My journey with mental health has been a long and winding one that has affected not only my relationships with others, but my goals for the future- not only in the job I want to work, but also in the kind of person I want to become. I began experiencing my first bouts of depression and anxiety in middle school, during my sixth- and seventh-grade years, but everything drastically worsened in 8th grade- 2020. The withdrawal from my social circles left me feeling incredibly alone, and I found myself not caring about things I was previously passionate about. I was numb. Things changed a bit during my ninth-grade year, but not much. I still struggled, although seeing people I loved every day at school helped. However, transitioning back to in-person schooling sparked my anxiety, and it flamed higher than before. The year of not talking to anyone outside of my immediate family left me rusty, and more importantly, afraid. What if I said something wrong? What if people didn't like me? These are normal high school fears, but I allowed them to grow until I was consumed with anxiety and doubt. I was caught in a trap between my anxiety, which worsened when I socialized, and my depression, which worsened when I was alone. My self-esteem plummeted. These struggles impacted my relationships with not only my friends but my family as well. My parents watched me change from a confident, cheerful kid to a sad-eyed zombie, and couldn't figure out why. I was afraid of opening up to them. I don't know why. I was terrified of anyone finding out I was struggling. That all changed in tenth-grade, when my parents finally sat me down and made me talk about what was going on. They were nothing but loving and supportive, and found me a counselor to help me develop coping strategies for my down days. After a couple of months of counseling, the counselor recommended medication to help me get my brain chemistry closer to normal. I'm a lot more stable and happy than I've been in years, and it's all thanks to my parents and my counselor. My mental health struggles, once I opened up, have brought me closer to my parents. I know that because I've trusted them with something so big, they'll support me in other things as well, and that thought is incredibly comforting. I'm more open and honest with my parents now, and it's not uncommon for us to spend hours just chatting- something that never would've happened before. As well as strengthening my relationships with my parents, my battles with mental health have sparked my greatest dream. When I was at my lowest in terms of mental health, my parents and my counselor helped dig me out of that dark hole. I have always been interested in psychology, but that period of my life helped me realize my calling- I want to become a counselor who specializes in teenagers and young adults. My dream is to be here for others the way that my support network was here for me when I needed them. I don't ever want a young person to feel alone in their battles. Everyone deserves someone to see their worth when they can't see it themselves, and I want to see the best in everyone, as well as helping them see it too. Becoming a counselor is the best way for me to have the best impact on the largest number of people, and I'm incredibly excited to get started.

My journey with mental health has been a long and winding one that has affected not only my relationships with others, but my goals for the future- not only in the job I want to work, but also in the kind of person I want to become. I began experiencing my first bouts of depression and anxiety in middle school, during my sixth- and seventh-grade years, but everything drastically worsened in 8th grade- 2020. The withdrawal from my social circles left me feeling incredibly alone, and I found myself not caring about things I was previously passionate about. I was numb. This caused me to withdraw from my friends even more, which created a vicious cycle. I never responded when my friends reached out, so eventually they stopped messaging me. Things changed a bit during my ninth-grade year, but not much. I still struggled, although seeing people I loved every day at school helped. However, transitioning back to in-person schooling sparked my anxiety, and it flamed higher than before. The year of not talking to anyone outside of my immediate family left me rusty, and more importantly, afraid. What if I said something wrong? What if people didn't like me? These are normal high school fears, but I allowed them to grow until I was consumed with anxiety and doubt. I was caught in a trap between my anxiety, which worsened when I socialized, and my depression, which worsened when I was alone. My self-esteem plummeted. These struggles impacted my relationships with not only my friends but my family as well. My parents watched me change from a confident, cheerful kid to a sad-eyed zombie, and couldn't figure out why. I was afraid of opening up to them. I don't know why. I was just terrified of anyone finding out I was struggling. That all changed in tenth-grade, when my parents finally sat me down and made me talk about what was going on. They were nothing but loving and supportive, and found me a counselor to help me develop coping strategies for my down days. After a couple of months of counseling, the counselor recommended medication to help me get my brain chemistry closer to normal. As well as having higher self-esteem, I'm a lot more stable and happy than I've been in years, and it's all thanks to my parents and my counselor. My mental health struggles, once I opened up, have brought me closer to my parents. I know that because I've trusted them with something so big, they'll support me in other things as well, and that thought is incredibly comforting. I'm more open and honest with my parents now, and it's not uncommon for us to spend hours just chatting- something that never would've happened before. But as well as strengthening my relationships with my parents, my battles with mental health have sparked my greatest dream. When I was at my lowest in terms of mental health, my parents and my counselor helped dig me out of that dark hole. I have always been interested in psychology, but that period of my life helped me realize my calling- I want to become a counselor who specializes in teenagers and young adults. My dream is to be here for others the way that my support network was here for me when I needed them. I don't ever want a young person to feel alone in their battles. Everyone deserves someone to see their worth when they can't see it themselves, and I want to see the best in everyone, as well as helping them see it too. I may not be able to change the world, but I can change a couple of peoples' worlds, and that is enough for me.

My journey with mental health has been a long and winding one that has affected not only my relationships with others, but my goals for the future- not only in the job I want to work, but also in the kind of person I want to become. I began experiencing my first bouts of depression and anxiety in middle school, during my sixth- and seventh-grade years, but everything drastically worsened in 8th grade- 2020. The withdrawal from my social circles left me feeling incredibly alone, and I found myself not caring about things I was previously passionate about. I was numb. This caused me to withdraw from my friends even more, which created a vicious cycle. I never responded when my friends reached out, so eventually they stopped messaging me. Things changed a bit during my ninth-grade year, but not much. I still struggled, although seeing people I loved every day at school helped. However, transitioning back to in-person schooling sparked my anxiety, and it flamed higher than before. The year of not talking to anyone outside of my immediate family left me rusty, and more importantly, afraid. What if I said something wrong? What if people didn't like me? These are normal high school fears, but I allowed them to grow until I was consumed with anxiety and doubt. I was caught in a trap between my anxiety, which worsened when I socialized, and my depression, which worsened when I was alone. My self-esteem plummeted. These struggles impacted my relationships with not only my friends but my family as well. My parents watched me change from a confident, cheerful kid to a sad-eyed zombie, and couldn't figure out why. I was afraid of opening up to them. I don't know why. I was just terrified of anyone finding out I was struggling. That all changed in tenth-grade, when my parents finally sat me down and made me talk about what was going on. They were nothing but loving and supportive, and found me a counselor to help me develop coping strategies for my down days. After a couple of months of counseling, the counselor recommended medication to help me get my brain chemistry closer to normal. I'm a lot more stable and happy than I've been in years, and it's all thanks to my parents and my counselor. My mental health struggles, once I opened up, have brought me closer to my parents. I know that because I've trusted them with something so big, they'll support me in other things as well, and that thought is incredibly comforting. I'm more open and honest with my parents now, and it's not uncommon for us to spend hours just chatting- something that never would've happened before. But as well as strengthening my relationships with my parents, my battles with mental health have sparked my greatest dream. When I was at my lowest in terms of mental health, my parents and my counselor helped dig me out of that dark hole. I have always been interested in psychology, but that period of my life helped me realize my calling- I want to become a counselor who specializes in teenagers and young adults. My dream is to be here for others the way that my support network was here for me when I needed them. I don't ever want a young person to feel alone in their battles. Everyone deserves someone to see their worth when they can't see it themselves, and I want to see the best in everyone, as well as helping them see it too.

When my family adopted our beloved cat, Lexie, I was still in elementary school. Both my brother and my mom are allergic to cats, but my whole family loves them, so my mom did a lot of research on hypo-allergenic cats, and breeds that wouldn't ignite their allergies. In the end, we decided on a Russian Blue, a gorgeous silvery-grey breed that looks blue in the sunlight. Both my brother and dad were busy on adoption day, so my mom and I drove the 45 minutes into Atlanta to the shelter alone, with a specific cat in mind- Alexis. When we first entered the shelter, a sweet grey cat came running up to us, meowing and purring. I sat down, and the cat immediately jumped into my lap. From that moment, I knew she was ours. We renamed her Lexie, because Alexis takes way too long to say, and took her home. She fit our household like a glove. Our first interaction with her was a source of much joy and spawned an inside joke in our family that we still laugh about. Lexie's previous owners were Poles, and, according to the lady who ran the shelter, sent her to the shelter because "she didn't speak Polish". We assumed that the owners meant that Lexie didn't understand commands when they spoke to her in Polish, but we still like to joke that Lexie *can* speak Polish, and she chose not to so she could end up with us. Occasionally we try to "catch her out", and trick her into speaking Polish. It hasn't worked yet, but we think it might soon. Lexie became my best friend as time went by. When my brother and I struggled and drifted apart due to bullying in elementary school, Lexie still came to hang out with each of us daily, purring like a little bus each time we petted her. Once we got to middle school, I began struggling with depression. I would come home from school each day numb and distant, only to be met at the door by a small purring furball, who was so very excited to see me. We would go upstairs to my room, and she'd sit on my lap and try to bat my pencil with her paw while I tried to do homework. She brought a lot of joy into my life, during a time that I felt very little happiness at all. When I go off to college and sadly leave my cat behind at home, I plan on getting a degree in psychology and using it to become a counselor specializing in teenagers and young adults. When I was in my darkest place, my sweet kitty was still there for me, and I want to be there for others who have struggled as well. I know that whatever demons I face, my fluffy Lex will always be here for me, happy to curl up in my lap and purr, and I take a lot of comfort from that. And I know that whenever I come home to visit, she'll be just as excited to see me as she was back when I was in middle school. Maybe she'll be so happy she'll speak Polish.

The day of my 8th grade graduation was unique in the sense that it was the exact same as the previous day. In fact, it was the same as every day before it, going back roughly two months to the day that my school went remote due to COVID-19. My school hosted a graduation ceremony over Zoom. I didn't bother to show up. I didn't have the energy. It was much easier to lay in bed and do nothing. When 9th grade rolled around, I went back to school. I should have been excited- I got to see my friends again! Instead, I felt numb, like I was drowning. I spent 9th grade as a zombie, shambling between classes. It didn't feel real. I struggled to get out of bed in the mornings because I wasn't excited for anything. I couldn't breathe. Every day felt the same- waking up, pasting a smile on my face, slogging through school, and coming home to collapse in bed until it was time to fall asleep, with the water rising around me. I was miserable. On top of that, I had another problem. Mental health problems are very good at convincing you that you're the only one who's struggling, which prevents sufferers from seeking help. I was terrified of anybody finding out how much I was hurting. I lied at doctors' appointments, school counselor meetings, and even to my parents' faces. They were worried about me, I knew, but I was terrified of opening up to them. I spent so much time trying to conceal that I was drowning that I had no energy left to keep my head above water- I just floated wherever the current took me. This continued throughout my 9th grade year and into the beginning of 10th grade. It wasn't until November of 10th grade that things changed. The day started normally. It was a Sunday, and I was struggling to get out of bed and go to church. Time crawled by, and I ended up still in bed, exhausted, at 11:45, which was far past the service time. My parents left without me. After the service, they returned, annoyed and worried, and dragged me out of bed- still in my pajamas- to take me to a nearby coffee shop and talk. That was the day that I opened up for the first time. All of the internal pain that I was feeling came flooding out in a torrent of words and tears, but by the end of it, I felt like I could finally breathe. That day was the first step on my road to recovery. My parents started taking me to a counselor to talk about how I was feeling and develop coping mechanisms. After seeing the counselor for a couple of months, I started taking medication to regulate my brain's messed-up chemistry. But the best thing that came from that day was the better communication I had with my parents. I felt safe enough to tell them when I had a tough day, and their support meant the world to me. I'm consistently doing better now. The world is brighter, and it doesn't take so much energy to smile. I'm a lot happier, and it shows. I sometimes think back on that dark time, and I don't think I could ever go back to it. But I made it through, and I'm proud of myself. And I know that if I'm ever again in danger of drowning, my family will be there to throw me a life preserver and help me keep my head above water.

At our core, Gen Z people are fighters. We are born into a world that doesn't seem to care about issues like climate change and human rights, and we come out of the womb scraping tooth and nail for respect. Sometimes it feels as though the world is collapsing around us- inflation rises rapidly, ruining the economy, global warming threatens to destroy the world, LGBTQ+ people are murdered every day simply for existing, and racial relations are tense, especially here in Georgia. However, my generation and I spend every day combatting these travesties. We fight for equality, for basic human rights, and for the hope of owning a home one day in a world that isn't flooded. I am incredibly proud of our generation because we are the generation of activism. When we see something wrong, we speak out. Last year in my AP Language class, we talked about Greta Thunberg's work and activism. Our teacher was downright dismissive, making fun of Greta for getting upset, but the whole class swiftly came to her defense, reminding the teacher that Greta, and the rest of us, have to live in the world that older generations have destroyed. We, the youth of the United States, fight not only societal issues but also our own heads. Gen Z has the highest rates of mental health disorders ever recorded- I, myself, have been diagnosed with both anxiety and depression and have been taking medication for both for over a year now. Can you blame us? Sometimes it seems as though we have been born into a world without hope. However, we still fight- not only to fix our home, but to be happy. I think everyone deserves the chance to be happy, or at least to try to find it. "Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" are our inalienable rights as both Americans and humans, and Gen Z takes that seriously. And, hopefully, we will someday be able to pass that torch to the next generation and rest, knowing that their rights are safe.

All my life, I have been interested in psychology and how people think and perceive the world around them. Why are some people happier than others in the same circumstances? Throughout my school years, I have seen many people struggling with mental health. Mental health issues are rampant in younger people, especially middle and high schoolers, and I thought that if I just knew more about how the brain functioned, I would be able to help. Now that I am approaching the end of my senior year, I know what I want to do with my life- I want to get a degree in psychology and become a counselor who works with teenagers and young adults. It feels as though my whole life has been leading up to this. When I was in my sophomore year of high school, I was not doing well mentally. After years of struggle, I finally opened up to my parents about it, and they got me a counselor to help with coping strategies. After a couple of years of finding a balance of medication and weekly counseling visits, I’m doing much better. Instead of rotting in bed for hours each day and walking through life like a zombie, my counselor helped me become a person again. I’ve regained my drive for life, and I wake up excited about each day’s opportunities. Because of this, I want to help other people the way that my counselor helped me. I love the idea of helping young people recover from their mental health struggles and regain their joy in life. The youth are the future of society, and with mental health problems on the rise, we need front-line soldiers to combat the crisis. It’s my dream to be one of those people. Once I am enrolled in college, I will major in psychology and be on the lookout for internships with counselors, so that I can get some on-the-job experience. Failing that, I’ll look for a secretary job at a counseling office to be exposed to the business and make some connections. I’m determined to break into the industry, and I will work ceaselessly, both while I’m in college and after I graduate, to make it happen. My dream since I was young has been to help teenagers and young adults with mental health problems, and a degree in psychology is exactly how I can achieve that- I want to help others the way that I was helped. I believe that education is the best way for me to make a positive impact on the world, and I’m incredibly excited to graduate high school and get started.