My decision to pursue psychiatric nursing grew slowly out of my own experiences, especially my struggle with anorexia nervosa and the major shift I made from veterinary medicine to nursing. When I look back, it feels like every part of my journey, even the painful and confusing moments, guided me toward a career where I can support people who feel lost or overwhelmed in their own minds. For most of my life, I imagined myself working in veterinary medicine. Animals were a source of comfort for me, and caring for them felt natural. I pictured myself spending long days in clinics where I would help creatures who couldn’t speak for themselves. But as my anorexia worsened, something inside me began to change. I was showing up for animals every day, yet I was struggling to show up for myself. My illness slowly took away my confidence, my sense of identity, and the clarity I once had about my future. Even when I looked fine on the outside, I was fighting a constant internal battle that no one could see. During this time, I found myself becoming more curious about the emotional side of illness. I considered how people cope, how they think, and how their mental health shapes their daily lives. I realized that veterinary medicine didn’t give me the space to explore those questions. Admitting that my childhood dream no longer fit me was incredibly difficult, but it was also honest. I needed a path that aligned with the person I was becoming, not the person I used to be. The turning point came during my recovery, when I met psychiatric nurses who supported me through some of my hardest moments. Their care wasn’t dramatic; rather, it was steady and genuine. A nurse would sit with me after a difficult meal or gently ask how I was really feeling when I tried to hide behind a smile. Those small acts of compassion made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. They treated me as a whole person, not just a diagnosis, and that changed everything. As I healed, I realized that the kind of support they gave me was exactly what I wanted to offer others. Psychiatric nursing blends clinical knowledge with human connection, and that balance feels meaningful to me. My experience with anorexia taught me patience and empathy. I understand what it feels like to be scared of your own thoughts, needing someone to sit beside you without judgment. Leaving veterinary medicine was one of the hardest choices I’ve made, but it opened the door to a career that feels right. Nursing allows me to turn something painful into something purposeful. When I imagine myself working in a psychiatric setting, I feel a sense of direction and hope. I want to be the person who offers comfort on someone’s worst day. I want to be the person who listens without rushing. I want to be the person who understands what it means to fight an invisible battle. My journey didn’t break me. It led me to where I’m meant to be. *I found out about this scholarship through bold.org.

My decision to pursue psychiatric nursing grew slowly out of my own experiences, especially my struggle with anorexia nervosa and the major shift I made from veterinary medicine to nursing. When I look back, it feels like every part of my journey, even the painful and confusing moments, guided me toward a career where I can support people who feel lost or overwhelmed in their own minds. For most of my life, I imagined myself working in veterinary medicine. Animals were a source of comfort for me, and caring for them felt natural. I pictured myself spending long days in clinics where I would help creatures who couldn’t speak for themselves. But as my anorexia worsened, something inside me began to change. I was showing up for animals every day, yet I was struggling to show up for myself. My illness slowly took away my confidence, my sense of identity, and the clarity I once had about my future. Even when I looked fine on the outside, I was fighting a constant internal battle that no one could see. During this time, I found myself becoming more curious about the emotional side of illness. I considered how people cope, how they think, and how their mental health shapes their daily lives. I realized that veterinary medicine didn’t give me the space to explore those questions. Admitting that my childhood dream no longer fit me was incredibly difficult, but it was also honest. I needed a path that aligned with the person I was becoming, not the person I used to be. The turning point came during my recovery, when I met psychiatric nurses who supported me through some of my hardest moments. Their care wasn’t dramatic; rather, it was steady and genuine. A nurse would sit with me after a difficult meal or gently ask how I was really feeling when I tried to hide behind a smile. Those small acts of compassion made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. They treated me as a whole person, not just a diagnosis, and that changed everything. As I healed, I realized that the kind of support they gave me was exactly what I wanted to offer others. Psychiatric nursing blends clinical knowledge with human connection, and that balance feels meaningful to me. My experience with anorexia taught me patience and empathy. I understand what it feels like to be scared of your own thoughts, needing someone to sit beside you without judgment. Leaving veterinary medicine was one of the hardest choices I’ve made, but it opened the door to a career that feels right. Nursing allows me to turn something painful into something purposeful. When I imagine myself working in a psychiatric setting, I feel a sense of direction and hope. I want to be the person who offers comfort on someone’s worst day. I want to be the person who listens without rushing. I want to be the person who understands what it means to fight an invisible battle. My journey didn’t break me. It led me to where I’m meant to be.

My decision to pursue psychiatric nursing grew slowly out of my own experiences, especially my struggle with anorexia nervosa and the major shift I made from veterinary medicine to nursing. When I look back, it feels like every part of my journey, even the painful and confusing moments, guided me toward a career where I can support people who feel lost or overwhelmed in their own minds. For most of my life, I imagined myself working in veterinary medicine. Animals were a source of comfort for me, and caring for them felt natural. I pictured myself spending long days in clinics where I would help creatures who couldn’t speak for themselves. But as my anorexia worsened, something inside me began to change. I was showing up for animals every day, yet I was struggling to show up for myself. My illness slowly took away my confidence, my sense of identity, and the clarity I once had about my future. Even when I looked fine on the outside, I was fighting a constant internal battle that no one could see. During this time, I found myself becoming more curious about the emotional side of illness. I considered how people cope, how they think, and how their mental health shapes their daily lives. I realized that veterinary medicine didn’t give me the space to explore those questions. Admitting that my childhood dream no longer fit me was incredibly difficult, but it was also honest. I needed a path that aligned with the person I was becoming, not the person I used to be. The turning point came during my recovery, when I met psychiatric nurses who supported me through some of my hardest moments. Their care wasn’t dramatic; rather, it was steady and genuine. A nurse would sit with me after a difficult meal or gently ask how I was really feeling when I tried to hide behind a smile. Those small acts of compassion made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. They treated me as a whole person, not just a diagnosis, and that changed everything. As I healed, I realized that the kind of support they gave me was exactly what I wanted to offer others. Psychiatric nursing blends clinical knowledge with human connection, and that balance feels meaningful to me. My experience with anorexia taught me patience and empathy. I understand what it feels like to be scared of your own thoughts, needing someone to sit beside you without judgment. Leaving veterinary medicine was one of the hardest choices I’ve made, but it opened the door to a career that feels right. Nursing allows me to turn something painful into something purposeful. When I imagine myself working in a psychiatric setting, I feel a sense of direction and hope. I want to be the person who offers comfort on someone’s worst day. I want to be the person who listens without rushing. I want to be the person who understands what it means to fight an invisible battle. My journey didn’t break me. It led me to where I’m meant to be.

My decision to pursue psychiatric nursing grew slowly out of my own experiences, especially my struggle with anorexia nervosa and the major shift I made from veterinary medicine to nursing. When I look back, it feels like every part of my journey, even the painful and confusing moments, guided me toward a career where I can support people who feel lost or overwhelmed in their own minds. For most of my life, I imagined myself working in veterinary medicine. Animals were a source of comfort for me, and caring for them felt natural. I pictured myself spending long days in clinics where I would help creatures who couldn’t speak for themselves. But as my anorexia worsened, something inside me began to change. I was showing up for animals every day, yet I was struggling to show up for myself. My illness slowly took away my confidence, my sense of identity, and the clarity I once had about my future. Even when I looked fine on the outside, I was fighting a constant internal battle that no one could see. During this time, I found myself becoming more curious about the emotional side of illness. I considered how people cope, how they think, and how their mental health shapes their daily lives. I realized that veterinary medicine didn’t give me the space to explore those questions. Admitting that my childhood dream no longer fit me was incredibly difficult, but it was also honest. I needed a path that aligned with the person I was becoming, not the person I used to be. The turning point came during my recovery, when I met psychiatric nurses who supported me through some of my hardest moments. Their care wasn’t dramatic; rather, it was steady and genuine. A nurse would sit with me after a difficult meal or gently ask how I was really feeling when I tried to hide behind a smile. Those small acts of compassion made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. They treated me as a whole person, not just a diagnosis, and that changed everything. As I healed, I realized that the kind of support they gave me was exactly what I wanted to offer others. Psychiatric nursing blends clinical knowledge with human connection, and that balance feels meaningful to me. My experience with anorexia taught me patience and empathy. I understand what it feels like to be scared of your own thoughts, needing someone to sit beside you without judgment. Leaving veterinary medicine was one of the hardest choices I’ve made, but it opened the door to a career that feels right. Nursing allows me to turn something painful into something purposeful. When I imagine myself working in a psychiatric setting, I feel a sense of direction and hope. I want to be the person who offers comfort on someone’s worst day. I want to be the person who listens without rushing. I want to be the person who understands what it means to fight an invisible battle. My journey didn’t break me. It led me to where I’m meant to be.

My decision to pursue psychiatric nursing grew slowly out of my own experiences, especially my struggle with anorexia nervosa and the major shift I made from veterinary medicine to nursing. When I look back, it feels like every part of my journey, even the painful and confusing moments, guided me toward a career where I can support people who feel lost or overwhelmed in their own minds. For most of my life, I imagined myself working in veterinary medicine. Animals were a source of comfort for me, and caring for them felt natural. I pictured myself spending long days in clinics where I would help creatures who couldn’t speak for themselves. But as my anorexia worsened, something inside me began to change. I was showing up for animals every day, yet I was struggling to show up for myself. My illness slowly took away my confidence, my sense of identity, and the clarity I once had about my future. Even when I looked fine on the outside, I was fighting a constant internal battle that no one could see. During this time, I found myself becoming more curious about the emotional side of illness. I considered how people cope, how they think, and how their mental health shapes their daily lives. I realized that veterinary medicine didn’t give me the space to explore those questions. Admitting that my childhood dream no longer fit me was incredibly difficult, but it was also honest. I needed a path that aligned with the person I was becoming, not the person I used to be. The turning point came during my recovery, when I met psychiatric nurses who supported me through some of my hardest moments. Their care wasn’t dramatic; rather, it was steady and genuine. A nurse would sit with me after a difficult meal or gently ask how I was really feeling when I tried to hide behind a smile. Those small acts of compassion made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. They treated me as a whole person, not just a diagnosis, and that changed everything. As I healed, I realized that the kind of support they gave me was exactly what I wanted to offer others. Psychiatric nursing blends clinical knowledge with human connection, and that balance feels meaningful to me. My experience with anorexia taught me patience and empathy. I understand what it feels like to be scared of your own thoughts, needing someone to sit beside you without judgment. Leaving veterinary medicine was one of the hardest choices I’ve made, but it opened the door to a career that feels right. Nursing allows me to turn something painful into something purposeful. When I imagine myself working in a psychiatric setting, I feel a sense of direction and hope. I want to be the person who offers comfort on someone’s worst day. I want to be the person who listens without rushing. I want to be the person who understands what it means to fight an invisible battle. My journey didn’t break me. It led me to where I’m meant to be.

Mental health matters to me as a student because it has shaped the way I move through school and everyday life. There were times when I was physically in class but mentally somewhere different, trying to fight off the thoughts that made even simple tasks feel overwhelming. I turned in assignments and studied for exams, all the while trying to look like I had it together. But underneath all of that, I was struggling. That period taught me that mental health isn’t just one part of a student’s life. Rather, it’s the foundation that everything else rests on. As I started recovering from my eating disorder, I became more aware of how many students are quietly dealing with their own battles. Some people hide it behind things like humor, perfectionism, avoidance, and silence. Once I realized how common that is, I started paying more attention to the people around me. I try to be the person who checks in on those around me and this sometimes opens the door for real conversations. Other times, it reminds someone that they’re not invisible. Both times matter. I also advocate for mental health by being open about my own experiences when it feels right. I don’t share everything, but I’m honest about the fact that I’ve struggled. I remember how isolating it felt to think I was the only one dealing with something like that. When I tell someone that I’ve been through something similar, it usually makes them feel safe enough to be honest about what they’re going through. It helps break the idea that mental health struggles are something to hide or to be embarrassed about. As a nursing student, mental health advocacy has become an even bigger part of my identity. My own experiences help me recognize when someone might need patience or just a moment to breathe. I’ve learned that support doesn’t always look dramatic. Support can be as simple as sitting with someone who’s having a hard day or listening without trying to fix everything. Those small moments can mean more than people realize. Mental health is important to me because it changed the direction of my life. It pushed me to be more empathetic and willing to show up for others. As a student and future nurse, I want to help create spaces where people feel safe being honest about what they’re going through. Whether it’s a classmate or someone I meet in a clinical setting, I want them to feel seen and supported. That’s the kind of environment I needed, and it’s the one I try to help build every day.

My decision to pursue psychiatric nursing grew slowly out of my own experiences, especially my struggle with anorexia nervosa and the major shift I made from veterinary medicine to nursing. When I look back, it feels like every part of my journey, even the painful and confusing moments, guided me toward a career where I can support people who feel lost or overwhelmed in their own minds. For most of my life, I imagined myself working in veterinary medicine. Animals were a source of comfort for me, and caring for them felt natural. I pictured myself spending long days in clinics where I would help creatures who couldn’t speak for themselves. But as my anorexia worsened, something inside me began to change. I was showing up for animals every day, yet I was struggling to show up for myself. My illness slowly took away my confidence, my sense of identity, and the clarity I once had about my future. Even when I looked fine on the outside, I was fighting a constant internal battle that no one could see. During this time, I found myself becoming more curious about the emotional side of illness. I considered how people cope, how they think, and how their mental health shapes their daily lives. I realized that veterinary medicine didn’t give me the space to explore those questions. Admitting that my childhood dream no longer fit me was incredibly difficult, but it was also honest. I needed a path that aligned with the person I was becoming, not the person I used to be. The turning point came during my recovery, when I met psychiatric nurses who supported me through some of my hardest moments. Their care wasn’t dramatic; rather, it was steady and genuine. A nurse would sit with me after a difficult meal or gently ask how I was really feeling when I tried to hide behind a smile. Those small acts of compassion made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. They treated me as a whole person, not just a diagnosis, and that changed everything. As I healed, I realized that the kind of support they gave me was exactly what I wanted to offer others. Psychiatric nursing blends clinical knowledge with human connection, and that balance feels meaningful to me. My experience with anorexia taught me patience and empathy. I understand what it feels like to be scared of your own thoughts, needing someone to sit beside you without judgment. Leaving veterinary medicine was one of the hardest choices I’ve made, but it opened the door to a career that feels right. Nursing allows me to turn something painful into something purposeful. When I imagine myself working in a psychiatric setting, I feel a sense of direction and hope. I want to be the person who offers comfort on someone’s worst day. I want to be the person who listens without rushing. I want to be the person who understands what it means to fight an invisible battle. My journey didn’t break me. It led me to where I’m meant to be.

My decision to pursue psychiatric nursing grew slowly out of my own experiences, especially my struggle with anorexia nervosa and the major shift I made from veterinary medicine to nursing. When I look back, it feels like every part of my journey, even the painful and confusing moments, guided me toward a career where I can support people who feel lost or overwhelmed in their own minds. For most of my life, I imagined myself working in veterinary medicine. Animals were a source of comfort for me, and caring for them felt natural. I pictured myself spending long days in clinics where I would help creatures who couldn’t speak for themselves. But as my anorexia worsened, something inside me began to change. I was showing up for animals every day, yet I was struggling to show up for myself. My illness slowly took away my confidence, my sense of identity, and the clarity I once had about my future. Even when I looked fine on the outside, I was fighting a constant internal battle that no one could see. During this time, I found myself becoming more curious about the emotional side of illness. I considered how people cope, how they think, and how their mental health shapes their daily lives. I realized that veterinary medicine didn’t give me the space to explore those questions. Admitting that my childhood dream no longer fit me was incredibly difficult, but it was also honest. I needed a path that aligned with the person I was becoming, not the person I used to be. The turning point came during my recovery, when I met psychiatric nurses who supported me through some of my hardest moments. Their care wasn’t dramatic; rather, it was steady and genuine. A nurse would sit with me after a difficult meal or gently ask how I was really feeling when I tried to hide behind a smile. Those small acts of compassion made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. They treated me as a whole person, not just a diagnosis, and that changed everything. As I healed, I realized that the kind of support they gave me was exactly what I wanted to offer others. Psychiatric nursing blends clinical knowledge with human connection, and that balance feels meaningful to me. My experience with anorexia taught me patience and empathy. I understand what it feels like to be scared of your own thoughts, needing someone to sit beside you without judgment. Leaving veterinary medicine was one of the hardest choices I’ve made, but it opened the door to a career that feels right. Nursing allows me to turn something painful into something purposeful. When I imagine myself working in a psychiatric setting, I feel a sense of direction and hope. I want to be the person who offers comfort on someone’s worst day. I want to be the person who listens without rushing. I want to be the person who understands what it means to fight an invisible battle. My journey didn’t break me. It led me to where I’m meant to be.

My decision to pursue psychiatric nursing grew slowly out of my own experiences, especially my struggle with anorexia nervosa and the major shift I made from veterinary medicine to nursing. When I look back, it feels like every part of my journey, even the painful and confusing moments, guided me toward a career where I can support people who feel lost or overwhelmed in their own minds. For most of my life, I imagined myself working in veterinary medicine. Animals were a source of comfort for me, and caring for them felt natural. I pictured myself spending long days in clinics where I would help creatures who couldn’t speak for themselves. But as my anorexia worsened, something inside me began to change. I was showing up for animals every day, yet I was struggling to show up for myself. My illness slowly took away my confidence, my sense of identity, and the clarity I once had about my future. Even when I looked fine on the outside, I was fighting a constant internal battle that no one could see. During this time, I found myself becoming more curious about the emotional side of illness. I considered how people cope, how they think, and how their mental health shapes their daily lives. I realized that veterinary medicine didn’t give me the space to explore those questions. Admitting that my childhood dream no longer fit me was incredibly difficult, but it was also honest. I needed a path that aligned with the person I was becoming, not the person I used to be. The turning point came during my recovery, when I met psychiatric nurses who supported me through some of my hardest moments. Their care wasn’t dramatic; rather, it was steady and genuine. A nurse would sit with me after a difficult meal or gently ask how I was really feeling when I tried to hide behind a smile. Those small acts of compassion made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. They treated me as a whole person, not just a diagnosis, and that changed everything. As I healed, I realized that the kind of support they gave me was exactly what I wanted to offer others. Psychiatric nursing blends clinical knowledge with human connection, and that balance feels meaningful to me. My experience with anorexia taught me patience and empathy. I understand what it feels like to be scared of your own thoughts, needing someone to sit beside you without judgment. Leaving veterinary medicine was one of the hardest choices I’ve made, but it opened the door to a career that feels right. Nursing allows me to turn something painful into something purposeful. When I imagine myself working in a psychiatric setting, I feel a sense of direction and hope. I want to be the person who offers comfort on someone’s worst day. I want to be the person who listens without rushing. I want to be the person who understands what it means to fight an invisible battle. My journey didn’t break me. It led me to where I’m meant to be.

My decision to pursue psychiatric nursing grew slowly out of my own experiences, especially my struggle with anorexia nervosa and the major shift I made from veterinary medicine to nursing. When I look back, it feels like every part of my journey, even the painful and confusing moments, guided me toward a career where I can support people who feel lost or overwhelmed in their own minds. For most of my life, I imagined myself working in veterinary medicine. Animals were a source of comfort for me, and caring for them felt natural. I pictured myself spending long days in clinics where I would help creatures who couldn’t speak for themselves. But as my anorexia worsened, something inside me began to change. I was showing up for animals every day, yet I was struggling to show up for myself. My illness slowly took away my confidence, my sense of identity, and the clarity I once had about my future. Even when I looked fine on the outside, I was fighting a constant internal battle that no one could see. During this time, I found myself becoming more curious about the emotional side of illness. I considered how people cope, how they think, and how their mental health shapes their daily lives. I realized that veterinary medicine didn’t give me the space to explore those questions. Admitting that my childhood dream no longer fit me was incredibly difficult, but it was also honest. I needed a path that aligned with the person I was becoming, not the person I used to be. The turning point came during my recovery, when I met psychiatric nurses who supported me through some of my hardest moments. Their care wasn’t dramatic; rather, it was steady and genuine. A nurse would sit with me after a difficult meal or gently ask how I was really feeling when I tried to hide behind a smile. Those small acts of compassion made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. They treated me as a whole person, not just a diagnosis, and that changed everything. As I healed, I realized that the kind of support they gave me was exactly what I wanted to offer others. Psychiatric nursing blends clinical knowledge with human connection, and that balance feels meaningful to me. My experience with anorexia taught me patience and empathy. I understand what it feels like to be scared of your own thoughts, needing someone to sit beside you without judgment. Leaving veterinary medicine was one of the hardest choices I’ve made, but it opened the door to a career that feels right. Nursing allows me to turn something painful into something purposeful. When I imagine myself working in a psychiatric setting, I feel a sense of direction and hope. I want to be the person who offers comfort on someone’s worst day. I want to be the person who listens without rushing. I want to be the person who understands what it means to fight an invisible battle. My journey didn’t break me. It led me to where I’m meant to be.

My decision to pursue psychiatric nursing grew slowly out of my own experiences, especially my struggle with anorexia nervosa and the major shift I made from veterinary medicine to nursing. When I look back, it feels like every part of my journey, even the painful and confusing moments, guided me toward a career where I can support people who feel lost or overwhelmed in their own minds. For most of my life, I imagined myself working in veterinary medicine. Animals were a source of comfort for me, and caring for them felt natural. I pictured myself spending long days in clinics where I would help creatures who couldn’t speak for themselves. But as my anorexia worsened, something inside me began to change. I was showing up for animals every day, yet I was struggling to show up for myself. My illness slowly took away my confidence, my sense of identity, and the clarity I once had about my future. Even when I looked fine on the outside, I was fighting a constant internal battle that no one could see. During this time, I found myself becoming more curious about the emotional side of illness. I considered how people cope, how they think, and how their mental health shapes their daily lives. I realized that veterinary medicine didn’t give me the space to explore those questions. Admitting that my childhood dream no longer fit me was incredibly difficult, but it was also honest. I needed a path that aligned with the person I was becoming, not the person I used to be. The turning point came during my recovery, when I met psychiatric nurses who supported me through some of my hardest moments. Their care wasn’t dramatic; rather, it was steady and genuine. A nurse would sit with me after a difficult meal or gently ask how I was really feeling when I tried to hide behind a smile. Those small acts of compassion made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. They treated me as a whole person, not just a diagnosis, and that changed everything. As I healed, I realized that the kind of support they gave me was exactly what I wanted to offer others. Psychiatric nursing blends clinical knowledge with human connection, and that balance feels meaningful to me. My experience with anorexia taught me patience and empathy. I understand what it feels like to be scared of your own thoughts, needing someone to sit beside you without judgment. Leaving veterinary medicine was one of the hardest choices I’ve made, but it opened the door to a career that feels right. Nursing allows me to turn something painful into something purposeful. When I imagine myself working in a psychiatric setting, I feel a sense of direction and hope. I want to be the person who offers comfort on someone’s worst day. I want to be the person who listens without rushing. I want to be the person who understands what it means to fight an invisible battle. My journey didn’t break me. It led me to where I’m meant to be.

My decision to pursue psychiatric nursing grew slowly out of my own experiences, especially my struggle with anorexia nervosa and the major shift I made from veterinary medicine to nursing. When I look back, it feels like every part of my journey, even the painful and confusing moments, guided me toward a career where I can support people who feel lost or overwhelmed in their own minds. For most of my life, I imagined myself working in veterinary medicine. Animals were a source of comfort for me, and caring for them felt natural. I pictured myself spending long days in clinics where I would help creatures who couldn’t speak for themselves. But as my anorexia worsened, something inside me began to change. I was showing up for animals every day, yet I was struggling to show up for myself. My illness slowly took away my confidence, my sense of identity, and the clarity I once had about my future. Even when I looked fine on the outside, I was fighting a constant internal battle that no one could see. During this time, I found myself becoming more curious about the emotional side of illness. I considered how people cope, how they think, and how their mental health shapes their daily lives. I realized that veterinary medicine didn’t give me the space to explore those questions. Admitting that my childhood dream no longer fit me was incredibly difficult, but it was also honest. I needed a path that aligned with the person I was becoming, not the person I used to be. The turning point came during my recovery, when I met psychiatric nurses who supported me through some of my hardest moments. Their care wasn’t dramatic; rather, it was steady and genuine. A nurse would sit with me after a difficult meal or gently ask how I was really feeling when I tried to hide behind a smile. Those small acts of compassion made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. They treated me as a whole person, not just a diagnosis, and that changed everything. As I healed, I realized that the kind of support they gave me was exactly what I wanted to offer others. Psychiatric nursing blends clinical knowledge with human connection, and that balance feels meaningful to me. My experience with anorexia taught me patience and empathy. I understand what it feels like to be scared of your own thoughts, needing someone to sit beside you without judgment. Leaving veterinary medicine was one of the hardest choices I’ve made, but it opened the door to a career that feels right. Nursing allows me to turn something painful into something purposeful. When I imagine myself working in a psychiatric setting, I feel a sense of direction and hope. I want to be the person who offers comfort on someone’s worst day. I want to be the person who listens without rushing. I want to be the person who understands what it means to fight an invisible battle. My journey didn’t break me. It led me to where I’m meant to be.

My decision to pursue psychiatric nursing grew slowly out of my own experiences, especially my struggle with anorexia nervosa and the major shift I made from veterinary medicine to nursing. When I look back, it feels like every part of my journey, even the painful and confusing moments, guided me toward a career where I can support people who feel lost or overwhelmed in their own minds. For most of my life, I imagined myself working in veterinary medicine. Animals were a source of comfort for me, and caring for them felt natural. I pictured myself spending long days in clinics where I would help creatures who couldn’t speak for themselves. But as my anorexia worsened, something inside me began to change. I was showing up for animals every day, yet I was struggling to show up for myself. My illness slowly took away my confidence, my sense of identity, and the clarity I once had about my future. Even when I looked fine on the outside, I was fighting a constant internal battle that no one could see. During this time, I found myself becoming more curious about the emotional side of illness. I considered how people cope, how they think, and how their mental health shapes their daily lives. I realized that veterinary medicine didn’t give me the space to explore those questions. Admitting that my childhood dream no longer fit me was incredibly difficult, but it was also honest. I needed a path that aligned with the person I was becoming, not the person I used to be. The turning point came during my recovery, when I met psychiatric nurses who supported me through some of my hardest moments. Their care wasn’t dramatic; rather, it was steady and genuine. A nurse would sit with me after a difficult meal or gently ask how I was really feeling when I tried to hide behind a smile. Those small acts of compassion made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time. They treated me as a whole person, not just a diagnosis, and that changed everything. As I healed, I realized that the kind of support they gave me was exactly what I wanted to offer others. Psychiatric nursing blends clinical knowledge with human connection, and that balance feels meaningful to me. My experience with anorexia taught me patience and empathy. I understand what it feels like to be scared of your own thoughts, needing someone to sit beside you without judgment. Leaving veterinary medicine was one of the hardest choices I’ve made, but it opened the door to a career that feels right. Nursing allows me to turn something painful into something purposeful. When I imagine myself working in a psychiatric setting, I feel a sense of direction and hope. I want to be the person who offers comfort on someone’s worst day. I want to be the person who listens without rushing. I want to be the person who understands what it means to fight an invisible battle. My journey didn’t break me. It led me to where I’m meant to be.

My journey toward becoming a psychiatric nurse was shaped by two defining experiences: my personal struggle with anorexia nervosa and my unexpected decision to leave a career path in veterinary medicine. Although these experiences were challenging, together they redirected my goals, deepened my empathy, and clarified my desire to work in a psychiatric hospital, where I hope to support individuals facing complex mental-health struggles. Before confronting my illness, I devoted myself to veterinary medicine. I had always loved animals, and the scientific nature of the field appealed to me. I imagined a future filled with clinical work, diagnostics, and the comfort of caring for creatures who could not speak for themselves. However, while I was immersed in that path, anorexia nervosa began affecting my life with increasing force. As I struggled privately with the disorder, I realized that my interests were shifting. The emotional challenges I faced made me more aware of mental health not only in animals but, more importantly, in people. While veterinary medicine remained meaningful to me, it no longer felt like the field where my lived experiences could be used to help others in the most impactful way. My experience with anorexia nervosa revealed the deep and complicated connection between the mind and the body. Before the illness, I rarely thought about mental health as a medical issue; I saw health as something measurable through numbers or outward appearance. But anorexia showed me how emotional pain can manifest physically, and how powerful the human mind can be when shaped by fear, anxiety, or distorted thinking. Living through the disorder taught me that mental illness is not a choice or a weakness. Rather, it is a medical condition requiring compassion and long-term support. As I learned this, I found myself drawn more and more toward psychiatric care, a field grounded in understanding the whole person rather than treating only symptoms. What ultimately inspired me to shift my career toward nursing were the psychiatric nurses who supported me during recovery. While doctors and therapists played important roles, it was often the nurses who were present during my most vulnerable moments. They sat with me during difficult meals, recognized small changes in my mood, and treated me with genuine warmth even when I felt overwhelmed. Their presence brought stability and comfort at a time when everything felt uncertain. Seeing their dedication firsthand showed me the kind of professional I wanted to become - someone who listens without judgment, who encourages patiently, and who advocates fiercely for those who feel unheard. Choosing to leave veterinary medicine was not easy, but it became clear that nursing aligned more closely with the person I had become. Through my own recovery, I developed qualities essential for psychiatric nursing: empathy, patience, resilience, and the ability to recognize struggles that may be invisible to others. My experience also taught me the importance of trust and teamwork. I witnessed how doctors, nurses, dieticians, and therapists collaborated to create an environment that helped me take steps toward healing. I want to contribute to that kind of environment for others. Ultimately, my struggle with anorexia and my shift away from veterinary medicine helped me discover my true calling. Working in a psychiatric hospital will allow me to transform my difficult experiences into a source of strength and purpose. By becoming a psychiatric nurse, I hope to offer others the same compassion, understanding, and hope that once helped me reclaim my own life.

Since my earliest memories, I have wanted to become a veterinarian. As a veterinary assistant, I performed many technician duties, but the moments I worked alongside countless veterinarians taught me the field encompasses more than just hard science. It’s also about the feelings, concerns, strengths, and struggles of people and animals. Through hard work and dedication, I was accepted to Purdue University’s College of Veterinary Medicine’s 2027 class. But underlying my joy was the voice of a 10-year eating disorder. I never expected to still be struggling with the disorder at 22. I had been hospitalized and sent to residential facilities numerous times to recover, but the illness never fully went away. It lingered in the deepest parts of my thoughts, contributing to perfectionism, negative self-talk, and anxiety. When I was accepted, my physical health was poor, so I deferred starting for one year. In August 2024, I began veterinary school. I thought I had the disorder under control. I believed that moving to a new state and starting school would help me finally recover. I was wrong. As the semester progressed, the stress and rigors of school exacerbated my eating disorder. The sheer volume of knowledge that I was to learn and retain was immense. As my studies became my life, I struggled to concentrate and focus. Veterinarians face higher rates of suicide compared to the general population and other healthcare professionals. Despite their tireless commitments to animal health, veterinarians face high emotional burdens and stressors (i.e. long hours, perfectionism, high client expectations, and compassion fatigue). I had to consider how I would cope with them in the future. After long conversations with family and professors, I decided to withdraw from Purdue following my successful completion of first semester. I was devastated and considered it a win for the eating disorder. In a way, it was. Because I had not tackled the illness sooner, it ended up taking away my future career. I wish people would understand that eating disorders don’t just take over your eating habits: they dominate your every thought and action. Even though I was at my lowest, my family helped me understand my story was not over. I needed to write a new chapter with a new identity – nurse. My time spent in hospitals exposed me to the empathetic and compassionate nature of nurses. This paralleled with what I loved in veterinary medicine. As a nurse, I could develop personal connections with patients, satisfying my passion for serving others. Nursing school would leave me in less debt, and I would get to live at home during school. Nurses face high levels of stress and burnout, but compared to that of a veterinarian, these factors are of a different degree. Living with an eating disorder is like watching life go by without participating in it because of the constant war with my thoughts. As much as I wanted to stay in veterinary school, I had to put my mental health first. The energy, money, and time that I put into becoming a veterinarian could not be taken back, but I could use them as motivation to move forward. Despite the pain, I needed to close my veterinarian dream to embark on a new journey. I will not let this final chance at life be wasted. As a nurse, I hope to empower patients to take control of their health to improve their lives. Nursing would offer me not only a stable and rewarding career but also a deep sense of fulfillment from helping others – a quality not many professions offer.

Mental health can propel one towards their goals or it can lead one down a path of hurdles and challenges. My struggles with my mental health would ultimately lead me to reconsider all I have ever dreamed of to put myself first – and putting myself first is what success looks like to me. Since my earliest memories, I have wanted to become a veterinarian. As a veterinary assistant, I performed many technician duties, but the moments I worked alongside countless veterinarians taught me the field encompasses more than just hard science. It’s also about the feelings, concerns, strengths, and struggles of people and animals. Through hard work and dedication, I was accepted to Purdue University’s College of Veterinary Medicine’s 2027 class. But underlying my joy was the voice of a 10-year eating disorder. I never expected to still be struggling with the disorder at 23. I had been hospitalized and sent to residential facilities numerous times to recover, but the illness never fully went away. It lingered in the deepest parts of my thoughts, contributing to perfectionism, negative self-talk, and anxiety. At the time of my acceptance to veterinary school, my physical and mental health was poor, so I deferred starting for one year. In August 2024, I began school. I thought I had the disorder under control. I believed that moving to a new state and starting this next chapter of my life would help me finally recover. I was wrong. As the semester progressed, the stress and rigors of school exacerbated my eating disorder. The sheer volume of knowledge that I was to learn and retain was immense. As my studies became my life, I struggled to concentrate and focus. Veterinarians face higher rates of suicide compared to the general population and other healthcare professionals. Despite their tireless commitments to animal health, veterinarians face high emotional burdens and stressors (i.e. long hours, perfectionism, high client expectations, and compassion fatigue). I had to consider how I would cope with them in the future. After long conversations with family and professors, I decided to withdraw from Purdue following my successful completion of first semester. I was devastated and considered it a win for the eating disorder. In a way, it was. Because I had not tackled the illness sooner, it ended up taking away my future career. I wish people would understand that eating disorders don’t just take over your eating habits: they dominate your every thought and action. Even though I was at my lowest, my family helped me understand my story was not over. I needed to write a new chapter with a new identity – nurse. My time spent in hospitals exposed me to the empathetic and compassionate nature of nurses. This paralleled with what I loved in veterinary medicine. As a nurse, I could develop personal connections with patients, satisfying my passion for serving others. Nursing school would leave me in less debt, and I would get to live at home during school. Nurses face high levels of stress and burnout, but compared to that of a veterinarian, these factors are of a different degree. Living with an eating disorder is like watching life go by without participating in it because of the constant war with my thoughts. As much as I wanted to stay in veterinary school, I had to put my mental health first. The energy, money, and time that I put into becoming a veterinarian could not be taken back, but I could use them as motivation to move forward. Despite the pain, I needed to close my veterinarian dream to embark on a new journey. I will not let this final chance at life be wasted. As a nurse, I hope to empower patients to take control of their health to improve their lives. Nursing would offer me not only a stable and rewarding career but also a deep sense of fulfillment from helping others – a quality not many professions offer. Hence, I must keep in mind that my struggles with a deadly eating disorder will not go away upon pursuing a different career path. But in hindsight, I have the experience of what it feels like to have my passions, joys, and livelihood taken away. Nursing will offer me another chance to do good for the world while giving purpose to my actions. While in school, I will enroll in an ELMSN program. To support my mental health, I will dedicate the time to speak with a therapist and remain open and honest with professors and my parents. Living at home will allow me to have more support as I follow a recovery meal plan. If I find myself overwhelmed or stressed, I will have my parents to lift me up, offer encouragement, and celebrate my victories. Beginning a master’s level nursing program is filled with many unknowns, but one thing is for certain. My eating disorder is not my identity. It is possible to separate myself to hear my own compassionate, dedicated, and strong voice. I am on a firm path of getting to know the real me and it begins now.

Since my earliest memories, I have wanted to become a veterinarian. As a veterinary assistant, I performed many technician duties, but the moments I worked alongside countless veterinarians taught me the field encompasses more than just hard science. It’s also about the feelings, concerns, strengths, and struggles of people and animals. Through hard work and dedication, I was accepted to Purdue University’s College of Veterinary Medicine’s 2027 class. But underlying my joy was the voice of a 10-year eating disorder. I never expected to still be struggling with the disorder at 23. I had been hospitalized and sent to residential facilities numerous times to recover, but the illness never fully went away. It lingered in the deepest parts of my thoughts, contributing to perfectionism, negative self-talk, and anxiety. When I was accepted, my physical health was poor, so I deferred starting for one year. In August 2024, I began veterinary school. I thought I had the disorder under control. I believed that moving to a new state and starting school would help me finally recover. I was wrong. As the semester progressed, the stress and rigors of school exacerbated my eating disorder. The sheer volume of knowledge that I was to learn and retain was immense. As my studies became my life, I struggled to concentrate and focus. Veterinarians face higher rates of suicide compared to the general population and other healthcare professionals. Despite their tireless commitments to animal health, veterinarians face high emotional burdens and stressors (i.e. long hours, perfectionism, high client expectations, and compassion fatigue). I had to consider how I would cope with them in the future. After long conversations with family and professors, I decided to withdraw from Purdue following my successful completion of first semester. I was devastated and considered it a win for the eating disorder. In a way, it was. Because I had not tackled the illness sooner, it ended up taking away my future career. I wish people would understand that eating disorders don’t just take over your eating habits: they dominate your every thought and action. Even though I was at my lowest, my family helped me understand my story was not over. I needed to write a new chapter with a new identity – nurse. My time spent in hospitals exposed me to the empathetic and compassionate nature of nurses. This paralleled with what I loved in veterinary medicine. As a nurse, I could develop personal connections with patients, satisfying my passion for serving others. Nursing school would leave me in less debt, and I would get to live at home during school. Nurses face high levels of stress and burnout, but compared to that of a veterinarian, these factors are of a different degree. Living with an eating disorder is like watching life go by without participating in it because of the constant war with my thoughts. As much as I wanted to stay in veterinary school, I had to put my mental health first. The energy, money, and time that I put into becoming a veterinarian could not be taken back, but I could use them as motivation to move forward. Despite the pain, I needed to close my veterinarian dream to embark on a new journey. I will not let this final chance at life be wasted. As a nurse, I hope to empower patients to take control of their health to improve their lives. Nursing would offer me not only a stable and rewarding career but also a deep sense of fulfillment from helping others – a quality not many professions offer.

Mental health can propel one towards their goals or it can lead one down a path of hurdles and challenges. My struggles with my mental health would ultimately lead me to reconsider all I have ever dreamed of to put myself first – and putting myself first is what success looks like to me. Since my earliest memories, I have wanted to become a veterinarian. As a veterinary assistant, I performed many technician duties, but the moments I worked alongside countless veterinarians taught me the field encompasses more than just hard science. It’s also about the feelings, concerns, strengths, and struggles of people and animals. Through hard work and dedication, I was accepted to Purdue University’s College of Veterinary Medicine’s 2027 class. But underlying my joy was the voice of a 10-year eating disorder. I never expected to still be struggling with the disorder at 22. I had been hospitalized and sent to residential facilities numerous times to recover, but the illness never fully went away. It lingered in the deepest parts of my thoughts, contributing to perfectionism, negative self-talk, and anxiety. When I was accepted, my physical health was poor, so I deferred starting for one year. In August 2024, I began veterinary school. I thought I had the disorder under control. I believed that moving to a new state and starting school would help me finally recover. I was wrong. As the semester progressed, the stress and rigors of school exacerbated my disorder. The sheer volume of knowledge that I was to learn and retain was immense. As my studies became my life, I struggled to concentrate and focus. Veterinarians face higher rates of suicide compared to the general population and other healthcare professionals. Despite their tireless commitments to animal health, veterinarians face high emotional burdens and stressors (i.e. long hours, perfectionism, high client expectations, and compassion fatigue). I had to consider how I would cope with them in the future. After conversations with family and professors, I withdrew from Purdue following my successful completion of first semester. I was devastated, considering it a win for the eating disorder. In a way, it was. Because I had not tackled the illness sooner, it took away my future career. I wish people would understand that eating disorders don’t just take over your eating habits: they dominate your every thought and action. Even though I was at my lowest, my family helped me understand my story was not over. I needed to write a new chapter with a new identity – nurse. My time spent at hospitals exposed me to the empathetic and compassionate nature of nurses. This paralleled with what I loved in veterinary medicine. As a nurse, I would develop personal connections with patients, satisfying my passion for serving others. School would leave me in less debt, and I would get to live at home with family. Realistically, nurses face high levels of stress and burnout, but compared to that of a veterinarian, these factors are of a different degree. Living with an eating disorder is like watching my life go by without participating in it because of the constant war with my thoughts. As much as I wanted to stay in veterinary school, I knew I had to put my mental health first. The energy, money, and time I put into veterinary school could not be taken back, but I could use it as motivation to move forward. Albeit painful, it was time to close my veterinarian dream to embark on a new journey. I will not let this final chance at life be wasted. I don’t have to become a doctor to make a difference in another person’s life. Nurses work on the front lines of patient care. As one, I hope to empower patients to take control of their health to improve their lives. Nursing would offer me not only a stable and rewarding career but also a deep sense of fulfillment from helping others – a quality that not many professions offer. Thus, in one version of my life, becoming a veterinarian might have been the emblem of success. However, life does not always play out how we expect. By keeping my head held high, though, another door opened. When I recognized the different ways my eating disorder negatively impacted my life, I developed stronger motivation to recover. As a nurse, I may not make the most money, be the most skilled at certain skills, or know the answer to every question, but these do not equate to success. Success is deciding to go against everything my disorder tells me and putting myself as top priority. When I circumvent the energy I used to give to the eating disorder in a different way (i.e., nursing school), I know incredible things will happen.

Since my earliest memories, I have wanted to become a veterinarian. As a veterinary assistant, I performed many technician duties, but the moments I worked alongside countless veterinarians taught me the field encompasses more than just hard science. It’s also about the feelings, concerns, strengths, and struggles of people and animals. Through hard work and dedication, I was accepted to Purdue University’s College of Veterinary Medicine’s 2027 class. But underlying my joy was the voice of a 10-year eating disorder. I never expected to still be struggling with the disorder at 23. I had been hospitalized and sent to residential facilities numerous times to recover, but the illness never fully went away. It lingered in the deepest parts of my thoughts, contributing to perfectionism, negative self-talk, and anxiety. At the time of my acceptance to veterinary school, my physical and mental health was poor, so I deferred starting for one year. In August 2024, I began school. I thought I had the disorder under control. I believed that moving to a new state and starting this next chapter of my life would help me finally recover. I was wrong. As the semester progressed, the stress and rigors of school exacerbated my eating disorder. The sheer volume of knowledge that I was to learn and retain was immense. As my studies became my life, I struggled to concentrate and focus. Veterinarians face higher rates of suicide compared to the general population and other healthcare professionals. Despite their tireless commitments to animal health, veterinarians face high emotional burdens and stressors (i.e. long hours, perfectionism, high client expectations, and compassion fatigue). I had to consider how I would cope with them in the future. After long conversations with family and professors, I decided to withdraw from Purdue following my successful completion of first semester. I was devastated and considered it a win for the eating disorder. In a way, it was. Because I had not tackled the illness sooner, it ended up taking away my future career. I wish people would understand that eating disorders don’t just take over your eating habits: they dominate your every thought and action. Even though I was at my lowest, my family helped me understand my story was not over. I needed to write a new chapter with a new identity – nurse. My time spent in hospitals exposed me to the empathetic and compassionate nature of nurses. This paralleled with what I loved in veterinary medicine. As a nurse, I could develop personal connections with patients, satisfying my passion for serving others. Nursing school would leave me in less debt, and I would get to live at home during school. Nurses face high levels of stress and burnout, but compared to that of a veterinarian, these factors are of a different degree. Living with an eating disorder is like watching life go by without participating in it because of the constant war with my thoughts. As much as I wanted to stay in veterinary school, I had to put my mental health first. The energy, money, and time that I put into becoming a veterinarian could not be taken back, but I could use them as motivation to move forward. Despite the pain, I needed to close my veterinarian dream to embark on a new journey. I will not let this final chance at life be wasted. As a nurse, I hope to empower patients to take control of their health to improve their lives. Nursing would offer me not only a stable and rewarding career but also a deep sense of fulfillment from helping others – a quality not many professions offer. Hence, I must keep in mind that my struggles with a deadly eating disorder will not go away upon pursuing a different career path. But in hindsight, I have the experience of what it feels like to have my passions, joys, and livelihood taken away. Nursing will offer me another chance to do good for the world while giving purpose to my actions. While in school, I will enroll in an ELMSN program. To support my mental health, I will dedicate the time to speak with a therapist and remain open and honest with professors and my parents. Living at home will allow me to have more support as I follow a recovery meal plan. If I find myself overwhelmed or stressed, I will have my parents to lift me up, offer encouragement, and celebrate my victories. Beginning a master’s level nursing program is filled with many unknowns, but one thing is for certain. My eating disorder is not my identity. It is possible to separate myself to hear my own compassionate, dedicated, and strong voice. I am on a firm path of getting to know the real me and it begins now.

Since my earliest memories, I have wanted to become a veterinarian. As a veterinary assistant, I performed many technician duties, but the moments I worked alongside veterinarians taught me the field encompasses more than just hard science. It’s also about the feelings, concerns, strengths, and struggles of people and animals. Through hard work and dedication, I was accepted to Purdue University’s College of Veterinary Medicine’s 2027 class. But underlying my joy was the voice of an eating disorder. I never expected to still be struggling with the disorder at 22. It lingered in the deepest parts of my thoughts, contributing to perfectionism, negative self-talk, and anxiety. When I was accepted, my physical health was poor, so I deferred from starting until August 2024. I thought I had the disorder under control. I believed that moving to a new state and starting school would help me finally recover. I was wrong. As the semester progressed, the stress and rigors of school exacerbated my eating disorder. As my studies became my life, I struggled to concentrate and focus. Veterinarians face higher rates of suicide compared to the general population and other healthcare professionals. Despite their tireless commitments to animal health, veterinarians face unique stressors (i.e. long hours, high client expectations, and compassion fatigue). I had to consider how I would cope with them in the future. After long conversations, I decided to withdraw from Purdue following my successful completion of first semester. I was devastated. I wish people would understand that eating disorders don’t just take over your eating habits: they dominate your every thought and action. Even though I was at my lowest, my family helped me understand my story was not over. I needed to write a new chapter with a new identity – nurse. My time spent in hospitals exposed me to the empathetic and compassionate nature of nurses. This paralleled with what I loved in veterinary medicine. As a nurse, I could develop personal connections with patients, satisfying my passion for serving others. Nursing school would leave me in less debt, and I would live at home during school. Nurses face high levels of stress and burnout, but compared to that of a veterinarian, these factors are of a different degree. My decision to withdraw from Purdue was not made lightly, but I remain excited for my next chapter. I have a bachelor’s degree, so I will apply to an ELMSN program. I plan on taking spring and summer 2025 to focus on recovery before starting in the fall. I have been fortunate to move home to live with my parents rent free. Because I am no longer in school, repayment on my student loans will begin. I anticipate paying high-interest loans first to save on total interest paid. I will create weekly budgets detailing how exactly my money is spent while taking time to prepare for any shopping trips. I am not one to give in to impulse buying and understand that reducing unneeded purchases now will give me more financial freedom later when I am able to pay off debt in less time and with less energy. Thus, I never expected to be applying to an ELMSN program, especially when I was already attending veterinary school. As much as I wanted to stay, I needed to put my mental health first. Hope for a fulfilling, rewarding future is not lost. I am apt to encounter more challenges moving forward, but with careful planning and anticipation of obstacles, I can set myself up for success. I have an eating disorder, but it is not my identity.

Since my earliest memories, I have wanted to become a veterinarian. As a veterinary assistant, I performed many technician duties, but the moments I worked alongside countless veterinarians taught me the field encompasses more than just hard science. It’s also about the feelings, concerns, strengths, and struggles of people and animals. Through hard work and dedication, I was accepted to Purdue University’s College of Veterinary Medicine’s 2027 class. But underlying my joy was the voice of a 10-year eating disorder. I never expected to still be struggling with the disorder at 22. I had been hospitalized and sent to residential facilities numerous times to recover, but the illness never fully went away. It lingered in the deepest parts of my thoughts, contributing to perfectionism, negative self-talk, and anxiety. When I was accepted, my physical health was poor, so I deferred starting for one year. In August 2024, I began veterinary school. I thought I had the disorder under control. I believed that moving to a new state and starting school would help me finally recover. I was wrong. As the semester progressed, the stress and rigors of school exacerbated my eating disorder. The sheer volume of knowledge that I was to learn and retain was immense. As my studies became my life, I struggled to concentrate and focus. Veterinarians face higher rates of suicide compared to the general population and other healthcare professionals. Despite their tireless commitments to animal health, veterinarians face high emotional burdens and stressors (i.e. long hours, perfectionism, high client expectations, and compassion fatigue). I had to consider how I would cope with them in the future. After long conversations with family and professors, I decided to withdraw from Purdue following my successful completion of first semester. I was devastated and considered it a win for the eating disorder. In a way, it was. Because I had not tackled the illness sooner, it ended up taking away my future career. I wish people would understand that eating disorders don’t just take over your eating habits: they dominate your every thought and action. Even though I was at my lowest, my family helped me understand my story was not over. I needed to write a new chapter with a new identity – nurse. My time spent in hospitals exposed me to the empathetic and compassionate nature of nurses. This paralleled with what I loved in veterinary medicine. As a nurse, I could develop personal connections with patients, satisfying my passion for serving others. Nursing school would leave me in less debt, and I would get to live at home during school. Nurses face high levels of stress and burnout, but compared to that of a veterinarian, these factors are of a different degree. Living with an eating disorder is like watching life go by without participating in it because of the constant war with my thoughts. As much as I wanted to stay in veterinary school, I had to put my mental health first. The energy, money, and time that I put into becoming a veterinarian could not be taken back, but I could use them as motivation to move forward. Despite the pain, I needed to close my veterinarian dream to embark on a new journey. I will not let this final chance at life be wasted. As a nurse, I hope to empower patients to take control of their health to improve their lives. Nursing would offer me not only a stable and rewarding career but also a deep sense of fulfillment from helping others – a quality not many professions offer.

I had always wanted a career in veterinary medicine since it combines my interest in science and problem-solving with my love for animal welfare. My home growing up was a mini–Noah’s Ark. I saw it as my duty to provide each pet with love and care, which meant familiarizing myself with each species’ unique needs. I found innovative ways to ensure their well-being, such as making precise schedules for a dog with congestive heart failure, a cat with allergies, and a cavy with bumblefoot. Initially, I had imagined veterinary medicine as saving lives, curing ailments, and alleviating pain to improve an animal’s quality of life. It was not until I worked as a veterinary assistant that I was exposed to its multifaceted attributes. As a veterinary assistant, I immersed myself in learning all I could about small and exotic animals. Initially, I shadowed the duties of a private practice vet in both calm and stressful situations. But quickly, I found myself working with a team to draw blood, restrain animals, run diagnostic equipment, read cytology slides, and assist with emergencies. I did what was directly needed within the active clinic, but I was drawn to interactions concerning senior animals. When I observed how vets discussed a pet’s quality of life, I noticed how euthanasia was emphasized as the last act of love. The decision to end a pet’s life is difficult, and it made me consider what I could do to improve their lives before it became the only option. So, witnessing countless senior pets return for medication refills to treat arthritis, pain, and other age-related conditions, as well as my experience assisting with euthanasia, I recognized the need for a shift in the management of the aging process. These observations drew me to animal physical therapy and rehabilitation, and it is my goal to become certified in canine rehabilitation. Medications provide short-term relief, but movement and exercise can provide pets with the strength and mobility to maintain independence with less pain as they age. Thus, my goal is to help improve a pet’s quality of life while also empowering clients with the tools and education to continue home treatment. This care extends to the pet’s last breath, where I can further educate clients about humane euthanasia to relieve their pet’s suffering. Jesse was the first euthanasia I saw, but since then I have assisted countless others. Each time the grief is no less real, but as a veterinarian, I can work with clients to develop a care plan that supports animals from their first breath to their last. Considering my goals, I have been fortunate to attend La Roche University because it prepared me for the rigorous classes I will take in veterinary school through challenging courses in the Honors Institute, as well as granted me access to knowledgeable professors in their fields. I learned critical thinking and problem-solving skills through labs and other hands-on experiences. I learned to manage my time and master complex material by taking a variety of courses outside the biology department. I learned to adapt to different environments because, in the real world, different situations require different skills and approaches. Furthermore, interactions with students and professors taught me how to effectively communicate in ways that will prepare me for conversations with clients and the veterinary team. I actively engaged in each class, taking advantage of the professor’s office hours. I took the initiative and began assignments early. I held study groups and utilized active recall to learn the material. Hence, I hope to use my skills and knowledge to serve animals great and small.

Beginning August 21, 2023, I will be attending Purdue University College of Veterinary Medicine to get my Doctor of Veterinary Medicine (DVM). The curriculum takes four years to complete, and its goal is to educate “practice-ready” veterinary students who have the foundation to pursue any veterinary career path they choose. This curriculum provides a strong foundation in the major domestic species while allowing students to tailor their curriculum to their future career goals by tracking in the fourth year. My interest in veterinary medicine has been long-held. Growing up, I would hear other children say they wanted to be a firefighter, police officer, astronaut, or rock star when they got older. However, these aspirations would change as they discovered their passions, but I have always known that I wanted to become a veterinarian. My childhood was spent taking care of family dogs, cats, fish, and cavies. This required familiarization with each species’ unique needs, such as tending to a detailed medication schedule for a dog with congestive heart failure and a cavy with bumblefoot. My active role in their treatment was the foundation for my pursuit of veterinary medicine. It fostered my desire to educate and empower others to have an active role in their pets’ lives. I had always imagined veterinary medicine as saving lives, curing ailments, and alleviating pain to improve an animal’s quality of life. It was not until I worked as a veterinary assistant that I was exposed to its multifaceted attributes. I observed many senior pets come in for pain and decreased mobility as a result of age, injury, or disease-related conditions. Most often, the vet would prescribe pain meds and clients would be told to take it slow with their pet. This made me ponder other options, which led me to the field of physical therapy and rehabilitation for which I aim to become certified. Shadowing a licensed vet tech certified in the field, I learned that physical therapy is more than just something done after surgery. Movement is medicine, and pets, especially senior pets, can reap tremendous benefits if the focus is put on improving mobility, strength, and function. Most pet parents are unaware that the field exists, so using my mentor’s teaching approaches, I can educate clients on the importance of getting their pet moving, helping them build strength, and helping them establish an exercise routine involving more than just walks. An understanding of physical therapy combined with problem-solving skills to develop and progress a certain plan of care focused on client education, therapeutic exercises, and therapy techniques, makes a successful rehabilitation professional – and I hope to become this professional. My experiences inspire me to set goals, actively listen, and thoughtfully communicate. As a veterinarian, I hope to hone these skills to help animals improve their independence, empowering their parents along the way, so that they can live their golden years to the best quality. Thus, when I received the call from the Dean of Purdue University College of Veterinary Medicine, Dr. Willie M. Reed, DVM, Ph.D., informing me of my acceptance into the class of 2027, I was ecstatic. Completing this DVM program will turn my childhood dream into reality, allowing me to make a difference in the lives of those who so greatly impacted me.

During a past holiday, my family and I delivered presents to residents at a senior home. Weeks prior, volunteers informed us of who was most in need of love and support. Many seniors there were alone and without family or friends to visit. My family and I did our best to purchase every item on each resident’s wish list, but I took it upon myself to handmake items if possible. For instance, I crocheted a lap blanket for a wheelchair-ridden woman, making sure to include her favorite colors in the project. Delivering gifts in person evoked joy and happiness within me, but these emotions were trumped by those displayed by the senior residents. I received my share of unmasked hugs, kisses, and smiles when I handed them their gifts. But I recognized that it was not so much the gifts that they were grateful for as it was the chance to talk and have someone listen. My family and I could have dropped off the gifts at the home entrance, but this was never considered. Hand-delivering the gifts allowed us to let the seniors into our lives and us into theirs. The time we spent with each resident was short but was no less meaningful than if we had known them longer. I will never forget my relationship with Mary, an eighty-year-old woman with a big personality. While I didn’t get the opportunity to know her earlier in her life, I did get the gift of hearing a lifetime’s worth of her stories and wisdom. To see Mary’s enthusiasm as she reflected on her life gave her a glow I could only wish to have. Her willingness to open up and be dependent on my family proved that as humans, we need each other, and we were there for Mary. One month after meeting her, I was informed by a staff member at the senior home that Mary had passed away. I was grief-stricken, but my pain eased when he informed me that from the day we visited her, she could not stop talking about us. I plan on continuing my family’s new tradition well into the future because Mary and countless others taught me the meaningfulness of helping even a single person. I am fortunate to have a strong support system of family and friends who provide me the love and respect each of us deserves. But just as important, they have both taught and shown me what it means to be compassionate and generous. With busy schedules and fixed routines, it can be difficult to find ways to give back, but there are simple ways to make a difference to others in one’s community. For one, a simple “thank you” shows a great deal of respect for another person. I believe that people too often underestimate the power of sincere compliments, but one does not need a reason to give joy to another person. Some of the best ways to brighten someone’s day can come from unplanned acts of kindness like paying for the car behind you in a drive-through or baking cookies for a neighbor. Likewise, I share my skills and expertise when volunteering at animal shelters to help animals find their forever homes. By giving what I can to organizations that matter to me, I can promote others to continue doing good in the world. So, even if the world feels a little dark, you can brighten someone’s day by making sure they get to experience some of the great things that are happening because they are out there, and they are beautiful.

As a young child, I would hear kids say they wanted to be a firefighter, athlete, or astronaut. As the years progressed, these aspirations would change. However, my goal has always been to become a veterinarian and growing up with animals only fueled this desire. Saying you want to become a veterinarian and becoming one are two different things. The former involves talk, imagination, and hope, while the latter requires action, perseverance, and dedication. Acceptance into veterinary school is challenging, and it’s not enough to have good grades. You also have to make an impression to stand out from other applicants. My pursuit of a bachelor’s degree captures my dedication. La Roche University prepared me as I took challenging courses through the Honors Institute, as well as granted me access to knowledgeable professors. I actively engaged in class, taking advantage of office hours. I took the initiative and began assignments early. I held study groups and utilized active recall to learn the material. My time management is ideal, so I came to class fully prepared. I am proud of my 4.0 GPA and have proven to be trustworthy, hard-working, and dedicated. These qualities are great, but I must consider veterinary school tuition. Veterinary school comes at a high price and I expect to take out at least $260,000 over four years. This award can help me pay less attention to this reality and focus on my goals. It would be an immense help to me and my family, for I have a twin also pursuing veterinary medicine. The financial reality of pursuing higher education is even more real as the first day of veterinary school approaches, but this award can give me the push to continue my hard work in school and out. Specifically, it is my goal to become certified in physical therapy and rehabilitation where I can improve a pet’s mobility, independence, and quality of life. Physical therapy as something done after surgery is recognized, but there is more to it than that. Pets can reap tremendous benefits from rehabilitation, so by pursuing this field, I can educate clients about the aging process. Pain medications are often an important part of treatment, but I can help clients see that movement, exercise, and strength-building are just as crucial. I can work with owners to build their pet a unique therapy plan that keeps their pet as happy and active as possible. Under such guidance, clients can be encouraged to continue treatment at home. So, at a time when people’s love for their pets transcends societal circumstances, I hope to bring my talents, insight, and experiences to the profession to serve humans and animals. Finally, this award would be a positive affirmation for me. At 13, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, an eating disorder. Close to death, I have undergone rigorous therapy and treatment at hospitals and residential facilities. I still struggle with the disorder, but I have learned coping strategies to get me through cycles of depression and anxiety. I am becoming loving toward myself, and this foundation lets me care for the animals and people I meet. Each day brings new challenges because recovery is not linear. Despite the critical self-speak I often bombard myself with, I remember why I am fighting. I remember my purpose, my reason for being. Hence, receiving this award would provide me with the affirmation that I am making a difference not only for myself but for all of God’s creatures. One day, I will become a veterinarian, and I will be better for myself and the world.

As a young child, I would hear kids say they wanted to be a police officer, firefighter, or astronaut. As the years progressed, these aspirations would change as they discovered their passion. For me, I have always known I want to become a veterinarian. Growing up with animals only fueled this desire, and deep in my heart, I made a pact with myself. No matter what happens in life, I will always give it my all to make this dream a reality. Saying you want to become a veterinarian and actually becoming a veterinarian are two completely different things. The former involves talk, imagination, and hope, while the latter requires action, perseverance, and dedication. Being accepted into vet school is a challenge, for there are only thirty-two accredited veterinary schools in the United States. There is intense competition among those who apply. It’s not enough to have good grades, but you also have to make an impression that makes you stand out from all the other applicants. I take my schoolwork very seriously and attend every class. I take initiative and start assignments early, as well as study for exams well ahead of time. My time management is ideal, and my organization is exemplary. These qualities are great, but I need to consider my mental health. At 13, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, an eating disorder. My attempt to lose a few pounds led me down a dark road I am still struggling to find my way from. As I saw it, food was either “good” or “bad.” “Good” foods were those that were safe to eat: egg whites, plain yogurt, fruit, vegetables, rice cakes, chicken, and fish. In other words, they were low-calorie, low-fat, and low-sugar. “Bad” foods were those I had to avoid: red meat, bacon, mayo, dressings, candy, bread, pastries, fast food, and frozen foods. These were foods higher in calories, fat, sugar, carbohydrates, and sodium. The lists are incomplete, but they represent how limited my intake was. I was strict at eating at certain times and if I missed one, then I would have to wait until the next to eat. I hid food, and no matter what, I had to take the smallest portions. I instinctively counted calories because the food was terrifying. I dreaded feeling full because it made me feel utterly disgusting. I was caught in a downward cycle of hating my body and my identity seemed connected. Close to death, I was hospitalized and sent to a residential facility where I successfully got myself to a healthier level. I still struggle with the disorder, but I have learned strategies to cope with it. I am becoming loving toward myself, and with this foundation, I can appropriately give love and care to all animals and people. Also, my need for perfection causes me to compare all aspects of myself with other students, making me question my value. Reflection has made clear that I often flaunt my attention to detail and unrealistic standards, spending countless hours on trivial tasks where I crave approval. I have experience with my mistakes triggering negative self-speak that drives me to be better, but more often, this self-speak becomes purely critical. The constant habit of pointing out what’s wrong with what I do and who I am drains my time, energy, relationships, creativity, and health. To address my perfectionism, I remind myself to set realistic SMART goals with more flexible standards. It’s important to remember that I can only do my best and cannot control all possible outcomes. If I find myself spiraling down a familiar, habitual pattern of negative thought, I can do something to lift my mood before emotions escalate to an intense level. My achievements regarding my mental health disorder have given me the strength to pursue veterinary medicine. As a vet, I hope to become certified in canine rehabilitation so I can improve a pet’s mobility, independence, and quality of life. Most pet parents don’t even recognize the field exists. Physical therapy as something done after surgery is known, but there is more to it than that. Pets can reap huge benefits from physical therapy that incorporates daily, routine exercise other than walks. Via active collaboration with animal physical therapists, I can be better trained to perform thorough patient exams, including assessment of function, strength, and flexibility. By addressing and responding to complex issues that arise in our relationships with animals, I am prepared to educate clients about long-term outcomes and care plan goals. Pain medications are often an important part of treatment, but I can help clients see that movement, exercise, and strength-building are just as crucial. I can work with owners to build their pet a unique plan that keeps their pet as happy, active, and mobile as possible. Hence, my strength against anorexia reveals my dedication to serving others, and as a veterinarian, I can be better for myself and the world.

Beginning August 21, 2023, I will be attending Purdue University College of Veterinary Medicine to get my Doctor of Veterinary Medicine (DVM). The curriculum takes four years to complete and its goal is to educate “practice-ready” veterinary students who have the foundation to pursue any veterinary career path they choose. This curriculum provides a strong foundation in the major domestic species while allowing students to tailor their curriculum to their future career goals by tracking in the fourth year. Purdue's DVM program excites me because my interest in veterinary medicine has been long-held. Growing up, I would hear children say they wanted to be a firefighter, astronaut, or rock star when they got older. However, these aspirations would change as they discovered their passions, but I have always known that I wanted to become a veterinarian. My childhood was spent taking care of family pets. This required familiarization with each species’ unique needs, such as tending to a detailed medication schedule for a dog with congestive heart failure and a cavy with bumblefoot. My active role in their treatment was the foundation for my pursuit of veterinary medicine. It fostered my desire to educate and empower others to have an active role in their pet’s lives. Also, my academic endeavors, specifically my undergraduate studies in biology, add to my knowledge and understanding of the field. I was fortunate to take Diseases That Changed the World since it explored diseases that emerged from wildlife hosts to infect humans and emphasized the importance of aseptic techniques. Other courses like Organic Chemistry helped me think more critically, and this skill can be used when diagnosing patients. Thus, when I received the call from the Dean of Purdue University College of Veterinary Medicine, Dr. Willie M. Reed, DVM, Ph.D., I was ecstatic. Completing this DVM program will allow me to make a difference in the lives of those who so greatly impacted me. Yet, I must consider my mental health while in such a demanding program. Without a doubt, crocheting has benefited my health in numerous ways. Whether I crochet a simple coaster or a complex amigurumi figure, each time I engage in the activity I enter a flow state. I become fully immersed in fingering the yarn, holding the hook, and crocheting often repetitive stitches that everything else falls away. My mental and physical performance becomes heightened, and during this time, I can truly say I am happy. Over time, crocheting has become both effortless and timeless. I have an intrinsic motivation to engage in the activity, and while I gain pleasure from making projects for others, the activity has a purpose in itself – the act has become its own reward. Likewise, completing projects increases my confidence, giving me a sense of accomplishment. For instance, I am likely to receive compliments from others, even if I am not fully pleased with my work. More often than not, my perfectionism becomes overly critical. This can be debilitating, but I use the fulfilling feeling of “I made that” to boost my self-esteem. I also receive helpful advice, project ideas, and stitch tutorials from an online crochet community. Group members offer me support and encouragement as I tackle more complex projects, as well as provide me feedback and guidance when I struggle. Involving myself in an online community has taught me the value of teamwork and vulnerability. It has allowed me to communicate my needs and goals in ways that best support my love of crocheting. So, with a strong mind, body, and soul, I will be better for myself and the world.

I had always wanted a career in veterinary medicine since it combines my interest in science and problem solving with my love for animal welfare. My home growing up was a mini–Noah’s Ark. I saw it as my duty to provide each pet with love and care, which meant familiarizing myself with each species’ unique needs. I found innovative ways to ensure their well-being, such as making precise schedules for a dog with congestive heart failure, a cat with allergies, and a cavy with bumblefoot. As I volunteered at animal shelters and rescues, my confidence grew stronger. When I later became a vet assistant, I immersed myself in learning all I could about small and exotic animals. Initially, I shadowed the duties of a private practice vet, but quickly, I found myself working with a team to draw blood, restrain animals, run diagnostic equipment, read cytology slides, and assist with emergencies. I did what was directly needed within the active clinic, but I was drawn to interactions concerning senior animals. The decision to end a pet’s life is difficult, but it made me consider what I could do to improve their lives before it became the only option. Witnessing countless senior pets return for med refills to treat arthritis, pain, and other age-related conditions, as well as my experience assisting with euthanasia, I recognized the need for a shift in management of the aging process. I was drawn to animal physical therapy, and it is my goal to become certified in canine rehabilitation. Meds provide short-term relief, but movement and exercise can provide pets with strength and mobility to maintain independence with less pain as they age. Thus, my goal is to help improve pet’s quality of life while also empowering clients with the tools and education to continue home treatment. Considering my career goals, I have been fortunate to attend La Roche University because it provided me with a strong, solid foundation in biology. My pursuit of a bachelor’s degree with a biology major and chemistry minor captures my dedication to my studies. La Roche University prepared me for the rigorous classes I will take in veterinary school through challenging courses in the Honors Institute, as well as granting me access to knowledgeable professors in their fields. I learned critical thinking and problem-solving skills through labs and other hands-on experiences. I learned to manage my time and master complex material by taking a variety of courses outside the biology department as well, such as business management, ethics, and psychology. I learned to adapt to different environments, because in the real world, different situations require different skills and approaches. Furthermore, through interactions with students and professors, I learned how to effectively communicate in ways that will prepare me for conversations with clients and the veterinary team. My studies at La Roche have been significant for my personal and professional development. For instance, I was able to actively engage in each class, taking advantage of professor’s office hours. I took initiative and began assignments early. I held study groups and utilized active recall to learn the material. My time management is ideal, so I came to class fully prepared. I took pride in my 4.0 GPA and have proven to be trustworthy, hard-working, flexible, and dedicated. Hence, the knowledge I have gained throughout my education has allowed me to feel confident beginning veterinary school at Purdue University College of Veterinary Medicine in the fall 2023! I hope to use my talents, insight, and experiences to serve creatures great and small and to become better for myself and the world.

Entering the brightly lit exam room, I was overcome by the sound of deep crying. After 13 years, the last two spent battling heart failure, Jesse’s frail canine body was ready to give out. The final injection completed the task. Seeing his mother’s tearful face, I tried to meet her gaze, hoping to make things more bearable. I wanted to help and had always imagined veterinarians saving lives. This was my first exposure to euthanasia, and I just learned that medicine cannot always prevail. Instead of being deterred from the field, I found myself wanting to do more to empower clients to be in control of their pet’s health. I had always wanted a career in veterinary medicine since it combines my interest in science and problem-solving with my love for animal welfare. My home growing up was a mini Noah’s Ark. I saw it as my duty to provide each pet with love and care, which meant familiarizing myself with each species’ unique needs. I found innovative ways to ensure their well-being, such as making precise schedules for a dog with congestive heart failure, a cat with allergies, and a cavy with bumblefoot. As I volunteered at animal shelters and rescues, my confidence grew stronger. When I later became a vet assistant, I immersed myself in learning all I could about small and exotic animals. Initially, I shadowed the duties of a private practice vet in both calm and stressful situations. But quickly, I found myself working with a team to draw blood, restrain animals, run diagnostic equipment, read cytology slides, and assist with emergencies. I did what was directly needed within the active clinic, but I was drawn to interactions concerning senior animals. When I observed how vets discussed a pet’s quality of life and the possibility of euthanasia, I noticed how euthanasia was emphasized as the last act of love. The decision to end a pet’s life is difficult, and it made me consider what I could do to improve their lives before it became the only option. Witnessing countless senior pets return for med refills to treat arthritis, pain, and other age-related conditions, as well as my experience assisting with euthanasia, I recognized the need for a shift in the management of the aging process. I was drawn to animal physical therapy, and it is my goal to be certified in canine rehabilitation. Meds provide short-term relief, but movement and exercise can provide pets with strength and mobility to maintain independence with less pain as they age. Thus, my goal is to help improve pet’s quality of life while also empowering clients with the tools and education to continue home treatment. This care extends to the pet’s last breath, where I can further educate clients about humane euthanasia to relieve their pet’s suffering. Jesse was the first euthanasia I saw, but since then I have assisted countless others. Each time the grief is no less real, but as a vet, I can work with clients to develop a care plan that supports animals from their first breath to their last.

As a young child, I would hear kids say they wanted to be a chef, firefighter, or astronaut. As the years progressed, these aspirations would change as they discovered their passion, but I have always known I wanted to become a veterinarian. Growing up with animals only fueled this desire, and deep in my heart, I made a pact with myself. No matter what happens in life, I will always give it my all to make this dream a reality. Never would I have expected the pain and suffering I would later endure with my mental health. My attempt to lose a few pounds led me down a dark road I am still struggling to find my way from. As I saw it, food was either “good” or “bad," and this severely limited my daily intake. I was strict at eating at certain times and if I missed one, then I would have to wait until the next to eat. I hid food, and no matter what, I had to take the smallest portions. I instinctively counted calories because the food was terrifying. I dreaded feeling full because it made me feel utterly disgusting. I was caught in a downward cycle of hating my body and my identity seemed connected. Close to death, I received intensive treatment. I still struggle with the disorder, but I have learned strategies to cope with it to become loving toward myself. With this foundation, I can appropriately give love and care to animals and people. Also, my need for perfection causes me to compare all aspects of myself with others, making me question my value. Reflection has made clear that I often flaunt my attention to detail and unrealistic standards, spending countless hours on trivial tasks, craving approval. I have experience with my mistakes triggering negative self-speak that drives me to be better, but more often, this self-speak becomes purely critical. The constant habit of pointing out what’s wrong with what I do and who I am drains my time, energy, relationships, and health. To address my perfectionism, I remind myself to set realistic SMART goals. It’s important to remember that I can only do my best and cannot control all possible outcomes. If I find myself spiraling down a familiar, habitual pattern of negative thought, I can do something to lift my mood before emotions escalate to an intense level. My achievements regarding my mental health have given me the strength to pursue veterinary medicine. As a veterinarian, I hope to become certified in canine rehabilitation so I can improve a pet’s mobility, independence, and quality of life. Most pet parents don’t even recognize the field exists. Physical therapy as something done after surgery is known, but there is more to it than that. Pets can reap huge benefits from physical therapy that incorporates daily, routine exercise other than walks. Via active collaboration with animal physical therapists, I can be better trained to perform thorough patient exams, including assessment of function, strength, and flexibility. By addressing and responding to complex issues that arise in our relationships with animals, I am prepared to educate clients about long-term outcomes and care plan goals. Pain medications are often an important part of treatment, but I can help clients see that movement, exercise, and strength-building are just as crucial. I can work with owners to build their pet a unique plan that keeps their pet as happy, active, and mobile as possible. Hence, my dedication to serving others trumps the limitations of my diagnosis. As a veterinarian, I can be better for myself and the world.

As a respected and knowledgeable small animal veterinarian, my goal is to become certified in canine rehabilitation so I can improve a pet’s mobility, independence, and quality of life, allowing them to live their golden years as happily as possible.

As a child, I would hear kids say they wanted to be a police officer, rock star, or astronaut. As the years progressed, these aspirations would change as they discovered their passion. For me, I have known I want to become a veterinarian. Growing up with animals only fueled this desire, and deep in my heart, I made a pact with myself. No matter what happens in life, I will give it my all to make this desire a reality. However, I need to consider my mental health. At 13, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, an eating disorder. Close to death, I was hospitalized and successfully got to a healthier level. I still struggle with the disease, but I have learned strategies to cope with it. I am becoming loving toward myself, so I can give the same care to all animals and people I meet. Yet, my perfectionism causes me to compare all aspects of myself with others, making me question my value. Reflection has made clear that I often flaunt my attention to detail and unrealistic standards, spending countless hours on trivial tasks where I crave approval. I have experience with my mistakes triggering negative self-speak that drives me to be better, but more often, it becomes purely critical. The constant habit of pointing out what’s wrong with what I do and who I am drains my energy, relationships, and health. To address my perfectionism, I remind myself to set SMART goals with more flexible standards, remembering I can only do my best and cannot control all possible outcomes. If I find myself spiraling down a familiar, habitual pattern of negative thought, I can do something to lift my mood before emotions escalate to an intense level. My achievements regarding my mental health disorder have given me the strength to pursue veterinary medicine. As a vet, my goal is to become certified in canine rehabilitation so I can improve a pet’s mobility, independence, and quality of life. Most pet parents don’t even recognize the field exists. Physical therapy as something done after surgery is known, but there is more to it. Pets can reap huge benefits from physical therapy that incorporates daily, routine exercise other than walks. Via active collaboration with animal physical therapists, I can be better versed to perform thorough patient exams. By addressing and responding to complex issues that arise in our relationships with animals, I can be prepared to educate clients about long-term outcomes and care plan goals. Pain medications are often an important part of treatment, but I can help clients see that movement, exercise, and strength-building are just as crucial. I can work with owners to build their pet a unique plan that keeps their pet as happy, active, and mobile as possible. Such guidance empowers clients to take an active role in their pet’s care and recognize that the veterinary team’s goal is to achieve the highest level of function, independence, and quality of life for the pet.

Entering the brightly lit exam room, I was overcome by the sound of deep crying. After 13 years, the last two spent battling heart failure, Jesse’s frail canine body was ready to give out. The final injection completed the task. Seeing his mother’s tearful face, I tried to meet her gaze, hoping to make things more bearable. I wanted to help and had always imagined veterinarians saving lives. This was my first exposure to euthanasia, and I just learned that medicine cannot always prevail. Instead of being deterred from the field, I found myself wanting to do more to empower clients to be in control of their pet’s health. I had always wanted a career in veterinary medicine since it combines my interest in science and problem-solving with my love for animal welfare. My home growing up was a mini–Noah’s Ark. I saw it as my duty to provide each pet with love and care, which meant familiarizing myself with each species’ unique needs. I found innovative ways to ensure their well-being, such as making precise schedules for a dog with congestive heart failure, a cat with allergies, and a cavy with bumblefoot. As I volunteered at animal shelters and rescues, my confidence grew stronger. When I later became a vet assistant, I immersed myself in learning all I could about small and exotic animals. Initially, I shadowed the duties of a private practice vet in both calm and stressful situations. But quickly, I found myself working with a team to draw blood, restrain animals, run diagnostic equipment, read cytology slides, and assist with emergencies. I did what was directly needed within the active clinic, but I was drawn to interactions concerning senior animals. When I observed how vets discussed a pet’s quality of life and the possibility of euthanasia, I noticed how euthanasia was emphasized as the last act of love. The decision to end a pet’s life is difficult, and it made me consider what I could do to improve their lives before it became the only option. Witnessing countless senior pets return for med refills to treat arthritis, pain, and other age-related conditions, as well as my experience assisting with euthanasia, I recognized the need for a shift in the management of the aging process. I was drawn to animal physical therapy, and it is my goal to be certified in canine rehabilitation. Meds provide short-term relief, but movement and exercise can provide pets with strength and mobility to maintain independence with less pain as they age. Thus, my goal is to help improve a pet’s quality of life while also empowering clients with the tools and education to continue home treatment. This care extends to the pet’s last breath, where I can further educate clients about humane euthanasia to relieve their pet’s suffering. Jesse was the first euthanasia I saw, but since then I have assisted countless others. Each time the grief is no less real, but as a vet, I can work with clients to develop a care plan that supports animals from their first breath to their last.

As a child, one of my favorite books was Ronald Dahl’s “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory,” a story of a poor boy finding a Golden Ticket in a Wonka bar, earning him a tour of Mr. Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory and later the role of Mr. Wonka’s successor. Charlie Bucket, the story’s protagonist, embodies all that is virtuous. Deprived of adequate food, housing, and privacy, he never complains or accepts charity from family. Each day, he gathers the strength to walk to school, returning at night to his home to take care of his bedridden grandparents – a chore that he seems to genuinely enjoy. I find his attitude towards life truly admirable because nothing causes him bitterness or anger. For instance, Charlie simply indulges in the sweet smells coming out of the Chocolate Factory, dreaming about one day entering the factory, never complaining about how unfair it is that he will never get to go. This example teaches us that the best things in life are worth waiting for. Just as Charlie shows patience, we should slow down and stop comparing ourselves to those we believe to be more fortunate. His focus on his loving family and the simple sights, sounds, and smells of the Chocolate Factory enables him to face each challenge with an open mind and heart. Furthermore, behind Charlie’s meek exterior lies inner strength and courage. Just as he faces adversity with bravery, so too does he face new mysteries of the Chocolate Factory with courage. The adventures within the factory are wild, but Charlie enjoys them for what they are. For instance, others cringe at the boat’ speed as it races down the chocolate river, but not Charlie. He embraces the ride, holding onto his grandpa’s leg for stability. This example teaches us that if you can dream it, you can make it happen. All the creative confections inside the factory are the result of dreaming big, and Charlie savors their effects with valor. Learning from Charlie, we are provided with the bravery to see that mistakes happen. Even Charlie made the mistake of not following directions – he drank a Fizzy Lifting Drink and almost ended up cut to shreds by a ceiling fan. Hence, Charlie teaches us to be resilient, kind, and patient, as well as to have hope and dream big. So, please consider reading "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."

I was born into life with a best friend because I am a twin. As one, I am fortunate to have someone by my side to witness and experience milestones with me. I have not had to figure out why close relationships are most meaningful in life since my best friend has always been with me. As twins, my sister and I are frequently asked what it’s like to be one, but frankly, what is it like not to be a twin? Growing up, my sister and I were always together. Spending so much time together, my parents feared we would not develop our own independent identities. It was hard to explain to them that we simply loved the same things. Much to their chagrin, our career goals have not diverged as we matured into the women we are today. Together we are pursuing a career in veterinary medicine! Having a friend to accompany me on my life journey is a meaningful state of affairs. From a twin’s perspective, I have learned that life is full and thriving when I have someone who genuinely knows me inside and out, accepting me exactly the way I am. My sister is one person I do not have to filter my thoughts or feelings for. My vulnerability around her fosters self-love and confidence within myself to follow my heart. As a twin, I am constantly compared to my sister. People innocently try to find ways to tell us apart by comparing all aspects of us. I was blessed with family and friends who never made me feel judged, but judgment taught me that no good comes from comparing unique individuals. Despite being born a minute apart, my sister and I have not gone through life at the same pace. I love seeing my sister excel, but her progress in no way takes away from my own. I can’t focus on her idea of success since it will distract me from achieving my own. However, we are both there – in body and spirit – to cheer each other on. Having someone to share the ups and downs with me has been a comfort, and I don’t anticipate this changing anytime soon. My twin is my other half and without her, I would not be where I am today. I would not be preparing to start veterinary school in the fall of 2023. And I am grateful she will attend with me! It is through my future career as a veterinarian that I hope to provide services to creatures great and small. My goal is to become certified in canine rehabilitation where I can improve a pet’s mobility, independence, and quality of life. Most pet parents don’t even recognize that this field exists. Physical therapy as something done after surgery is recognized, but there is more to it than that. Pets can reap tremendous benefits from rehabilitation, so as I pursue this field, I can educate clients about the aging process. Pain medications are often an important part of treatment, but I can help clients see that movement, exercise, and strength-building are just as crucial. I can work with owners to build their pet a unique therapy plan that keeps their pet as happy and active as possible. Under such guidance, clients can be encouraged to continue treatment and recommend the services to others, whereby even more pets can reap these benefits. Hence, at a time when people’s love for their pets transcends societal circumstances, I hope to bring my talents, insight, and experiences to the profession to serve humans and animals.

I was born into life with a best friend because I am a twin. As one, I am fortunate to have someone by my side to witness and experience milestones with me. I have not had to figure out why close relationships are most meaningful in life since my best friend has always been with me. As twins, my sister and I are frequently asked what it’s like to be one, but frankly, what is it like not to be a twin? Growing up, my sister and I were always together. Spending so much time together, my parents feared we would not develop our own independent identities. It was hard to explain to them that we simply loved the same things. Much to their chagrin, our career goals have not diverged as we matured into the women we are today. Together we are pursuing a career in veterinary medicine! Having a friend to accompany me on my life journey is a meaningful state of affairs. From a twin’s perspective, I have learned that life is full and thriving when I have someone who genuinely knows me inside and out, accepting me exactly the way I am. My sister is one person I do not have to filter my thoughts or feelings for. My vulnerability around her fosters self-love and confidence within myself to follow my heart. As a twin, I am constantly compared to my sister. People innocently try to find ways to tell us apart by comparing all aspects of us. I was blessed with family and friends who never made me feel judged, but judgment taught me that no good comes from comparing unique individuals. Others’ opinions of me are not my problem, it’s theirs. While my sister I and share qualities such as a passion for animals, a dedication to lifelong learning, and a strong work ethic, we differ in other attributes. It is because of these differences that we complement one another by supporting each other’s weaknesses. For instance, my perfectionism often triggers untamed, constructive self-talk that drives me to become better by being tough on myself, but my sister’s optimism, patience, and courage provide me with the clarity to overcome these negative thoughts. She teaches me that failing and learning from those failures is key to success. Just as it may take years of practice to perfect an acquired skill, I understand it will take practice to undo my perfectionism. Part of being human is making mistakes but learning from those mistakes cannot be obtained if I focus on being perfect all the time. It’s hard to let go of insecurities, but my twin’s awareness of my emotions makes all the difference when supporting me through difficult times. Finally, I learned that my life journey is special. Despite being born a minute apart, my sister and I have not gone through life at the same pace. I love seeing my sister excel in life, but her progress in no way takes away from my own. I can’t focus on her idea of success since it will distract me from achieving my own. However, we are both there – in body and spirit – to cheer each other on. Having someone to share the ups and downs with me has been a comfort, and I don’t anticipate this changing anytime soon. My twin is my other half and without her, I would not be where I am today. I would not be preparing to start veterinary school in the fall of 2023. And I am grateful she will attend with me!

My name is Becca and I am not only a daughter, twin, and student, but also an anorexic. Eight years ago, I would have denied that I had a mental illness, because in my eyes, I was healthy. I thought I was eating right and sustaining the perfect lifestyle. Currently, I am persevering amid my disorder in recovery. The journey has been exhausting, but I am proud of where I am today. What many people fail to recognize about eating disorders is that they are not all about food. Rather, they are coping mechanisms to deal with emotions. Were they solely about food, treatment would be simple - just eat. From experience, recovery is not possible if you are not in a space to endure it. In the beginning of my illness, I was admitted to two hospitals and a residential facility. I was severely underweight – a literal skeleton both in appearance and spirit. My days were spent obsessing about food, calories, and body image. I lost friendships and missed out on creating memories family and friends. I never had energy and was always cold. Yet, I couldn't imagine life without the disorder - it seemed to have become a part of my identity. However, even in the midst of my eating disorder, my dedication to becoming a small animal veterinarian has never wavered. This has been a goal of mine since I can remember, and it has served as motivation for me throughout my recovery. How can I take care of animals if I can’t take care of myself? I was faced with the realization that I could not take care of others if I was not alive. As terrifying as it sounded, I could not let my life become another statistic. As a vet, I would need energy, focus, skill, flexibility, communication, patience, strength, intuition, and most importantly, confidence and compassion not only for animals, but also for myself. The amount of time I have spent criticizing my body and judging my actions is immense, but I am learning to accept myself for what it has done and what it can and will do. I understand that my eating disorder may be present throughout my life. Truthfully, recovery is not linear, but I want to reach a point where this illness has no control over me. If negative thoughts arise, I can acknowledge them and then let them pass without judgment. My mental illness may have convinced me that it was keeping me safe, but I realize I have much more to offer to the world. I find hope in the spark of life, love, and support I see in my cat Kevin’s eyes, telling me what it means to be compassionate. So, although I have a mental illness, I am still capable of achieving great things. I will use my strength, motivation, and intelligence to be admitted into veterinary school and become Dr. Contestabile, DVM.

My name is Becca and I am not only a daughter, twin, and student, but also an anorexic. Eight years ago, I would have denied that I had a mental illness because, in my eyes, I was healthy. I thought I was eating right and sustaining the perfect lifestyle. Currently, I am persevering amid my disorder in recovery. The journey has been exhausting, but I am proud of where I am today. What many people fail to recognize about eating disorders is that they are not all about food. Instead, they are coping mechanisms to deal with emotions. Were they solely about food, treatment would be simple - just eat. From experience, recovery is not possible if you are not in a space to endure it. At the beginning of my illness, I was admitted to two hospitals and a residential facility. I was severely underweight and forced to admit myself voluntarily. At this time in my life, I was a literal skeleton both in appearance and in spirit. My days were spent obsessing about food, calories, and body image. I lost friendships and missed out on creating memories with my family. I never had energy and no matter the time of year, I was always cold. Yet, I couldn't imagine life without my disorder - it seemed to have become a part of my identity. However, even amid my eating disorder, my dedication to becoming a small animal veterinarian has never wavered. This has been my goal since I can remember, and it has served as motivation for me throughout my recovery. How can I take care of animals if I can’t take care of myself? I was faced with the realization that I could not take care of others if I was physically not here - if I was not alive. As terrifying as it sounded, I could not let my life become another statistic. As a vet, I would need energy, focus, skill, flexibility, communication, patience, strength, intuition, and most importantly, confidence and compassion not only for animals, but also for myself. The amount of time I have spent criticizing my body and judging my actions is immense, but I am learning to accept myself for what it has done and what it can do. Furthermore, my mental health disorder has continued to strengthen my commitment to the field of veterinary medicine and my pursuit of becoming a small animal veterinarian. The spark of life, love, and support I see in my cat Kevin’s eyes gives me hope that my future will be better. Through subtle, yet significant interactions with my selfless fur baby, I am reminded that I am loved. Along for a rollercoaster of a ride - consisting of highs and lows, successes and relapses - he reminds me of my purpose. Living with a mental illness has its challenges. There are times when I still can’t find the strength to get out of bed - just the thought is exhausting. This is where Kevin has become extremely helpful; his gentle, warming presence teaches me mindfulness. Pulling me from erratic thought into the present moment, he lets me know that I matter. The way he carries his fluffy body across mine reminds me of the value of life. Feeling his calm heartbeat beat and soft purrs vibrate against my chest makes me aware of its fragile and transient nature. My cat is my crystal ball, able to tell me I can survive. I will survive. I am surviving. So, although I have a mental illness, I am still capable of achieving great things.

I had always wanted a career in veterinary medicine since it combines my interest in science and problem-solving with my love for animal welfare. My home growing up was a mini Noah’s Ark. I saw it as my duty to provide each pet love and care, which meant familiarizing myself with each species’ unique needs. I found innovative ways to ensure their well-being, such as making precise schedules for a dog with congestive heart failure, a cat with allergies, and a cavy with bumblefoot. My active role in their treatment was the foundation for my pursuit of veterinary medicine. It fostered my desire to educate and empower others to have an active role in their pets’ lives. I had imagined veterinary medicine as saving lives, curing ailments, and alleviating pain to improve an animal’s quality of life. It was not until I worked as a vet assistant that I was exposed to its multifaceted attributes. The moments I worked alongside Dr. Ruble and Dr. Bollens III were most significant in developing my interest in veterinary medicine. When Dr. Ruble asked me to pull up a deceased dog’s X-rays on the computer, I thought it odd he would have me do this. I found it stranger when he asked me to look at the images with him, but it was now I realized Dr. Ruble was more than a vet. He was a teacher, devoted to teaching me. Also, one would think client interactions would be rushed at a high-volume clinic, but Dr. Bollens III knew his patients adeptly. I noticed how he greeted clients by name, asking about their lives while maintaining diligence in treating their pet. Working under their guidance taught me veterinary medicine encompasses more than just hard science. It’s also about the feelings, concerns, strengths, and struggles of people and animals. This lesson underlies my goals in the field. I observed many pets come in for pain and decreased mobility resulting from age, injury, or disease-related conditions. Most often, the vet prescribed pain medications and clients would be told to take it slow with their pet. This made me ponder other options, leading me to canine rehabilitation. Shadowing a certified vet, I learned physical therapy is more than something done after surgery. Movement is medicine, and pets can reap tremendous benefits if the focus is put on improving mobility and strength. Most pet parents are unaware that the field exists, so I can educate clients on the importance of getting their pet moving, helping them establish an exercise routine involving more than just walks. An understanding of physical therapy combined with problem-solving skills to develop and progress a plan of care focused on client education and therapeutic exercises makes a successful rehabilitation professional. I want to be that vet to help pets live their golden years to the best quality.

Entering the brightly lit exam room, I was overcome by the sound of deep crying. After 13 years, the last two spent battling heart failure, Jesse’s frail canine body was ready to give out. The final injection completed the task. Seeing his mother’s tearful face, I tried to meet her gaze, hoping to make things more bearable. I wanted to help and had always imagined veterinarians saving lives. This was my first exposure to euthanasia, and I just learned that medicine cannot always prevail. Instead of being deterred from the field, I found myself wanting to do more to empower clients to be in control of their pet’s health. I had always wanted a career in veterinary medicine since it combines my interest in science and problem-solving with my love for animal welfare. My home growing up was a mini Noah’s Ark. I saw it as my duty to provide each pet love and care, which meant familiarizing myself with each species’ unique needs. I found innovative ways to ensure their well-being, such as making precise schedules for a dog with congestive heart failure, a cat with allergies, and a cavy with bumblefoot. As I volunteered at animal shelters and rescues, my confidence grew stronger. When I later became a vet assistant, I immersed myself in learning all I could about small and exotic animals. Initially, I shadowed the duties of a private practice vet in both calm and stressful situations. But quickly, I found myself working with a team to draw blood, restrain animals, run diagnostic equipment, read cytology slides, and assist with emergencies. I did what was directly needed within the active clinic, but I was drawn to interactions concerning senior animals. When I observed how vets discussed a pet’s quality of life and the possibility of euthanasia, I noticed how euthanasia was emphasized as the last act of love. The decision to end a pet’s life is difficult, and it made me consider what I could do to improve their lives before it became the only option. Witnessing countless senior pets return for med refills to treat arthritis, pain, and other age-related conditions, as well as my experience assisting with euthanasia, I recognized the need for a shift in the management of the aging process. I was drawn to animal physical therapy, and it is my goal to be certified in canine rehabilitation. Meds provide short-term relief, but movement and exercise can provide pets with strength and mobility to maintain independence with less pain as they age. Thus, my goal is to help improve a pet’s quality of life while also empowering clients with the tools and education to continue home treatment. This care extends to the pet’s last breath, where I can further educate clients about humane euthanasia to relieve their pet’s suffering. Jesse was the first euthanasia I saw, but since then I have assisted countless others. Each time the grief is no less real, but as a vet, I can work with clients to develop a care plan that supports animals from their first breath to their last.

Entering the brightly lit exam room, I was overcome by the sound of deep crying. After 13 years, the last two spent battling heart failure, Jesse’s frail canine body was ready to give out. The final injection completed the task. Seeing his mother’s tearful face, I tried to meet her gaze, hoping to make things more bearable. I wanted to help and had always imagined veterinarians saving lives. This was my first exposure to euthanasia, and I just learned that medicine cannot always prevail. Instead of being deterred from the field, I found myself wanting to do more to empower clients to be in control of their pet’s health. I had always wanted a career in veterinary medicine since it combines my interest in science and problem-solving with my love for animal welfare. My home growing up was a mini Noah’s Ark. I saw it as my duty to provide each pet love and care, which meant familiarizing myself with each species’ unique needs. I found innovative ways to ensure their well-being, such as making precise schedules for a dog with congestive heart failure, a cat with allergies, and a cavy with bumblefoot. As I volunteered at animal shelters and rescues, my confidence grew stronger. When I later became a vet assistant, I immersed myself in learning all I could about small and exotic animals. Initially, I shadowed the duties of a private practice vet in both calm and stressful situations. But quickly, I found myself working with a team to draw blood, restrain animals, run diagnostic equipment, read cytology slides, and assist with emergencies. I did what was directly needed within the active clinic, but I was drawn to interactions concerning senior animals. When I observed how vets discussed a pet’s quality of life and the possibility of euthanasia, I noticed how euthanasia was emphasized as the last act of love. The decision to end a pet’s life is difficult, and it made me consider what I could do to improve their lives before it became the only option. Witnessing countless senior pets return for med refills to treat arthritis, pain, and other age-related conditions, as well as my experience assisting with euthanasia, I recognized the need for a shift in the management of the aging process. I was drawn to animal physical therapy, and it is my goal to be certified in canine rehabilitation. Meds provide short-term relief, but movement and exercise can provide pets with strength and mobility to maintain independence with less pain as they age. Thus, my goal is to help improve a pet’s quality of life while also empowering clients with the tools and education to continue home treatment. This care extends to the pet’s last breath, where I can further educate clients about humane euthanasia to relieve their pet’s suffering. Jesse was the first euthanasia I saw, but since then I have assisted countless others. Each time the grief is no less real, but as a vet, I can work with clients to develop a care plan that supports animals from their first breath to their last.

The world is a diverse place and those that serve it should reflect that. The lack of diversity in the veterinary profession is harming clients and the pets being treated. I am confident that an ongoing open conversation around diversity and inclusion will lead the field in the right direction so that pets experience the best quality of life and owners have the education and resources to improve it. I can make a positive commitment to this effort by raising financial awareness. During my undergrad, the focus was on the academic challenge of getting into vet school. I sat through lectures on how to keep up my grades but what I needed to know was the debt load that lay ahead and how to manage my money. I see how cost and debt management are roadblocks for me and some of my minority peers. With financial counseling, we can learn feasible ways to finance our education, hopefully diversifying the applicant pool. This would allow students like myself to be in a better position to attend school, explore our interests, and utilize our skills for the betterment of human and animal health. Also, there is a rightful focus on the mental health of vets and vet students. I may not face the additional stressors that minority students encounter (e.g., isolation or outright discrimination) but I do find myself experiencing disconcerting thoughts telling me I have no value among other students. Being watchful and aware of the unique issues facing different groups of people should be an integral part of mental wellness programs. It is my goal to take part in such initiatives. I believe that if the mental health of students and professionals is openly addressed, then chances for interpersonal and intellectual growth become available. Finally, I can contribute to an inclusive and diverse environment through my career intentions to help senior pets live their golden years with less pain. My goal is to become certified in animal (canine) rehabilitation where I can improve a pet’s mobility, independence, and quality of life. Most pet parents don’t even recognize that this field exists. Physical therapy as something done after surgery is recognized, but there is more to it than that. Adult and senior pets can reap tremendous benefits from rehabilitation, so as I pursue this field, I can educate clients about the aging process. Pain meds are often an important part of treatment, but I can help clients see that movement, exercise, and strength-building are just as crucial. I can work with owners to build their pet a unique therapy plan that keeps their pet as happy, active, and mobile as possible. Under such guidance, clients can be encouraged to continue treatment and recommend the services to others, whereby even more pets can reap these benefits. Hence, at a time when people’s love for their pets transcends societal circumstances, I hope to bring my talents, insight, and experiences to the profession to serve humans and animals.

Dear Five, You have given my life so much meaning How can I ever thank you When it’s all said and done Your memory will stick with me forever When thoughts race through my mind You slow them down FIVE...four...three...two...one My lifeline, my grip To pull me on my journey Across the raging river Flowing through my body ...FIVE… Unearthing manic patterns Causing me to stand still Held bound by a force Outside my realm of conscious ...four… A deep inhale Of life’s finest air Traveling in a square path Right before my eyes ...three… In, hold, out In, hold, out In, hold, out In hold, out It will be okay, Won't it? I can get through, Can’t I? ...two… The world opening The clouds parting The sun eradicating The dark in my mind ...one… Thank you for getting me through, Letting me focus on what matters, The simple count Beginning with five.

My childhood was spent taking care of family dogs, cats, and cavies. This required familiarization with each species’ needs. My active role in their treatment was the foundation for my pursuit of veterinary medicine. It fostered my desire to educate and empower others to have an active role in their pet’s lives. My academic endeavors, specifically my undergrad studies in biology, add to my knowledge and understanding of the field. I was fortunate to take Diseases That Changed the World since it explored diseases that emerged from wildlife hosts to infect humans and emphasized the importance of aseptic techniques given antibiotic resistance. Other courses like Organic Chemistry helped me think more critically, and this skill can be used when diagnosing patients. I had always imagined veterinary medicine as saving lives, curing ailments, and alleviating pain to improve an animal’s quality of life. It was not until I worked as a vet assistant that I was exposed to its multifaceted attributes. I performed my share of tech duties during a day’s shift. Yet, the moments I worked alongside Dr. Ruble, Dr. Bollens III, and other vets were most significant in developing my interest in veterinary medicine. When Dr. Ruble asked me to pull up a dog’s x-rays on the computer, I thought it odd that he would have me do this since the dog was already deceased. I found it stranger when he asked me to look at the images with him, but it was now I realized Dr. Ruble was more than a vet. He was a teacher, devoted to teaching me. Also, one would think that client interactions would be rushed and impersonal at a high-volume clinic, but Dr. Bollens III knew his patients adeptly. Following him into exam rooms, I noticed how he greeted clients by name and asked about their lives while maintaining efficiency and diligence in treating their pet. Working under their guidance taught me that veterinary medicine encompasses more than just hard science. It’s also about the feelings, concerns, strengths, and struggles of people and animals. This lesson underlies my goals in the field. I observed many senior pets come in for pain and decreased mobility as a result of age, injury, or disease-related conditions. Most often, the vet would prescribe pain meds and clients would be told to take it slow with their pet. This made me ponder other options, which led me to the field of canine rehabilitation for which I aim to become certified. Shadowing a licensed vet tech certified in the field, I learned that physical therapy is more than just something done after surgery. Movement is medicine, and senior pets can reap tremendous benefits if the focus is put on improving mobility, strength, and function. Most pet parents are unaware that the field exists, so using my mentor’s teaching approaches, I can educate clients on the importance of getting their pet moving, helping them build strength, and helping them establish an exercise routine involving more than just walks. An understanding of physical therapy combined with problem-solving skills to develop and progress a certain plan of care focused on client education, therapeutic exercises, and therapy techniques, makes a successful rehabilitation professional. My experiences inspire me to set goals, actively listen, and thoughtfully communicate. As a vet, I hope to hone these skills to help pups improve their independence, empowering their parents along the way so that they can live their golden years to the best quality.

I am not only a daughter, twin, and student, but also an anorexic. Ten years ago, I would have denied that I had a mental illness because, in my eyes, I was healthy. Currently, I am persevering through recovery. The journey has been exhausting, but I am proud of where I am today. What people fail to recognize about eating disorders is that they are not all about food. Instead, they are coping mechanisms to deal with emotions. Were they solely about food, treatment would be simple - just eat. From experience, recovery is not possible if you are not in a space to endure it. At the beginning of my illness, I was admitted to hospitals and a residential facility. At this time in my life, I was a skeleton both in appearance and in spirit. My days were spent obsessing about food, calories, and body image. I lost friendships and missed out on creating memories with my family. I never had energy and no matter the time of year, I was always cold. Yet, I couldn't imagine life without my disorder - it seemed to have become a part of my identity. However, even amid my eating disorder, my dedication to becoming a small animal veterinarian has never wavered. This has been a goal of mine since I can remember, and it has served as motivation for me throughout my recovery. How can I take care of animals if I can’t take care of myself? I was faced with the realization that I could not take care of others if I was physically not here - if I was not alive. As terrifying as it sounded, I could not let my life become another statistic. As a vet, I would need energy, focus, skill, flexibility, communication, patience, strength, intuition, and most importantly, confidence and compassion not only for animals but also for myself. The amount of time I have spent criticizing my body and judging my actions is immense, but I am learning to accept myself for what it has done and what it can do. I understand that my eating disorder may be present throughout my life. Recovery is not linear, but I want to reach a point where this illness has no control over me. If negative thoughts arise, I can acknowledge them and let them pass without judgment. My mental illness may have convinced me that it was keeping me safe, but I realize I have much more to offer. Mindfulness is a practice I incorporate into my daily life. I practice paying attention on purpose, with purpose, in the present moment, and without judgment, so I can consider what’s important and what matters most. I highly recommend this technique because it has allowed me to put into perspective what is most important in my life. I can recognize that years from now, it won’t matter that I ate a muffin for breakfast, and it won’t matter that I received a B on an Analytical Chemistry exam. What will matter was how I treated myself and others – that is, how I spent time creating meaningful memories with friends and family. My eating disorder has caused me to miss out on precious moments, but I no longer want to live my life on the sidelines because I have much to give. So, although I have a mental illness, I am still capable of achieving great things. I will use my strength, motivation, intelligence, and importantly, my perseverance to be admitted into veterinary school and become Dr. Contestabile, DVM.

Food is just food - or so I’m told. Then why is this so hard to believe? Food is energy - I know. Carbohydrates are what brains consume for fuel - I know. Fats insulate our bodies and surround our cells - again, I know. Yet, every time I encounter food, my heart pounds, my palms sweat, and my mind races with negative, judgmental thoughts. If food is just food, then why can’t I “just eat.” Long story short, I suffer from anorexia nervosa, an eating disorder. Diagnosed ten years ago, my attempt to lose a few pounds led me down a dark road I am still struggling to find my way from. As I saw it, food was either “good” or “bad.” “Good” foods were those that were safe to eat: egg whites, plain yogurt, fruit, vegetables, rice cakes, chicken, and fish. In other words, they were low-calorie, low-fat, and low-sugar. “Bad” foods were those I had to avoid: red meat, bacon, mayo, dressings, candy, bread, pastries, fast food, and frozen foods. These were foods higher in calories, fat, sugar, carbohydrates, and sodium. The lists are incomplete, but they represent how limited my intake was. I was strict about eating at certain times and if I missed one, then I would have to wait until the next to eat. I hid food, and no matter what, I had to take the smallest portions. I instinctively counted calories because the food was terrifying. I dreaded feeling full because it made me feel utterly disgusting. I was caught in a downward cycle of hating my body and my identity seemed connected. After years of treatment, I still struggle with anorexia, but I am better equipped with tools to help me through recovery. One of these tools is nutrition education. Taking a step back and understanding food for what it is helps me rationalize what it will do for my body. For instance, carbohydrates will break down into glucose monomers. Whether you eat white bread, apples, or a pastry, your body breaks down carbohydrates into the same molecule - glucose. So, food is fuel. It has taken me ten years to understand this. As a biology major, I am interested in how the body metabolizes food, so thinking of foods in “chemical” terms makes eating fear foods more manageable. I remind myself when I eat a doughnut or banana, I won’t gain weight overnight. I remind myself this food is giving me the energy to function. When I feel thirsty, do I deny myself water? When I’m tired, do I deny myself sleep? Then why do I feel guilty for nourishing my body? Living with an eating disorder is a challenge. Unlike other addictions, I can’t avoid food like an alcoholic avoids alcohol. I need to eat, so I face my fear six times a day. It’s exhausting, but each day gets easier. As I build emotional tolerance and cope with emotions in ways other than restriction, I have learned to sit with uncomfortable feelings, because they will pass. The peak of an emotional experience lasts only ninety minutes. While the time before and after can feel like a lifetime, no emotion lasts forever. I need to learn to “ride the waves” of my emotions to live a fulfilling life. Hence, food has allowed me to understand that food is just food. It provides me with the energy to walk my dog, the concentration to learn in college, the strength to get up each morning, and the ability to make memories with my family.

As a young child, I would hear kids say they wanted to be a firefighter, rock star, or astronaut. As the years progressed, these aspirations would change as they discovered their passion, but my goal has always been to become a veterinarian. Growing up with animals only fueled this desire, and deep in my heart, I made a pact with myself. No matter the challenges I face, I will always give it my all to make this dream a reality. I understand saying you want to become a veterinarian and actually becoming a veterinarian are two completely different things. The former involves talk, imagination, and hope, while the latter requires action, perseverance, and dedication. Being accepted into vet school is a challenge, for there are only thirty-two accredited veterinary schools in the United States. There is intense competition among those who apply. It’s not enough to have good grades. You also have to make an impression to stand out from all other applicants. My pursuit of a bachelor’s degree with a biology major and chemistry minor captures my dedication. La Roche University is preparing me as I take challenging courses through the Honors Institute, as well as granting me access to knowledgeable professors and faculty. I take advantage of the range of courses, such as Psychology, Ethics, Business Management, and Immunology. I actively engage in each class, taking advantage of the professor’s office hours. I take initiative and begin assignments early. For exams, I attend study groups and utilize active recall to learn the material. My time management is ideal so I come to class fully prepared. These qualities are great, but there is still another aspect I need to consider regarding veterinary school - tuition. This is where awards are most needed. Veterinary school comes at a price. This award can help me pay less attention to the cost and focus on my goals. Throughout my educational career, I have taken pride in my 4.0 GPA. I am trustworthy, hard-working, flexible, and dedicated. Any amount of money I receive would be an immense help to me and my family, for I have a twin also pursuing veterinary medicine. The financial reality of pursuing higher education is even more real as graduation from La Roche approaches. This award would push me closer to my career goal by creating less anxiety around the cost and by giving me the push to continue my hard work in school and out. Furthermore, this award would be a positive affirmation for me. At 13, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa, an eating disorder. Close to death, I have undergone rigorous therapy. I still struggle with the disease, but I have learned strategies to cope with it. I am becoming loving toward myself, and with this foundation, I can appropriately care for the animals and people I meet. Receiving this award would confirm that my strength has amounted to something tangible. As stated before, veterinary school is very competitive, and I believe my strength against anorexia sets me apart from others. I took control of and fought for my life even when hope for better days seemed distant. What helped me through these dark times was picturing my future self as a veterinarian. Hence, any award I may receive will be used to help me achieve my childhood dream. Financial help will provide me with the affirmation that I am making a difference not only for myself but for all of God’s creatures. One day, I will become a veterinarian, and I will be better for myself and the world.

My childhood was spent taking care of family dogs, cats, and cavies. This required familiarization with each species’ needs. My active role in their treatment was the foundation for my pursuit of veterinary medicine. It fostered my desire to educate and empower others to have an active role in their pet’s lives. My academic endeavors, specifically my undergrad studies in biology, add to my knowledge and understanding of the field. I was fortunate to take Diseases That Changed the World since it explored diseases that emerged from wildlife hosts to infect humans and emphasized the importance of aseptic techniques given antibiotic resistance. Other courses like Organic Chemistry helped me think more critically, and this skill can be used when diagnosing patients. I had always imagined veterinary medicine as saving lives, curing ailments, and alleviating pain to improve an animal’s quality of life. It was not until I worked as a vet assistant that I was exposed to its multifaceted attributes. I performed my share of tech duties during a day’s shift. Yet, the moments I worked alongside Dr. Ruble, Dr. Bollens III, and other vets were most significant in developing my interest in veterinary medicine. When Dr. Ruble asked me to pull up a dog’s x-rays on the computer, I thought it odd that he would have me do this since the dog was already deceased. I found it stranger when he asked me to look at the images with him, but it was now I realized Dr. Ruble was more than a vet. He was a teacher, devoted to teaching me. Also, one would think that client interactions would be rushed and impersonal at a high-volume clinic, but Dr. Bollens III knew his patients adeptly. Following him into exam rooms, I noticed how he greeted clients by name and asked about their lives while maintaining efficiency and diligence in treating their pet. Working under their guidance taught me that veterinary medicine encompasses more than just hard science. It’s also about the feelings, concerns, strengths, and struggles of people and animals. This lesson underlies my goals in the field. I observed many senior pets come in for pain and decreased mobility as a result of age, injury, or disease-related conditions. Most often, the vet would prescribe pain meds and clients would be told to take it slow with their pet. This made me ponder other options, which led me to the field of canine rehabilitation for which I aim to become certified. Shadowing a licensed vet tech certified in the field, I learned that physical therapy is more than just something done after surgery. Movement is medicine, and senior pets can reap tremendous benefits if focus is put on improving mobility, strength, and function. Most pet parents are unaware that the field exists, so using my mentor’s teaching approaches, I can educate clients on the importance of getting their pet moving, helping them build strength, and helping them establish an exercise routine involving more than just walks. An understanding of physical therapy combined with problem-solving skills to develop and progress a certain plan of care focused on client education, therapeutic exercises, and therapy techniques, makes a successful rehabilitation professional. My experiences inspire me to set goals, actively listen, and thoughtfully communicate. As a vet, I hope to hone these skills to help pups improve their independence, empowering their parents along the way so that they can live their golden years to the best quality.

My childhood was spent taking care of family dogs, cats, and cavies. This required familiarization with each species’ needs. My active role in their treatment was the foundation for my pursuit of veterinary medicine. It fostered my desire to educate and empower others to have an active role in their pet’s lives. My academic endeavors, specifically my undergrad studies in biology, add to my knowledge and understanding of the field. I was fortunate to take Diseases That Changed the World since it explored diseases that emerged from wildlife hosts to infect humans and emphasized the importance of aseptic techniques given antibiotic resistance. Other courses like Organic Chemistry helped me think more critically, and this skill can be used when diagnosing patients. I had always imagined veterinary medicine as saving lives, curing ailments, and alleviating pain to improve an animal’s quality of life. It was not until I worked as a vet assistant that I was exposed to its multifaceted attributes. I performed my share of tech duties during a day’s shift. Yet, the moments I worked alongside Dr. Ruble, Dr. Bollens III, and other vets were most significant in developing my interest in veterinary medicine. When Dr. Ruble asked me to pull up a dog’s x-rays on the computer, I thought it odd that he would have me do this since the dog was already deceased. I found it stranger when he asked me to look at the images with him, but it was now I realized Dr. Ruble was more than a vet. He was a teacher, devoted to teaching me. Also, one would think that client interactions would be rushed and impersonal at a high-volume clinic, but Dr. Bollens III knew his patients adeptly. Following him into exam rooms, I noticed how he greeted clients by name and asked about their lives while maintaining efficiency and diligence in treating their pet. Working under their guidance taught me that veterinary medicine encompasses more than just hard science. It’s also about the feelings, concerns, strengths, and struggles of people and animals. This lesson underlies my goals in the field. I observed many senior pets come in for pain and decreased mobility as a result of age, injury, or disease-related conditions. Most often, the vet would prescribe pain meds and clients would be told to take it slow with their pet. This made me ponder other options, which led me to the field of canine rehabilitation for which I aim to become certified. Shadowing a licensed vet tech certified in the field, I learned that physical therapy is more than just something done after surgery. Movement is medicine, and senior pets can reap tremendous benefits if the focus is put on improving mobility, strength, and function. Most pet parents are unaware that the field exists, so using my mentor’s teaching approaches, I can educate clients on the importance of getting their pet moving, helping them build strength, and helping them establish an exercise routine involving more than just walks. An understanding of physical therapy combined with problem-solving skills to develop and progress a certain plan of care focused on client education, therapeutic exercises, and therapy techniques, makes a successful rehabilitation professional. My experiences inspire me to set goals, actively listen, and thoughtfully communicate. As a vet, I hope to hone these skills to help pups improve their independence, empowering their parents along the way so that they can live their golden years to the best quality.

My childhood was spent taking care of family dogs, cats, and cavies. This required familiarization with each species’ needs. My active role in their treatment was the foundation for my pursuit of veterinary medicine. It fostered my desire to educate and empower others to have an active role in their pet’s lives. My academic endeavors, specifically my undergrad studies in biology, add to my knowledge and understanding of the field. I was fortunate to take Diseases That Changed the World since it explored diseases that emerged from wildlife hosts to infect humans and emphasized the importance of aseptic techniques in view of antibiotic resistance. Other courses like Organic Chemistry helped me think more critically, and this skill can be used when diagnosing patients. I had always imagined veterinary medicine as saving lives, curing ailments, and alleviating pain to improve an animal’s quality of life. It was not until I worked as a vet assistant that I was exposed to its multifaceted attributes. I performed my share of tech duties during a day’s shift. Yet, the moments I worked alongside Dr. Ruble, Dr. Bollens III, and other vets were most significant in developing my interest in veterinary medicine. When Dr. Ruble asked me to pull up a dog’s x-rays on the computer, I thought it odd that he would have me do this since the dog was already deceased. I found it stranger when he asked me to look at the images with him, but it was now I realized Dr. Ruble was more than a vet. He was a teacher, devoted to teaching me. Also, one would think that client interactions would be rushed and impersonal at a high-volume clinic, but Dr. Bollens III knew his patients adeptly. Following him into exam rooms, I noticed how he greeted clients by name and asked about their lives while maintaining efficiency and diligence in treating their pet. Working under their guidance taught me that veterinary medicine encompasses more than just hard science. It’s also about the feelings, concerns, strengths, and struggles of people and animals. This lesson underlies my goals in the field. I observed many senior pets come in for pain and decreased mobility as a result of age, injury, or disease related conditions. Most often, the vet would prescribe pain meds and clients would be told to take it slow with their pet. This made me ponder other options, which led me to the field of canine rehabilitation for which I aim to become certified. Shadowing a licensed vet tech certified in the field, I learned that physical therapy is more than just something done after surgery. Movement is medicine, and senior pets can reap tremendous benefits if focus is put on improving mobility, strength, and function. Most pet parents are unaware that the field exists, so using my mentor’s teaching approaches, I can educate clients on the importance of getting their pet moving, helping them build strength, and helping them establish an exercise routine involving more than just walks. An understanding of physical therapy combined with problem solving skills to develop and progress a certain plan of care focused on client education, therapeutic exercises, and therapy techniques, makes a successful rehabilitation professional. My experiences inspire me to set goals, actively listen, and thoughtfully communicate. As a vet, I hope to hone these skills to help pups improve their independence, empowering their parents along the way so that they can live their golden years to the best quality.

My childhood was spent taking care of family dogs, cats, and cavies. This required familiarization with each species’ needs. My active role in their treatment was the foundation for my pursuit of veterinary medicine. It fostered my desire to educate and empower others to have an active role in their pets’ lives. My academic endeavors, specifically my undergrad studies in biology, add to my knowledge and understanding of the field. I was fortunate to take Diseases That Changed the World since it explored diseases that emerged from wildlife hosts to infect humans and emphasized the importance of aseptic techniques given antibiotic resistance. Other courses like Organic Chemistry helped me think more critically, and this skill can be used when diagnosing patients. I had always imagined veterinary medicine as saving lives, curing ailments, and alleviating pain to improve an animal’s quality of life. It was not until I worked as a vet assistant that I was exposed to its multifaceted attributes. I performed my share of tech duties during a day’s shift. Yet, the moments I worked alongside Dr. Ruble, Dr. Bollens III, and other vets were most significant in developing my interest in veterinary medicine. When Dr. Ruble asked me to pull up a dog’s x-rays on the computer, I thought it odd that he would have me do this since the dog was already deceased. I found it stranger when he asked me to look at the images with him, but it was now I realized Dr. Ruble was more than a vet. He was a teacher, devoted to teaching me. Also, one would think that client interactions would be rushed and impersonal at a high-volume clinic, but Dr. Bollens III knew his patients adeptly. Following him into exam rooms, I noticed how he greeted clients by name and asked about their lives while maintaining efficiency and diligence in treating their pet. Working under their guidance taught me that veterinary medicine encompasses more than just hard science. It’s also about the feelings, concerns, strengths, and struggles of people and animals. This lesson underlies my goals in the field. I observed many senior pets come in for pain and decreased mobility as a result of age, injury, or disease-related conditions. Most often, the vet would prescribe pain meds and clients would be told to take it slow with their pets. This made me ponder other options, which led me to the field of canine rehabilitation for which I aim to become certified. Shadowing a licensed vet tech certified in the field, I learned that physical therapy is more than just something done after surgery. Movement is medicine, and senior pets can reap tremendous benefits if the focus is put on improving mobility, strength, and function. Most pet parents are unaware that the field exists, so using my mentor’s teaching approaches, I can educate clients on the importance of getting their pet moving, helping them build strength, and helping them establish an exercise routine involving more than just walks. An understanding of physical therapy combined with problem-solving skills to develop and progress a certain plan of care focused on client education, therapeutic exercises, and therapy techniques, makes a successful rehabilitation professional. My experiences inspire me to set goals, actively listen, and thoughtfully communicate. As a vet, I hope to hone these skills to help pups improve their independence, empowering their parents along the way, so that they can live their golden years to the best quality.

My name is Becca and I am not only a daughter, twin, and student, but also an anorexic. Ten years ago, I would have denied that I had a mental illness because, in my eyes, I was healthy. I thought I was eating right and sustaining the perfect lifestyle. Currently, I am persevering amid my disorder in recovery. The journey has been exhausting, but I am proud of where I am today. What many people fail to recognize about eating disorders is that they are not all about food. Instead, they are coping mechanisms to deal with emotions. Were they solely about food, treatment would be simple - just eat. From experience, recovery is not possible if you are not in a space to endure it. At the beginning of my illness, I was admitted to hospitals and a residential facility. I was severely underweight, and at this time in my life, I was a literal skeleton both in appearance and in spirit. My days were spent obsessing about food, calories, and body image. I lost friendships and missed out on creating memories with my family. I never had energy and no matter the season, I was always cold. Yet, I couldn't imagine life without my disorder - it seemed to be part of my identity. However, even amid my eating disorder, my dedication to becoming a small animal veterinarian has never wavered. This has been a goal of mine since I can remember, and it has served as motivation throughout my recovery. How can I take care of animals if I can’t take care of myself? I was faced with the realization that I could not take care of others if I was physically not here - if I was not alive. As terrifying as it sounded, I could not let my life become another statistic. As a veterinarian, I would need energy, focus, patience, strength, and most importantly, confidence and compassion not only for animals but also for myself. The amount of time I have spent criticizing my body and judging my actions is immense, but I am learning to accept myself for what it has done and what it can do. I understand that my eating disorder may be present throughout my life. Truthfully, recovery is not linear, but I want to reach a point where this illness has no control over me. If negative thoughts arise, I can acknowledge them and then let them pass without judgment. My mental illness may have convinced me that it was keeping me safe, but I realize I have much more to offer. Mindfulness is a practice I incorporate into my daily life. I practice paying attention on purpose, with purpose, in the present moment, and without judgment, so I can consider what matters most. I recommend this technique because it has allowed me to put into perspective what is most important in my life. I recognize that years from now, it won’t matter what I ate for breakfast, and it won’t matter that I received a B on an Analytical Chemistry exam. What will matter was how I treated myself and others – that is, how I spent time creating meaningful experiences and memories with friends and family. My eating disorder has caused me to miss out on precious moments, but I no longer want to live my life on the sidelines because I have much to give. So, although I have a mental illness, I am still capable of achieving great things. I will use my perseverance to be admitted into veterinary school, becoming Dr. Contestabile, DVM.

My name is Becca and I am not only a daughter, twin, and student, but also an anorexic. Ten years ago, I would have denied that I had a mental illness because, in my eyes, I was healthy. I thought I was eating right and sustaining the perfect lifestyle. Currently, I am persevering amid my disorder in recovery. The journey has been exhausting, but I am proud of where I am today. What many people fail to recognize about eating disorders is that they are not all about food. Instead, they are coping mechanisms to deal with emotions. Were they solely about food, treatment would be simple - just eat. From experience, recovery is not possible if you are not in a space to endure it. At the beginning of my illness, I was admitted to hospitals and a residential facility. I was severely underweight, and at this time in my life, I was a literal skeleton both in appearance and in spirit. My days were spent obsessing about food, calories, and body image. I lost friendships and missed out on creating memories with my family. I never had energy and no matter the season, I was always cold. Yet, I couldn't imagine life without my disorder - it seemed to be part of my identity. However, even amid my eating disorder, my dedication to becoming a small animal veterinarian has never wavered. This has been a goal of mine since I can remember, and it has served as motivation throughout my recovery. How can I take care of animals if I can’t take care of myself? I was faced with the realization that I could not take care of others if I was physically not here - if I was not alive. As terrifying as it sounded, I could not let my life become another statistic. As a veterinarian, I would need energy, focus, patience, strength, and most importantly, confidence and compassion not only for animals but also for myself. The amount of time I have spent criticizing my body and judging my actions is immense, but I am learning to accept myself for what it has done and what it can do. I understand that my eating disorder may be present throughout my life. Truthfully, recovery is not linear, but I want to reach a point where this illness has no control over me. If negative thoughts arise, I can acknowledge them and then let them pass without judgment. My mental illness may have convinced me that it was keeping me safe, but I realize I have much more to offer. Mindfulness is a practice I incorporate into my daily life. I practice paying attention on purpose, with purpose, in the present moment, and without judgment, so I can consider what matters most. I recommend this technique because it has allowed me to put into perspective what is most important in my life. I recognize that years from now, it won’t matter what I ate for breakfast, and it won’t matter that I received a B on an Analytical Chemistry exam. What will matter was how I treated myself and others – that is, how I spent time creating meaningful experiences and memories with friends and family. My eating disorder has caused me to miss out on precious moments, but I no longer want to live my life on the sidelines because I have much to give. So, although I have a mental illness, I am still capable of achieving great things. I will use my perseverance to be admitted into veterinary school, becoming Dr. Contestabile, DVM.

My name is Becca and I am not only a daughter, twin, and student, but also an anorexic. Ten years ago, I would have denied that I had a mental illness because, in my eyes, I was healthy. I thought I was eating right and sustaining the perfect lifestyle. Currently, I am persevering amid my disorder in recovery. The journey has been exhausting, but I am proud of where I am today. What many people fail to recognize about eating disorders is that they are not all about food. Instead, they are coping mechanisms to deal with emotions. Were they solely about food, treatment would be simple - just eat. From experience, recovery is not possible if you are not in a space to endure it. At the beginning of my illness, I was admitted to hospitals and a residential facility. I was severely underweight, and at this time in my life, I was a literal skeleton both in appearance and in spirit. My days were spent obsessing about food, calories, and body image. I lost friendships and missed out on creating memories with my family. I never had energy and no matter the season, I was always cold. Yet, I couldn't imagine life without my disorder - it seemed to be part of my identity. However, even amid my eating disorder, my dedication to becoming a small animal veterinarian has never wavered. This has been a goal of mine since I can remember, and it has served as motivation throughout my recovery. How can I take care of animals if I can’t take care of myself? I was faced with the realization that I could not take care of others if I was physically not here - if I was not alive. As terrifying as it sounded, I could not let my life become another statistic. As a veterinarian, I would need energy, focus, patience, strength, and most importantly, confidence and compassion not only for animals but also for myself. The amount of time I have spent criticizing my body and judging my actions is immense, but I am learning to accept myself for what it has done and what it can do. I understand that my eating disorder may be present throughout my life. Truthfully, recovery is not linear, but I want to reach a point where this illness has no control over me. If negative thoughts arise, I can acknowledge them and then let them pass without judgment. My mental illness may have convinced me that it was keeping me safe, but I realize I have much more to offer. Mindfulness is a practice I incorporate into my daily life. I practice paying attention on purpose, with purpose, in the present moment, and without judgment, so I can consider what matters most. I recommend this technique because it has allowed me to put into perspective what is most important in my life. I recognize that years from now, it won’t matter what I ate for breakfast, and it won’t matter that I received a B on an Analytical Chemistry exam. What will matter was how I treated myself and others – that is, how I spent time creating meaningful experiences and memories with friends and family. My eating disorder has caused me to miss out on precious moments, but I no longer want to live my life on the sidelines because I have much to give. So, although I have a mental illness, I am still capable of achieving great things. I will use my perseverance to be admitted into veterinary school, becoming Dr. Contestabile, DVM.

My name is Becca and I am not only a daughter, twin, and student, but also an anorexic. Eight years ago, I would have denied that I had a mental illness, because in my eyes, I was healthy. I thought I was eating right and sustaining the perfect lifestyle. Currently, I am persevering amid my disorder in recovery. The journey has been exhausting, but I am proud of where I am today. What many people fail to recognize about eating disorders is that they are not all about food. Instead, they are coping mechanisms to deal with emotions. Were they solely about food, treatment would be simple - just eat. From experience, recovery is not possible if you are not in a space to endure it. In the beginning of my illness, I was admitted to two hospitals and a residential facility. I was severely underweight and forced to admit myself voluntarily. At this time in my life, I was a literal skeleton both in appearance and in spirit. My days were spent obsessing about food, calories, and body image. I lost friendships and missed out on creating memories with my family. I never had energy and no matter the time of year, I was always cold. Yet, I couldn't imagine life without my disorder - it seemed to have become a part of my identity. However, even in the midst of my eating disorder, my dedication to becoming a small animal veterinarian has never wavered. This has been a goal of mine since I can remember, and it has served as motivation for me throughout my recovery. How can I take care of animals if I can’t take care of myself? I was faced with the realization that I could not take care of others if I was physically not here - if I was not alive. As terrifying as it sounded, I could not let my life become another statistic. As a vet, I would need energy, focus, skill, flexibility, communication, patience, strength, intuition, and most importantly, confidence and compassion not only for animals, but also for myself. The amount of time I have spent criticizing my body and judging my actions is immense, but I am learning to accept myself for what it has done and what it can do. I understand that my eating disorder may be present throughout my life. Truthfully, recovery is not linear and I want to reach a point where this illness has no control over me. If negative thoughts arise, I can acknowledge them and then let them pass without judgment. My mental illness may have convinced me that it was keeping me safe, but I realize I have much more to offer to the world. Mindfulness is a practice that I incorporate into my daily life - I practice paying attention on purpose, with purpose, in the present moment, and without judgment - so I am able to consider what’s important and what matters at that time. Furthermore, my mental health disorder has continued to strengthen my commitment to the field of veterinary medicine and my pursuit of becoming a small animal veterinarian. The spark of life, love, and support I see in my cat Kevin’s eyes gives me hope that my future will be better. Through subtle, yet significant interactions with my selfless fur baby, I am reminded that I am loved. Along for a rollercoaster of a ride - consisting of highs and lows, successes and relapses - he reminds me of my purpose. Living with a mental illness has its challenges: anxiety, depression, and isolation. There are times when I still can’t find the strength to get out of bed and brush my teeth in the morning - just the thought is exhausting. This is where Kevin has become extremely helpful; his gentle, warming presence teaches me mindfulness. Pulling me from erratic thought into the present moment, he lets me know that I matter. The way he carries his fluffy body across mine reminds me of the value of life. Feeling his calm heartbeat beat and soft purrs vibrate against my chest makes me aware of its fragile and transient nature. My cat is my crystal ball, able to tell me I can survive. I will survive. I am surviving. Hence, the love I gaze at in my cat’s eyes provides me hope that my future will be not only better but possible. It’s because of him I stand up to the inner voices that weigh me down and it’s because of him I fight to make the next right choice for every decision. I recognize and anticipate more years of schooling, but my cat allows me to see the light at the end of the tunnel. After all, my dedication to veterinary medicine is built upon my compassion for animals. I want to provide the love, care, and support to pets that they provide to me. I want to educate pet owners on their pet’s health to ensure no animal suffers. I want to maintain the human-animal bond I am fortunate enough to experience. No one should have to go through life without a friend, and my cat surely fits the role. So, although I have a mental illness, I am still capable of achieving great things. I will use my strength, motivation, and intelligence to be admitted into veterinary school and become Dr. Contestabile, DVM.

My name is Becca and I am not only a daughter, twin, and student, but also an anorexic. Eight years ago, I would have denied that I had a mental illness, because in my eyes, I was healthy. I thought I was eating right and sustaining the perfect lifestyle. Currently, I am persevering amid my disorder in recovery. The journey has been exhausting, but I am proud of where I am today. What many people fail to recognize about eating disorders is that they are not all about food. Instead, they are coping mechanisms to deal with emotions. Were they solely about food, treatment would be simple - just eat. From experience, recovery is not possible if you are not in a space to endure it. In the beginning of my illness, I was admitted to two hospitals and a residential facility. I was severely underweight and forced to admit myself voluntarily. At this time in my life, I was a literal skeleton both in appearance and in spirit. My days were spent obsessing about food, calories, and body image. I lost friendships and missed out on creating memories with my family. I never had energy and no matter the time of year, I was always cold. Yet, I couldn't imagine life without my disorder - it seemed to have become a part of my identity. However, even in the midst of my eating disorder, my dedication to becoming a small animal veterinarian has never wavered. This has been a goal of mine since I can remember, and it has served as motivation for me throughout my recovery. How can I take care of animals if I can’t take care of myself? I was faced with the realization that I could not take care of others if I was physically not here - if I was not alive. As terrifying as it sounded, I could not let my life become another statistic. As a vet, I would need energy, focus, skill, flexibility, communication, patience, strength, intuition, and most importantly, confidence and compassion not only for animals, but also for myself. The amount of time I have spent criticizing my body and judging my actions is immense, but I am learning to accept myself for what it has done and what it can do. I understand that my eating disorder may be present throughout my life. Truthfully, recovery is not linear and I want to reach a point where this illness has no control over me. If negative thoughts arise, I can acknowledge them and then let them pass without judgment. My mental illness may have convinced me that it was keeping me safe, but I realize I have much more to offer to the world. Mindfulness is a practice that I incorporate into my daily life - I practice paying attention on purpose, with purpose, in the present moment, and without judgment - so I am able to consider what’s important and what matters at that time. Furthermore, my mental health disorder has continued to strengthen my commitment to the field of veterinary medicine and my pursuit of becoming a small animal veterinarian. The spark of life, love, and support I see in my cat Kevin’s eyes gives me hope that my future will be better. Through subtle, yet significant interactions with my selfless fur baby, I am reminded that I am loved. Along for a rollercoaster of a ride - consisting of highs and lows, successes and relapses - he reminds me of my purpose. Living with a mental illness has its challenges: anxiety, depression, and isolation. There are times when I still can’t find the strength to get out of bed and brush my teeth in the morning - just the thought is exhausting. This is where Kevin has become extremely helpful; his gentle, warming presence teaches me mindfulness. Pulling me from erratic thought into the present moment, he lets me know that I matter. The way he carries his fluffy body across mine reminds me of the value of life. Feeling his calm heartbeat beat and soft purrs vibrate against my chest makes me aware of its fragile and transient nature. My cat is my crystal ball, able to tell me I can survive. I will survive. I am surviving. Hence, the love I gaze at in my cat’s eyes provides me hope that my future will be not only better but possible. It’s because of him I stand up to the inner voices that weigh me down and it’s because of him I fight to make the next right choice for every decision. I recognize and anticipate more years of schooling, but my cat allows me to see the light at the end of the tunnel. After all, my dedication to veterinary medicine is built upon my compassion for animals. I want to provide the love, care, and support to pets that they provide to me. I want to educate pet owners on their pet’s health to ensure no animal suffers. I want to maintain the human-animal bond I am fortunate enough to experience. No one should have to go through life without a friend, and my cat surely fits the role. So, although I have a mental illness, I am still capable of achieving great things. I will use my strength, motivation, and intelligence to be admitted into veterinary school and become Dr. Contestabile, DVM.

On the afternoon of September 4, 2020, I lost one of my best friends - my guinea pig Moo. He was not only a member of my family, but also a motivation of mine to push me on my journey to becoming a small animal veterinarian. That late summer morning started out like any other day. Moo was his sassy self, making sure to tell me he would only settle for dandelion greens and not romaine lettuce. As usual, my twin and I would take him out of his cage for “exercise” and bonding. He truly was the best guinea pig I could have imagined because that little guy was smart. We had taught him to jump through a hoop, as well as balance himself on his back legs to reach up for food. That day we even took him outside to graze in the yard - one of his favorite activities. But that afternoon, my sister walked into the room his cage was kept in, and the next thing I know she’s calling my name: “Becca! Come quick! It’s Moo!.” Lying listless by his ramp, Moo was covered in blood, barely able to keep his eyes open. His heartbeat was faint but still beating. For the next hour, I called dozens of veterinary hospitals, trying to find a veterinarian who would see him. Unfortunately, I was not able to, but even if I did, I don’t believe they would have changed the next set of events. Unknown to us, a bacterial infection, bumblefoot, traveled into his bloodstream and throughout his body. Within that hour of calling hospitals, he died in my sister's arms. The guilt we felt for his death was immaculate. If only we had treated his condition sooner - but we had. For months prior, he was on antibiotics to prevent infection, but antibiotics do not guarantee an infection will not occur. For a life to be taken so soon - he was only three years old - it caused my family such grief. As previously mentioned, we did not consider him a rodent, for we treated him like family. He was family. My sister and I struggle with mental illnesses ourselves, and Moo was one of our strongest supports. I struggle to make friends and develop social connections with others my age because of my insecurities and self-image, so I spent much time with my furry friends - Moo and my Pitbull Jesse. They offered me the type of love, comfort, and motivation that no one else can offer. Moo’s loss was a catalyst to send me in a downward spiral, but I would not let his death impede on my dreams. My goal to become a small animal veterinarian has been strong since I was a young child. As an aspiring veterinarian, I want to do my part to ensure that no animal has to suffer. I want to ensure the health and well-being of all creatures - large and small. Most importantly, I don’t want anyone to feel alone in providing their pet care. People should not have to worry about finding a veterinarian that will see their pet. For instance, when trying to find an emergency veterinary hospital that would see and treat Moo, I had received rejection after rejection because the veterinarian just did not feel comfortable seeing guinea pigs. Guinea pigs are considered exotic animals and the truth is many veterinarians won’t see exotic animals for basic health care - or emergencies - if they don’t have the expertise or the experience. The vast majority of animal training during veterinary school is geared toward canine and feline medicine, so unless one specializes with exotic animals, they are likely to decline treatment - and this is what happened for Moo. Thus, I would love to work with exotic animals as a veterinarian so I can treat guinea pigs, rabbits, birds, lizards, etc. In most cases, it is not possible to extrapolate from one species to another, so provided the education, knowledge, and training as I would in veterinary school, I would be trained to provide adequate treatment to different pets. From there, I could participate in proper education of basic handling, husbandry, and general care of exotic animals with their owners. Hence, I have the drive to continue my education and gain the experience necessary to become a small animal veterinarian in part because of my life with animals. Death is an inevitable part of life, but I want to do what I can to make the most of the time I have left. I am comforted that one day, I will see Moo again, and I hope he’s just as excited to see me as I am to see him. So for my future, I will become Dr. Contestabile, D.V.M.

My childhood was spent taking care of family dogs, cats, and cavies. This required familiarization with each species’ needs. My active role in their treatment was the foundation for my pursuit of veterinary medicine. It fostered my desire to educate and empower others to have an active role in their pet’s lives. My academic endeavors during undergrad add to my knowledge and understanding of the field. I was fortunate to take Diseases That Changed the World since it explored zoonotic diseases and other courses like Organic Chemistry helped me think more critically. I had always imagined veterinary medicine as saving lives, curing ailments, and alleviating pain to improve an animal’s quality of life. It was not until I worked as a veterinary assistant that I was exposed to its multifaceted attributes. I performed my share of tech duties, yet, the moments I worked alongside Dr. Ruble and Dr. Bollens III were most significant in developing my interest in veterinary medicine. When Dr. Ruble asked me to pull up a dog’s x-rays on the computer, I thought it odd that he would have me do this since the dog was already deceased. I found it stranger when he asked me to look at the images with him, but it was now I realized Dr. Ruble was more than a vet. He was a teacher, devoted to teaching me. Also, one would think client interactions would be rushed and impersonal at a high-volume clinic, but Dr. Bollens III knew his patients adeptly. Following him into exam rooms, I noticed how he greeted clients by name and asked about their lives while maintaining efficiency and diligence in treating their pet. Working under their guidance taught me that veterinary medicine encompasses more than just hard science. It’s also about the feelings, concerns, strengths, and struggles of people and animals. Considering my passion for veterinary medicine, I cannot overlook the financial reality of pursuing this field. I recognize that veterinary students face the highest debt-income ratio of any medical profession. Being awarded the Anna Sage Scholarship can help me pay less attention to the cost of schooling so that I can focus on my goals. Any amount of money I can receive would be an immense help to me and my family, for I have a twin who also desires to become a veterinarian. The financial reality of pursuing higher education is more real as graduation from my undergraduate studies at La Roche University approaches. Awards would push me closer to my goal by creating less anxiety around the cost. It will give me the extra push to continue my hard work in school and out. Furthermore, this scholarship would be a positive affirmation for me. At 13, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. Close to death, I have been hospitalized where I was successfully able to get myself to a healthier level. I still struggle with the disease, but I have learned coping strategies. I am becoming loving toward myself so I can appropriately give love and care to all beings. Receiving this award would mean that my strength has amounted to something tangible. I fought for my life even when hope for better days seemed distant. What helped me through these times was picturing my future self as a veterinarian. If I did not get myself to a healthier state, then I would not be able to make this picture a reality. Hence, this scholarship will be used to help me further my education and become a veterinarian. It will provide me with the affirmation that I am making a difference for myself and all God’s creatures.

It is well known that a dog’s sense of smell is far greater than that of a human’s for different reasons, including a greater number of functional olfactory receptors, bilateral air flow, and a greater brain area dedicated to smell. The use of a dog’s olfactory abilities are useful in detecting diseases and cancer, but what happens if a pathogen can be transmitted to the dog? Specifically, the CDC has advised that dogs cannot get Covid-19, so studies using canines as SARS-CoV-2 detectors are already underway. But what about future infections that could potentially arise and be more readily transmissible among species? The invention of a device that could mimic the dog’s olfactory system would be useful for these cases: an electronic nose. Luckily for us, such a device has already been developed and used to detect COVID-19. The electronic setup uses gas sensors to detect various combinations of volatile organic compounds (VOCs) induced by viral infection and disrupted metabolism in the body. While the use of detection dogs in COVID-19 detection has been encouraging, this method of detection might not be feasible in areas where there are an abundance of people who need testing. When working with live animals, one must consider different safety, health, and ethical precautions for both the animal and humans. For instance, dogs can only work so fast before they fatigue or potentially become distracted. This limitation might serve as a confounding factor to study results, especially if canines fail to detect positive cases. Thus, electronic noses in COVID-19 screening could offer a more practical alternative - one for which a pathogen’s unique VOCs could be stored as a type of memory within the device to ensure repeatability and accuracy of infection detection. Like a storage bank, electronic noses could compare new diseases to pre existing ones, aiding doctors and medical researchers in prevention and treatment. Overall, the future of disease detection depends on containment and control of that disease. Whether it be through the use of detector dogs or electronic noses, detection and screening methods rely heavily on the olfactory system, and advancements in this area are vital to ensure human and animal health.

As a young child, I would hear kids say they wanted to be a firefighter, police officer, or astronaut. As the years progressed, these aspirations would change as they discovered their passion. For me, I have known I want to become a DVM - Doctor of Veterinary Medicine. Growing up with animals only fueled this desire. Deep in my heart, I made a pact with myself: no matter what happens in life, I will always give it my all to make this desire a reality. I understand that saying you want to become and actually becoming a veterinarian are two completely different things. The former involves talk and imagination, while the latter requires action and perseverance. Being accepted into veterinary school challenging, for there are only thirty-two accredited veterinary schools in the United States. There is intense competition among applicants and it’s not enough to have good grades. You also have to make an impression that makes you stand out from other applicants. Another aspect I need to consider is tuition. This is where scholarships are most needed. La Roche University is providing me with steppingstones required to attend vet school: challenging courses through the Honors Institute, engaging professors, and advising faculty. However, college comes at a price. Awards and scholarships can give me what I need to pay less attention to the cost and focus on my goals. Any amount of money I can receive would be an immense help to me and my family, for I have a twin sister who also is furthering her education to become a veterinarian at the same time as myself. The financial reality of pursuing higher education is even more real as graduation from La Roche approaches. Awards would push me closer to my goal by creating less anxiety around the cost. It will give me the extra push to continue my hard work in school and out. Furthermore, this scholarship would be a positive affirmation for me. At 13, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. Close to death, I have been hospitalized multiple times where I was successfully able to get myself to a healthier level. I still struggle with the disease, but I have learned coping strategies. I am becoming loving toward myself, and with this foundation, I can appropriately give love and care to all beings. Receiving an award would mean that my strength has amounted to something tangible. As a scholarship recipient, I could more comfortably attend college without the worry of cost, and by doing so, I can attend the classes that will make me most successful. I feel my strength against anorexia sets me apart from other applicants. I took control of and fought for my life even when hope for better days seemed distant. What helped me through these dark times was picturing my future self as a veterinarian. If I did not get myself to a healthy state - a state for which I could confidently be myself and speak my heart - then I would not be able to make this picture a reality. Hence, this scholarship will be used to help me further my education and become a veterinarian. My personal achievements against anorexia have given me strength to see this end goal, as well as allowed me to see the type of woman I truly am. Financial help will provide me with the affirmation that I am making a difference not only for myself, but for all God’s creatures. One day, I will become a veterinarian, and I will be better for myself and for the world.