Mental illness has shaped my life both through watching someone I love struggle and through experiencing struggles of my own. My brother was diagnosed with bipolar disorder and has experienced suicidal thoughts that resulted in several hospitalizations. There were times when he would be admitted and we did not know when he would come home. Loving someone through those moments taught me early that mental illness does not affect only one person. The uncertainty, fear, and helplessness ripple through an entire family. Later, I developed a much more personal understanding of that struggle through my own experiences with anxiety, depression, PTSD, and ADHD. Anxiety has sometimes been crippling. It can take something directly in front of me and make it feel impossible to focus on because my mind is already ten steps ahead, imagining everything that could go wrong. I have had to work intentionally on recognizing when I am focusing entirely on the negative while overlooking the good that still exists around me. One of my lowest points came after the end of a relationship. I had moved to Madison, Wisconsin, away from my family and friends, and suddenly found myself alone in a place where I had no support system. I did not have the financial means to immediately find housing and relied on the generosity of coworkers for temporary shelter. Eventually, I found an apartment, but having somewhere to live did not mean I was okay. I became isolated and lived an extremely minimal life. My anxiety became so severe that I struggled to eat, and I lost approximately 70 pounds in two months. On the outside, I was moving forward. Internally, I was struggling simply to function. My life today looks very different, although mental health remains something I actively work on. I have built meaningful relationships and a stronger support system. I have also explored different approaches to treatment, including therapy, prescribed medication, and ketamine treatment. Learning what works for me has required patience and a willingness to accept that healing is not always linear. My mental health contributed to delaying my return to school for my BSN. For a long time, getting through what was immediately in front of me had to come before planning what came next. Today, I have developed a stronger foundation and feel ready to continue the education I postponed. Perhaps most importantly, these experiences have changed the nurse I am. I have learned that you have to meet people where they are, not where you think they should be. Whether someone is experiencing mental illness, grief, fear, or another crisis, trust cannot be forced. Sometimes the most compassionate thing we can do is remain present, listen, and give someone enough safety to open the door themselves. My experiences with mental illness have created difficult chapters in my life, but they have also deepened my empathy. As I continue my education and nursing career, I want to carry that understanding with me so that people who are struggling feel heard rather than judged, supported rather than pressured, and reminded that they do not have to navigate their hardest moments alone.

At 31 years old, I am still learning what it means to fully know and accept myself. I am a gay man in a polyamorous relationship, yet I sometimes feel as though I have barely explored what it means to be part of the LGBTQIA+ community. My journey has not been a straight line toward self-discovery. Mental health, suicide, relationships, and the expectations I have placed on myself have all shaped who I am and who I am still becoming. Suicide entered my life when I was young. While I was in high school, my best friend died by suicide. During those same years, my brother attempted suicide seven times. At an age when I was supposed to be discovering myself and imagining my future, I was also learning how quickly life could change. I experienced the fear of wondering whether someone I loved would still be here tomorrow and the grief of discovering that sometimes they would not be. Those experiences stayed with me. I have also faced my own struggles with anxiety, depression, PTSD, and ADHD. At times, my mind can feel like it is moving in several directions at once. I have had to learn that perseverance does not always look impressive from the outside. Sometimes it is getting through a difficult day. Sometimes it is asking for help, going to therapy, confronting uncomfortable parts of yourself, or choosing to keep working toward a future when remaining where you are feels easier. My LGBTQIA+ identity has added another layer to that journey. Although I have known that I am gay, I am realizing that knowing your sexuality and truly understanding yourself are not necessarily the same thing. I am still learning how to build relationships authentically, communicate openly, trust myself, and allow myself to explore a community and identity that I did not fully experience when I was younger. I used to think that by my thirties I was supposed to have myself figured out. I now understand that there is no deadline for becoming comfortable with who you are. Perhaps unexpectedly, these experiences have also influenced the nurse I have become. For the past ten years, nursing has placed me beside people during vulnerable moments of their lives. Today, working in hospice has given that responsibility an even deeper meaning. I cannot erase someone's fear, grief, diagnosis, or past, but I can make sure they do not face a difficult moment without compassion. Losing my best friend taught me that we cannot always see the battles another person is fighting. My brother's struggles taught me how complicated loving someone through a crisis can be. My own mental-health and LGBTQIA+ experiences have taught me that becoming yourself can require tremendous patience. Perseverance, to me, is not emerging from hardship untouched. It is allowing hardship to change you without allowing it to end your story. I am still growing, still learning, still pursuing my education, and still discovering parts of myself that I once believed I should already understand. At 31, I do not have everything figured out—and I no longer believe that I need to. I am still here. I am still becoming. And I intend to use what I have lived through to help others feel a little less alone in what they are living through.

For a long time, I did not think of marijuana as an addiction. It was simply how I relaxed, quieted my mind, and escaped anxiety at the end of the day. Eventually, though, I had to be honest with myself. When reaching for my bong became one of the first things I did after walking through the door, it was no longer just something I enjoyed—it had become something I depended on. Recognizing that dependence forced me to examine not only my marijuana use, but also why I was using it. When anxiety was high or my thoughts were racing, marijuana offered an easy way to shut everything off. Breaking that cycle has meant learning to sit with uncomfortable emotions instead of immediately escaping them. There are still moments when returning to old habits seems easier, but recovery has taught me that overcoming addiction is not a single decision. It is repeatedly choosing the life and future I want, even when the alternative feels easier. One of my greatest motivations is nursing. I have been an LPN for ten years, working in primary care, specialty care, plasma donation, and now hospice. My experiences have shown me how much patients depend on nurses during some of the most vulnerable moments of their lives. They deserve a nurse who is fully present, attentive, compassionate, and able to think clearly. I want that for my patients, and I want it for myself. My own experiences have also changed the way I view people struggling with addiction. Addiction does not erase someone's ambition, compassion, intelligence, or potential. Sometimes people need support, opportunity, and someone willing to see the person beyond the struggle. That perspective will remain with me throughout my nursing career. I am now continuing my education to advance beyond my LPN and earn my nursing degree. After ten years in this profession, I know nursing is not simply a career I chose—it is work that gives my life purpose. Continuing my education represents growth both professionally and personally. Jeffrey Robert Burris's story resonates with me because his struggles did not determine the limits of his future. I want my own story to demonstrate the same thing. I cannot change the choices I made in the past, but I can decide what I do with them. I am choosing clarity, growth, recovery, and a future in which I can use both my nursing experience and my struggles to provide compassionate care to others.

Being a first-generation college student has meant learning how to build a path without having a roadmap. When I first entered college, I knew earning a degree could create opportunities, but I did not fully understand how to navigate higher education or where it would ultimately lead me. Becoming the first in my family to graduate from college was an accomplishment I was proud of, but it was only the beginning of a journey that has been anything but straightforward. I never originally planned to become a nurse. While earning my associate degree, I was hospitalized seven times in one year while searching for answers about what was happening to me. I often felt unheard, but the nurses caring for me listened and advocated for me. Their compassion helped change the course of my life. I recognized qualities in them that I valued in myself and realized nursing was where I belonged. I went on to become an LPN and have now spent ten years caring for others. I have worked with underserved and uninsured patients, in primary and specialty care, plasma donation, leadership, and hospice. Along the way, life continued to present challenges. I have relocated multiple times, experienced financial hardship, navigated career changes, lost people I love, and had moments when continuing my education simply was not financially or personally possible. For years, advancing my education became something I told myself I would do “when the time was right.” Eventually, I realized there may never be a perfect time. If I wanted something different for my future, I had to be willing to take the next step even when the path was difficult. I am now pursuing my BSN because I want to build upon the nurse I have spent the last decade becoming. I want greater knowledge, greater responsibility, and the ability to advocate for patients at a higher level. I also want to prove to myself that financial hardship and an imperfect academic journey do not have to determine how far I can go. Receiving this scholarship would relieve part of the financial pressure of returning to school and allow me to devote more of my energy to succeeding academically while continuing to care for others. More importantly, it would be an investment in a journey I have refused to give up on. Being first-generation means there was no path laid out for me. I have had to create my own. My path has taken longer and included more turns than I expected, but every experience has given me a clearer sense of who I am, why I serve, and where I am going. I am ready to keep moving forward.

Second Chance at Higher Education I am seeking a second chance at higher education because I know that my purpose in nursing has continued to grow, even during the years when life delayed my academic progress. My journey has not been a straight path, but every challenge has strengthened my commitment to becoming a more knowledgeable, capable, and compassionate nurse. I became an LPN ten years ago, and since then I have served patients in many settings, including community health, pulmonary medicine, family and internal medicine, plasma donation, and hospice. Those experiences have shown me that advancing my education is not only a personal goal, but also a responsibility to the patients and families who trust nurses during some of the most vulnerable moments of their lives. What motivates me most is the memory of being a patient who felt unheard. During multiple hospitalizations, I learned how powerful it can be when a nurse truly listens, advocates, and helps a patient feel seen. That experience led me to nursing, and it continues to remind me why I want to go further. I want to expand my clinical knowledge and scope so I can advocate more effectively, recognize patient needs more deeply, and contribute to a healthcare system that is already asking so much of nurses. This time around, I plan to ensure my success by approaching school with maturity, discipline, and a realistic support system. I understand the demands of balancing work, school, finances, and personal responsibilities, so I will stay organized, communicate early with instructors, use academic resources, and create a consistent study schedule. I also know the importance of asking for help before becoming overwhelmed. My years as an LPN have taught me accountability, time management, and perseverance, and I will bring those same qualities into my education. A second chance at higher education means more than returning to school. It means honoring the growth, experience, and wisdom I have gained along the way. I am not the same person I was when I first began my educational journey; I am more focused, more prepared, and more certain of my purpose. With this opportunity, I plan to prove that my past challenges did not end my story—they prepared me for this next chapter. I am ready to continue building a future in nursing rooted in compassion, advocacy, service, and responsibility, and I am committed to becoming the kind of nurse who helps others feel heard, supported, and valued. Why Second Chances Matter I believe second chances are important because people are not defined only by the moments when life becomes difficult, plans change, or progress is delayed. A second chance allows a person to take the lessons learned from hardship and use them as a foundation for growth. In life and in education, timing, resources, health, family responsibilities, and financial challenges can all affect a person’s ability to succeed. Those barriers do not erase a person’s potential. Sometimes they shape that potential into something stronger. This belief aligns with my journey because I have had to keep moving forward even when my path did not happen as quickly or smoothly as I once imagined. I became an LPN and built a meaningful career caring for others, but my goal of advancing my education remained unfinished. Over time, my experiences as a nurse, a patient, and a family member have given me a deeper understanding of why education matters. I now bring more maturity, purpose, and resilience to this opportunity than I could have brought before. Second chances matter because they recognize growth. They acknowledge that people can learn, improve, and return with a stronger sense of commitment. For me, this second chance is not about starting over; it is about continuing with greater clarity, purpose, and determination. My journey has taught me that setbacks can become preparation when they are met with perseverance and reflection. I believe this opportunity will allow me to turn my experiences into strength, advance my education, and serve patients with greater skill, compassion, and advocacy.