According to the CDC, 1 in 5 youth experience symptoms of a mental health condition at one point or another. The commonality is similar in adults; 1 in 5 reports symptoms of mental illness. The stigma behind these disorders leads to problems in prevention and treatment. Growing up in rural West Virginia, I understand the effects stigma may have. I have vowed to shape my career around advocating for those who may struggle. I have a loud voice, and I am learning how to use it. Mental health became important to me simply because it had to. At 15, I was admitted to a psychiatric facility for the first time. No one told me what to expect before arrival. I was alone in a hospital room with no concept of mental health. I knew that I was feeling anxious, but treatment was beyond my knowledge. When I left, it was not a discussion my family was ready for. I was completely alone. My confusion was further validated when I began taking psychology courses in high school. I learned about symptoms of mental health and the stigma that was behind it. I slowly learned that I was in the middle of being misunderstood. Psychology was clearly the field for me. I knew that my experiences, paired with my love for knowledge, would make an impact. Mental health stigma is real, and it is affecting our youth each minute. My journey of mental health advocacy slowly started in high school. It became more prominent in college when I was faced with more opportunities. In high school, I did minor fundraising and shared stories on social media. My small town knew me as the girl who spoke up about mental health. This led me to become even more vocal in high school. As I started my psychology program, I learned more facts and statistics to teach my peers. The world of mental health was a comforting place for me. In 2024, I started a position at a community mental health center. I work in the community engagement program, which works to keep high-risk populations out of the hospital. My duties involve providing transportation services, peer support, and crisis de-escalation. Throughout my time here, I am constantly reminded of the importance of community health. There are so many resources, and we strive to ensure our clients have everything they need. Between my college studies and my job, I have become more comfortable advocating for mental health. I run two social media sites that help raise awareness. My topics of interest are adolescent and serious mental health symptoms. Areas like schizophrenia and bipolar disorder are often overlooked. My goal is to educate as many people as possible. Currently, I range from over 50,000 views a week. My impact is slowly growing. Struggling with mental health has become my reason. My illnesses are not curable, but they are effective in providing motivation. I am learning to manage my symptoms while helping others identify theirs. My only dream in life is to promote mental health awareness. In the future, I will become a licensed social worker and therapist. This will help me directly aid with the ongoing youth mental health epidemic. The future of health is in good hands. It just requires a loud voice.

I grew up in rural West Virginia. Both my parents remarried, which granted me the blessing of being raised by four people. My family is big and blended. I have four older brothers, one younger one, and 2 step-sisters. I have enough cousins to play a football scrimmage. From a young age, I was instilled with values of empathy, loyalty, and service. My journey through education is a reflection of the people before me, those who were unable to obtain their degree. I am proud to be the first woman in my family to pursue a higher education. My values include the power of knowledge, the creation of meaningful connections, and the spread of joy. Since high school, I have dedicated my time to learning more about my chosen field. Psychology provides the opportunity to express my values. As I move forward with my goals, I know attending college was the first step. My pursuit through education is a reflection of those before me. Specifically, I credit my two oldest brothers for paving the way for me. They instilled the idea that I could move mountains from a young age. During their early adulthood, they were busy helping to raise my brothers and me. I hope that I can make them proud. They are my reason. I want to become a child and adolescent counselor. I understand the struggles of navigating middle and high school. I experienced first-hand the struggles of mental health stigma and the effects on treatment for teenagers. They need a safe space. Empathetic and culturally competent counselors can make a difference. My main goal is to become one of them. Through my studies, I have learned the importance of systematic change within the field of mental health. Our nation, especially our youth, is struggling with anxiety, depression, and substance use disorders. 1 in 7 youth report symptoms of a mental or behavioral disorder. The need for trained counselors is higher than they have ever been. I identify as a mental health advocate and ally. My passion, paired with my studies, gives me a loud voice. I know that there are changes that I can help make happen. Change, however, can happen on a personal level. Connecting with as many people as possible and making an impact is my goal. Reducing mental health stigma begins with having the conversation. As I grow older, I become less and less afraid to have the conversation. College is a privilege. A privilege that those before me were not able to achieve. This avenue was presented to me, and I have never looked back. Psychology is the right field for me. I have an innate instinct when it comes to mental health awareness. My education lays the groundwork for making an impact on our youth. The safe place that children need will be my office.

There is a mind-body gap within the healthcare system. Finding a primary care doctor is easier than finding a therapist. Insurance companies have strict requirements that cover therapy sessions, but only if you can get them at a good rate. 1 in 5 adults and 1 in 7 youth experience symptoms of a mental disorder; how are we forgetting to care for them? My goal as a future counselor is to raise awareness of mental health. My passion for mental health began in my early teen years. I went through periods of anxiety and depression. I understood the stigma that surrounded me. I knew that there was strength inside of me that would motivate me to move forward. I began studying psychology. Psychology helped me feel validated. My experiences finally had a name and a treatment. I advocated for the lack of awareness within my small community. I shared resources, statistics, and references. When it was time for college, I knew the field of psychology was the right path for me. Last summer, I read a book by psychologist Jonathan Haidt. The Anxious Generation reflects on the transition from play-based childhoods to phone-based learning. The implementation of phones and social media is stunting child development. The results show a lasting impact on mental health. Haidt explains the effects as a mental health epidemic. Depression rates rose by 145% for teen girls and 161% for teen boys since 2010. This book opened my eyes to the reality that youth face today. After I finish my undergraduate degree this December, I plan to enroll in WVU’s Master of Counseling program. My goal is to become a child and adolescent counselor. I will continue to vocalize my beliefs about the gap between mental and physical health care. Given the state of youth mental health, more professionals are needed to combat the ongoing issue. Addressing the issues requires advocacy. I work part-time in community mental health care. Since I began in 2024, I have gained knowledge of the importance of nonprofit work and community resources. My program is called community engagement. Our mission is to keep high-risk individuals out of the hospital and knowledgeable about local resources. My experiences in the position have further increased my aspirations for a future in mental health care. I have witnessed homeless individuals achieve permanent housing, helped an older woman get her pet to the veterinarian, and supported a client through grief. The ripple effect of our program proves success and resilience. Working in mental health can be difficult, but it is mostly rewarding. I plan to continue advocating against the mind-body gap within the health care system. Professionals who have traits of empathy, respect, and cultural competence are necessary. Youth mental health is on the rise; phone-based childhoods are causing many issues. To address the problem, I will obtain the required education and training to help future generations.

In the United States, 1 in 5 adults and 1 in 7 youth experience symptoms of a mental disorder. This varies from anxiety and depression to more serious illnesses such as bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. In West Virginia, stigma behind mental illness creates a barrier to adequate care. To combat this issue, professionals in the field need to focus on advocating for those who lack a voice. In high school, I experienced debilitating highs and lows. It affected my school work, relationships, and ability to do the things I previously enjoyed. I felt like I was losing each part of myself slowly. I was dissociating constantly. My mind was in the gutter. There was one thing that never left, though. My voice and the strength behind it became louder. My experiences helped me gain motivation to begin advocating. I raised money for organizations, such as the National Alliance of Mental Health and the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention. I shared resources with my fellow peers who lacked the awareness. I became a voice, but also a safe place for those to share their experiences. I learned a lot. Throughout college, I became the girl on social media who raises awareness of mental health. I shared my story and motivated others to do the same. My life changed around a year and a half ago when I started my first “big girl” job. I work as a community engagement assistant for a local nonprofit community mental health organization. My program provides transportation services, peer support, and crisis de-escalation. I have built rapport with my clients and gained knowledge about the world of mental health and recovery. My job is more than providing services; it is building community. Community is the glue that holds people together. Working in mental health in West Virginia proves that others are strengthened by becoming more involved. Many of our clients lack stable housing, income, and food sources. If we are unable to provide assistance directly, we know the right person who can. My job involves many heartfelt stories that give me strength and hope. I have known I wanted a career in mental health since I was a teenager, but this job helped secure that idea even more. I have watched those with little support rise above. This winter, I helped a client achieve permanent housing and a comfortable bed. Being able to experience these situations shows me that I can make an impact now and in the future. Working in a nonprofit has really helped me focus on what I would like to do in the future. I know that West Virginia needs help, especially our youth. West Virginia youth are 8 times more likely to be involved with foster care. More and more children are falling victim to mental health struggles, and the stigma silences them. I know that adequate resources go a long way. Government-funded agencies help change lives. My job proves the importance of having the right support and guidance. In the future, my plan is to become a counselor for children and adolescents. I know that children need more support in their lives. Most importantly, they need adults who are culturally competent and trauma-informed. My experiences in community engagement assure me that I can handle all things. I want to be the frontline for youth who may be struggling. Mental health is an ongoing issue, and we can make a difference by receiving the right education and training. Knowledge is power. Power that can raise awareness and serve the community.

Mental health shapes most of my life. I am an undergraduate student studying psychology, I work part-time in community mental health, and I struggle with mental illness myself. The way I think, the way I perceive myself and others, and my future plans are all influenced by mental health. I am a strong advocate, especially for youth mental health and serious mental illnesses. My purpose is to conquer these battles and utilize my strength to help younger generations. At 14, I was admitted to a psychiatric facility for depressive and suicidal symptoms. I felt out of place. Looking back, I can see why. I grew up in a small, rural town in West Virginia. My family never spoke of mental health, and I was not learning about it in school. In this moment, I was completely alone with no supportive outlet. At 16, I tried to end my life. It was chaotic and out of the ordinary. This was my loudest cry for help to date. Despite being loud and vocal, no one was coming to save me. I learned from an early age the importance of independence and resilience. Between problems at home, bullying at school, and trouble with my identity, I had nowhere to go. My life changed when I was 18. The first taste of freedom felt like bricks weighing off my shoulders. I was expressing myself in the most authentic way and connecting with friends to help me through my highs and lows. I left for college and never looked back. It was time for me to take my mental health head-on. I became involved with my university’s free mental health services. I learned the importance of self-care and speaking up to others. They provided me with numerous resources to help me succeed. I felt like I was in a safe place. This support became crucial during my second finals week. After pulling an all-nighter to teach myself calculus, I began feeling symptoms of disorganized and rapid thoughts. The diagnosis was clear; this was my first episode of psychosis. It has been nearly 5 years since my first episode, and I have learned many things about myself. The recovery phase was really difficult. I self-isolated and coped with substances. But through my obstacles, I learned the importance of taking care of myself. I began making meaningful connections with others and speaking about what bothered me. I no longer feared the small town gossip or backlash from my family. Three years ago, I began therapy. I learned the importance of grounding techniques, practicing mindfulness, and connecting with others. More importantly, I learned my identity. I have been able to find my place in the world through the chaos. I know that my story can help others. The goal is to become a licensed counselor who specializes in youth and adolescent services. No other child will go unseen or unheard on my watch. The stigma that they feel can be a burden; it’s important for adults to take charge. Mental illness almost took my life, but I will not let it take anything else from me. Instead, I will use my experiences to make a change. I have learned the importance of sleep, taking medications, and maintaining relationships. Through the years, I have lost those close to me. The real ones have stayed around to see me succeed. This December, I will walk across the stage as a first-generation college student. My five brothers and four parents will see their hard work paying off. More importantly, I will make a difference for children’s mental health.

Grief is a different feeling. Nothing can prepare you for the first phone call you get that your father is unwell. In the past three years, I have learned a lot about grief. My stepdad suffered a fall that left him in a coma for months with a traumatic brain injury. That same week, my father had lung surgery that went south. One week, I have two dads. Next, I was all alone. This is a story about ambiguous grief and the preparations for a life with my dads. My parents are still alive. However, I still believe I lost my parents that week. My stepdad has trouble remembering names, places, and memories. His symptoms resembled early dementia. The fall was caused by alcohol intoxication, something he has struggled with since his teenage years. My dad’s cancer was triggered by smoking cigarettes. He stopped treatment this year. At 24 years old, my greatest enemy is alcohol and cigarettes: the two legal substances. The first year was a battle of providing care and taking care of my family. There were things that needed to be done, and as the only daughter, I held a responsibility. I made it my purpose to make it through this situation with strength. I spent weeks moving between each ICU floor, hoping one of my parents would make a full recovery. It took a lot to get me out of this state of mind. I began therapy a year after the accidents. I went in with no intentions. After the first session, I was hooked. My therapist was wonderful and friendly. She assured me that I was in good hands. Our first few sessions focused on establishing values and goals. Then came the treatment. My therapist taught me the power of mindfulness and being in the present. We moved through the rhythm of instrumental music and focused on my bodily sensations. If my heart raced, I took note. Any breathing changes? We noticed. My therapist and I formed strategies to implement mindfulness in my daily routine. For the past 3 years, I have been staying in the present. They say the body keeps the score; I wanted to learn how mine worked. Mindfulness can offer you grace in troubling situations. I could not change or control how my fathers’ treatment went, but I could focus on myself. In a world of uncertainty, getting in tune with my body did the most. These practices allow me to sit back, address situations, and reflect with purpose. My favorite mindfulness technique includes closing my eyes and listening to the birds. As I prepare for my father’s final days, I know I am in good hands with how I take care of myself. In the future, I plan to become a licensed counselor who specializes in children and adolescents. My goal is to help the future generations navigate the stressors of their lives. Between my personal experiences, college studies, and time in therapy, I am learning ways that I can help others. I am sure that I can serve the communities with effective strategies and evidence-based practices. Everything I do is for my five brothers who are scattered around the country. I was raised by two teenage boys, who gained responsibilities for the younger siblings early on. My success is a reflection of their dedication. My oldest brother sacrificed a lot for me to be here. My other brothers, who are closer in age, are also my main motivators. We grew up together, and I want to show them that I can do the things I promised in childhood.

I never liked the color pink. Growing up, I gravitated to greens and purples. Pink was too flashy, too girly. You would think that, as the only sister to 5 boys, I would adore the idea of pink and feminism. It was never for me. Until it was. Mental illness has taken a lot from me, but there are some things I have gained. At 24, my apartment is covered in soft beiges and bright pinks. My closet features a range of pinks, from dark to light to bright. While my world was black and white, I found comfort in everything pink. It became my new favorite color. I never wanted mental illness to take anything from me. When I was 19, I spent time in inpatient care. The diagnosis read “brief psychotic disorder.” I couldn’t think or speak clearly. I thought people were out to get my family and me. When I was 23, I was diagnosed with Bipolar 1 disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and ADHD. My life was changed forever. When I first learned I had a mental illness, I didn’t feel lost. In fact, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. I was free. I could start unmasking. It was a validation of the experiences I had been going through for the past few years. In high school, I battled unstable highs and lows. It was finally time to get help. I found myself in therapy, dressed in a pink sweat suit. My therapist built trust quickly, and I knew I was in the right place. We practiced mindfulness, exposure therapy, boundaries, and coping skills. I learned the importance of putting myself first. We focus on my values, perceptions, and reactions. Thanks to therapy, I was able to find the strengths that make me who I am. This is not to say that mental illness is all sunshine and rainbows. Instead, this shows that mental illness is about resilience. My experiences are unique and have shaped me into the person I am today. My brain may function differently, but I still demonstrate strength. Mental illness almost took my life, but it also gave me life. My world is full of pink and sparkles and bows and heels. I have been able to find myself within the chaos. In the midst of multiple diagnoses, I have learned to persevere. My strength will help me understand my clients as a future adolescent counselor.

In rural West Virginia, community is everything. Love thy neighbor is the motto for small towns. I was raised by a police officer. He instilled values in his children early on that prepared us to help our communities. We admired his service and sacrifice. When it came to applying for college, I knew the helping professions were the right fit for me. My forte, specifically, is mental health. I am an active advocate for mental illness and substance use. At 24 years young, I know I have many more years of raising awareness ahead of me. For the past year and a half, I have served a role in the community engagement program at my hometown’s community mental health center. Our program’s mission is to keep high-risk populations out of the hospital and engaged in their communities. On a daily basis, I provide transportation services to medical appointments, grocery stores, pharmacies, and other essential errands. My purpose is to help ease the load my client may carry. Transportation is vital for physical and mental health. In an unwalkable community, it can be hard to make it around town. I have helped my clients attend their loved one’s funeral service, made several trips to veterinary offices, and helped my clients move into permanent housing. My role goes beyond driving. It involves building a rapport with my clients and ensuring they are making connections with others. As a community engagement assistant, I serve a vital role in the treatment process. Outside of school and work, I spend my free time addressing the issue of mental health stigma. Through social media, I create posts and provide resources to others. I recently started expanding my content, which has led me to make even greater connections. I can connect with others in my field, those who are unsure and struggling, and those who want to find resources for their friends and family. I know that I have a voice and many people are willing to listen. It is in my power to speak up about mental health. I am entering the last semester of my undergraduate degree. Next spring, I will begin my Master’s program in Clinical Mental Health Counseling. I am devoted to becoming a culturally competent and trauma-informed counselor. My hope is to specialize in child and adolescent development, where I can help our youth make it through mental health challenges. It is reported that major depression has increased 145% for teen girls and 161% for teen boys. Trained counselors are becoming more necessary. Aside from being a counselor, my goal is to create a non-profit organization that promotes the well-being of adolescent girls and boys. This may entail therapy funds, community engagement, or programs held at the schools. I want to organize a scholarship that funds young adults throughout their careers as mental health counselors. My dream is to dedicate my time to combating the ongoing issues of youth mental health. Through work and school, I know the world is in my hands.

Youth mental health is in a crisis. The second leading cause of death for youth aged 10-14 is suicide. 1 in 7 children experience a mental disorder at any given time. In order to combat this issue, the future leaders in mental health need to come together and raise awareness. There are more things we can be doing for the younger generations. Ensuring that they have a safe place to thrive is my priority. My name is Avery, and I am a full-time college student, community mental health worker, and mental health advocate. My work in non-profit began last fall. I work in the Community Engagement Program. My role entails providing transportation services for medical appointments, pharmacy trips, grocery store visits, and occasionally veterinary offices. Our purpose is to help members of our community access and utilize resources. I learn something new every day, whether it be from my coworkers or my clients. One of my clients notes my “quiet strength” and how I serve as a role model for her. The most important thing I have learned is the role and power of community. In the mental health world, community resources can go a long way in saving lives. State-funded grants can provide medication services, case management, peer support, transportation services, and therapy sessions. As a future leader, I am learning that I have the power to start something bigger. My goal is to help the youth of West Virginia navigate life, even when mental health struggles persist. I will begin my graduate program in Counseling next spring. My dream is to become a child and adolescent counselor, specializing in trauma-informed and culturally competent care. I understand the role that mental illness can have in development. Our children deserve adults who are informed in all aspects of their care. The statistics are showing that we may not be doing enough. The first step is raising awareness. With my education and experience, I plan to organize a non-profit that promotes youth mental health and well-being. This entails finding and funding therapy services for children. In West Virginia, this is a rollercoaster. Between issues with insurance and a lack of available professionals, children’s needs are not being met. I witnessed firsthand the struggles behind receiving quality care in this region. I also plan to organize a scholarship program to fund mental health professionals in my rural hometown. More counselors are needed in these communities! My real goal is to end the epidemic of youth mental illness. Realistically, I hope to become a safe place for children. I want to become more involved with my community and be the person everyone can count on. In my hometown, nobody discusses mental health and how it affects our communities. My work can help spark a conversation and open doors for more opportunities. Discussing the problems at stake can save lives. Our youth need us to start speaking up!

My name is Avery. I have 3 older brothers, and I’m my dad’s first daughter. He was so excited when he learned he was having a girl. My parents parted ways and remarried. I gained a half-brother, a step-brother, and 2 step-sisters. Growing up in rural West Virginia, family has always come first. I grew up surrounded by many people and a lot of love. My father, a retired police Captain, has always been my number one supporter. My main goal now is to walk across the stage and have him in attendance. In 2019, before the pandemic, my father announced his retirement from the police department. After over 20 years of service, he felt it was time to get a low-maintenance security job and relax. Unbeknownst to him, he would soon be diagnosed with cancer. He spent years serving the public and was finally able to retire. But now he has to fight cancer. I learned the news during my senior year of college and can still remember my devastation. Freshman year of college was hopeful. He was at the start of diagnosis, and treatment was working well. My dad was able to help me move between my apartments and help me with car issues. It was almost like he did not have cancer. We remained hopeful when he went into remission. That usually only lasts a few months before they find a new spot again. His cancer was metastatic. It progresses to his liver and lungs. Our biggest fear became true: stage 4 lung cancer. Since 2020, he has been fighting hard. Chemotherapy and radiation have serious side effects. After years of his battle, he decided to stop treatment last year. I still am coming to terms with the future. He becomes weaker each time I visit. Will he be at my graduation in December? One thing I have learned in the past year is the importance of family. Before his diagnosis, we were not as tight-knit. My stepdad is also disabled, so between dealing with two parents with disabilities, we have found comfort in talking to each other. We know the importance of making memories now. My brothers and I recognize that any holiday could be his last, so we try to live life to the fullest. Most importantly, I have learned a lot about my dad. As his only daughter, I had a different dynamic with him than my brothers had. We were not as close until my adult years. My dad, the retired officer who devoted his life to others, was finally becoming vulnerable. I’m learning his story through his eyes. He is unapologetic. He has done amazing things. He led his community through criminal justice and awareness. As I prepare for my last semester of college, I am walking in his footsteps. My career in public service is dedicated to my father, who I hope can see at least some of my accomplishments.

Since I opened my first psychology textbook at the age of 15, I have been fascinated with the mental health field. It was an instant validation of the things I experienced growing up. Depression and anxiety ruled my middle school and high school years. Luckily, with a psychology elective, I could accomplish two goals with one course. I could learn more about my chosen field. I could also learn more about myself and who I was becoming. Mental health has been my passion for almost ten years now. I can not wait to see what the future holds. At 18, I thought I knew everything. I was coming to college with the world in my hands. My major was in neuroscience, and my dream was to become a psychiatrist. The first semester was ridiculously fun. I live independently with three girls. We all started adulthood together. My responsibilities were minor. It was easy and breezy until my second finals week. Unspecific psychosis disorder is what they called it. This period of my life was dark and gloomy. I can barely remember what happened on a day-to-day basis. I lacked a stable support system. My symptoms presented as delusions, disorganized thinking and speech, minor hallucinations, and paranoia. It was full-blown psychosis. In this state, all you can do is start medications and hope for the best. The first year of recovery was almost as bad as the episode. Was this something I may experience again and again? Psychosis only made me stronger. I enrolled back in school for two semesters but ultimately decided to take a break to focus on my values. During this break, I took time to reflect on what I wanted to do and how I would accomplish it. I knew that adolescent mental health held a deep place in my heart. Youth mental health is in a crisis, and there’s no way I can sit back and watch. Not with my experiences. From this moment forward, I would devote my life to a career in mental health. I began therapy in 2023, where we work on coping strategies, problem-solving skills, communication techniques, and a lot of mindfulness practice. We learned that my psychosis correlated with underlying mental disorders. I was diagnosed with Bipolar 1 disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, ADHD, and complex PTSD. I am more than my diagnosis, but I adore the community behind each one. My identity is loud and proud, and my mental disorders are only one piece of my story. Two years of a neuroscience degree taught me about the biological side of mental illness. Awareness of these topics helps children understand that mental illness is not their fault; it is a combination of environmental and biological factors. A minor in addiction studies is paving my way for understanding children who have parents experiencing substance use. I know the addiction is a disease, and we need to talk about it. My other minors in psychology and child development help me focus on the foundations of youth mental health. I can support children through their stages and provide counseling techniques. I returned to college last fall. I continue to defy odds and disarray statistics. I may be bipolar, but I am going to hold two degrees one day. My experiences are not for nothing. My story can help our youth find a safe place to speak up. Trauma-informed and culturally competent counselors are needed. In order to help the world of mental health, people like me need to stand up and raise awareness. My name is Avery, and I am the future of adolescent mental health.

According to the CDC, 1 in 5 children aged 3-17 is diagnosed with a mental health condition at one point or another. Suicide is the second leading cause of death for those aged 10-14. These statistics are frightening. The rise of social media and artificial intelligence is making changes in children's and adolescents' mental health. Jonathan Haidt discusses the correlation between social media and mental disorders in his best-selling novel, The Anxious Generation. Youth mental health is an ongoing crisis. It is our generation’s responsibility to stand up and make a difference. The more we understand about resources and support, the more children we can save. My love for adolescent mental health started when I was one myself. I battled periods of highs and lows, struggled with trauma responses, and fell victim to self-harm. I knew that my experiences could teach me something. When I opened my first psychology textbook, I felt an instant sense of validation. I knew in that moment that psychology was the field for me. I currently work in a community mental health setting, primarily with adults. This does not take away from my passion. Instead, I am learning about how community health works. My role in community engagement involves providing transportation services to our community members. This includes medical appointments, pharmacy and grocery runs, and occasionally veterinary offices. Our organization works to keep members of my town out of the hospital and in a stable environment. Day-to-day, I provide peer support, crisis services, problem-solving, coping skills, and building rapport. I learn something new about the mental health field each day! In my spare time, I am an advocate for adolescent mental health. I work alongside a mentorship program that helps foster youth navigate early adulthood. I run an Instagram and TikTok page that is dedicated to advocating for change. I provide resources that can help my family and friends, and help others locate care for themselves. Mental health is my life and passion. In college, I study interdisciplinary studies. This pathway allows me to have a unique approach to mental health. My minors include addiction studies, psychology, and child development and family studies. I also did two years of neuroscience. I understand the biological basis of behavior, as well as counseling techniques and coping strategies that can help. My main goal is to help others learn more about mental illness and substance use. My education revolves around child and adolescent development. With each new thing I learn, I try to equate it to youth mental health. With high hopes, I want to become a culturally competent and trauma-informed counselor. The courses I take and the work I complete are helping me become the person I aspire to be. Career-wise, I hope to become a counselor for adolescents. I may explore the prison system and work on crisis calls to police departments. One dream I have is to establish a non-profit dedicated to youth mental health and create a scholarship fund for individuals like me. Within a year, I will walk across the stage and obtain my degree. The future of children’s mental health is in good hands.

My name is Avery. I am a cat mom and Netflix documentary lover. On my left arm, a serotonin molecule is tattooed with purple flowers. I’m loud and proud. I come from a large, blended family in rural West Virginia. 7 siblings and 4 parents. I am a first-generation college student with dreams of working in public service. I wear many hats: college student, community mental health worker, part-time server, and full-time mental health advocate. The 11 members of my immediate family have paved the way to make this possible. As I approach the last semester of my undergraduate degree, I can’t fail to mention them. My sophomore year of high school was when I took my first psychology class. I was struggling with anxiety and depression at the time. Each course module was a sense of validation. I crossed two birds with one stone. I could get A’s on my assignments and learn more about myself. I even took AP Psychology to learn as much as possible. In my spare time, I helped raise money for organizations such as Mental Health America and the National Alliance on Mental Health. During my freshman and sophomore years of college, I studied neuroscience. I wanted to understand the basis of how biology affects mental health. After completing classes in the counseling pathway, I knew that was the direction for me. I changed my major a few times before settling on one that serves the right purpose. College has been a rollercoaster for me. Freshman year, I experienced a 3-month-long episode of psychosis. Stress and finals week led to my brain taking over my body. This period was pretty scary for me. Luckily, the right medications and support teams had kept me from experiencing something like this since. I still struggle with mental health, but it is stable and manageable. Last summer, I was diagnosed with Bipolar 1 disorder and obsessive-compulsive disorder. I had the realization that my teen years were spent struggling with misdiagnosis. It was not until I found my current treatment team that I was able to see how misunderstood I once was. My therapist and I chat about my resilience. I value maintaining a quiet strength, as my clients would put it. There is no mountain that I cannot move. Learning more about myself only motivates me to study harder. I am working so hard for 16-year-old me, who was misunderstood. Not only that, but I am working for the future 16-year-old girls I will encounter who need an adult like me. I live by the motto: “Be who you needed when you were younger.” I vow to understand adolescent mental health. It is a confusing and transitional period. Hormones play a huge role. However, some children are living with a mental health diagnosis that they are unaware of. The right treatment plan could save them years of struggling. My goal is to become a safe place for teenagers. Whether that be in a private practice or school setting, I hope to be an aid to the next generation. I currently work at a non-profit community mental health center. My role involves transporting adults to necessary medical appointments, pharmacies, and grocery stores. I have learned a lot about the role of community in mental health. I also learned about how well I work with others. I know that the field of mental health is for me. In my free time, I run a social media page to raise awareness for adolescent health. I enjoy learning more myself and educating my peers on ways they can help.

I come from a blended family in the Appalachian Mountains. In small-town West Virginia, everyone knows everyone. And they know their parents. I was raised by four parents; each of my parents remarried at a young age. In total, I have 7 siblings. 5 of them are boys, and the 3 of us girls do not spend a lot of time together. I have been blessed with a large family of love! Loss has been a rollercoaster for me. I had trouble finding people to relate to. When I learned about ambiguous loss and grief, I found the validation I was looking for. All my parents are still alive. Technically, I could try calling each of them now and might be able to get an answer. But things are not like they were growing up and in early college. I just turned 24, I’m in my last year of undergrad, and I spend my time grieving. Grieving people who are still alive. 3 years ago, my stepdad suffered a fall that landed him in a 3-month-long coma. During the same week, my dad had invasive lung surgery to remove his cancer. I was marching through different hospital floors for weeks. Last month, when I went to the hospital, I did not have to tell them my name at check-in. They knew who I was because I would always be the girl who had two dads dying at the same time. My stepdad made a remarkable recovery. He can walk, talk, eat, and breathe on his own. However, the damage to the brain was permanent and deteriorating. My family and I describe the symptoms similar to dementia. My mom became his full-time caregiver, all while still having to hold down a job. My stepdad recovered, but I lost both of my parents that night. Since that moment, I have not had many chances to spend time with them in ways like before. My dad’s cancer went away, came back, went away, and then came back again. He’s tired. After years of chemotherapy and radiation, he has called it quits. The doctors explain that there is not much they can do. My past year has been spent navigating the anticipatory grief of my father, as well as grieving the mother and stepfather who raised me. In December, I will walk across the stage of my school’s collesium. I hope my dad makes it to another Christmas and sees his “darling daughter” finish her first degree. As a first-generation and the only daughter, I know they will be smiling from ear to ear. I know that with every step I take, there are four parents watching me. Whether they are on Earth or not doesn't matter. What matters is making the most out of my education and showing that they raised me to make a difference.

Only daughter. Baby sister. Supportive friend. Dedicated community worker. Psychology student. Even a steakhouse employee. I wear many hats. Keeping busy is easy for me. I have a 6-year-old cat at home who brings me joy. I love all things skin care and beauty. My favorite song is “The Sweet Escape” by Gwen Stefani. My name is Avery, and I am the future of adolescent mental health. My journey is nothing less than a rollercoaster. I’ve known my purpose for a while. At 15, I was admitted to an inpatient psychiatric facility. That was awkward. I started my sophomore year of high school that following week with a pit in my stomach. Unbeknownst to me, this was the start of practically everything. I was miserably depressed and had no idea where I was headed. By the age of 16, I had opened my first psychology textbook. It was immediate relief and comfort. I loved Sigmund Freud and learned more about psychoanalysis. Family systems and structures were special to me. I come from a family of 7 siblings and 4 parents. Knowledge in psychology was a unique way of survival. As I continued my journey, by 19, I was a college student studying neuroscience. The world was in my hands. I wanted to know everything about the adolescent brain. Could I learn things that would make sense of my childhood? My stepdad was an alcoholic. Nothing made more sense than a minor in addiction studies. Suddenly, my studies were more than advocating for the youth. This was about me. I survived until my second finals week. The doctor called it “brief psychosis” triggered by social stress, an unmanaged diet, and underlying mental health conditions. That was around 3 months of my life I will never get back. But still, I rise. My voice just grew louder. My life is like a game of Jenga. It will hold up strong until it comes crashing down. Three short weeks after my twenty-first, my dad and stepdad were admitted to the hospital. Separate reasons. It is something that would only happen to me. My dad had lung cancer and was scheduled for surgery. The surgery went south, and he was admitted to the ICU. My stepdad suffered a fall so tragic that he was in a coma for 3 months. I spent weeks upon weeks eating hospital food and switching between different floors. To this day, the front desk knows my name. I took the much-needed break. I focused on self-care and spending time with my friends. I made more time for my family. I read books, discovered new music, and tried new places to eat. It was a refreshing time away. I met my therapist in 2023. She taught me mindfulness, read my journals, and ensured I came back every other week. Her techniques have guided me to a life of healing and recovery. She also diagnosed me, the first time by a mental health professional. I knew I had bipolar disorder, but I only needed the confirmation. What threw me in a loop was the diagnosis of OCD. My overthinking was more than anxiety. Her validation eased my mind. She taught me so many things about myself. Through my experiences, I have become more comfortable in my future career. In 3 short years, I will begin working as a child and adolescent counselor. My resilience has demonstrated that I am capable of anything I set my mind to. This is for all young children who suffer in silence. My voice will prevail.

I have always had four parents and seven siblings. My parents met their significant others quite early, and the rest is history. Every birthday was celebrated with all of them there from age 2 and on. My dance recitals, my brother’s baseball games, and even some major holidays have included all of my parents and the majority of my siblings. I will be the first to admit that we are confusing and chaotic. But our family as a system is strong and unique. The past 24 years of my life have been nothing but a blessing. There is no way to describe my family in 600 words. There are so many of us! I can, however, talk about the last three years. Since 2023, my family has reached a different level of resilience. Our support for each other has kept us going thus far. On March 17, 2023, my oldest brother’s birthday, my family and I celebrated at a Mexican restaurant. My dad was due for invasive lung surgery the following Tuesday. We all got together to reminisce before the big day. All was well until 2 in the morning. Nobody wants to get a call from their mom in the middle of the night. As my heart began to race, I hit accept. My mom explained that my stepdad suffered a devastating fall and was on his way to a more intensive hospital. Next week, he had brain surgery and was placed in a medically induced coma. My dad’s surgery had some complications that had him transferred to the CVICU. I spent over a month moving between that floor and the Neuro ICU. My stepdad is a walking miracle. He can move, talk, eat, and breathe by himself. Most of his lasting effects are cognitive. His condition resembles early dementia. Although I am grateful for his recovery, navigating life after the accident has been difficult. My dad’s cancer came back after surgery. After one more round of chemotherapy, he became very ill and quit. My dad’s prognosis reached terminal around a year ago. My family and I have been tested numerous times, but we still show resilience. There was a point in time when my stepmom and mom shared a duplex. It sounds confusing because it is. My stepmom lived upstairs and would come downstairs to help care for my stepdad. My dad lived on his own until he got sick. My four parents were closer than any other blended family I have seen. They deserve so much credit for sticking together. It has been helpful as my siblings and I navigate grief. Both of my moms are full-time caregivers. As the only daughter, I serve a role to help them and both my dads. I plan to work as a youth mental health counselor. I credit my four parents and two oldest brothers for raising me to choose a helping profession. I know that my struggles have shaped me into becoming someone who can save lives. My main goal is to advocate for all children as they move through development. My experiences with a blended family will be especially beneficial for children and parents in similar positions. I know that my purpose is to use my voice and help future generations!

I turned 24 today. This year marked ten years of mental health treatment. 14-year-old me would be so proud of my accomplishments. As I reflect, I can’t help but wonder how I have made it this far. It feels like the past ten years, I was too busy dissociating to connect with reality. Nevertheless, I officially feel like a grown woman. My accomplishments are a reflection of the person I have been for the past ten years. I am approaching the last semester of my undergraduate degree, and I can’t be more thankful for my blessings. My name is Avery. I am the youngest on my mom’s side. All boys. My parents were hit with a rude awakening when I cried more than the boys as a baby. The even ruder awakening came around puberty. They were lost. Without older sisters, I learned to be an independent person. I could wrap my head around every thought numerous times. Overthinking was my superpower, and crying was my weapon. It was not a shock to anyone in my family that my teenage years were ridden of highs and lows. At 15, you are supposed to be attending the Friday night lights and homecoming. For me, it was the mental hospital. It was morning medications and therapy. I was still too young and pressured by stigma to understand my surroundings. My age was a huge factor; nobody would diagnose me with anything other than depression and anxiety. For years, I spent wondering why I was so hard to understand. Each year of high school presented more problems, internally and externally. I found comfort in my psychology courses. If nobody would listen to me, I could tune them out while learning more about myself. I knew one thing was for certain. I experienced months of depression, followed by periods of higher energy and mood. I was always overthinking. Panic attacks were not uncommon for me. Looking in a mirror made my heart race. It was chalked up to teenage hormones. I can’t blame my previous professionals for missing the obvious signs. However, I can do my best to make a difference. I began advocating in my small town. I discussed taboo topics like self-harm and suicide. I let others know that I struggled, yet I still persevered. I did my best with fundraising for national mental health programs. I connected with other peers and helped them through experiences that looked similar to mine. My quiet voice in high school led to a crazy time after graduation. It was the first week of college when I decided to meet with a college counselor. My university offers free services to students on campus. When he asked me if I had parents who used substances, I was shook. Nobody had ever asked me this before. And yes! I was raised by someone who drank often. If something like this could go overlooked, what else did my past therapist not look into? As a college senior, I have dedicated my work to learning more about adolescent mental health. My ultimate goal is to become a trauma-informed counselor for those 12 and older. As more research is published about youth mental health, counselors can understand more about their youth population. I know first-hand how difficult navigating high school and early college can be with a mental illness. My only hope is to use my past experiences to help them. My name is Avery. I have bipolar disorder with psychotic features, obsessive-compulsive disorder, and complex trauma. It was not just hormones. It was a cry for help.

On my left forearm, I have a serotonin molecule marked permanently on my skin. I got it when I was seventeen. I was two years deep in a battle with mental health at the time. At a young age, I knew that I lacked the chemical composition for a “normal brain.” What I knew then, though, is very different from what I know now. Today, I am 23 years old. I finished all my coursework for the semester. I practice breathing techniques regularly. I listen to the birds, dance in the kitchen, and make delicious buffalo chicken egg rolls. At 10:30 each evening, my alarm dings to remind me that it’s time for my serotonin reuptake. My name is Avery, and I am bipolar and obsessive-compulsive. I remember my first experiences with mental health symptoms. The feeling of impending doom took over my body. It was unfamiliar. Before I began my sophomore year of high school, I spent three days in a psychiatric unit. The hardest part about my first experience was learning about stigma. I felt like a part of me needed to be hidden forever. I would miss multiple days of school in a row and have to come up with excuses. Nobody was allowed to know I was depressed. The rest of high school is a blur. I balanced between highs and lows, mostly lows. Sleep was an escape from problems at school, at home, or online. It was not until college that I was finally able to get a grip on my mental health. Looking back, I credit myself for giving my all. I fought hard through the toughest years of my life. My university has outstanding mental health resources that led to my path to healing. The past six years have been a rollercoaster. The important part is that I survived, and I have a story to tell. Starting my recovery journey was not simple. During my second semester of college, I experienced what I refer to as “full-blown psychosis” during finals week. I was 19 at the time. Still undiagnosed, I was grasping for straws, trying to make it through my first year of adulthood. Somehow, I survived and returned for another year of college. I tried therapy. It was hard for me to find the right person. In March of 2023, I met Ashlee. We clicked immediately, and I was ready to begin intensive therapy. Every week for a year straight, I worked through each aspect of my life. I learned that it’s okay to not be okay. We discussed my past, the present, and the future. Ashlee taught me the importance of intentions and prioritizing time for myself. After a year and a half, it was time to be diagnosed. She explained bipolar disorder and OCD to me. We worked through different strategies for my highs and lows. I felt validated to understand that my thoughts were obsessions this whole time. Most importantly, I have learned that I am capable of all things. I have seen really dark days, but the sun still rose the next day. Every obstacle I have encountered has been conquered. The past eight years of my mental health journey were not for nothing. My mental illness has helped me develop empathy, compassion, and respect. I know I have a voice. I am going to use my story to change the lives of adolescents one day. It all starts with showing them my forearm.

Since I was a teenager, I have been set on a career in mental health. I was in treatment for symptoms of depression and anxiety, which naturally drew me into the field. As a high schooler in a rural area, I was personally affected by stigma. Psychology was an escape for me. When I was not receiving adequate resources, I turned to self-help YouTube channels to validate my experiences. After learning about the biological side of psychology, I enrolled in West Virginia University’s neuroscience program. Seven years later, I am still eager to pursue my education in a related field. Between my mental health struggles, the COVID-19 pandemic, and working part-time I was unable to prioritize my education. I dropped out of college after 4 semesters, with full intention of returning. I wanted to take time to work on myself before beginning my career. Since then, I have been active in therapy and working in a non-profit mental health clinic. My role is in community engagement. Essentially, I help individuals with mental health and addiction disorders with their daily tasks, such as groceries and medication pick-ups. I also ensure they are attending their appointments. This job has taught me more than a college course can; I am seeing first-hand the impact that one person can make on someone’s mental health. Slowly, I am building the skills of developing rapport and obtaining resources to provide for my clients. West Virginia University’s online multidisciplinary studies program will allow me to attend college while holding my currently loved position in mental health. Originally, I planned to either finish my neuroscience degree or switch to the mental health and addiction studies program. Instead, I have opted for a scenario that benefits me in both ways. I have worked and gone to school since I was a freshman in high school, and the balance became more difficult in college. Online classes have the benefit of flexibility.  This program is designed to incorporate three minors for a more niche college major. I have chosen addiction studies, psychology, and child and development studies. The dose of each minor will allow me to gain knowledge essential for working with children. In the future, I wish to work as an elementary or high school counselor. This role would allow me to be directly involved in a child’s mental health treatment; parents would not have to worry about cost or taking time off.  My goal has always been to work in children’s mental health, specifically aiding in eliminating stigmas that influence them and society. Outside of my education, I advocate for anything related to mental health and equal rights. My passion for the field has shown my natural ability to show empathy and respect. From my research and lived experience, I have learned that stigma is a main concern in the field of mental health and addiction. Along with cost, it plays a large role in why individuals may not seek treatment. The next generation of counselors, including myself, are seeking a mental health reform that begins with children.  The multidisciplinary studies program will allow me to further my education in all things revolving around a child's mental health. Being online, I can continue working my way up the ladder in non-profit mental health work. Eventually, I will transfer to school counseling. Children need a trauma-informed and destigmatized view of mental health. Additionally, they need an adult who they feel safe with. Between my courses and job, I can learn the right to help change future generations.

On March 17, 2023, my family gathered to celebrate my oldest brother’s birthday. We went to a local Mexican restaurant that was a staple in our family for years. This was a big dinner. I had to leave early to pick up a friend from the airport. During the drive, I remember having a gut feeling that something was wrong. I struggle with bipolar disorder, so paranoia was not new to me. I made it home safely; the only issue I had was continuously missing exits. It was 2 in the morning, I was calm, tired, and ready for bed. Within twenty minutes of getting home, I received a call from my mother. I knew something was wrong. She was struggling to speak but managed to tell me that my stepfather suffered a fall that had him being rushed to the trauma center. To call him my stepfather is an understatement. My brother and I referred to him as Papa; he was just a bonus dad who helped raise us when we were toddlers. This night would turn into five months of hospital food, sleeping in recliners, and the most life-altering period of my lifetime.  Although I overcame challenges every day with my Papa in his treatment, the biggest obstacle I would have to overcome would be my battle with my mental health. During my stepdad’s accident, I held our family together. My mom was adjusting to caretaking, which left little room for other things to be taken care of. This is in no discredit to her; I stepped up because there was nothing more I wanted to do. I remained resilient, but the burnout quickly settled within 8 months.  By winter, I was confused and not sure where my future was going to take me. I had dropped out of college. The coursework was fine, but the underlying issue was my mental health. More importantly, I wanted to become a licensed mental health professional. I knew what I wanted to do, but there were few resources for me to achieve my goals. Luckily, by March of 2024, the anniversary of the accident, I met my therapist. Looking back on the last year, I am amazed by my recovery. I witnessed every step of it, in fact, I did all the work. My therapist and I worked through mindfulness and coping techniques, stress management, self-care, and relationship-building skills. My symptoms are manageable. I felt a sense of peace that I knew would be required to reenter school. I have been active in my mental health treatment and am finally seeing the rewards. I am seeking scholarship funds to help ease the financial burden of returning to school. Currently, I work two jobs to cover my living expenses. The Rocky Mountain Philatelic Library can help reduce my work hours to only work at one job. This would allow me to focus on my studies, as well as my current job in mental health.  My other job is working as a restaurant server. I collect the 2-dollar bills left behind as good luck. I keep one in my book at all times, and I credit it to the reason why I do well at this job. I now seek these bills everywhere. If I were to convince someone to collect stamps, I would tell them my story about how collecting became my good luck charm. It does not matter what you collect, instead, it matters about the intention behind it. Besides, having a collection of something that most people don’t is cookie points.

If you want to get to know someone, you should walk in their shoes. I learned this in the fourth grade. We were watching some educational video. I’m forgetting the details. My teacher would ask the class if we knew what empathy was and I was quick to raise my hand. Empathy is like taking a walk in someone’s shoes. You get to experience what someone else experiences; it is a change of perspectives. Although I remember very little, this lesson seemed to stay with me for the rest of my life. Empathy is one of the many traits that frame my passion for mental health advocacy.  When I was 14, I experienced my first episodes of depression and anxiety. My symptoms were explained through hormones, being a teenager, and my brother moving across the country. This would begin a series of depressive episodes that continued until adulthood. Adolescence is a vulnerable period full of emotions, and the main thing I was feeling was misunderstood. I started therapy and antidepressants. Without a reliable support system, my treatment seemed to be a band-aid. This was a problem that I was going to have to solve when I got older.  When I first began college, I was still oblivious to the real world. I was not avoiding mental health treatment because I wanted to. Instead, I had not yet realized how important it would be for me to sort out my ongoing symptoms. The oblivion lasted all but two semesters. By my second finals week, I would have my first real encounter with mental health struggles. Here I was, a student studying mental health and addiction, who now needs an antipsychotic prescription to function.  Like my treatment in high school, my medication was needed but was simply a band-aid covering the real problem: C-PTSD. The difference between this period and high school is simple. West Virginia does not have adequate mental health resources. I was willing to rip the bandaid off, but there was no one to assist me. The waitlist for therapy was months, and if it did not work out with that therapist, you would have to wait more months. For years, I tip-toed around my symptoms to ensure I remained stable.  Last March, I was able to find a wonderful therapist. Everything lined up: the cost, the appointment availability, and the nearly instant feeling of belonging. The past year has been remarkable in terms of mental health recovery. Immediately, we formed a connection that allowed me to open up about my past issues and future goals. We established core values to center my treatment. She used my strengths to help me build meaningful connections. During this time, I have learned that empathy is my superpower. This trait is essential for every mental health worker.  My empathy helps me to notice things that others may seem to skip over. I take into account that everyone is experiencing life at their own pace. In terms of my career, I can help make the world a better place by providing a better sense of understanding.  Since I was a young girl, my main focus on career goals was to help others. I would bounce between becoming a lawyer, a doctor, and even a teacher. It was not until I was 16 that I learned about psychology as a science and fell in love. In psychology, I was able to learn about myself and my experiences. It was validating. Since then, I have framed my studies and personal growth toward becoming a therapist. In 2020, I studied neuroscience at my home state’s school: West Virginia University. I was breaking generational curses: independence, first-generation, female college students in STEM.  The one thing that has stuck with me since I decided on this field was that I would have to prioritize my mental health to work with someone else. After starting my junior year of college, I decided to drop my courses and take the time to focus on my well-being. The combination between a break from school and therapy has created a pathway to success. In five years or less, I will be a school counselor changing the lives of children.  I was always adamant about becoming a counselor. My life motto is “Be who you needed when you were younger.” It was not until I began trauma-focused therapy that I learned that what I needed was support as a young child. My career trajectory switched; I would focus my studies on child development and trauma. Childhood is a crucial part of development. Some children need extra assistance and it is not always easy to find. A school counselor is a child’s first point of contact in mental health. More importantly, it is accessible to every student in the school. Parents do not need to worry about finances, missing work, and sitting on waitlists.  My personal experience will help me create a stable and secure environment for school-aged children. During high school, mental health stigma and lack of resources caused me and my family many issues. I was alone. My main goal is to ensure that future generations do not have to feel this way. My office will be a safe space for any student struggling, something I needed when I was their age.  As for my mental health journey, I have found reliable coping techniques and worked through some past traumas. My symptoms of bipolar, psychosis, and OCD are becoming more manageable each day. My therapist reassures me every other week that I am working towards the best version of myself. One day, I will use these experiences to help change the lives of children. The main thing I need to remember is to take a walk in someone else's shoes.

My name is Avery, and I am a first-generation college student. I will be the first in my family to obtain a STEM degree and being a female makes that even more empowering. Being the only daughter and youngest of four brothers, I always felt as though I needed to work harder to become successful. I remember being in middle school and telling my grandparents how I wanted to become as educated as I could. I bounced from law school and medical school before I learned about a graduate degree. At sixteen, I fell in love with the field of psychology. Since then, research involving the brain and mental health has become more relevant. When I learned about the field of neuroscience, I knew that this was the best path for me. Neuroscience is a developing field. Some would say it is a difficult topic to study. For me, though, it seems like second nature. I love chemistry and biology, and adding courses on mental health and addiction was perfect for my interests. When it comes to the topic of mental health, stigma often gets in the way. From my personal experience, I have found that the research behind mental health makes me feel safer. I know that my emotions and behaviors start with the chemicals in my brain. When I become a licensed counselor, I am hoping to educate younger generations with the same idea. It is important for those seeking mental health care to understand nature versus nurture, as well as the process of neurotransmitters in the brain. Although most of my future career will revolve around counseling techniques, I feel that a background in neuroscience will provide a basis to achieve my main goal. I want to advocate for all individuals who may have experiences similar to mine. As a psychosis survivor, I have found a safe place in the field of neuroscience. My serotonin molecule tattoo is a constant reminder that brain chemistry is important in terms of mental and physical health. Each time someone asks me about the tattoo, I am able to describe how this confusing neurotransmitter plays an important role in happiness. My go-to is explaining how serotonin is essentially a happy chemical. Although I am not a counselor, I feel that I make an impact each time someone lets me describe my tattoo. In a few years, I will be a licensed counselor working with patients who have experienced symptoms that I have witnessed, both first-hand and second-hand. I use my background on the brain to help make others feel comfortable with their brain abnormalities. It is my passion, and hopefully one day I can present research through a Ted Talk and make the impact that I have dreamed of since middle school.

My mental health journey began when I was fifteen years old. At the time, I was being treated for anxiety and depression. The stigma behind my disorders was everywhere: my family, friends, and doctors seemed not to understand my experiences. I remember feeling as though I needed more, but as a teenager, it was hard for me to speak up. When I began college, I started to notice more about my mental health. More importantly, I learned that it was something I never took initiative to treat properly. West Virginia University provided the most outstanding resources that helped me learn more about myself. These resources became important when I experienced my first episode of psychosis at nineteen. It was finals week and the stress of calculus developed into symptoms that are still hard to describe to this day. Luckily, the university's medical center and free counseling services were there to support me. The recovery process was long. In this time, my passion to become a counselor one day began to grow. I was determined not to let psychosis get the best of me. Instead, I wanted to use my personal experiences to advocate for those who may not have the same resources as me. Now at 22, I can say that I have taken the steps in my recovery to move forward. In March, I was blessed to find a therapist who sees my potential. I am finally receiving the treatment I deserve while learning ways to help others. The practice of mindfulness has been beneficial in my personal treatment. When my friends open up about their emotions, I try to explain how wonderful mindfulness can be. Music meditation and grounding techniques are something I try to teach my peers. I began wearing fidget rings, and witnessed my co-workers and friends buying a pack for themselves. Social media are my main source of advocacy, where I try to educate my followers on the mental health stigma. I tend to focus on psychotic and substance-use disorders. If I have learned anything from my personal journey, it is that education is important. Once I finish my degrees, I hope to provide an environment in which I can change the lives of children who are like me. With my background in neuroscience, I feel that I can help others understand that their mental health experiences are valid and treatable.

My name is Avery. I prefer to go by Ava, but my college friends call me Ave. I am a rising sophomore at West Virginia University, which holds the home of the top researchers in the state. My major is neuroscience, with a concentration in children and adolescent behavior. I have a minor in addiction studies, which was implemented to teach future public services employees about substance use. I plan to use my education to promote children who may be struggling with a mental health issue, substance use problem, or both. My story began when I was born. My first breath was a cry. I was born with a rare disorder called "ghost baby syndrome," where there was a pin-sized hole in my umbilical cord. Essentially, my mom and I were sharing blood. The doctors at West Virginia University saved my life, which is where I attend school today. Although I cannot remember it, I have always had my heart set on the medical field because of what they did. I hope to spend my undergraduate career in therapy. I want to be able to meet with someone as I cope with the things I study. Learning about mental illness each day is difficult, especially when I have struggled with it. Academically, I want to spend my career researching mental illness in adolescents. It will begin with independent research. Then, I want to under my bachelor's degree to continue. My heart is for understanding the biological side of mental health. I want my future patients to feel trust in me when I say that their disorder is caused by brain malfunction. I want to work with my school's clubs and organizations to promote mental health awareness. My advocacy begins with me telling my own story. I think that speaking up is helpful for my own experiences. Since I became more active on social media, I have made new friends. I have found myself, and I feel at home in my college town. Great things are headed my way, and it is all due to my love for neuroscience.

It was around eleven in the morning on May 17. I was full of anxiety, but I was accepting it this time. Instead of my usual panic attacks, I was worried about something good. I was on my way to my university's psychiatric hospital for an evaluation of my mental health. I began treatment when I was 15, almost four years to the day. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder and treated for depression. On May 17, my PA confirmed that I was manic for the past four years of my life. The news was not surprising to me. I am a neuroscience major studying to be an adolescent therapist. I knew that I was manic, but the psychosis was a surprise. The fact is that nobody believed me before. My past therapist claimed that I was suffering from "psychology student syndrome," yet I was not a psychology student. I think that may have influenced my choice of the brain instead. Kanye West has been a role model for me, as he is open about his experience with mania. He wrote an album describing it. One song feature is called "ghost town." The chorus goes: "and nothing hurts anymore, I feel kinda free..." There was nothing better fitting for what I was experiencing. My diagnosis leads me to be free. For the first time in my four-year journey, I feel confident. It started with recognizing myself in the mirror, and then it came when I was gaining weight and getting tasks done. My biggest obstacles were self-identification and memory loss. I can honestly say to myself that it feels better. My experience has led me to more things, as well. I am on route to becoming a mental health therapist for children and adolescents. I am beginning my therapy so that I can give back to children that may need it. With that, I can get more involved in my school work. My neuroscience major is allowing me to understand the biological aspect of mental illness. My research aims to help me become a trustworthy medical professional one day. COVID has put a damper on my abilities. Holding a job, meeting in person for therapy, and taking online classes have been complicated stressors. I am on a journey to new things, and I started it by myself. At a young age, I was able to understand myself better than my therapist. I want to prove that children are educated and may have the right idea on their diagnosis.

Two months ago, I did not think I had a story to tell. As I sit here writing this essay, I feel confident in my own story. My name is Avery, but I prefer Ava. I was born with a rare disorder referred to as "ghost baby syndrome." Long story short, my first breath on earth, I witnessed the rural health care system and its effects on the population. From my hospital of birth, I was transported 45 minutes to the nearby memorial hospital. The hospital was known as West Virginia University Medicine, the school that I attend today. The doctors were able to detect my rare disorder and give me the blood transfusions I needed. They have inspired me to take my role in health care, but there is some downside to it. In 2017, I was in the psychiatric unit of their hospital. The experience was not good for me, to say the least. I enjoyed each doctor there, and I learned more about myself. I was able to discover my love for the psychology field. Since then, I have personally advocated for mental health. The visit made me understand mental health stigma and how it truly affects children my age. As a sophomore now, I am being treated for psychosis and mania. I have been on an antidepressant since my stay at the hospital. A counselor at my university's crisis center was able to help me understand that I was not being taken care of properly before. This can stem from West Virginia's lack of resources and education in mental health. I have never wanted to blame anyone else for my mental health. Additionally, it was not ideal for me to blame myself. If you study psychology, you can understand that there is no specific cause for mental illness. From my experiences, I want to understand if there is a biological impact. I am a neuroscience major at WVU, and my goals are to research mental health and explain that the brain may be a factor. I am a first-generation woman in science. It's a tongue twister to me, but adding on a mental health diagnosis is difficult. My freshman year has only proved that I am much stronger than I have thought. I finished the year with a 3.0, despite learning a new diagnosis during finals week. Last month I would be embarrassed to call myself underrepresented, but today, I know that the statement is only making me stronger. My goal is to advocate for mental health awareness while conducting research. I plan to do that by teaching my peers the things I study and helping them understand mental health. After I finish my bachelor's degree, I plan to obtain a doctorate degree in clinical psychology. I hope to work with children and adolescents to diagnose and treat mental illness. Furthermore, I want to become involved in nonprofit work to provide resources for those who be missing treatment due to stigma or money issues.

I remember that call that day. My dad called my mom and told her that he was diagnosed with Stage 4 Cancer, although not fatal. The twist to the story is that my parents divorced when I was three years old. He called her to tell her that he would be behind on child support payments and asked my mom to tell us about his cancer. It was Christmas Eve of 2019 when I found out. My mom moved to a different state when I started school, so my time spent with my dad was limited. I received the news that my step-sister was pregnant, and my dad will begin surgery to remove a tumor in the next few months. He reassured us that he would be okay, but it was not that simple. Three days after my high school graduation, my father went in to begin his rounds of radiation. He received the news that he would be going through surgery, radiation, and chemo to get rid of the disease. From then, he spent three months in the hospital. He was severely dehydrated, losing weight, and delirious. I try not to remember that state he was in, but I know that he was not his usual self. He likes to crack jokes and reduce tension in situations. Due to his condition, my father retired from the county sheriff's department after 22 years. He was ranked Captain and held a position as the front-runner of the SWAT team. While I was in bed, he broke through the door of someone's home to protect the community. I recall my stepmom speaking about the current "All Cops Are Bad" movement, and he was happy that he did not witness the political debates on Facebook. As I sit here writing this, my dad loaned me some money to help me with rent. The first thing he told me when he began treatment is that he did not want anyone to make a fundraiser in his name. I wish I understood why, but I feel that is something we needed. I am a full-time college student studying science. I have aspirations of graduate school and want to conduct my research on mental health. My mom is also working full-time, but she can only do so much. I have been paying my tuition, books, and rent by myself for the past ten months. I also make payments on my car and car insurance. I want to make my dad proud and relieve him of the stress of paying for my education. College is expensive, but it is more costly when you are from a low-income family and going through cancer treatment.

What do you think of when you hear West Virginia? Maybe it's the potholes. Maybe it's the pepperoni rolls or slaw dogs. Some people may say it's missing teeth and lots of cousins. I'm here to tell you that it's true. West Virginia is lacking, and I've witnessed it for nineteen years now. The thing is that I attended school in Maryland while being raised like a West Virginia girl. I can tell you that as soon as you cross the state line, the road becomes more narrow. You have to know how to drive around giant holes in the pavement and maybe dodge a deer or two. The roads and teeth are not the part I'm mostly worried about, though. I wish I could drive without the potholes. However, I've witnessed two things that are more important than these problems. That is the opioid epidemic and the mental health crisis. My dad is a retired county sheriff and ran the front line of the SWAT team. Although he cannot talk much about his work, he never fails to remind me of the opioid epidemic. Not only that, but I have personally seen my friends and family members get lost in drugs. Luckily, my university implemented a program to help with this issue. They offer a minor in addiction studies. The courses are administered by substance use counselors and are used to help educate future public service employees. I began studying addiction this past semester, and next spring, I will finish all five courses. Furthermore, my college major is neuroscience, with a concentration in behavioral sciences. I plan to focus on research in mental health studies and find linkages to the brain and mental disorders. Mental health stigma is on the rise and I want to be a person that combats the issue. With my major and minor paired together, I hope to explain the why's and how's of two things: substance use and mental health. If I am able to explain to my family in West Virginia that drugs and mental disorders are not the faults of the person, I will be doing what I love. I am currently partnered with a non-profit organization called To Write Love on Her Arms. This organization focuses on providing access to direct services for those struggling with a mental disorder. I fell in love with their movement when my brother Jake would wear their t-shirts around. He also got a tattoo of "love," on his arm, and he motivates me to go further with the organization. I also plan to involve myself in my university's Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance club. This club provides support groups and education on both disorders. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder when I was 15, but today, I learned that I am in fact manic. The treatment I experienced in West Virginia for the past four years failed me. I was believing that I was depressed, but I found that I was unable to describe my emotions well enough to be diagnosed with mania. I hold no grudges, but I do not wish another person to go through what I have. I hope that my education can lead me to a career in public service. Specifically, I want to be a mental health advocate and work my way towards a clinical psychologist. I plan to focus on children and adolescents, and learning how their brain works. It may be too much for me to say that I hope one day I can have a Ted Talk. Non-profit work is certainly on my to-do list, and I hope it takes me to retirement.

I was in a year-long relationship from 5th to 6th grade. I remember the day he broke up with me, and I felt helpless. It was young love; nobody our age was in a relationship that long. Our families loved each other, and we enjoyed similar things. I was insecure, too. Instagram was popular, and I had a lot of followers at the time. I made a post with the caption: "Once you have accepted your flaws, nobody can use them against you." This quote has stuck with me through the years, and I still used it during my mental health journey. I have a lot of flaws. I was bullied in the 2nd grade for having small ears. I got acne in the 4th grade, and it covered my body. I wore a lot of hand-me-downs, and I never knew something was wrong with it until my classmates said something. My life was different, but to me, it was worth living. Being the youngest and only girl, I was taught to be strong and independent from the start. I thought it was nice being able to have my privacy, but my brothers have always been jealous of my "special treatment." Spoiled should be my middle name. Knowing that two of my brothers are much older than me, I always wanted to be emotionally strong. So I accepted my flaws. I'll have small ears and some acne scars forever. My hair might not be the brightest and softest, but my smile will always be big. The past two months have been difficult on my mental health, but now I can understand what is best for me.

I was born and raised in West Virginia. The small-town vibes make me feel at home. My father was a police officer whose duty was to protect my friends and family members; he raised me while doing so. The hills are beautiful. We have pepperoni rolls, buckwheat cakes, and more cousins than we can count. I consider it wholesome, and that's what I present it as. Underneath the beauty, however, is a state fighting an opioid and mental health crisis. I would give my father credit for giving me the dreams of working in public service. I knew from a young age that I wanted to help others, but I was never sure how I wanted to do that. It was my junior year of high school that I discovered neuroscience. I was impressed. I was considering a career in psychology, but a member of my university introduced me to this new major. From that moment, I have been in awe. It's pretty cool. I think it's very underrated. I am focusing on behavioral neuroscience, where I study the ways the brain influences behavior. I plan to focus on children and adolescent brain development. My focus is on mental health disorders and the effects that the brain has on its involvement. Ultimately, I want to research biological influences on mental health. My career goals are not so simple. My minor is in addiction studies, which is incorporated to educate West Virginia University students on the current state of opioid use. In comparison with my major, I hope to understand the biological side of addiction and why it may occur. I plan to pair these together and enter substance use treatment with my undergraduate degree. My home state lacks several resources. The reason is primarily for two reasons: lack of finances and stigma. I have family members and friends who cannot receive the treatment they need for substance use and mental disorders. I hope to use my education to treat them directly but work with nonprofit organizations along the way. No matter where I go, individuals are still going to have a hard time paying for their treatment. Substance use counseling is not my career goal, however. My goal is to become a child and adolescent therapist. My education in neuroscience will help build the basis of the developing brain. I want to do independent research to find answers on mental health. Afterward, I will attend graduate school for clinical psychology. I know two things are for sure. I want to become involved in nonprofit work and become a full-time advocate for mental health. Currently, I have a partnership with To Write Love on Her Arms. The organization holds events, podcasts, and fundraisers to combat mental health stigma. Within the next few months, I will be working to promote their message. I hope to gain experience in fundraising for my future endeavors. The best part of being a woman in STEM is the amount of support I receive. I have an academic counselor and tutors that are guiding my way through science. Most importantly, I have several friends here to help me. Sam, my friend from high school, calmed me last night to ask a few questions on memories and sleep. It's reassuring when my friends ask questions about something I study; I take that as a compliment.

My favorite scientist is Katherine Johnson. She attended West Virginia University like me, and set a stepping stone for women in STEM. Katherine was also African-American and stood up for racial minorities. Her movie, Hidden Figures, was shown in my chemistry class and impacted my life.

As Playboi Carti once said, "In New York, I Milly Rock." I used this as my cat's name. My boyfriend at the time had just gotten a kitten from his aunt. I texted my dad and asked if I could, too, as a joke. The morning after, I brought home a kitten the size of my hand, and she loved to cuddle. My dad had told me that our family cat had passed that night, but I had not known that when I asked about the kitten. He knew I wanted one and let me bring her home. It started as Blue. Her eyes were blue. My dad suggested Brittney, but I wasn't for that. I only visited with my dad on the weekends, so I went back to school for the week without giving her a name. The following week, I was listening to Carti, and I found a name. Her name is Millie, and she knows it. It can be pleasant and unpleasant. She comes when I call, but she also comes when I talk about her. I never planned on an emotional connection, but she was vocal from the beginning. I would make it back home, and she would climb up the stairs and meow for minutes. I felt important, and she did too. She liked to lay on my chest. I think it provided her warmth and safety. Millie was only a few pounds, so it was easier to put her right under my neck. There would be days where she would catch my tears off my face. At the moment, I thought nothing of it, but here I am today, second-guessing. It was 3 am, six days before my nineteenth birthday. I had gotten up because I was not going back to sleep, and I needed a glass of water. Millie followed, like usually. She never left my side, even if it was just to the bathroom. My cat mistook my emotions and begun playing with my roommate's kitten. Within minutes, she sprinted across the floor and starting yelping. Millie was fearless. We also called her the princess of the two. It was mother's instinct to run in and check on her. She was panting. My, not even 2-year-old cat has spilled an entire candle warmer on her side and was begging for my help. She was running back and forth, and I was not able to catch her. I had to leave the room and be reminded by my roommate that my anxiety was inducing hers. It has to know been brought to my knowledge that my cat is an unregistered emotional support animal. She senses my hormones, mood changes, and tone. We make each other feel safe and loved. While writing this, she sits at the bottom of my bed waiting for me to get some rest. I have been able to find a new sense of purpose within myself and my precious cat.

The conversation is touchy. I remember I learned that my mom had her GED when I was in the fourth grade. I found it on her resume when she was applying for jobs at the time, and I thought she had graduated high school. Furthermore, this conversation is a daily topic for me today. I am a rising sophomore at West Virginia University and the first in my family to attend a 4-year university, study science with aspirations of graduate school. It's easy to say I am a first-generation student but much harder to explain. It goes back to elementary school when I needed help on science fair projects. I felt disadvantaged to the students who had their college-educated parents helping them conduct experiments. It was difficult for an 11-year-old to design something herself. My father was diagnosed with cancer on Christmas of 2019. He began treatment at my university's hospital the week after my high school graduation. To continue, this man is a hero. He was a county sheriff for 22 years, where he led the SWAT team and was involved in dangerous hit-and-runs. He retired when he got news of his cancer. He moves in silence, which is primarily due to the negative view of police officers today. He does not believe his cancer should be an excuse. I think, on the other hand, that his illness shows that he is even more remarkable. When I entered college, my mental health began to take its toll. I moved out of my home and became more independent. I would go grocery shopping and make rent payments on my own. Even the little things like locking the door and vacuuming the floor failed to cross my mind. I stood out much differently than other members of my class. I had to take care of myself and my cat, who had attachment issues. Ironically enough, she had an accident with a candle wax melter that put her in a cast and cone. It was difficult for me to maintain school, job seeking, social activity, and my cat. To top it off, I remained waitlisted at the local psychiatric offices due to shortages. As I write this essay, I am sitting in my new apartment that I moved into two weeks ago. I spent my weekend before finals switching from one apartment to another. I was unable to take the time to even focus on my finances. At this time, I found I was in a place where no student wants to be. I'm struggling to find the money to support myself, but most importantly, pay my tuition. I was oblivious that first-generation students have much more problems than their parents not having higher education experience. It's washing dishes, spoon-feeding your cat, discussing the topic of a neuron, and planning your student loan debt. I study neuroscience. It is often said that the brain is the most complex organ. I agree, but I have been able to use real-life experience to connect my studies. I have a tattoo of serotonin on my arm. I get satisfaction explaining to my friends what my tattoo means and then telling them that I am a neuroscience major. To sum up my situation, I should explain a conversation I had with my father last week. I asked if he knew what my major was; he replied with "psychology." There is a difference between studying the brain and studying behavior because my major includes both. My concentration is in behavioral neuroscience, and I have it paired with an addiction studies minor. The classes are more advanced and research-based, which is what I prefer out of my studies. I plan to begin investing in my future education and career soon. With my dreams being so large, I do not want my finances to get in the way. I hope to finish my undergraduate studies with advanced knowledge in research and a focus on substance use counseling. After that, I plan to attend graduate school for clinical psychology. I then plan to begin my career in children and adolescent therapy. I hope to pursue non-profit work when my job is stable. I aspire to be able to fund rural health care services for mental health and substance use. Being born and raised in West Virginia, this is important to me. The bottom line is that I can do it. "First-generation," is just a label; it inspires me to do more. My mental and physical health is above all, but my studies come second. I believe that I hold the potential to educate future generations while making a name for myself in my family. I am focused on three things: myself, my mom, and the children. As some may say, I am the daily dose of serotonin.

Before Katherine Johnson, I was a psychology major. Before Katherine Johnson, I had no interest in mathematics and science and most certainly had no interest in studying it. When I first became aware of her accomplishments and contributions to science, I wanted to be just like her. I was inspired as a young woman to pursue science, as women are just as qualified. As a student at WVU, I admired Johnson for being from my small state and making it to NASA. Not only that, but she was a black woman that did not let anyone stop her from achieving her goals. She is known for more than just being a woman scientist, but as a scientist in general. She was compatible with all the men that had more advantaged backgrounds. After Katherine Johnson, I am a neuroscience major on the pre-medical track. I became more intrigued with the biological side of psychology and knew that a science major was for me. I am able to relate to her; a woman STEM major from a smaller university and big dreams. As a STEM major, I plan to obtain knowledge in both research and the medical field. Several opportunities for both of these options are present, and I would hope to make a large contribution to scientific research in the future. I hope to be involved in the future of mental health discoveries. I also plan to use neuroscience to help me to pursue my dream of psychiatry.

Dealing with mental health is hard. After a depressive episode, I find myself spending hours trying to brush out the knots in my hair and removing mascara stains on my white sheets. The side effects of medications, feelings of guilt and sorrow, weight changes, and meeting new psychologists and telling the same story over and over and over. It’s difficult to remember where you belong. The most heartbreaking fact of depression is the things I had just mentioned is not the worst part; the stigma surrounding it is. The worst part of having a mental health diagnosis is not that the emotional and physical symptoms can hit like a truck. It’s the part where strangers, acquaintances, and your family and friends make your actions unjustifiable by mental health symptoms. It’s not being able to take a sick day when you’re too depressed to get out of bed, having limited resources provided by the government, and not qualifying for health care coverage of behavioral health services. Learning to adapt to a new set of emotions and challenges is difficult in itself, but when you lack the support or are being turned away, that is where the barrier ends. When I first was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder at fifteen, I was left with so many questions. Instantly, I was provided medications and pushed into individual and group therapy, yet I was unsure of what all of this was doing for me. The hardest thing I had to learn was where and when it was appropriate to speak about my mental health. A close family member always ensured that my school administration was only aware of a “chronic illness,” rather than “mental illness,” and that my absences were solely based on stomach issues. Two years later, I dared to be open about my mental health. I had casually mentioned to a teacher how my emotional issues often lead to my problems in my school work and absences. That was instantly shut down. I was forced into thinking that my actions, all determined by brain chemistry and genetics, were not excusable in the set of an eleventh-grade science class. For years, this was my mental health story. I was diagnosed, forced into treatment for my age group, and then kept everything a secret. I had no bright side to my story; it was only as dark as my depression was. I was continuously shamed, privately, and publicly, over the medications I was taking and what caused me to be taking them. I was oblivious to the fact that I was in control of my own story, and I had to be able to bring out the bright side to my story. The best part of having a mental health diagnosis is the number of things you can learn about yourself and the world. If you take a look at mental health organizations, most often than not, each person has their own story that brought them there. They took their experiences and are not promoting them to positive behaviors; fundraising and advocating. My dream would be on behalf of the person that these men and women are. My mental illness taught me the most useful tactics for life. The first being unity. Unity is important as mental illness cannot be tackled alone. Several social and environmental factors can influence behavior, and support can be one step to helping others. The next is knowledge. Learning brain chemistry, environmental impact, the effects of climate, drinking water, and pets can have on one’s general wellbeing: these are all examples of the few things I have learned. Being a personal victim of depression has taught me several tips and tricks that I hope to promote to those in need. Lastly, I learned the importance of advocacy. The effects of mental illness, starting from treatment centers to individual stigma, begins with advocacy. This includes using our voices, contacting legislators, fundraising, and volunteering. Ensuring that our nation’s mental health is being treated in stable and supportive environments has become the most important thing to me since I began dealing with mental health issues. This is where my personal goals begin. Although my dream career is as a psychiatrist, I plan to be a full-time advocate for mental health awareness. My local communities are flooded with undiagnosed or untreated mental disorders, addiction, and homelessness. I hope to begin working with several different non-profit organizations and help fundraise for their treatment. My goal is to begin a business where I sell gift boxes. These range from mental health self-care kits to anxiety or stress relief kits. I hope to use what I know from my experiences, as well as my background of education in psychology, to give men and women the option of relieving their stresses at home. Relaxation, meditation, and stress management would be the primary products of my business. I hope to use my profits to donate to several different charities, as well as preparing boxes for homeless shelters and those in recovery. Since I began my college career, I have personally witnessed several people being turned away from help and still struggling, whether that be with finances, a home, or rehabilitation. My goal is to use any resources available to provide them with relief. Coats, socks, and gloves, as well as food and water and personal hygiene gifts, would be provided to homeless individuals. I have decided to turn my own mental health experiences to make a difference for individuals going through similar things. I hope to leave a huge impact on their lives, providing them with comfort and support and ensuring that they are not alone. My ultimate dream would be to incorporate my advocacy into my future dreams as a psychiatrist, providing therapy to those who have trouble obtaining it, and beginning my funds for charity.