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.