My name is Aniya Taylor. I am an 18-year-old Black woman, a second-year college student majoring in pre-nursing, and a survivor of more than just trauma—I am surviving misunderstanding, loss, and the long road to self-acceptance. For most of my life, I lived in survival mode. I was raised by a “need-based” mother who provided the basics—food, water, clothes—but withheld emotional nourishment. There were no bedtime stories, no hugs, no “I’m proud of you.” I was the second of five children, constantly battling thoughts and behaviors I didn’t understand. I spoke too fast, couldn’t sit still, acted without thinking, and carried a deep, unexplainable sense of dread. I thought something was wrong with me. It wasn’t until college that I finally got clarity. After years of struggling with focus, impulse control, racing thoughts, anxiety, and overwhelming sadness, I was diagnosed with PTSD, anxiety, depression, and ADHD. These were not character flaws—I was living with invisible disabilities. And I had been, silently, for years. In 2024, my world changed forever. My older and younger brothers—both with diagnosed disabilities—were murdered just a month apart. My older brother was 20. My baby brother was 14. I had just graduated high school. I walked across the stage with dreams in my heart and grief weighing down my soul. Their deaths didn’t just devastate me—it cracked open my understanding of the systems and cycles that fail Black youth, especially those with disabilities. I carry their memory with me every day. When I stepped onto my college campus that fall, I was scared. Scared of being away from home, of losing someone else, of falling apart. But I didn’t fall apart. I reached out for help. I started counseling. I got my diagnoses. And I started healing. Living with these conditions hasn’t made school easier. In fact, it’s made everything harder. But I’m still here. I get up every day and push forward ,not just for myself, but for my siblings, for girls like me, and for the future patients I hope to one day care for as a nurse. I want to be the kind of safe space for others that I never had growing up. This scholarship would help lighten the financial load on my journey, but even more than that—it would show me that someone sees me. That my ambition matters. That despite everything I’ve endured, I am capable of achieving greatness. I am not just surviving anymore. I’m becoming.