I was 14 years old when I tried to kill myself. Before that, I struggled for a long time with self-harm and bullying. I felt like the world would be so much better off without me and that I was such a massive inconvenience to everyone around me. I truly believed that my existence was just a problem for other people to deal with. Every single night, I would lay in bed and think about how I could kill myself. It was the only thing on my mind. The day that I tried to kill myself, I took a bunch of over-the-counter painkillers and some prescription medications. The only thing on my mind was making sure I said sorry. I called my dad, not to say goodbye, but to tell him I was sorry for being such a burden to him. That was such a scary moment, yet at the time, I was so happy that I was finally going to be gone. I felt a sense of relief thinking that the "inconvenience" of my life was finally ending. I passed out, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital bed. An ambulance had come and saved me, and my whole family was there. I remember looking up and seeing my parents, my grandparents, and my uncle all standing there in that room. And I just cried. I didn’t cry because I was happy to see them; I cried because I was so disappointed that I was still alive. I was devastated that I had failed to leave and that I was still here, being a "problem" for them to solve. Even after that, the struggle didn't stop. I continued to self-harm for two more years. One of the hardest moments I remember was my mom yelling at me because she thought I was just being dramatic. Hearing that made everything so much worse. It made me feel like my pain wasn't real or that I was just seeking attention, when in reality, I was fighting for my life every day. But over time, something began to change. I started to see that love isn’t something you have to earn by being "easy" to have around. I realized that someone will always care for you and always love you, even if you don't understand it at the time. I learned that my family, even in the moments when they didn't understand how to help me, stayed by my side because they loved me through the mess. That is the reason I want to be a police officer. I want to be there for people who are going through the exact same struggles I went through. When someone is in a mental health crisis, they often feel like they are "too much" or that they are a nuisance. They might have people in their lives who tell them they are just being dramatic. I want to be the officer who shows up and speaks from a place of true, raw understanding. I want to be the person who looks them in the eye and tells them that their pain is real, they are not alone, and their life is worth the work. I spent years wanting to be invisible so I wouldn't be a burden. Now, I want to spend my life being visible for others, standing in the gap for people who feel like they’ve run out of options. I want to help bring the darkness to light, just like this scholarship aims to do, by showing people that no matter how much they are struggling, they are never an inconvenience.

Drugs have affected my life and my family a lot. My mom has struggled with alcoholism for as long as I can remember, and growing up around that showed me how much addiction can hurt a family. I saw how it caused stress, fights, and fear at home. I never wanted to become addicted to drugs or alcohol after seeing how it affected her, but when I was fifteen, I started using marijuana to deal with stress and anxiety. I also tried alcohol. For a couple of years, from fifteen to seventeen, I relied on marijuana, and I realized it wasn’t helping me at all. Going through that made me understand how hard it can be to stop using drugs, and it made me want to help others who are struggling. Drugs are even more dangerous now with fentanyl being so common. I’ve seen how deadly drugs can be my friend Sydney Khoner was killed because the person she was with was driving while on fentanyl and alcohol. Losing her was really hard, and it made me realize how serious this problem is. Seeing families hurt and hearing about overdoses makes it clear that education, prevention, and support are very important. That’s why I decided to study Criminal Justice—I want to help make a difference. I want to learn how police, social workers, and community programs can work together to stop these tragedies. I’m especially interested in ways to help people recover instead of just punishing them. I want to help create programs that connect people to treatment and resources before it’s too late. School isn’t the only place I’m learning. Volunteering at Rebel’s Gymnastics Club has taught me a lot about guiding and supporting people. Coaching kids shows me how important encouragement and trust are, especially for kids who may be going through hard times. My internship with the Minnesota State Patrol also gives me hands-on experience seeing how officers handle dangerous situations with drugs like fentanyl. I’ve learned how important it is to stay calm, think clearly, and treat people with respect while keeping the community safe. In the future, I want to be a State Trooper who not only enforces the law but also helps prevent people from getting stuck in addiction. I want people to feel like they can come to me for help, and I want to connect families to support they need. Losing Sydney and seeing my mom struggle have shown me how real and painful these problems are. I want to make a positive difference in my community and help prevent tragedies before they happen. My experiences have shaped me and given me the drive to use what I learn in school, through volunteering, and in real-world experiences to make communities safer and stronger.

Gymnastics has been a huge part of my life for seventeen years. I loved everything about it—the challenge, the feeling of learning something new, and just the joy of being active. But a few years ago, I had a spinal crack in L3 and L4 vertebrae. Even after it healed, I kept pushing myself and still felt pain in my back all the time. Eventually, my doctor told me I couldn’t do gymnastics anymore. That was really hard to accept. Gymnastics had been a part of me for so long, and suddenly I had to let it go. Even though I couldn’t compete anymore, I didn’t want to leave the sport behind. That’s why I started volunteering at a nonprofit gymnastics club, coaching five- and six-year-olds for five hours a week. These kids are just starting out, learning the basics, and beginning to fall in love with the sport like I did. Working with them is so rewarding. Seeing their excitement when they try something new or finally get a skill right reminds me of what gymnastics was like for me as a kid. I want them to feel that same happiness, the same sense of accomplishment, and to know that their coach is rooting for them no matter what. Coaching has taught me a lot about the impact adults can have on kids. You might not remember every coach you had as a kid, but you remember how they made you feel. The coaches who encouraged me and celebrated my successes made a lasting impact on my life. That’s what I want to give to these kids a safe, positive environment where they can grow, have fun, and feel proud of themselves. I want them to love gymnastics, not just because of the skills, but because it’s fun, rewarding, and gives them confidence. Youth sports can change lives. They teach discipline, patience, and teamwork, but they can also give kids memories they’ll carry forever. I want to be part of that. Even though I couldn’t continue competing, I can still stay connected to gymnastics and give back to the next generation. I want to help kids feel confident, motivated, and excited about learning and growing. Volunteering and coaching has shown me how powerful youth sports can be in a community. I plan to keep coaching as long as I can, helping kids not just become better athletes, but also happier, more confident, and encouraged to try new things. Being able to share my love for gymnastics and see the kids light up when they succeed is the most rewarding part. I want to leave a positive impact, just like my coaches did for me

Mental health and substance abuse have been part of my family’s story for as long as I can remember. One of the most painful experiences in my life was losing my grandfather to suicide on Christmas ten years ago. That loss shaped how I view mental health and made me aware, at a young age, of how deeply invisible struggles can affect a family. As I got older, those emotions became more personal. There were times when I questioned my own worth and wondered if I truly belonged in this world. Those thoughts were overwhelming, especially for someone who wants to build a future in law enforcement and be a source of strength for others. During my teenage years, I began using marijuana as a way to cope with those feelings. At first, I told myself it helped me relax and forget about the pain, but over time it became something I depended on. From about age fifteen to seventeen, I was addicted. Instead of solving anything, it only kept me stuck in the same emotional place. I wasn’t healing; I was avoiding. Eventually, I realized that I was not becoming the person I wanted to be. I knew that if I wanted a future, a career, and a life I could be proud of, I had to make a change. Choosing to stop was not easy, but it was one of the most important decisions I have ever made. I learned that recovery is not just about quitting a substance, but about changing how you face life. I began to understand that my thoughts did not define my worth, and that feeling broken did not mean I actually was. I slowly started replacing unhealthy coping habits with healthier ones. Instead of hiding my feelings, I started talking about them. Sometimes it is with a friend, sometimes it is just with myself, but letting the thoughts out instead of keeping them inside has made a huge difference. Through this journey, I have grown emotionally, mentally, and personally. I have learned that strength is not about never struggling; it is about continuing to move forward even when you do. I now see my past not as something to be ashamed of, but as proof of how far I have come. My experiences have made me more compassionate, understanding, and determined. They have also reinforced why I want a career in law enforcement. I want to be someone who understands pain, not just someone who enforces rules. I want to be an officer who shows empathy, patience, and respect to people who may be facing the worst moments of their lives. My educational goal is to complete my Criminal Justice degree and become a State Trooper. I want to serve my community with integrity and fairness, and I also hope to one day pursue opportunities such as becoming a phlebotomist within the State Patrol to expand my ability to help others in critical situations. Education is important to me because it represents stability, opportunity, and growth. Every class I take brings me closer to the life I am working so hard to build. My plan for continuing to manage my recovery is simple but meaningful. I remind myself daily that I deserve to be here. I stay connected to people who support me. I keep myself busy with school, work, volunteering, and physical activity. I hold myself accountable for my choices and remind myself that I am capable of doing amazing things without substances. When my thoughts become heavy, I talk through them instead of running from them. I also allow myself grace on hard days, knowing that healing is not a straight line. Recovery has taught me that my life has purpose. I am no longer trying to escape my reality; I am building it. I want to be someone who proves that your past does not define your future, and that even after pain, growth is possible. I am proud of how far I have come, and I am committed to continuing this journey with honesty, courage, and hope.