Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I was meant to take care of others. I was always putting my brothers and my parents first, assessing what their needs were and accommodating them. I have always been a natural caretaker, something that just comes naturally to me without a second thought. When I was a sophomore in high school, my aunt was diagnosed with stage 5 brain cancer, and that was the moment I was positive I wanted to be a nurse and took an interest in the field. I watched my aunt's nurses take care of her around the clock, and even offered to help them out when I was there. It amazed me to watch them so selflessly advocate for her and her needs, and her end-of-life options. They did not judge her for her wishes and took exceptional care of her until her last breath. I knew the career path for me was nursing, and I'm happy to be pursuing that dream. My goals for a successful career are to excel in school, ask all of the questions, and absorb every bit of knowledge my professors offer me, as well as my preceptors in the hospital setting. My dream is to work in an ICU or CCU, as I function best when I am under stress. I find that higher acuity patients pique my interest the most because their care involves a lot of critical thinking, and I feel like I always have to be mentally stimulated. I really enjoy learning and being challenged. I have had some personal accomplishments that I feel will help towards my goals and career path. I worked at a rehab facility for a little under a year, where I worked as an LNA in the detox unit. This was one of the best, most rewarding, and fulfilling experiences of my life and I am forever grateful for the time I spent working with the clients there. It made my day being able to care for patients that wanted to better their lives and were certainly in rough shape when they arrived. You get to see them from the beginning when they come in broken and hurting and follow them right through the end when they move on to the next phase of their recovery. Seeing the light come back on in their eyes was the most rewarding and beautiful experience. I myself entered recovery years and years ago, so I always feel uniquely qualified and obligated in a way to extend a helping hand, empathy, and love to those struggling and those navigating recovery. All that it takes is one person believing in you, and I did and continue to do everything in my power to be that person for anyone that needs it. Throughout all of my life, I have naturally taken care of others. Nothing fills my heart with more joy than being able to be there for others in their time of need, no matter what it is. I am ecstatic to continue this in the field of nursing, and plan to be an advocate for my patients, a listening ear when they need someone to talk to, and a comforting presence through an uncertain and stressful time. As long as I can do that, I'll know I have done my part as their nurse. My motto that I live by is to always leave people a little better than you find them. And with that I know, my patients will always leave with a piece of my heart; and myself with a piece of theirs.

Being a natural caretaker my whole life, I knew exactly what I wanted to be when I grew up. I was constantly making sure everyone else was okay, making myself available if they needed someone, and putting myself right in their shoes to see things from their perspective. I wasn't sure exactly what route I wanted to take in healthcare. That is, until my aunt became ill. My aunt was always my best friend. I always remember feeling relieved when she would show up at my house, and she always made sure I felt seen, heard and loved. Never in my life have I met a person who could light up a room quite like how my aunt did. I was a sophomore in high school when I got the news; my aunt had a very aggressive form of brain cancer after a misdiagnosis, and her prognosis was grim. I spent weekends driving up to Fletcher Allen Health Care in Burlington, Vermont with my father. He was her older brother, and I knew I had to show up for him just as much as I had to show up for my aunt. It all progressed really quickly and soon she looked paper thin, and not like herself; could barely move and couldn't really speak. We left the hospital room one night and I held my dad as he sobbed. My dad was a truck driver and never showed emotion, so I knew I had to reassure him it was okay and that I thought no less of him for doing so. I sat with my aunt and held her hand, and I knew the look that she was giving me was meant to say that she wasn't going far, and I would always have her right in my heart. The whole time my aunt was in the hospital, I watched the nurses who cared for her. Everything they did was done out of compassion and empathy. I liked to try and help them when I could, and ask them questions as they were doing their job so I could learn more of what was going on. I knew then exactly what I wanted to do; I wanted to be a nurse. The way they cared for my aunt meant the world to me, and I want to be able to give that back to someone else and their family some day. Nursing is not for the faint of heart. It is tough and you never know what you will be walking in to. To me, it was never about the money, or the travelling, or any of those things. It has always been about caring for someone else when they couldn't care for themselves. For being by the family's side as they say goodbye to a loved one. To give back what I experienced those weekends spent by my aunt's side. Making a difference in someone else's life is exactly the legacy I want to leave behind.

Recovery was never a thought in my mind. If I was going to do it, I was getting there on my own. But after empty promises made to myself, the insanity of the lethal cycle I was caught in, and the pain I caused myself and the ones who loved me; I knew I had to do something differently if I wanted any shot at getting well. It has been three and a half years since I chose to ask for help. I woke up one morning and made a call to a friend I knew was sober. I met up with her in Portland, Maine that afternoon, and the next day I was moving into a sober house in that same city. I didn't know much about what being in recovery meant before I made the jump, but I ended up learning a whole lot about what it meant to me. Recovery is showing up for others; being selfless with my time. Recovery is doing the right thing even when no one is looking. Recovery is taking accountability for my actions and correcting them moving forward. Recovery is remaining teachable because it turns out, I know nothing. Recovery is showing humility when you are wrong, making it right in the moment. Recovery is being altruistic when helping others, and always giving back what was so freely given to you. Three and a half years. Life from this side is much sweeter than I could have ever imagined.

I was never a particularly passionate person most of my life. In fact, I struggled for many years to find myself; completely bankrupt spiritually and emotionally. I just couldn't get out of my own way and I saw no point to this whole life thing. Until I found yoga, I was always so insecure in my own skin. I tried a yoga class a year after I got sober and I had no clue that one class was going to change my life forever. I walked into that Buti yoga class feeling nothing but anxiety. Being around a bunch of people I didn't know, not really knowing what I was doing, didn't really appeal to me. But I knew I had to do something to get out of my comfort zone or else I was going to be just that; comfortable in the same miserable state of mind that I was in. As soon as the music started and I got the hang of it, I started loosening up. I let my body move in ways I hadn't let it move. Every movement I felt connected to, and every person in that room I felt connected to. I didn't miss a class from that night on. See, the thing I didn't know about Buti yoga is that it's meant to incorporate tribal, primal movements in a flow in such a way that releases pent up trauma in your body. I nurtured my body through this practice and the whole time it was literally healing me. I had never felt so much joy, so much freedom, so much confidence in myself. I had come up with a plan that aligned with another passion of mine in an effort to hopefully someday make a difference in the lives of others. I have always been a passionate advocate for the Native American communities. I started a drive to collect clothes to donate to a reservation. I have three huge boxes of my own to donate already and will be collecting more from others as well. Along with the clothes, I am collecting feminine hygiene products to donate as well. Through my passion of advocacy for this population of people, I have learned that young women will miss days, weeks even, of school due to not having affordable access to these products. Feminine hygiene products on reservations are very expensive since they are imported from larger cities. In a population unfairly living in poverty, this sets them up for failure. My mission along with this drive is to also get certified to teach Buti yoga. That way, I can go on trips to reservations all around to bring healing to women affected by a multitude of hardships. Trauma from poverty, domestic violence, sexual assault, addiction and alcoholism; no limits exist. This community needs compassion and guidance. My hope is that with these two passions aligning, I will accomplish a goal: to bring healing to at least one person. If I can make a difference in just one person's life in a positive light, then that is enough for me. Life is hard enough, and sometimes kind gestures can show someone else that it's worth trying, worth living, and worth moving forward.

I remember the first time I drank alcohol. It was at my best friend's house with a bunch of our friends and her parents had gone to bed. We thought it would be funny to sneak downstairs and go through their liquor cabinet. My friends took little sips and giggled while passing the bottle around the circle. When it got to me, I took multiple big gulps and they all just kind of looked at me. And I had it; I had my "I have arrived" moment. I didn't know then that was the beginning down the slippery slope I had no intention of embarking upon. I was just eleven, and I remember thinking to myself I would never do that again when I woke up the next morning. Then there was another time it was available to me, and I drank. And another time, and I drank. Even after I had told myself, "No, Ashley. Never again". What started as drinking turned into smoking weed. I came from a small town where everyone was friends with everyone. When I graduated from my middle school and started high school that fall, I met so many new people. I was playing basketball still, had a bunch of new friends, and a social life. I was always in this internal battle with myself that I didn't really belong in any of these groups of teenagers, though. I always felt like a chameleon. So I drank some more, I smoked some more, and I was soon taking pills that would change my life in a way I never expected. I then graduated onto little blue pills. And then onto little lines of what everyone warned me about. But I had crossed a line and I never knew it in the moment; I couldn't just stop. I wasn't just experimenting like a teenager; I was in the depths of addiction. I remember saying to myself after each use that I did not want to do that again. I promised myself every time. For years I used to numb, to quiet the voices in my head, to escape reality for a little while. All the while I was also fighting another battle I didn't identify until I was nineteen; I had major depression and anxiety. I thought everyone did what I did and felt the way that I felt. I didn't think any of this was abnormal. I lied, stole from my family, cheated death, was in and out of psych wards, and I had lost myself. Well, I guess I never really knew who I was, and that was part of the problem. I moved up to Portland, Maine into sober living when I was twenty-two. I had thrown my hands up finally; I couldn't do it on my own and I needed some serious help. I was introduced to Alcoholics Anonymous and the 12 Steps. I surrounded myself with women in recovery, I held myself accountable to meeting weekly goals, and I was able to show up for others. I finally learned that drugs and alcohol weren't the solution to my problems, and they certainly weren't the "problem" itself. I took the drugs away and I was left with myself; ah-ha! I finally understood what the problem truly was. With the help of others that were once in my shoes, I was able to get well spiritually, mentally, and physically. And now I am uniquely qualified to help others that were in my shoes as well. My struggles made me into the woman I am today. And for that, I am eternally grateful.

Selflessness to me is one of the most important qualities a human can possess. I learned selflessness at a very young age, and I have always been very empathetic. I can put myself in anyone's shoes and walk around so I can better understand them and know how to help them. It's something I've always been passionate about, which is why I have decided to pursue a career in nursing. I used to work at a drug and alcohol treatment center. While this work wasn't considered "altruistic" since I was being paid to work there, it exposed me to a way I could be more altruistic within the realm of addiction. I struggled for years myself, and once I got well, I decided I needed to give back what was so freely given to me. So, I took to sponsor work. I sponsored women in all stages of their recovery. I took them through the steps, I shared what worked for myself, and I worked hard to meet them where they were at. It's not easy work; mentally, it's exhausting. But to see the light come back on in the eyes of these women was priceless. I would jump down into the hole they were in, remind them I had been there before, and ensure them that I would stop at nothing to help them out. Recently, I just started a drive to collect feminine hygiene products for an Indian reservation out west. Feminine hygiene products are hard for young women to get their hands on in the reservations due to the prices of these products being so high, since they are imported in from larger cities. This population of people live in poverty, so this means that young women miss days of school and education due to not being able to access these products. I am an aunt, and to think of this broke my heart. Along with the drive for feminine hygiene products, I am donating three big boxes of my clothes and asking others if they would like to donate any clothing items as well. I think both of these things will be a help to this population and if it just makes one person happy, and impacts just one person in a positive light, I am content. Altruism and selflessness go hand in hand. My experiences with helping others and remaining selfless have opened so many doors and ideas for me as to how I can continue to give back to others. Not that I have a lot to give, but I certainly have the time and the heart for it. I continue helping others battling addiction to find recovery. I make myself available as a resource for others whether they need help with moving, daily tasks, cleaning; anything, really. I am a huge advocate for the Native American communities and reservations, and all those that are not as privileged as I am in this world. I help out with no expectation I will receive anything in return. The point being, is that life is hard enough. And if we all show a little more kindness, a little more selflessness, and a little more empathy; well, what a beautiful place this world could be.

When I think of the word bravery, the first thing that comes to mind is a superhero. I think that's what is wrong with the word bravery; we see it as a big word and measure bravery on an extreme scale. I think we overlook a lot of things in today's world that really embody what it means to be brave, and live boldly. I have struggled with mental illness for years, as long as I can remember actually. I remember when I was just an eleven year old girl, feeling an internal void that I didn't really have an explanation for. I thought it was normal even; that everyone felt the way that I did. It wasn't until I was eighteen and was first diagnosed with depression and anxiety that I realized this wasn't as normal as I thought. Daily tasks were daunting and I dreaded the thought of getting out of bed every morning. I simply could not take care of myself, and I didn't really want to. I certainly never asked for any help. I started a long journey of self reflection when I was in my twenties. This required me to get real deep, real spiritual, and real weird with my healing. Healing isn't always linear though, which was a lesson I had to learn. Books, podcasts, yoga, meditation; all things that helped aid in my process of healing and self realization. When I feel I can't get out of bed, I do anyways. When I don't want to take care of myself (shower, brush my teeth, etc.), I do anyways. When I don't think I can go on, I just keep going. Why? Nobody else is going to do it for me. And I may just inspire someone else out there to just keep going.