I’ve always had trouble with making friends and managing my relationships with family. This is due to a combination of factors, including perfectionism, depression, anxiety, and neurodiversity (Asperger’s in my case). At age 15, I was diagnosed with depression. It had already gotten so bad that I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to smile. I struggled long before then. One of my earliest memories is of a time I let someone down and the anxiety I felt. I must have been four at the time, and even then I felt I was a waste of my family’s limited resources. Back then, I used to think that everyone else was given the same obstacles as me. I figured that everyone struggled to understand others, but they practiced more than I was willing to. I thought everyone else struggled to smile like me, but they had friends and so they practiced more. With my family of highly intelligent people – all of which are significantly older than me – I thought everyone in the world was smarter than me. I struggled to make friends. I only had one friend at school for the longest time, and even when I gained more, I was still quite distant with them. After years and years of trying to hide my negative and self-perceived “weak” emotions, I struggled to fully connect with anyone. For many years, therapy did not help me, nor did my medications. Since I lived in the middle of nowhere, the nearest therapist was an hour away. In addition, I am resistant to most types of medication. I tried experimental treatments from ketamine infusions to trans-magnetic stimulation therapy. These too had limited effect. I knew that the only way I could improve my situation was to change my lifestyle, but doing so felt like an impossible undertaking. Leaving my room was exhausting all on its own, and to visit anyone I would have to drive quite far. Living on a college campus only made me feel worse. The noise was deafening to me, and my Aspergers only made it worse. It was the beginning of the pandemic, and everyone was locked in their dorms, including me. I spent my first year barricaded in my room, where my anxieties grew and my depression worsened despite my exceptional grades. Day and night I had this constant tightness in my chest. At night, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. I had to take medication just to fall asleep. All of this boiled over to the point where I tried to commit suicide, but I couldn’t do it. At the time, I assumed it was because my anxiety had gotten the better of me, but now I think it was because even in the darkest of times I am stubborn. Some part of me wanted to turn my life around. I’ve been listening to and feeding that part of me ever since. My mental health became a priority. I decided to go back to school. Since then, I’ve made new friends and have slowly begun to open up to my old ones. I used to think that the world is an endlessly hostile place. That there is more bad in it than good, and that some people were doomed to be miserable for no good reason. While I still have many bad days, I can see that the world is actually mostly good. My goal is to create mental wellness through my own actions, and to work so generational trauma is not a cycle to be passed to the next generation.

I’ve always had trouble with making friends and managing my relationships with family. This is due to a combination of factors, including perfectionism, depression, anxiety, and neurodiversity (Asperger’s in my case). At age 15, I was diagnosed with depression. It had already gotten so bad that I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to smile. I struggled long before then. One of my earliest memories is of a time I let someone down and the anxiety I felt. I must have been four at the time, and even then I felt I was a waste of my family’s limited resources. Back then, I used to think that everyone else was given the same obstacles as me. I figured that everyone struggled to understand others, but they practiced more than I was willing to. I thought everyone else struggled to smile like me, but they had friends and so they practiced more. With my family of highly intelligent people – all of which are significantly older than me – I thought everyone in the world was smarter than me. I struggled to make friends. I only had one friend at school for the longest time, and even when I gained more, I was still quite distant with them. After years and years of trying to hide my negative and self-perceived “weak” emotions, I struggled to fully connect with anyone. For many years, therapy did not help me, nor did my medications. Since I lived in the middle of nowhere, the nearest therapist was an hour away. In addition, I am resistant to most types of medication. I tried experimental treatments from ketamine infusions to trans-magnetic stimulation therapy. These too had limited effect. I knew that the only way I could improve my situation was to change my lifestyle, but doing so felt like an impossible undertaking. Leaving my room was exhausting all on its own, and to visit anyone I would have to drive quite far. Living on a college campus only made me feel worse. The noise was deafening to me, and my Aspergers only made it worse. It was the beginning of the pandemic, and everyone was locked in their dorms, including me. I spent my first year barricaded in my room, where my anxieties grew and my depression worsened despite my exceptional grades. Day and night I had this constant tightness in my chest. At night, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. I had to take medication just to fall asleep. All of this boiled over to the point where I tried to commit suicide, but I couldn’t do it. At the time, I assumed it was because my anxiety had gotten the better of me, but now I think it was because even in the darkest of times I am stubborn. Some part of me wanted to turn my life around. I’ve been listening to and feeding that part of me ever since. My mental health became a priority. I decided to go back to school. Since then, I’ve made new friends and have slowly begun to open up to my old ones. I used to think that the world is an endlessly hostile place. That there is more bad in it than good, and that some people were doomed to be miserable for no good reason. While I still have many bad days, I can see that the world is actually mostly good. My goal is to create mental wellness through my own actions, and to work so generational trauma is not a cycle to be passed to the next generation.

I often wonder what I could have achieved had I been in a better position growing up. I grew up on a small family farm. My family had very limited cash flow, as our assets were tied up in the dairy cows we owned and our farmland. There was always something to be done, with hours each day put aside to milk, feed calves, and clean equipment. During the school year, milking ate what free time we had. In summer, stacking hay and tending to our family garden, which was about a third of an acre, took our schoolwork’s place. As farming tends to go, the amount of money we make fluctuates wildly based on factors outside of our control. We ride the poverty line like an amateur surfer and our garden as well as canning and preserving food was essential. Our shopping was often limited to discount goods, and new clothes were unlikely. Since the age of ten, I’ve tried time and time again to write fiction, but I struggled with the need to be perfect. but I hated everything I wrote. Every draft I wrote has been thrown out. I hate everything I’ve ever written regardless of the praise I have received. I could never be happy with anything short of perfect. Writing that story was my main drive to keep on living, and I failed to write it time and time again. This environment destroyed my mental health. My depression and anxiety almost killed me. At age 15, I was diagnosed with depression. It had already gotten so bad that I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to smile. I had been struggling long before then. One of my earliest memories is of a time I let someone down. I must have been four at the time, and even then I felt I was a waste of my family’s limited money. For many years, therapy did not help me, nor did my medications. Even when my friends and family tried to tell me that I have value, their words fell on deaf ears. I had to leave college at the start of my third semester. I could not focus anymore. I couldn’t even write anymore. It was only due to the support of friends and family that I survived bouncing from one poorly-paying job to the next. More than ever, I felt like a spoiled brat who was only alive because they leeched on others. Life had become a miserable routine of fruitless efforts, endless medicine changes and alternative treatments. A year ago, I tried to commit suicide. The only reason I’m still here is because I was too afraid to pull the trigger. At the time, I assumed it was because my anxiety had gotten the better of me, but now I think it was because even in the darkest of times I am stubborn. I always was, I just didn’t realize it. Since then, I gained a new lease on life. I’ve returned to college and I’m riding a 3.8 GPA. Some would consider that a great achievement. Over my lifetime of writing, I’ve easily written more than half a million words, and my essay craftsmanship has gotten me “A”s with minimal effort. However, it all pales in comparison to what matters. I stared death in the face. He offered to end my suffering in exchange for my soul. I thought my soul was worthless. My life was nothing but pain. Yet, I spat in his face and walked away. Everyone in my life knows I can achieve great things, and I finally decided to listen to them. In addition to my computer science major, I want to get a creative writing minor and finally write that story. I want to write a young-adult story where mental health issues can be explored in a more realistic and meaningful way than it’s often depicted in popular fiction, where it is often depicted as an off/on switch. Through this story, I want to address these issues in a way that as many people – especially young people – can see as possible. I do not want people to go through what I went through. I do not want depression and anxiety to be a barrier to education and success. I do not want mental health to trap people in poverty. If I can write that story and help people like me, that will be my next great achievement. For now, I am content simply to be alive.

Without an understanding of math, our modern world simply could not exist. Computers are the obvious example, but it is strange that again and again, people believe they are bad at math. What they mean, I think, are the more complex applications where the logic can be hard to follow. However, these are the same people that know how to build complex structures or culinary experiences or who administer the right dosage of medicine. While these aren’t as complicated as Calculus, they are still incredibly vital applications of math. People rely on math because it underlies everything. I’ve always had a fascination with how things work. That’s what drew me to Computer Science, as well as Chemistry. Both of these fields use math to create something tangible, be it a program that can play chess or a reaction that can turn hydrogen gas into water. When I was younger, my biggest fascination was video games. I love to immerse myself into fictional worlds, which is what videogames are all about at the end of the day. Younger me didn’t understand how to make one, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to. Before this, I already enjoyed math. Before I could grasp algebra or multiplication, I used to write sprawling lines of simple addition and subtraction and then solve it by hand. It blew my mind when I discovered that video games are built on a foundation of math. I have a history of anxiety and depression, as well as being neurodiverse. My family had a small dairy farm, and as the youngest of 6, chores occupied several hours of my day. It was not my dream, and although it gave me a work ethic, I struggled with my mental health. When I was fourteen, we sold the cows and shifted over to corn production. Finally I was able to focus more on school and my love of math. Drawing increased my knowledge of proportion, writing some of my first fantasy books increased my logic, and I used my love of math to learn programming in C++ and Python. I sailed through my math classes but more importantly, I understood the foundation of math is actually the language of how the universe works. There’s a reason many fundamental laws of science are expressed through equations. My mental health issues struck again in college. My first semester was Fall of 2020, and I was already terrible at adjusting to new environments and making friends. Due to stress, I had to leave in Fall of 2021. I was convinced that college – and by extension, my efforts in my computer science classes – was too stressful for me. I tried many other career paths, but all of them left me feeling empty. In the Summer of 2022, I tried to commit suicide. I felt I was a failure who was too weak to pursue my passions. However, in the darkest of times, my family was there for me. They helped me realize that I wasn’t weak. Therapy, meds, and family support helped me get onto an even plane. But even during this time, applied math was a solace for me, helping me find a rhythm as I looked for meaning and understanding. Math breaks problems into parts and then assembles them. Happiness is a complex equation filled with variables that are overwhelming on their own, but by taking one thing at a time, it becomes a manageable problem that my math-centric brain is so willing to solve.

In my mind, asking someone who’s bounced back from a suicide attempt why mental health is important is like asking someone why it’s important to eat food and drink water. The answer is that a healthy mind is essential to survive. A healthy mind allows life to have meaning. I maintain my mental wellness through walking in nature, interacting with friends and family, and working to uncover my triggers. I’m in therapy. I’ve gone through various medications and alternative treatments. All those things help, but they are not a cure. Depression and anxiety almost killed me. I’m not being hyperbolic about that. At age 15, I was diagnosed with depression. It had already gotten so bad that I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to smile. I had depression for many years before that, as well as anxiety. One of my earliest memories is of a time I let someone down. I must have been four at the time, and even then I felt I was a waste of my family’s limited money. Therapy was limited, and none of the many medications I tried helped. I grew up on a small, quiet family farm where the closest town was miles away and could barely be called a town. The sound was the natural world, including the running water outside my window, the cows, and the wildlife all around me. Because we lived in a valley, trees dampened the sound even further. The daily walks I took for my mental wellness were one of the few refuges I had for myself. As someone who has Aspergers, I am very sensitive to sound, so new environments can be difficult. When I moved to college in Cedar Falls for the Fall of 2020, adjusting to the sounds of traffic, sirens, and constant chatter was agonizing. I had no quiet sanctuary. I spent my first year barricaded in my room, where my anxieties grew and my depression worsened. Day and night I had this constant tightness in my chest. At night, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. I had to take medication just to fall asleep. That summer I moved in with my aunt. Daily walks restarted, stretching to 6 miles or more as I tried to clear my head. By the beginning of my third semester, I had to withdraw from school. My head was filled with static. I could not focus. More than ever, I felt like a spoiled brat who was only alive because they leeched on others. It was only due to the support of friends and family that I survived, bouncing from one poorly-paying job to the next. I never did end up making enough to support myself on my own. Life had become a miserable routine of searching for answers, changing medications and weekly doctor visits. A year ago, I tried to commit suicide. The only reason I’m still here is because I was too afraid to do it. That was the bottom. Once I realized that suicide was not the answer, I finally started working on my mental health again. I work with vocational rehab, and they’ve helped me. Still, it’s hard work, but I was able to return to school for the Spring 2023 semester, with good grades too. I still struggle with my self-hatred and self-destructive ways. It’s a work in progress, but I am in a better place than I have been. I can still talk myself out of going to things because of my anxiety, so I have to continue to search for solutions. Ultimately, like breathing, my mental health is essential.

Since I was a child, I have been fascinated with video games and how they work. They seemed to run on magic and I was determined to make one. I would often draw crude blueprints. In 4th grade, I learned how to do basic animation using Flash and enjoyed drawing online as well. Eventually, I moved to programming and learned C++ for fun. I still remember in 10th grade when I wrote a program that could simplify quadratic formulas, which the teacher quickly pointed out that I couldn’t use on tests. I’ve also learned informally through Coursera, finishing a Google certificate in Python IT Automation. Game designers need a wide background, so in addition to my love for computer science, I’ve developed my creative writing and animation skills. I still remember the first book I wrote with my brother on a tiny notepad featuring my cat and his cartoony adventures with his sidekick. I was 6. These grew into fantasy adventures of good versus evil. Over time, I grew in my skills and realized that just having two blank-slate powerful warriors headbutt each other didn’t make compelling stories. These days, I write and illustrate characters, give them goals that collide and watch the fireworks. I have faced challenges. I grew up on a tiny dairy farm with 45 cows: one of the last ones in Iowa. We’ve struggled through hard times as our income is wildly inconsistent. I’m the youngest of six children. I do value the work ethic my childhood has instilled in me. I put my all into every task I need to get done. I do not give up easily, and when I pause I eventually return to finish what I started. My best example of this is the break I took from college after my freshman year. The isolation of COVID had affected my mental health; I spent a year working through issues and getting therapy to determine who I wanted to be. When I came back to college in January of 2023, I wasn’t ready to commit to a major, so I spent the past semester exploring writing and science. And now, I’m ready. As I start this next chapter in my academic career, I want to focus on Computer Science as a major with an additional focus on art and writing. Some may ask if I could do something more worthy with my degree than building computer games, but I’ve no doubt that opportunities will present themselves within the world. People need joy, and they need to be heard; I believe my diverse skills and knowledge place me in a position to make a difference. Art is a method of conveying ideas, and video games are themselves an art form. I want to make a thought-provoking experience that has the capacity to change someone for the better, and I have friends backing me that believe I could pull that off. That’s why I believe I deserve this scholarship.

I wish that someday I’ll be a version of myself that can support my own weight and not have to rely on others. I do not want to weigh people down. I want to be a version of myself that can help others. I have a passion for writing, though I often burn my drafts because I hate them. To become this future me, I must overcome my self-hate. I want to write a story about people like me who struggle and show the world how to overcome their shortcomings. I have to overcome my own shortcomings first.

My first memory is not a positive one. I recall a younger me that was struggling to understand how to use a toilet, and after one incident, one of my older sisters scolded me. Even all these years later, I can remember it felt like the end of the world at the time. Even at the age of four, I felt like I was a burden on my family. It’s safe to say that I’ve been struggling with mental health and self-esteem for as long as I can remember. I spent many years not knowing what was wrong with me. At age 15, I was finally diagnosed with depression. It had gotten so bad that I genuinely couldn’t figure out how to smile. Medication did almost nothing, and there was little therapy beyond a pill. Unbeknown to me my anxieties were building. I entered college with many unresolved mental health issues. My first semester was Fall 2020. Everyone was trying their best to stay away from everyone else, which only made it more impossible to make friends. I spent my first two semesters barricaded in my room, where my anxieties grew and my depression worsened. Day and night I had this constant tightness in my chest. At night, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. I had to take medication just to fall asleep. I never managed to make any friends on campus. I had stopped contacting my friends from high school. Needless to say, that didn’t help. I had to leave school at the start of my third semester. It had finally gotten to the point where I could not focus anymore. It was only due to the support of friends and family that I survived bouncing from one poorly-paying job to the next. I never did end up making enough to support myself on my own. A year ago, I tried to commit suicide. More than ever, I felt like a spoiled brat who was only alive because they leeched on others. Life had become a miserable routine of searching and failing to find work. The only reason I’m still here is because I was too afraid to pull the trigger. At the time, I assumed it was because my anxiety had gotten the better of me, but now I think it was because even in the darkest of times I am stubborn. Some part of me wanted to turn my life around. I’ve been listening to and feeding that part of me ever since. I’ve been working on my mental health again. After some time, I decided to go back to school. I’ve made new friends and got back in touch with my old ones. My mental health is always something that has shaped me. My experiences with depression have kept me humble. My anxieties have taught me how to keep it together under pressure. While I would never wish poor mental health on anyone, it’s hard to deny that I have managed to make some good out of the poor hand that I was dealt. Though it is because of the hand I was dealt that I had to learn some lessons that other people never had to. I had to learn how to make friends and how to not isolate myself and that failed suicide attempt taught me the value of fighting for my mental health. Since the age of ten, I’ve tried time and time again to write fiction, but never did I have any idea what the core of the story should be, what the message should be, or how to give it any soul. Besides my goal to finish my Computer Science degree, I want to get a creative writing minor and finally write that story. I want to write a young-adult fiction story where mental health issues can be explored in a more realistic and meaningful way. Through this story, I want to address these issues in a way that as many people – especially young people – can see as possible. More importantly, I think there is value in giving the story levity as well. In school, whenever mental health was addressed, I could see my classmates' eyes glaze over. I don’t think discussions on mental health are effective when they are entirely solemn, as doing it this way can make people tune out or feel the fight is meaningless. I still believe the subject needs to be respected, and I will respect it in the story. I think the dark patches of stories need to be balanced by light ones. I believe that’s what separates the dark stories from the edgy ones. I believe that if you can’t make me smile, you can’t make me care. I used to think that the world is an endlessly hostile place. That there is more bad in it than good, and that some people were doomed to be miserable for no good reason. While I still have many bad days, I can see that the world is actually mostly good. As mental health becomes worse and worse with each generation, I believe this is something that children need to understand. I believe this scholarship is the perfect match for me because my goal is to eliminate the stigma associated with mental health in the only way I know how. I do not want people to go through what I went through. I don’t want people to spend so much of their lives not knowing what is wrong with them and what to do about it.