The first time I entered a psychiatric facility, I didn’t walk in—I was rolled in, strapped to a gurney. My wrists were restrained. My voice was quiet, but inside I was screaming. I had tried to take my own life after being sexually assaulted by someone I once trusted—a family friend. The pain had hollowed me out, and I believed the only way to escape was to disappear. But instead of dying, I ended up in a psychiatric hospital. What I thought would be the end of my story became the moment everything changed. Inside those walls, I met therapists and psychologists who treated me like I was still human, even when I no longer felt like one. I listened to how they spoke, how they asked questions, how they saw people others had given up on. That’s when it clicked—this was what I wanted to do. I didn’t just want to heal. I wanted to help others heal, too. At the time, I was in college studying law. But something about psychology pulled at me in a way nothing else ever had. I started taking classes on the side—human behavior, brain function, trauma response. It all made sense to me. The pieces that once felt broken inside me started connecting like a puzzle. I began to understand myself, and the world, through the lens of science, empathy, and purpose. What makes me uniquely qualified for this field isn’t just my education—it’s my lived experience. I know what it’s like to feel hopeless. I know what it’s like to reach out and not find a hand reaching back. After my inpatient stay, I joined an outpatient program. I kept going to school. I raised my children alone after leaving a long-term abusive relationship. I did everything I could to rebuild—not just for me, but for them. I tried therapy again. One therapist mostly focused on my children, not me. That didn’t help. So I learned to heal on my own. I journaled when I was overwhelmed. I moved my body more, started eating better, and focused on small, daily routines. Cleaning. Cooking. Working. Caring for my grandmother. Getting my kids to school. I clung to structure like a lifeline. Eventually, the nights stopped feeling so heavy. I stopped crying myself to sleep. I stopped missing someone who was never really there. And I started living. Studying mental health became my anchor. I fell in love with the complexity of the brain, the way genetics and environment shape behavior, and the importance of naming and treating mental illness without shame. I saw myself in every lecture and saw the people I want to help in every textbook. Being in this field has never been just a career choice—it’s a calling born from survival. My future goal is to become a licensed therapist. But not just any therapist—I want to be the one people turn to when they think no one would care. I know what it feels like to end therapy because you can’t afford it. I want to change that. I want to open a community-based practice where money isn’t a barrier to healing. Where people can come as they are, with whatever trauma they carry, and feel safe. The worst experience of my life didn’t break me—it built me. It gave me direction, purpose, and a heart that refuses to let anyone suffer alone. One day, I’ll be the voice in someone’s darkness saying, “You’re not alone. You matter. You can come back from this.” Because I did.

I’ve never felt that I belonged to just one place, one label, or one expectation. My identity has always existed in the margins—between cultures, between silence and expression, and between being seen and truly understood. That in-between space, once uncomfortable, became my greatest teacher. It sharpened my awareness, deepened my empathy, and attuned me to the unspoken stories around me. This perspective shapes everything: how I navigate the world, form relationships, handle failure, and even how I dream. I’ve learned to find strength in quiet persistence, to keep moving forward not because I’m always confident, but because I’ve learned to show up even when I’m not. It’s this outlook that drew me to a mission-driven path. I didn’t chase titles or prestige—I pursued meaning. Whether through storytelling, service, or building systems that support the overlooked, I’ve always believed in using my life to bridge gaps. That calling didn’t stem from privilege—it rose from struggle. It comes from knowing what it feels like to doubt your worth and deciding to fight for it anyway. There are days when the journey feels impossible, when burnout drowns out purpose. But then I remember where I started. I recall the resilience my identity gave me. I remember that being underestimated is fuel, not failure. My identity shaped my worldview. But more importantly, it shaped my mission. I don’t just want to succeed—I want to lift others as I climb. That’s what keeps me going, especially when things feel hopeless.

Being the first in my family to attend college brings me an immense sense of pride and a deep-rooted sense of purpose. As a single mother of two energetic boys, I navigate a landscape filled with challenges, yet my unwavering determination to create a better life for them fuels my motivation each day. I have come to realize that education is not merely a means to an end; it is a powerful tool that opens doors to happiness and opportunity. To instill this value in my children, I make it a priority to teach them the importance of punctuality and active participation in school, as I believe these habits will set the foundation for their future successes. Currently, I am pursuing a bachelor’s degree in psychology, with hopes of advancing my education to obtain a master’s in clinical psychology. This academic journey is not just a personal milestone; it is a stepping stone toward fulfilling my ambition of addressing the critical need for accessible mental health care, especially for those individuals and communities that are often overlooked. My aspiration is to work directly with children, veterans, and the homeless, aiming to provide the essential support that can help them overcome insurmountable challenges and restore a sense of purpose in their lives. Through my education, I envision myself making a tangible difference. I want to connect with a wide array of individuals, offering them practical techniques and strategies to navigate their daily lives. My commitment extends beyond direct intervention; I aim to educate families and friends about mental illness, helping them understand how they can best support their loved ones who are struggling. I firmly believe that it only takes one person to ignite a change through knowledge, creating a ripple effect throughout communities. Just as a single teacher can inspire a lifelong love for learning, I hope to be a catalyst for change in the perception of mental health. By working together, we can challenge and dismantle the stigma that often surrounds these issues, fostering a more compassionate and understanding environment for those affected. This vision extends not only to my personal growth and fulfillment but also to the future I aspire to create for my children, my community, and the world at large. My journey is just beginning, but I am committed to making every step count. As stated by Kofi Annan "Knowledge is power. Information is liberating. Education is the premise of progress, in every society, in every family".

Mental health is a fundamental component of both academic performance and personal well-being for students. When students maintain a positive mental state, they experience heightened focus, increased motivation, and improved cognitive abilities, which together enable them to engage deeply and meaningfully with their studies. On the other hand, mental health issues—such as anxiety, depression, and elevated stress levels—can severely disrupt academic progress. These challenges can lead to a decline in productivity, difficulties with concentration, and ultimately, lower grades. It's not unusual for students grappling with mental health issues to also suffer from decreases in self-esteem and confidence, which can create a cycle that exacerbates their educational hurdles. Reflecting on my own educational journey, I have encountered numerous instances where my mental well-being directly influenced my academic success. There have been pivotal moments when I found it necessary to drop courses, miss important classes, or even put my studies on hold altogether due to mental health struggles. These experiences have taught me the invaluable lesson that neglecting my mental health while trying to fulfill obligations to others—or even to myself—often results in greater harm than good. To prioritize my mental health during my time in school, I have developed a variety of strategies that have proven effective. Establishing a consistent daily routine is paramount; I ensure that I incorporate regular physical exercise, maintain a balanced diet rich in nutrients, and strive for sufficient sleep each night to fulfill my body's needs. Additionally, I integrate mindfulness practices into my life, which include taking breaks to step outside, breathe fresh air, and soak up the sunlight. This connection to nature helps to rejuvenate my mind and lift my spirits. Setting realistic and achievable academic goals allows me to maintain motivation and a sense of purpose while studying. I prioritize subjects that genuinely spark my interest, as this passion keeps me engaged and eager to learn. Time management is another crucial aspect; I make it a point to plan my workload carefully to avoid feelings of being overwhelmed. For instance, if extra credit assignments do not significantly impact my overall grade, I choose to prioritize my well-being and forego them instead of adding unnecessary stress. Lastly, I feel incredibly fortunate to have a strong support network in my life. My family and friends provide unwavering support, encouragement, and guidance, helping me navigate the challenges I face and reinforcing positive decisions along my path. Their presence is a comforting reminder that I am not alone in my journey, and they inspire me to prioritize my mental health in all aspects of life.