when my mind began gravitating towards the idea of, not only becoming a nurse, but a trauma nurse with aspirations of receiving my doctorate to become a nurse practitioner. When I was young, I spent six years training to be a second degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Master Choi had a plaque on his desk that read, “Choose a job you love and you’ll never work a day in your life.” I always thought that seemed impossible. However, I am now confident that a career in nursing will fulfill that impossible dream.