Mental health is often treated as something invisible, something that exists quietly in the background until it suddenly becomes too loud to ignore. For me, it was never just one moment of crisis, but a slow buildup of feelings I could not name and thoughts I could not control. For years, I carried anxiety, self-doubt, and emotional exhaustion like extra weight no one could see. I smiled through it, showed up when I had to, and did everything I could to look like I had things under control. But inside, I was falling apart. It took me a long time to recognize that what I was experiencing was not a temporary phase or a personal failure. It was a mental health struggle that I had been carrying silently for far too long. Asking for help was not easy. In fact, it was one of the most difficult and vulnerable decisions I have ever made. But it was also the beginning of real growth. That process, my personal journey with mental health, has shaped every part of who I am today. It has changed what I believe about myself and others, transformed how I build relationships, and ultimately led me toward a career dedicated to helping others navigate their own mental and emotional pain. In the beginning, I carried a deep sense of shame about my mental health. I believed that struggling meant I was not strong enough or good enough. I thought emotional pain was something to hide and something I was supposed to push through on my own. These beliefs were not taught directly, but they were reinforced in a world that often values productivity over presence and appearances over authenticity. When I began therapy, those beliefs began to unravel. For the first time, I experienced what it felt like to be heard without judgment and without the pressure to “fix it.” I began to understand that vulnerability was not a flaw. Instead, it was a doorway to healing. I learned that strength can mean admitting when you are not okay. I came to believe that being human means being imperfect and that asking for help is one of the most courageous things a person can do. This change in belief did not only impact how I viewed myself. It also reshaped the way I related to others. Before starting my healing process, I approached most relationships from a place of performance. I was always trying to be the strong one, the reliable one, the person who held things together for others while silently falling apart inside. I thought that if I could just stay useful enough, I would be worthy of love and connection. As I grew through therapy and self-reflection, I began to show up differently in my relationships. I started having more honest conversations. I started saying things like “I need help” or “I am struggling” without shame. I began setting boundaries, not as a way to push people away, but as a way to make space for relationships that felt safe, mutual, and real. Letting go of the need to appear perfect allowed me to build stronger and more meaningful connections. I no longer felt the need to hide parts of myself in order to belong. One of the most important things my mental health journey taught me was how to listen. I learned how to truly be present for someone without rushing to give advice or fix their problems. I discovered that sometimes, just sitting with someone in their pain is the most powerful thing you can do. That ability to listen, to hold space, and to understand without judgment, has become a central part of who I am and how I move through the world. These experiences are also what led me to pursue a career as a therapist. I am currently studying to enter the mental health field, and that decision was born directly from my own healing. Sitting across from a therapist who truly saw me, who validated my experiences and helped me reconnect with my sense of worth, changed my life. It gave me the clarity to see that I wanted to do the same for others. I do not just want to become a therapist in the general sense. My goal is to work with people who are often overlooked, especially women in rural and underserved communities. These are the people who are usually expected to be strong for everyone else, yet rarely asked how they are doing. Too many women in rural areas carry the emotional and physical weight of their families, workplaces, and communities with very little support. Many have never had access to therapy or even language to describe their emotional experiences. I want to be the kind of therapist who shows up in those spaces. Whether that is through community clinics, mobile mental health programs, or school partnerships, I want to bring care directly to the people who need it most. I believe that therapy should not be a luxury or something only available in big cities. Everyone deserves to be seen, heard, and supported, regardless of where they live. My lived experience gives me a deep sense of empathy that goes beyond academic training. I understand the fear of asking for help, the shame of struggling, and the quiet strength it takes just to get through the day when your mind feels like a storm. I carry that understanding with me into every conversation, every classroom, and every professional goal. My intention is to turn what I have learned into something that helps others heal too. In addition to direct therapy, I also want to focus on mental health education in the communities I serve. I want to offer workshops, support groups, and informal spaces for people to learn about emotional wellbeing in ways that are culturally sensitive and approachable. I want to break the silence around mental health and give people tools they can use in their everyday lives. Reflecting on my mental health journey, I can honestly say that what once felt like a burden has become a source of clarity and purpose. I no longer see my struggles as something that held me back. Instead, I see them as the foundation of my growth. Mental health shaped my beliefs, deepened my relationships, and gave me a clear direction for my life. I am still growing, still learning, and still healing. But everything I have experienced has prepared me to show up for others in a meaningful and lasting way. That, to me, is the true power of turning pain into purpose.

I didn’t always know I wanted to be a therapist. What I did know, from a young age, was what it felt like to suffer silently. I struggled with my mental health in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time. I just knew I often felt overwhelmed, emotionally exhausted, and alone, even when surrounded by people. I tried to push through, to appear “fine,” but I wasn’t. And the longer I stayed quiet, the heavier it became. Eventually, I reached a breaking point. I knew I couldn’t keep pretending. Getting into therapy was one of the hardest and most life-changing things I’ve ever done. It helped me begin to untangle years of anxiety, self-doubt, and pain I had buried. It also opened my eyes to how many others were silently suffering, especially those without the access or support I was lucky enough to find. As I began my own healing, I realized that what I truly wanted was to help others feel less alone in their pain. That’s what led me to study mental health and become a therapist, not from a place of theory or distance, but from lived experience. I know what it’s like to sit in that chair for the first time and not know where to start. I know how hard it is to ask for help when you’re used to holding everything together. And I also know how many people, especially women in rural areas, never get that chance. Women in rural communities are often the ones holding everything and everyone together, caring for children, aging parents, working long hours, running households. They’re expected to be strong, resilient, self-sacrificing. But where do they go when they need support? Too often, the answer is nowhere. Between the lack of resources, the stigma around mental health, and the fear of being judged by a tight-knit community, many women never get the care they need. That’s where I want to make a difference. My goal is to work directly in rural areas, bringing accessible, compassionate mental health care to women who’ve gone too long without it. I want to meet them where they are, whether that’s through mobile clinics, school partnerships, or community workshops, and provide a safe space to talk, process, and be human. Because I’ve been there, I don’t come in with judgment or assumptions. I come with empathy, patience, and deep respect for the strength it takes to survive in silence. My experiences have made me not just more compassionate, but more committed to creating change. I believe every woman, no matter where she lives, deserves access to mental health care that affirms her worth and gives her room to breathe. This scholarship would help me complete the training I need to serve those women fully, not just as a professional, but as someone who understands the quiet battles they’re fighting. I’ve turned my pain into purpose. And now, I want to help others do the same.

I don’t believe I “deserve” this scholarship more than anyone else, but I do believe I bring something unique to the table, and I’m committed to making the most of this opportunity, not just for myself, but for the people I will serve in the future. What gives me an advantage isn’t just academic performance or ambition. It’s the combination of lived experience, self-awareness, and a deep-rooted motivation to help others through real human connection. I’m studying to become a therapist not because it’s a “good career,” but because mental health care has changed my life, and I want to be part of changing it for others. Unlike someone who entered this field from a purely academic interest, I’m coming in with firsthand experience of what it’s like to navigate anxiety, depression, and the silence that often surrounds it. I know what it feels like to sit in a therapist’s office and struggle to put pain into words. I also know what it feels like to finally be heard, and to realize you’re not broken, you’re just human. That insight isn’t something I read in a textbook. I earned it by living it. And that gives me a different kind of strength: empathy that doesn’t come from theory, but from memory. My journey has given me the ability to connect with people in an honest and grounded way. I’ve had to do the work of confronting my own emotional patterns, unlearning toxic perfectionism, and setting boundaries. Because of that, I don’t shy away from discomfort, my own or anyone else’s. In fact, I lean into it. I believe healing starts in spaces where people feel safe being fully themselves, even if that self is angry, grieving, confused, or afraid. That’s the kind of space I want to create as a future therapist. In terms of preparation, I’ve taken every step seriously. I’ve challenged myself academically while also doing the emotional work necessary to grow into this role. I’ve volunteered with mental health organizations, studied psychological theory, and engaged in reflective practices that keep me grounded. I don’t want to just be competent, I want to be effective, ethical, and deeply present for the people who trust me with their stories. What gives me an edge isn’t that I’m the smartest or most polished, it’s that I’m real. I know how to sit with someone in their pain without rushing to fix them. I know how to ask questions that go beyond the surface. And I’m committed to doing this work for the long haul, especially for people who often get left behind in the system, those who can’t afford private therapy, who’ve been dismissed or misdiagnosed, or who never felt safe enough to ask for help. This scholarship wouldn’t just lighten my financial burden; it would be a vote of confidence in the kind of therapist I’m working hard to become. I’m not just asking for support. I’m promising to pay it forward, in every session, every relationship, and every space where healing is possible.

Mental health has shaped my life in ways I didn’t fully understand until I was deep in it. I used to think struggling mentally meant something dramatic—like breakdowns, or not being able to function at all. I didn’t see how much I was quietly struggling, because on the outside, I looked fine. I smiled, I got my work done, I even gave people advice. But inside, I was constantly overwhelmed and tired of pretending. Looking back, anxiety was always there—I just thought it was normal. I thought it was normal to lie awake at night replaying every conversation, or to overthink the smallest decisions until I froze up. I thought it was normal to feel this tightness in my chest every day, to feel like I was on the edge of failing at something—even when I wasn’t. I couldn’t relax, and I blamed myself for it. Then came the depression, and it was quieter. I didn’t cry much or stay in bed all day. I just started to feel numb. I stopped enjoying things. I laughed less. I felt like I was moving through life behind glass—watching everything, but not really feeling part of it. I didn’t tell anyone. I was afraid they wouldn’t take it seriously or that I’d just be told to “tough it out.” What finally pushed me to seek help wasn’t one big moment. It was a slow build—weeks where I felt like I was only surviving. I was tired of pretending. I started therapy during college, and that first session felt like both a relief and a punch in the gut. I hadn’t realized how much I was carrying. Naming what I was going through—saying “anxiety” and “depression” out loud—was scary, but also freeing. I wasn’t broken. I was human. Therapy didn’t fix me, but it gave me a place to breathe, to unpack, to ask hard questions. I started to understand where some of these patterns came from, and I began learning how to cope differently—how to be more honest with myself and others, how to set boundaries, how to rest without guilt. This experience changed how I see people, too. I’ve learned that so many of us are struggling quietly. Just because someone looks okay doesn’t mean they are. I became more compassionate, less judgmental. And that’s part of what led me toward wanting to become a therapist. I want to be the kind of person I wish I’d had earlier in my life—someone who listens without judgment and helps others feel seen. Mental health is still something I carry with me. I have good days and hard days, but now I know how to deal with them. And more than anything, I know I’m not alone. That makes all the difference.

Choosing a career in the mental health field wasn’t a sudden decision—it was something that unfolded over time, shaped by personal experiences, growing empathy, and a deep desire to make a difference. I chose to pursue a career as a child therapist because I’ve seen how early emotional wounds can shape a person’s entire life, and I want to be part of the healing process before those wounds grow deeper. I believe that children deserve a chance to process their pain, develop healthy coping skills, and grow into the best version of themselves. My interest in this field was sparked by a close family member who experienced childhood trauma. I watched them struggle for years with anxiety, anger, and self-doubt—never fully understanding where those feelings came from. As I got older and learned more about mental health, it became clear that many of their adult struggles had roots in untreated trauma from their early years. What struck me most was that their healing didn’t begin until they received professional support. That transformation—slow, painful, and incredibly brave—inspired me to become someone who could help others begin that same journey earlier in life. My future goal is to become a licensed child therapist who specializes in trauma-informed care. I want to work directly with children and adolescents who have experienced abuse, neglect, grief, or other emotional challenges. I plan to be trained in modalities such as play therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), and attachment-based therapy. I also want to create safe, welcoming spaces where children feel seen, heard, and supported—especially those who may not have consistent emotional support at home. In addition to one-on-one therapy, I hope to eventually open a community-based mental health center that offers low-cost or free services to underserved families. Mental health care should not be a luxury. Far too many children go without help simply because their families can’t afford it or don’t know where to look. My long-term vision includes advocacy work that raises awareness, reduces stigma, and increases access to mental health support in schools and community centers. In terms of experience, I’ve already begun laying the foundation for this career. I have volunteered at youth centers and after-school programs, where I helped support children dealing with behavioral issues and emotional stress. These roles taught me the importance of patience, active listening, and building trust with young people. I’ve also taken introductory psychology and child development courses, which helped me better understand how early experiences shape emotional and behavioral patterns. Each step has confirmed for me that this is the path I’m meant to walk. Pursuing a career in mental health is not just about having the right education or credentials—it’s about having the heart to show up for people when they need it most. I chose this path because I want to be a steady, compassionate presence in a child’s life during their most vulnerable moments. My goal is not just to help children survive their pain, but to help them thrive in spite of it. That’s the future I’m working toward, one step at a time.

Mental health is the foundation of how we experience the world—how we connect with others, cope with challenges, and understand ourselves. For many people, especially children, this foundation is shaken early by trauma, instability, or a lack of emotional support. I am pursuing a degree in the mental health field to become a child therapist because I want to help rebuild that foundation. I believe that every child deserves to feel safe, heard, and supported, and I want to make a meaningful difference by being someone they can trust during their most vulnerable moments. My passion for mental health began with a personal connection. I grew up watching someone close to me struggle with the lasting effects of childhood trauma. Despite being intelligent, kind, and creative, they carried deep emotional scars that affected their relationships, education, and self-esteem. For a long time, they didn’t have access to mental health support. When they finally began therapy in adulthood, I witnessed their transformation—slow, difficult, but incredibly powerful. That experience opened my eyes to how vital early intervention is, and it inspired me to pursue a career where I can offer that support sooner, when it can make the biggest difference. Through my studies and personal experiences, I’ve come to understand that children often don’t have the words to explain what they’re going through. Their pain might show up as acting out, withdrawing, or struggling in school. As a child therapist, I want to be the person who sees beyond the surface and helps uncover the root of that pain. I plan to specialize in trauma-informed practices such as play therapy and cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), which are developmentally appropriate and effective for helping children express and process their emotions. But making a difference goes beyond just working with individual clients. I also want to educate families and communities about mental health. I believe many parents want to help their children but don’t always know how. I hope to bridge that gap by offering guidance, support groups, and workshops for caregivers—helping them understand the signs of trauma, how to communicate more effectively, and how to create environments where children feel emotionally secure. In addition, I am passionate about advocating for more accessible mental health resources in schools and underserved communities. Too many children suffer in silence because they can’t afford therapy or because mental health is still stigmatized in their culture. I want to be a voice for those children—pushing for systems that support rather than ignore their needs. Ultimately, I am pursuing a degree in the mental health field because I want to be a source of hope. I want to walk alongside children during the hardest parts of their journey and help them discover that they are not broken—they are growing, healing, and capable of thriving. To me, there is no greater purpose than helping others find light in the darkness. That’s the difference I hope to make, one child at a time.

Early childhood is a critical time when the brain is rapidly developing, emotional patterns are forming, and children are beginning to make sense of the world. When trauma disrupts this stage, whether through abuse, neglect, domestic violence, or instability, the consequences can be deep and long-lasting. As someone who hopes to become a child therapist, I am committed to helping young people overcome these early challenges and rediscover their sense of safety, trust, and resilience. The effects of early childhood trauma are far-reaching. Neurologically, trauma can alter brain development, particularly in areas responsible for emotional regulation, memory, and stress response. Children who experience trauma may have difficulty concentrating in school, managing their emotions, or forming healthy attachments to others. As they grow, many face ongoing struggles with anxiety, depression, low self-esteem, and difficulty navigating relationships. Without early intervention, the trauma they experience can follow them into adulthood, impacting every area of their lives, from employment and education to physical health and personal well-being. As a future child therapist, I plan to dedicate my career to helping children process and heal from these early experiences. Therapy offers children a safe, supportive space to express themselves, build trust, and begin to understand and reframe their experiences. I plan to specialize in trauma-informed approaches such as play therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), and family systems therapy. These methods are not just about helping children cope in the present, they are about giving them tools to build a healthier, more stable future. In addition to one-on-one work, I believe strongly in the importance of supporting families and caregivers. Many parents are struggling with their own unresolved trauma, or they simply don’t have the resources or knowledge to support a child through healing. I hope to empower caregivers with tools, education, and emotional support so they can be part of their child’s recovery process. Healing doesn’t happen in isolation, it happens in relationships. My passion for this work is deeply personal. I witnessed firsthand the impact of childhood trauma through a close family member who experienced neglect and emotional abuse at a young age. For years, I watched him battle feelings of worthlessness and anger, struggling to feel safe even in loving environments. It wasn’t until he began therapy as a young adult that he began to understand his past and develop healthier coping mechanisms. That experience opened my eyes to how transformative therapy can be, and how different life might have been for him if he had received support earlier. Childhood trauma does not have to define a person’s life. With the right intervention, children can reclaim their sense of hope, confidence, and joy. As a child therapist, I want to be part of that journey, to meet children where they are, help them feel seen and heard, and walk beside them as they take their first steps toward healing. This work is not only a career goal, it is a calling rooted in empathy, advocacy, and a deep belief in every child.

In June of 2014, I lost my grandpa, before that I had never felt what true loss felt like. Life can move so quickly when you least expect it, and it truly made me realize I need to focus on what I want in my life because who knows when it could be over? After my grandpa passed I experienced an immense amount of grief. I was pretty young at the time he passed, and grief for me was a whole new experience that I was feeling. I couldn't quite comprehend what I was supposed to do next, because moving on with my life seemed so selfish when my grandpa had just lost his. It took lots of counseling and long talks with my parents for me to realize that life moves on, and I can't sit and dwell on the bad experiences. What matters most in my life is being content, successful, and overall just happy with myself and life. You never know when it can be taken away from you, living each day to the fullest and taking in those little moments in life have truly helped me fight for what I want to achieve. It takes motivation and progress to achieve your goals, but knowing how quickly life goes by I want to make sure I fight to get to where I want to be.

Quality and characteristics are things people notice in you from the second they meet you, so having good characteristics can play a big part in where you go in life. For me, the characteristic and quality I value most in myself is the compassion I have for others. I value this quality the most because in todays world its not often you find people who have a true sense of compassion and caring for others. For example, when my friends are down or they have a problem, I am one of the first people to step in and help. I don't step in and help because I feel like I have to, I step in because I care, and I know what it's like to need to talk to someone who cares and will actually listen. So many people struggle every day because the world can be a very cruel place, and theres no lie that we need more compassion in the world. I feel having this quality will help me the most in my life journey because I believe having compassion for others is a big characteristic that people do notice in others. I know that I notice it in others who show it to me. Knowing that even a complete stranger has compassion for you makes you feel like there is some humanity in life. Compassion is such a strong feeling, and we do need more of it. I also believe my compassion will help me in the career field I am choosing to pursue, which is Clinical Psychology. I want to become a therapist, and to help others talk through their feelings means you need to have a sense of compassion for them. I struggle with my own everyday problems, but I always want to be there for others no matter how I am feeling. Therapy for me has been a great resource to let out how I am feeling and not feel judged. I've been going to therapy for a year now and it has been one of the best decisions I have made, my therapist always shows me compassion during our sessions. Seeing how much a little compassion from her helps me makes me wanna show that to others. I guess what I am trying to get at here is that I have true compassion, and that's not me being biased or anything, I just know who I am and who I want to be. A lot of my friends and family members have noticed this characteristic in me and tell me how much it's going to help me in life. I truly do hope they are right about that, because I want to help others some day just like they have helped me.