The earliest I can remember ever having a desire to commit suicide was when I was eleven years old. In school, we were always taught that if you had these desires and intrusive thoughts, the only option was to tell a trusted adult. I knew I had to tell my mom. I was too scared to voice the words, so I wrote them down on a note. What I did not expect was for those four little words to cause my mother to immediately burst into tears. I figured that it was because she didn't understand, but she immediately told me that this was not the case. My little sister, who was only nine at the time, had told her the same thing not even a week prior. I immediately understood her pain, because I could not reconcile the concept in my head of my always smiling, always laughing baby sister having the same dark and intrusive thoughts that I was having. In my preteen brain, I was miles more grown-up than she and felt things much more intensely, but my sister's desires mirroring my own quickly crashed down on my beliefs. Another thought came into my brain in this moment, a realization that I was not alone in these thoughts and that other people in my life felt emotions as intensely as I did. This confession to my brokenhearted mother opened the floodgates of realization that with depression came community. Mental health in my home changed quickly in the following months. My mother began to prioritize my sister's and my mental health more than ever before. She openly talked with us multiple times a day, checking in, asking if we needed a break, and offering support. In these months, my mother painted a picture of our family history with mental health that I had never before understood, which changed the way I viewed my parents and grandparents. My mother told my sister and me the story of my grandfather. When my father was in his early adult life, his father took his own life. Not even six months later, my mother's older sister took her own life. These early family tragedies were not something my sister and I were aware of prior to our own confessions, but they brought an understanding to us that this was common in our family. My mother taught us that we need to learn about these tragedies, but that they could not define our families' relationships with mental health. These tragedies serve as reminders of the connection we all share, but they also show resiliency in our drive to be there in support of each other. After learning that my mom's mom also has suicidal depression, she has lived with for over 70 years, I began to see a light of hope that not all endings are like that of my aunt and grandfather. I became closer to my grandmother in our shared mental health journeys, and I began to talk to her about what she has learned about our depression and applied it to my own management of my mental health. She taught me that taking time for ourselves to be with our own minds and acknowledge when we need help is important, but it is also important to be open with each other. Talking to others who understand our struggles can help us feel a sense of normalcy and understanding in our journeys. Talking through our feelings with those who have felt similarly can also help us feel seen in our stories. I took this advice and applied it to my relationships with my grandmother, mother, and sister, and it has not only shaped our relationships as we have grown but also deepened our shared understanding of each other. Eleven-year-old me was too scared of her own depression to write down the words, but through the support of my family, 20-year-old me can openly discuss her struggle and use it to heal.

I didn't realize my parents didn't graduate from college until I began my journey to achieve higher education around middle school. I grew up hearing about my parents' young lives, their time waiting tables, and growing up together in their early twenties. It did not click for me that this was not in a college setting, as they always made college seem like the natural step that would accompany my life after I finished compulsory education. I have always strived to do well in school, I loved to write and read, and the natural path following my two beloved hobbies was a passion for education. My parents saw this, which encouraged me to grow to nurture these talents, which meant I was dedicated to school and all it could provide for me. I didn't quite realize the pride that was felt in my parents surrounding my passion for education until I overheard my father talking to his mom on the phone about how excited he was for his daughter to be the first person in our family to be in the pursuit of a Master's, and that I would be doing so at a university like Columbia. Hearing the pride in my father's voice as he gushed about how important school was to me made me realize just how important it was to my parents that I chose this path. I always pursued achievement through education because of my desire to work for a prestigious paper, The Boston Globe, as an editor, but this was fueled by a father who did not typically discuss my school manners in order not to affect any decision-making on my part, which provided a further motivation beyond career. My father lost his father, which resulted in his never attending school. My mother lost her older sister in the same manner, not even six months later. These family tragedies prevented my parents from furthering their education and resulted in their decisions to focus on their families and provide for them in times of loss. I have been fortunate in that I have not had to bear the same burden that my parents have had to bear, which has given me the opportunity to pursue my own personal development rather than rush to provide. After learning this information, I understood why my education was so important to my parents; it was a reaction to never having the opportunity themselves, despite a desire to do so. Showcasing stories like that of my parents' sacrifice is my passion in my journalistic pursuit; I want to tell the world about all the amazing people and their passions. I have furthered these skills through education, which also gives me increased avenues and access to share these stories. In the beginning, I did this for the reader, but after writing a profile on my professor at my university, which he told me he couldn't help showing his mom, I realized that the article is also for the person it is about. I can help others realize and feel pride in their work, and give them the feeling I felt listening to my father gush about my achievements. I can spread this feeling to others, which has motivated me to continue learning new ways to share human interest stories through my education. I have the opportunity to pursue higher education because of the sacrifice of my parents in their youth, and my motivation is not only to make them proud but also to help others see similar pride in their parents through showcasing their stories.

Mental health is and always will be important to my family and me because my grandfather struggled with suicidal depression and sadly ended his own life when my father was in college. This affected my family deeply and resulted in my father leaving school and entering a deep depression himself. My mother, who was only a teenager at the time, struggled with news of my grandfather's passing, which was only worsened when she lost her older sister the same way, not even a year later. These tragic events have set my whole family on the path of understanding the importance of mental health and treating mental well-being. Since I can remember, my mother has always stressed the importance of taking a break when one needs it and always being surrounded by those who are close to you. This mindset rubbed off on me in more ways than one. When I was a high school student, I began to take medication for my own depression, which has helped me manage it when paired with therapy and group conversations surrounding mental health with my peers. Mental health is incredibly important to school because it can affect all areas of school life, which often leads to burnout. In high school, I accomplished these sessions by joining the Divergent Minds mental health club at my school. I furthered my involvement in the group by joining the leadership board in my third year of high school, serving as the club treasurer. This helped me lead group conversations surrounding the mental health struggles that I could relate to. I was also able to help our local community through the service fundraisers we held throughout the year for organizations like The Trevor Project. In my third year of high school, my depression began to outrun the maintenance I fed it, which led to my decision to skip a grade and graduate in three years. My mother was a strong advocate of my decision to skip the eleventh grade and fueled my drive to further develop my knowledge of mental health, to not only help my own depression. I knew I needed more help and had to, not only step up as an advocate for my community in Divergent Minds, but also as an advocate for myself. It was around this time that I began to see the same signs of depression I saw in myself in my younger sister. My sister is more reserved than I am and often struggles to express these emotions to our parents. I became an advocate for her and talked with her openly about my own depression, which encouraged her to open up and seek aid from our parents and family therapist. My advocacy did not stop after high school. I have continued to live with depression and advocate for the health of my family and friends. Being an advocate for mental health, for me, has always revolved around open communication and being honest with oneself.

My name is Arianna Hull, I am currently a senior at San Diego State University, studying Journalism. In the fall I plan to attend the University of Westminster to get my master's in Journalism. Currently, I am working two jobs as an Editor for the Newspaper at San Diego State and as a barista at Starbucks. This is two less jobs than I had last semester, as I was also working as a wedding server and as an Editorial Intern for San Diego Magazine. I left these two other jobs to pick up more hours at my other jobs. I have worked this hard throughout college in an attempt to minimize the amount of loans I will have to take on. My first two years of college I worked at the San Diego Zoo Safari Park full-time to help save money, but I left that job when I moved further away from the location. My goal is to finish my Master's with no debt, and I have worked full-time throughout my undergraduate degree as a way to acheive this goal. Another way that I have minimized the debt I have undertaken throughout my undergraduate program is to live at home. I live with my parents to save on living costs, then commute the hour to school everyday. This allows me to pool the money I would have saved on rent and put it toward my tuition. This will not be possible when I get my Master's as I will be studying in London. I plan to transfer Starbucks locations to one in London to offset the cost of rent and prevent paying rent out of my savings during my Master's. A student visa in London only allows one to work 20 hours a week which means I will still have to rely on my savings to pay rent, but the cost will be less drastic than if I relied solely on my savings. The last way I am trying to address the cost of school is by applying for numerous scholarships, to offset the cost and avoid taking out loans to cover my entire education. I have applied to internal and external scholarships as a way to maximize my potential of winning. I have yet to win any of the scholarshps I have applied for, but I am hopeful that will change eventually which will help pay for some of my Master's.

My name is Arianna Hull, and I am a senior studying Journalism at San Diego State University. My leadership comes in the way I practice my journalism. I am the editor of Arts and Culture at the newspaper at SDSU, and that role has allowed me to become a leader through heading the arts and culture section. As Editor, it is my job to not only lift people up but also push them to their greatest potential. I ensure all of our articles meet the newspaper's standards and that each student who writes for my section is putting their best foot forward. As the leader of the section, it is my job to make sure I set the example for what good arts and culture reporting looks like so that others can watch my reporting and follow. For my position, this also means allowing others to shine. As humans, we are all inclined to pull the attention onto ourselves and put our own work on a pedestal. As editor, I have to think of what is best for the entire team, and sometimes this means my work sits on the back burner to allow for the work of my writers to shine. For example, we recently published our "Best of 2025" edition of the paper, and in the paper, my Editor-in-Chief was pushing for one of my pieces to be under the arts and culture section. As a writer, I wanted to immediately accept, but my role as editor made me halt and rethink this decision. I knew that my piece was good, but I felt it did not represent our section as a whole. I knew I needed to represent my whole team, which meant stepping away from my attachment to my own work and putting forth the work of one of my writers. For the good of the team, I had to be self-sacrificing to lift my team. This is a hard decision, but I believe it is one all leaders have to make. In Chinese philosophy, the Great Sage Emperor Yu is said to be self-sacrificing, putting the good of the Chinese public over his own desire to go home to his wife and child. I never had to stop the flooding of the Yellow River, but I believe this philosophy of the importance of sacrificing happiness for the greater good is something that we can all steal to better our own leadership practices. To me, being a good leader is all about lifting others, being a good role model, and sacrificing your own happiness for the happiness of others.

My name is Arianna, and I am a 20-year-old Senior in Journalism from San Diego. I was recently accepted into the University of Westminster in London to further my studies in the field of journalism, and I hope to work in international affairs. I pursue writing to tell the stories that I feel are often neglected. I hope to give a voice to the people who are often ignored in society and shine a light on what many people may previously have been in the dark about. When it comes to my identity, I have often faced challenges related to my race and my sexuality. I live in a racially diverse part of the world, but my local pocket at San Diego State University is sparse in terms of Mexican American individuals. I have been told to speak "Mexican," and I have been told that if I can not perform, then I must not be a "true Mexican." As someone who is mixed, Mexican and Polish, and grew up speaking largely English with my family, I have struggled with having to cater to many of my White peers' ideas of what it is to be Mexican. With recent developments surrounding ICE raids in my region, I have experienced people profiling myself and a few of my Mexican peers by assuming that we do not speak English or that we may not have papers. At my work, I had a customer tell me she wanted a Mocha and said it had chocolate in it, and that I must not know it in my part of the world, and she wanted someone "from here" to help her. I felt shocked in this moment, astounded that someone could say this is someone without knowing their cultural background. My passion for writing is to expose bias, like this instance, and shine a light on the mistreatment of people because of their identity and factors they can not control. Another aspect of my identity that I have faced challenges due to is my identity as a Bisexual woman. As someone who is bisexual, I have faced many challenges with people neglecting a part of my identity in favor of simplifying it. I have dated both men and women in the past and have received comments from multiple partners of both identities regarding a distaste for my history with the other. I often found men sexualized and dehumanized my history with women, and women felt I was impure because of my history with men. This erasure of my identity and reduction of it has sparked my desire to write about Bi stories and bring to light the struggles that Bi individuals can face to feel like they belong in the LGBTQ+ community.

“Fly off home then, if that’s your heart’s desire. 190 I’ll not beg you to stay on my account. I have others around to honour me, especially all-wise Zeus himself. Of all the kings Zeus cherishes, it’s you I hate the most. You love constant strife— war and combat. So what if you’re strong? Some god gave you that. So scurry off home. Take ships and friends. Go rule your Myrmidons. [180] I don’t like you or care about your rage. But I’ll make this threat: I’ll take your prize, 200 fair-cheeked Briseis. I’ll fetch her in person. You’ll see just how much I’m the better man. And others will hate to speak to me as peers, in public claiming full equality with me.” The underlying meaning of this tumultuous moment between Agamemnon and Achilles in Homer's The Iliad is that pride, kleos, and the fight for everlasting glory can lead important, powerful men to make decisions that hurt the greater good and cause a later distortion of the events, leaving the women to carry the blame for battle. Agamemnon, in this moment, knows that to win the Trojan War, he needs support from Achilles and the Myrmidons. Achilles is also aware of this, but views the disrespect of Agamemnon taking his war prize, Briseis, as an insult to his rank and status as a king. He views this personal slight as reason enough to leave the war, despite knowing that his fellow countrymen will suffer because of the decision. Agamemnon views that he is also owed a war prize and that taking Achilles' prize is owed to him as the supreme Commander in Chief and king of Mykonos. Homer takes this response to Achilles' rage not only to show the high tension of the Greek camp but also to show the importance of kleos, glory, to the Greek kings. They viewed their conquest as a point of pride, and for them to be denied a prize for their conquest was seen as a devaluing of their skills in war. It was a slight for one king to receive a prize and another not to. Homer uses this passage to highlight how much the Greeks valued kleos, or pride and glory, above everything else. Achilles feels he was disrespected by Agamemnon, who threatened to take his prize from him, and the cost of that threat to his kleos is worth the loss of the war. Agamemnon similarly feels his kleos is worth more than winning the war with Achilles, the strongest of the Greek fighters. Nowhere in The Iliad is this annunciated more than in this tense moment of two Greek kings clashing in their fight for kleos. The Trojan War is itself a fight for kleos between Paris, who can not stand to lose Helen, and Menelaus, who is slighted by his wife being stolen from him. This passage in itself is a small-scale, simplified view of the overall Trojan war; it is a battle between two kings for the ownership of a woman. Neither of these women has a say in the decision of their fate, but the clash between these kings for the glory of owning them is pushing blame onto them for moving between the two. Briseis is blamed for causing Achilles' rage to pull him from the fight, and Helen is blamed for leaving Menelaus for Troy. Homer is showing on a small scale the ramifications and human cost of what this fight for kleos can result in, but he is also showing how the story can then be twisted to place the blame away from the kings who cause the strife and onto the women who are treated as collateral damage because of the men who own their bodies.