Hello! My name is Kiara Bahena, and I just completed my sophomore year of college. I’m pursuing my bachelors in nursing along with minors in psychology and health. I am a member of the cross country and track teams at my school and have been fortunate to become a two time All-American at the NAIA level. Academics and athletics are critical pieces of my life and have taught me valued skills like discipline and time management. After I graduate, I plan to work for a few years before returning to school for my masters degree to become a pediatric nurse practitioner. There are different characteristics that come to mind when describing myself. One of the most notable, however, would be that I deem myself resilient. As the daughter of an immigrant, I have learned the importance of perseverance. Life has thrown tons of curveballs at me with the most recent being a fraudulent wire transfer case that resulted in losing all of my college savings. I’m holding onto hope that everything will work out, but I am also being realistic and preparing financial goals for my summer savings. Being able to overcome adversity will prove helpful as a future nurse. My interest in nursing itself, however, began when I was very young. When I was a little girl, I nearly died from a life-threatening case of pneumonia. I was required to stay in the hospital for nearly two weeks—two weeks of constantly gasping for air only to feel like I was suffocating. My condition became so severe that at one point, doctors pulled my mother aside to offer counseling services for parents in her "situation." The entire experience was frightening for whole family, but I eventually recovered and was able to leave the hospital alive and stable. I can’t remember very much about each individual day I spent in the hospital; however, I can very distinctly remember my nurses Sarah and Rachel. Sarah and Rachel were patient and kind nurses: real-life superheroes. Every time they entered my room, they always greeted me with a smile (sometimes I was even given stuffed animals and finger puppets). Regardless of the materialistic gifts I received from my nurses for getting through daily shots, their kindness was the most valued gift of all. Although it sounds cliché, the most contagious thing in a hospital is a smile. Even when pain took over my body, a smile helped numb it away. To be honest, I can't picture myself in any other career besides nursing. All of my life, I’ve undergone hardships that have prepared me for the strenuous aspects of nursing. One of the hardest things I endured was when my father left the United States due to voluntary departure. He had lived in the US for nearly twenty years, was married to my mother, had two children, and paid taxes; however, he was still not a citizen in the eyes of the law. For four years, I never saw my father in person. Despite all the heartache and stress, I did my best to stay strong for my little sister and mom. I've always taken pride in being resilient. Entering nursing will allow me to have a variety of options when it comes to specializations. Every day will be different. I’m always wanting to constantly be the best I can possibly be (not just for myself, but for others around me). Nursing is constantly changing as a career field—and I’m ready to be a part of that change.

My favorite athlete to cheer on for Team USA is Sydney McLaughlin-Levrone. She is the current world record holder in the women's 400 meter hurdles. She has been unstoppable over the last five years in the event and dominant in the open 400 meter run, as well. I don't just admire Sydney for her world record title. Years before she reached that honor, Sydney was often getting second to another fellow American hurdler (Dalilah Muhammad). While Sydney qualified for the Rio Olympics at the young age of 16, she did not make it out of the semi-finals. In fact, during this year, Dalilah Muhammad was the one to take home the gold for the United States. Despite experiencing shortcomings and adversity, Sydney kept going. She trained harder than ever, and it showed in the following years. She won her own Olympic gold medal in Tokyo and in Paris, as well. She hasn't lost a single race at the 400 meter hurdle distance since 2019. She has been constantly breaking time barriers that were never thought to be possible before. She is the only woman to ever run below 50.5 seconds in the event that is often considered one of the hardest in track and field. The 400 meter hurdles takes not just strength and speed but fine technique, as well. Just one missed step or stutter can be the difference between a win and a loss. Although Sydney has been untouchable, she has remained humble. Sydney often displays her Christian faith not just verbally but through her actions, as well. She is always the first to congratulate her competitors or pick them up when they've fallen down. Even when cameras are racing to Sydney, she is focused on helping the others around her. There was a point even after winning her gold medal in Paris she hesitated to accept a tiara from her family as she didn't want to appear boastful. She is pushing boundaries in the world of track and field while also encouraging and exemplifying what it means to be a good sport. Cheering on someone like Sydney is easy; she's more than just a high-level athlete—she's a beautiful person inside, too.

My father came to the United States from Mexico when he was a teenager to make a living for himself and his family back home. He worked long, strenuous hours at a factory job and spent most of his time performing back-breaking manual labor. While at his job, he met a woman who was compassionate and did not hold any prejudices against him for his race. This woman became my mother, and they raised me and my little sister together. During my time as a child, my father emphasized the importance of “keeping my roots.” I went to a Spanish academy for elementary school where I began to learn the language of Spanish in kindergarten. I was immersed in different cultures from a young age and had many friends from different backgrounds. My best friend was from Honduras, and we spent much time together both learning and playing soccer together until I moved states. When I moved to Ohio in sixth grade, I no longer had the option of learning Spanish in school, and I was deemed an outsider for daring to speak the language. I was called an “alien” and judged for having a different, unfamiliar last name. I remember when the word spread of an immigrant family moving into town; in fact, we were greeted on our door one day with a pumpkin-picking job offer at a local farm. My father told me to stay strong and ignore the labels around me, but I struggled to accept that I and my family were being viewed in such an inferior way. My high school years made me stronger as an individual, but the circumstances of this newfound strength stemmed from unfortunate circumstances. My father had to leave the United States in 2019 for voluntary departure which left only my mother to provide for my sister and I. Her new job was barely enough for weekly groceries—let alone sustaining three people. Through the help of food banks, free lunches at school, and my grandma’s assistance, we were able to make it by for the next five years; unfortunately, my parents’ already fragmented relationship was finally broken once my father returned. Although not in love with each other anymore, my parents have continued to show me love during my educational journey as a first-generation college student. I am a sophomore student pursuing my bachelor’s degree in nursing along with minors in psychology and health. After getting my undergraduate degree, I plan to return to school for my master’s to become a pediatric nurse practitioner. As the daughter of an immigrant, I have seen the way some people treat minorities in healthcare settings. Despite encouragement for equality and equity in healthcare, there are still healthcare professionals who display prejudices against certain cultures (whether it be for language, appearance, or religion). My heart ached as a child when I witnessed the treatment my father (who is perfectly capable of speaking English) received after healthcare workers heard his thick accent and mistakenly assumed I was a designated translator. What if I wasn’t in the room with him? How would they have treated him? As a future nurse, I aim to be an advocate for my fellow Hispanics and all patients regardless of their personal background or my own beliefs. As the daughter of an immigrant, I will continue to pursue my dreams until they become a reality through the same determination my father showcased when he came to the United States. Good and bad experiences have molded me into who I am today; I am ready to make a positive change on the world.

My athletic journey began well over a decade ago in preschool. Soccer was my absolute favorite sport; it was something that I just had a knack for. The sport itself provided me with teammates who became best friends. I played soccer with the same individuals for six years. I dreamed of playing in college someday, but those dreams came to a halt when my family moved to Ohio. I entered an unfamiliar school with new people (any child would have been nervous); however, I was mostly disappointed I would no longer be able to play soccer. The closest league was now an hour away, so I had to switch directions and pick up a new sport. Softball was the only option. When I first started softball, there was one word that could accurately describe my performance: terrible. The concept of swinging a bat and trying to hit a ball in midair did not click. Weeks passed before I actually hit a ball that was not foul. With lots of practice and dedication, I soon became decent at softball (especially when bunting or stealing bases). I always seemed too fast for the other team to catch. I began to realize I had a gift when it came to running. Going into junior high, I was interested in cross-country. There were sports meetings held with coaches when we went to visit the junior high, but the cross-country coach was nowhere to be seen. Out of fear of embarrassment, I ran over to where the cheer coach stood. I ended up doing cheer and softball seventh-grade year. Finally, after much anticipation, I discovered the joy of cross-country right before eighth-grade year started. Running provided me with an outlet for stress, anxiety, anger, and anger throughout the remainder of my high school career. When my father left the United States due to voluntary departure, running was there for me. I did not have to explain my emotions to running, nor did it ask me uncomfortable questions. Running let me be free. As soon as I laced up my shoes and started my quick steps, my restless brain shut off. After my father left the US, I realized how much joy cross-country brought me. I decided to finally try track and field sophomore year— I loved every moment. I was fortunate enough to win two state titles (4x4 relay) during high school, and I qualified for state eight times. Now, I am a college athlete pursuing athletic and academic dreams at the NAIA level. Making a positive impact on others is something I strive to do both now as a teammate and competitor and in the future as a provider and coworker. Shaking hands before and after a race is just one habit I have instilled in me as an athlete. Grabbing water cups for exhausted competitors is my favorite act of compassion. When I look forward to the future, however, I just picture myself as a nurse. I aspire to be an advocate for those who cannot advocate for themselves. As the daughter of an immigrant, I have seen the way some people treat minorities in healthcare. Unfortunately, there are many nurses, doctors, etc. who hold prejudices against certain populations whether it be for language, appearance, or religion. It hurt my heart to see how people treated my father when they heard his thick accent. I wonder how they would have treated him behind closed doors had I not been there. Sports have shaped me into someone who values advocacy and desires success for not just herself, but the others around her, too.

When I was a little girl, I nearly died from a life-threatening case of pneumonia. I was forced to stay in the hospital for about two weeks—two weeks of constantly gasping for air only to feel like I was suffocating. My condition became so severe that at one point, doctors pulled my mother aside to offer counseling services for parents in her "situation." The whole thing was both a terrible and frightening experience for the whole family, but I eventually recovered and was able to leave the hospital alive and well. I can’t remember very much about each individual day I spent in the hospital; however, I can very distinctly remember my nurses Sarah and Rachel. Sarah and Rachel were patient and kind nurses: real life superheroes. Every time they entered my room, they always greeted me with a smile (sometimes I was even given stuffed animals and finger puppets). Regardless of the materialistic gifts I received from my nurses for getting through daily shots, their kindness was the most valued gift of all. To be honest, I can't picture myself in any other career besides nursing. All of my life, I’ve undergone hardships that have prepared me for the strenuous aspects of nursing. Every time I get knocked down I get back up, and I know that my resilience can be a game changer in whatever hospital I work at. Nursing will allow me to have a variety of options when it comes to specializations, as well. Every day will be different. I’m always wanting to constantly be the best I can possibly be (not just for myself, but for others around me). Nursing is constantly changing as a career field—and I’m ready to be a part of that change. I want to be the light in someone’s life when their days are dark. I want to help those who can’t help themselves. Everyone needs a Sarah and Rachel, and I will be someone’s nurse Kiara. As a nurse, I aspire to be an advocate for those who cannot advocate for themselves. I am the daughter of an immigrant, and I have seen the way some people treat minorities in healthcare. Unfortunately, there are many nurses, doctors, etc. who hold prejudices against certain populations whether it be for language, appearance, or religion. It hurt my heart to see how people treated my father when they heard his thick accent. If I hadn't been in the room with him at some appointments, I wonder how they would have treated him behind closed doors. I am always doing my best to increase my cultural awareness and create a welcoming environment for everyone. Increasing healthcare accessibility is also something I look forward to as my career continues. I can definitely see myself dabbling with community nursing and working to help out vulnerable populations. Just as my childhood nurses Sarah and Rachel treated me with kindness, I would love to do the same unto others.

When I was a little girl, I nearly died from a life-threatening case of pneumonia. I was forced to stay in the hospital for about two weeks—two weeks of constantly gasping for air only to feel like I was suffocating. My condition became so severe that at one point, doctors pulled my mother aside to offer counseling services for parents in her "situation." The whole thing was both a terrible and frightening experience for the whole family, but I eventually recovered and was able to leave the hospital alive and well. I can’t remember very much about each individual day I spent in the hospital; however, I can very distinctly remember my nurses Sarah and Rachel. Sarah and Rachel were patient and kind nurses: real-life superheroes. Every time they entered my room, they always greeted me with a smile (sometimes I was even given stuffed animals and finger puppets). Regardless of the materialistic gifts I received from my nurses for getting through daily shots, their kindness was the most valued gift of all. Although it sounds cliché, the most contagious thing in a hospital is likely a smile. Even when the pain took over my body, a smile helped numb it all away. To be honest, I can't picture myself in any other career besides nursing. All of my life, I’ve undergone hardships that have prepared me for the strenuous aspects of nursing. One of the hardest things I endured was when my father left the United States due to voluntary departure. He had lived in the US for nearly twenty years, was married to my mother, had two children, and paid taxes; however, he was still not a citizen in the eyes of the law. For four years, I never saw my father in person. Despite all the heartache and stress, I did my best to stay strong for my little sister and mom. I've always taken pride in being resilient. Entering nursing will allow me to have a variety of options when it comes to specializations. Every day will be different. I’m always wanting to constantly be the best I can possibly be (not just for myself, but for others around me). Nursing is constantly changing as a career field—and I’m ready to be a part of that change. I want to be the light in someone’s life when their days are dark. I want to help those who can’t help themselves. Everyone needs a Sarah and Rachel. I will be someone’s Nurse Kiara.

When I first moved to Ohio in 2016, I felt like a complete outsider. My new community didn’t welcome anyone with differences. I had a different last name from everyone else and didn’t know who was related to who (if I’m being honest, I still don’t know everyone’s family trees). Personally, I don’t think it’s my responsibility to know everyone else’s background and family affairs. I’m not sure if that mindset is small-town driven, or just because everyone else in this county is nosy. My father is an immigrant from Mexico, and he had to leave the United States in 2019 due to voluntary departure. When he left, my heart was shattered. It took me years to pick up the pieces. I spent time in counseling until we could no longer afford it. We started using food bank services to make sure we’d have dinner; I started getting free lunches at school, too. I was a child forced to grow up too fast and often felt overwhelmed with school, sports, and home life. Regardless of the hardships, I went to school every day and played the role of the perfect student. Getting good grades made me feel like I was above all the bad things happening to me. School was the one thing I felt would go my way. When I left the classroom, I’d go to practice and be the greatest athlete I could be. I lived my days on repeat and everything went by in a blur. It was like I was repeating the same level on a video game over and over—that was until I met my sophomore biology teacher Ms. T. Ms. T was different from everyone else around me. She was spunky and witty. She didn’t care about the last names of her students. She didn’t care who you were related to or if your parents were on the school board. She expected effort from everyone in the room. Ms. T was the first teacher I had encountered that didn’t question my last name. I was just another name on the list to her—a student like everyone else. Sophomore advanced biology was a blank page for me to write on. A room where I didn’t have to be something I wasn’t. As time went on, I realized how much I truly appreciated Ms. T. Although we lived in an extremely conservative community, she showed me that there were others like me. Of course, she never flat-out said, “Hey guys! I’m a raging liberal different from all of you!” That would be severely frowned upon, and it would also make her like all the other teachers at my school (who mock people that aren’t conservative). However, there were times I could just sense Ms. T was like me. It was the small things like acknowledging climate change and global warming that helped me feel seen. It was science, evidence-based material not derived from people’s opinions and closed minds. Flash forward to senior year and Ms. T is someone I confide in. She has always been there to encourage me when I’m having doubts about college. Ms. T has helped me gain confidence in myself and my abilities. She is the first person I go to for recommendation letters and advice. I’ve told her my family story and she never judged. Never once did she say my father getting voluntary departure was “his fault.” Instead, she showed me empathy. In biology, there are chaperonins—specialized proteins that help other proteins fold correctly and perform at their fullest potential. Ms. T is my chaperonin.

In 2019, my family was robbed; someone very important was stolen from our home. Dad received voluntary departure and was forced to leave the country. Life was already a struggle being the child of an immigrant in a judgmental community—constantly ridiculed for having a different last name, speaking another language, and valuing other beliefs. But to hear incessantly, “You’re gonna get deported like your dad,” was more than just a struggle; it was a heavy reminder that I could never be seen as an equal. Although I was born in the US, I’ve been called an “alien” and other slurs I won’t repeat since moving to Ohio. And before I moved to Ohio, I was the "white-washed girl” at my Spanish elementary school. The grim reality of being a Mexican-American? A constant battle of never being enough and wondering what “side" will be accepted. Dad always reminded me that I never had to prove my worth to anyone. He'd say, “Mija, you are the best of both worlds.” I never understood why Dad referred to different nationalities as “worlds.” But when he was forced to leave this country, both of mine came crashing down. Losing my dad to voluntary departure felt like losing a part of myself—a part now over 2,000 miles away. A house without Dad was a new world, not a home. A place where I had to grow up too fast. I found myself drowning in new responsibilities while trying to help keep my mom afloat. Mom left for work at 4:30 AM every day, so I woke my sister up at 6 AM and ensured we didn’t miss the bus. I struggled to simultaneously teach myself my sister and I’s schoolwork since I didn’t want to bother Mom. I filled out papers for free lunch and updated emergency contact information because Mom was already constantly exhausted. I lied about my mental health because I knew Mom couldn’t afford my counseling anymore. I stopped eating at home because I didn’t want her to spend money on groceries, and I hated feeling like a burden. Plus, if people at school discovered we went to the food bank, I’d be called a “charity case.” For about a year and a half, that was my philosophy. I didn’t want to accept help, and I didn't want anyone to know my situation. I was infatuated with other people’s opinions of me to the point where I wanted to change my surname. Not because it was particularly displeasing, but because it was a dead giveaway I was Mexican. I didn’t want to be called “illegal'' too. Nearly three years have passed since Dad was stolen from our home. He’s missed a myriad of experiences like birthdays and games, but he’s also missed me learning to love myself—all of myself. Looking back now, it breaks my heart that a fourteen-year-old girl thought she was insignificant because of an unattainable standard fabricated by the world around her. I’ve come to realize this world and the people in it can be very cruel. And that’s okay. Because now my self-worth is no longer defined by degrading remarks made by uneducated individuals who know nothing about me or my story. I have learned the beauty of diversity in my self and friend group. My experiences taught me that not all people are evil. And while asking for help may be difficult, it does not make me weak. I've been able to form stronger connections with others through my hardships. Now, I am inspired to unapologetically create and live my future. No one can steal that away.

Hi! My name is Kiara Bahena—I’m a senior at Wayne Trace High School. I’m a lover of many things including running, poetry, and cats. I’m involved in many school extracurriculars and activities, and I’m always on the move. I live in the small town of Payne, Ohio with my mom and younger sister. Our household wasn’t always a single-parent home. I was fortunate enough to have both parents in the house until 2019. Our family lost my father to voluntary departure in the year of 2019. To be honest, it’s no better than deportation. My father paid taxes and had a job. He had two children of his own. He was married to my mother for 15 years, but that was not enough to stay in the country he called home. No amount of love and establishment was enough to make him a “true citizen” in the eyes of the government. Being a child in a single-parent household is hard; that’s the best way I can describe it. My family was never rich, but we were comfortable. For the past three years, however, our household has been drowning in financial troubles. My family doesn’t have the luxury of coughing up 15 dollars for a t-shirt being sold at school. We don’t go out to eat or on vacations like other families in our area. Those actions just aren’t plausible. I think what hurts the most is that people around my area don’t understand. No, I don’t have a debit card that my mother puts money on. No, I can’t go out to eat with you. No, my parents didn’t buy me a car. Yes, I have to pay for my own gas. Sometimes I find myself extremely envious of others around me. I wish I had the financial luxury of going out to eat once a week with my friends. I wish I could just ask my mom for 15 dollars for a Glowcoming Dance Shirt. I wish I could ask my mom for gas money. But I can’t. How can I ask my mother for such frivolous things when she’s already given me life and much more? She does so much for my sister and me. Our single-parent household has taught me how to work for the things I want. I don’t expect handouts from anyone. When it comes to schoolwork and sports, I always try my hardest to succeed. I strive to be the golden child so my mom doesn’t have to add another stressor to her plate. At times I can overwork myself and need to take a step back, but I never give up and always come back stronger. I’ve always wanted to go to college despite no one else in my family ever attending. Losing dad was just fuel to my fire of wanting to achieve the most in life. As the daughter of an immigrant, I know what sacrifice and determination look like. Although the majority of my current community isn’t diverse, there are existing minority groups who don’t have a voice. I want to advocate for others both like me and unlike me. Racism is a problem at my current school, and I became tired of mistreatment from others. I became the President of the Spanish Club my junior year and started advocating for minority students. By using testimonies and joining students together, we were able to raise awareness and make overdue changes. I want to give awareness and knowledge to my community. Although it’s not a food drive, instilling equity is something that can change the lives of everyone in my community.

Hello! My name is Kiara Bahena and I’m a senior at Wayne Trace High School. I’m a lover of many things including running, poetry, and cats. I’m very involved in school extracurriculars and activities, and I always feel like I need to be doing something (although I do like to relax once in a while). I live in the small town of Payne, Ohio with my mom and younger sister. Our household wasn’t always a single-parent home. I was fortunate enough to have both parents in the house until 2019. My father left the United States in 2019 on voluntary departure. To be honest, it’s no better than deportation. Dad paid taxes and had a job. He had two children. He was married to my mom for 15 years, but that was not enough to stay in the country he called home. All that love and establishment wasn’t enough to make him a true “citizen.” If I’m being honest, I don’t know how I’ll react if I ever see Dad in person again. I’ve learned how to drive, worked as a lifeguard, and grown physically and mentally since he’s been gone. Part of me wants to say I’d cry and run to his arms like I did when I was young; however, another part of me thinks I’d shrink awkwardly into his arms while we share an embrace. I know that I love my dad, but I also know that I’m almost an adult now who has learned to take care of herself. I’ve come to accept hard realities; my family has been drowning in financial problems for years. How am I supposed to forget the one that started our capsizing? When my dad left, Mom was burdened with far more responsibilities than before. I could see the stress and hurt in her eyes every single day (and still do). It broke my heart to see my mom working herself to death. All I’ve ever wanted was to make my mom proud. My mom is a driven woman who will do anything for my sister and me. She has always done her absolute best to give us the world and more. She is a woman who wakes up at 3 AM for work every day and still manages to find time to watch my sister and I's sporting events. Mom is my biggest supporter and number one fan. She is my rock, and I don’t know where I’d be without her. My little sister is the polar opposite of me. She’s quiet and doesn’t care too much for school or sports. I’m also convinced she’s addicted to her phone. Regardless of what she likes and dislikes, I love her very much. As we’ve grown up together, however, I’ve noticed that we have far more similarities than I initially thought. We both enjoy a night of staying in rather than going out. We both like coloring and singing. And most importantly, we both love our family immensely. I dream of taking my mom on a vacation to Sardinia. Sardinia is a beautiful island in the Mediterranean Sea. The island of Sardinia is known for its beautiful beaches and fascinating history. I would love for my mom to just lay in a beach chair and close her eyes as she falls asleep to the sound of waves. Mom also loves to tan (don’t be fooled she burns half the time and calls it a tan). Even when she burns, my mother is still happy in the sun. Any vacation where my mom is happy and relaxing would be a dream come true.

Throughout my lifetime, I’ve owned a total of three dogs. When I was a little girl, I had my dogs Molly and Fuzzy. Molly was a black lab and her brother Fuzzy was a Chow Chow mixed with some other breed I don’t know the name of. Although they weren’t from the same litter, I always said they were part of the same family. My two childhood dogs were my best friends. I’d come home from school and they would be the first ones to greet me. I’d be getting ready for bed and those two would be the last ones I would see before closing my eyes and falling asleep. Molly and Fuzzy were always my partners in crime during all the mischievous acts I would commit as a child. I could always count on them to make a mess with me. Those two dogs were the ones who helped me develop my extroverted personality and knack for fun chaos. Unfortunately, both of them passed away in 2018. Molly passed away first, and Fuzzy followed her (as he always did) about two weeks later. It happened around the holidays which really hurt, but I found comfort in knowing they were in a far better place. Now, my family has another dog, and her name is also Molly. Originally, we named her Molly 2.0, but I don’t think it’s even right to compare her to the old Molly because the two dogs are so different in the best ways. Molly is almost 3 years old, and she is a purebred English Mastiff. To put it simply, Molly is a big girl with a big attitude. She weighs more than me, and she thinks that she’s a lap dog. Sometimes, I’m fully convinced that Molly is a human being by the way she sits on the couch and barks when things don’t go her way. Life with Molly has been nothing short of chaotic. When we first got Molly, she was just a puppy from some breeders who were just giving dogs away. She was extremely timid when we first brought her to our house. Now, she’s very outspoken and extremely high energy. Whenever I’m having a bad day, I swear that Molly just knows. She doesn’t come upstairs very often and lay in my bed, but when she does, it’s when I didn’t have the best day and just want someone around. Molly makes a great weighted foot warmer and pillow. Molly has taught me how to enjoy life and all its messes. Sometimes I find myself getting upset over the smallest things, but Molly’s nonchalant attitude always reminds me to just get over myself. When the mud of life gets thrown your way, just remember that clothes can be washed and an inconvenience is not the end of the world. Things can always get better. What really matters is how we respond to anger and the events that annoy us. All my dogs in life have taught me a great deal about myself and life in general. They taught me how to love and how to be loved. They taught me compassion and patience. They taught me how to relax when things seem overwhelming. And most importantly, my dogs showed me how enjoyable the beautiful chaos of life can be. I’ve learned that life (just maybe) isn’t so ruff after all.

Many individuals often overlook mental health. There’s sometimes a misconception that if something can’t be seen with the naked eye, then it simply doesn’t exist; however, this could not be further from the truth. Wi-fi connections can’t visually be seen, but we obviously know they exist because we get upset when they’re not working properly. In my opinion, mental health follows the same concept. While you can’t always visually see the signs of poor or stable mental health, they exist—and they are valid. To me, mental health is physical health; they go hand in hand with one another. When my mental health isn’t doing the best, neither is my body. One example I think many people may understand or relate to is stress. When I’m stressed, I often feel sick. I don’t necessarily throw up or run a fever, but I do get headaches, migraines, and stomach aches. The mental hurt often translates into physical pain. This is why my mental health (and mental health in general) is so important. Mental health can affect my body in both good and bad ways, and that’s why it’s important to me to make sure that I take care of my mental health. If I don’t take care of my mind and mental wellness, then I will risk hurting my body, too. My negative thoughts can morph into headaches; these headaches can take away all my motivations and hinder both my academic and athletic performances. If I’m not in the right headspace during a test, my score will show it. If my mental health isn’t the greatest before a cross country race, my time will show it, and my body will face the consequences, as well. I’d be lying if I said that I was perfect at maintaining my mental wellness; however, I would like to think my life-long learning process is getting better day by day. One thing I love to do in order to maintain my mental wellness is run. When I go for a run, I find that all my worries fade away with each stride I take. The sound of my feet hitting the pavement, track, trail, etc. hypnotizes me and brings my mind to a better, healthier place. Running is my greatest stress reliever, and I will be continuing to run competitively in cross country and track when I go to college. Another thing I love to do for my mental health is cook. The actual process of cooking is extremely therapeutic to me. The smells and aromas from the food put me in a happy trance that keeps my mind at ease. Cooking and creating a meal reminds me of when I would build with Lincoln Logs as a child. The differences with cooking, however, are that the possibilities are truly endless (the same ingredients can be used in so many different combinations), and I get to eat the finished product that I create. Nourishing my body with a home cooked meal quickly improves my mental health. Whether it’s the actual process or the finished product, both are extremely rewarding to me and keep me happy. Mental health is so important because it affects so many aspects of life. Whenever I discard my mental health, my body pays the price just like my mind. Sacrificing mental health is sacrificing not just physical health, but opportunities and relationships with others, too. By participating in activities like running and cooking, I’m able to maintain my mental health which in turn positively affects my physical health, academics, and relationships with others—that’s why my mental health is important to me.

I live in a small Ohio town with my mom and younger sister. It’s been just us girls for three years. In late 2019, my father accepted voluntary departure and left the United States. Honestly, it’s no better than deportation. He was married to Mom for 15 years and had two children. Dad paid taxes and had a job. He called this country his home for 20 years, but that was not enough to stay. Dad currently lives with his family in the city of Temixco located in the state of Morelos. He has a job and works in Mexico City. However, the income he earns doesn’t help us financially. He uses his hard-earned pesos to support himself and his family in Mexico. Our family spent everything we had in an effort to get Dad released on bond; it was all in vain. Losing his income hit hard, but we’ve managed to survive thanks to P-EBT cards, food banks, and free lunches. We are unsure if Dad will ever return home, but we remain hopeful as the days pass. A house without Dad was a new world, not a home. I found myself drowning in responsibilities trying to help keep my mom afloat. Mom left for work at 4:30 AM everyday, so I woke my sister up at 6 AM and ensured we didn’t miss the bus. I struggled to simultaneously teach myself my sister and I’s academics since I didn’t want to bother Mom with homework questions. I filled out papers for free lunch and updated emergency contact information because Mom was constantly exhausted. I lied about my mental health because I knew Mom couldn’t afford my counseling. I stopped eating at home because I didn’t want her to spend money on groceries, and I hated feeling like a charity case. Fortunately, I was able to change my mindset and escape that mental rut. I’ve led fundraising efforts for the Bargain Bin of Paulding County. The Bargain Bin is a local non-profit organization in my community, and all proceeds earned by the organization go toward Paulding County Hospital. Donating to the Bargain Bin is a great way to support local healthcare workers and providers in the community. Since May 2021, I’ve coordinated multiple fundraising efforts for the Bargain Bin through clothing drives. In total, I’ve collected about 2,300 clothing items and 100 miscellaneous items. Likewise, I’ve also been able to improve my community by raising awareness about relevant issues like fast fashion. Fast fashion clothing copies current trends and is quickly and cheaply produced. It appeals to consumers because of the low cost. The actual price of fast fashion, however, is more than individuals realize. Fast fashion companies exploit laborers through poor working conditions and long hours. They steal designs from smaller artists. Fast fashion companies harm the environment with each garment they produce. Toxic chemicals and dyes are released when the clothing is produced, and the clothing itself eventually ends up in landfills where it'll take hundreds of years to degrade. When I hosted clothing drives to gather donations for the Bargain Bin, I used them as a way to educate others about fast fashion and advocate for sustainable consumerism. By showing people statistics, articles, and essays about fast fashion companies and their clothing, I was able to help people realize how important the issue really was. Many individuals who participated in the clothing drives promised me they would shop more sustainably and practice more mindful consumerism. By continuing services like clothing drives, I will continue to positively impact individuals within my community.

To me, the song with the most important message is "Always" by Francois Klark. I first heard this song in 2020 while I was watching the movie Feel the Beat on Netflix. It's an emotional, heartfelt song with a meaning that may not be analyzed the first time it's heard. When I first heard the song, I thought it was about someone singing to their lover. "You are always the one I long for, Always the one I feel by my side." Yes, at first listen, this song completely resembles a love song. The lyrics depict one singing to their lover in earnest; however, this song is not a love song to a lover, but it is a love song to the self. The song "Always" is about accepting and loving oneself. Francois Klark himself said, "The song deals with how we often try to fight against or hide something that is so intrinsically part of who we are as individuals in order to fit in or be accepted by others, or often even ourselves." When I first moved to Ohio, I began to hide everything I could about myself because I was different from others around me. I came from a diverse background and had an immigrant for a father. I feared no one would accept me for who I was. Years later, some people still haven't accepted me, but some individuals have. And that's what matters. "And I've been running from my shadow, Lock away what I wrote, As I try to find a way to you." I have found comfort in myself. I no longer run from my shadow, and I know I don't need anyone else's approval but my own.

When I was younger, I nearly died from a life threatening case of pneumonia. I was forced to stay in the hospital for about two weeks. My condition became so severe that at one point, doctors pulled my mother aside to offer counseling services for parents in her "situation." It was both a terrible and frightening experience for the whole family, but I eventually did recover and was able to leave the hospital alive and well. I can’t remember very much about each individual day I spent in the hospital; however, I can very distinctly remember my nurses Sarah and Rachel. Sarah and Rachel were patient and kind nurses: real life superheroes. Every time they entered my room, they always greeted me with a smile (sometimes I was even given stuffed animals and finger puppets). Regardless of the materialistic gifts I received from my nurses for getting through daily shots, their kindness was the most valued gift of all. Even when I was enduring the most painful moments of my life (being poked in the arms and legs with needles incessantly to keep my fluids and health in check), I still felt supported and cared for because of my nurses. The two weeks I spent in the hospital on my deathbed gave me a newfound appreciation for nurses—pediatric nurses in particular. For my future career goals, I’d like to pursue my Bachelor of Science in Nursing degree and become a pediatric nurse. Along with majoring in nursing, I would also like to attain a minor in Spanish. With a minor in Spanish, I would be able to communicate with more individuals (not just patients, but also my own family in Mexico). At college, I hope to gain lots of clinical experience in diverse settings with diverse people. After obtaining my BSN, I plan on working as an RN and gaining field experience and then eventually returning for my masters degree with the hope of becoming a pediatric nurse practitioner. My desire for becoming a nurse goes beyond just helping people out. I want to be the person that others rely on when times are tough. When a day turns sour and it seems like all hope is lost, I want to be the light that keeps others out of the dark. I know being in the hospital can be scary for many people; it may even be the darkest time of their life. Children (especially) need a special type of nurse to care for them. I want to be that nurse. Nursing isn’t just a profession: it’s a lifestyle, and I’m ready to live it and change the lives of many children and their families.

In late 2019, my father accepted voluntary departure and left the United States. To be honest, it’s really no better than deportation. He was married to my mother for about 15 years and had two children (my sister and I). My dad paid taxes and had a job. He played soccer with his friends on the weekend. He called this country his home for nearly 20 years, but that was not enough to stay. Dad currently lives with his family in the city of Temixco which is located in the state of Morelos. He has a job at a car dealership and works in Mexico City. The money and income he earns, however, does not help us financially in any way. He uses his hard-earned pesos to support himself and his family in Mexico. After my father was relocated, we were left with lawyers to pay. Our family had spent everything we had in an effort to get Dad released on bond. It was all in vain—thousands of dollars in vain. Losing his income hit hard, but we’ve managed to get by for nearly three years thanks to things like P-EBT cards, food banks, and free lunches. We are unsure when or if Dad will ever be able to come home, but we remain hopeful and optimistic as the days go by. The community I'm in right now doesn't understand anything about single parent households. The idea that someone may not have both a mom and dad is "foreign." I've received a lot of judgement because of my living situation and heritage; however, I've learned to grow thicker skin and love my diverse background. Since Mom is the only parent in our home, she is constantly burdened with heavy decisions. Which bill should be paid first? Can our family make it through the week without getting more groceries? The stress can be overwhelming, and that's why I've been so dedicated to running. I'm a member of the Cross Country and Track and Field teams at my high school. Running is my sweet escape. It is the ultimate stress reliever. When I'm running, I feel free. I don't feel the pressures of the world, nor do I feel the stress of my living situation. My feet hitting pavement is the one sound that can make a bad day good. Sports have been my outlet for improving not just my physical health, but my mental health, as well. I've made so many friendships from running, and I am now planning to pursue running in college. The best part about running is that I can truly do it anywhere: all I need is a pair of shoes (although also having a ponytail is preferred). My sports have taught me discipline, but they have also given me more motivation to succeed in life. Whenever I have a cross country or track meet, my mom does her best to be there. Even after working for sometimes 10 hours a day, she still shows up. She's seen me not just at my worst after a terrible race, but also at my best after winning a state championship with my 4x4 relay team. Sports have filled not just my heart, but my single-parent household with complete love and support.

Control We can dream of all the things, Things we wish to be, But that just won’t do it, People are not poetry. You have to make it happen, And be one who’s grown, Shoot for your goals and the stars, And make those goals your own. Don’t try to be something you’re not, That’s not who you were born to be, You were born to be original, Not someone’s copy. So work for what you want, To make your dreams come true, No one else is controlling that, The one in control is you. -k.b.