As the first person in my family to pursue a four-year college degree, I am opening a door that I never imagined would be part of my story. I spent more than twenty years working as a welder in the vacuum chamber industry, building a stable career and raising a family. College seemed like something that belonged to someone else's story. At fifty-one, I decided to change that story. I returned to school to pursue graphic design, earning my Associate of Applied Science in Graphic Design from Front Range Community College before transferring to Colorado State University. I am now pursuing my bachelor's degree in graphic design while working, raising a family, and continuing my involvement in my community. My decision to pursue graphic design grew out of two parts of my life that I had never expected to combine. For more than twenty years, I played in bands and created album covers, posters, and merchandise for my music projects. At the same time, I spent years volunteering with people in recovery and watching individuals rebuild their lives after addiction and difficult circumstances. I eventually realized that I wanted to use my creativity in service of the people and organizations that had become important to me. My long-term goal is to establish a design practice focused on nonprofits, recovery organizations, and community-based initiatives. I want to create branding, visual campaigns, and communication materials that help organizations reach people who are often overlooked. I want my work to do more than look good; I want it to communicate dignity, hope, and possibility. I am already beginning to pursue that goal. At CSU, I work as the Marketing Coordinator for Adult Learners and Veterans Services, helping connect nontraditional students with resources and opportunities. I also volunteer my design skills with community organizations and continue to serve people in recovery through my volunteer and mentoring work. My education is helping me build the skills necessary to turn that vision into a career. At CSU, I am learning to think more conceptually, solve problems creatively, and understand how design can influence the way people see themselves and the world around them. Every class is another step toward becoming the designer I want to be. The financial reality of returning to school later in life has been challenging. I left a stable career to pursue this degree, and I now balance school with multiple jobs and family responsibilities. I work on campus, deliver for DoorDash, take welding jobs when available, do freelance design work, and drive for a local food rescue nonprofit. Scholarship support would help relieve some of that financial pressure and allow me to focus more of my time and energy on completing my degree. I have learned that education can open doors that once seemed permanently closed. I hope to use the door that has opened for me to create opportunities for others. My goal is not simply to earn a degree and start a new career. It is to use what I learn to serve my community, support organizations doing important work, and show others that it is never too late to pursue a different future.

Returning to school at fifty-one was one of the biggest decisions of my life. I am a husband and father who helped raise four children, and for more than twenty years I worked as a welder in the vacuum chamber industry. My family had built a life around my career, and leaving a stable job to pursue graphic design meant asking all of us to adjust to a very different reality. Raising four children has taught me that being a parent doesn't come with an expiration date. Even as my children have grown, my responsibilities as a father have continued to shape my decisions. Our family has experienced seasons that required significant patience, sacrifice, and support, including walking alongside a child through serious mental health challenges. Those experiences have deepened my compassion and taught me that sometimes loving someone means continuing to show up through circumstances you never expected. When I decided to return to school, I knew that I would have to balance my responsibilities as a husband and father with the demands of being a full-time college student. I also knew that my decision would affect my entire family. We had a mortgage, bills, and all the everyday expenses that come with raising a family. Leaving my career meant that we had to adjust our expectations and learn how to live on less while I pursued a new future. The financial pressure has been one of the most difficult parts. Instead of working a full-time welding job, I now piece together income from several sources. I work 15 hours a week as the Marketing Coordinator for Adult Learners and Veterans Services at Colorado State University. I deliver for DoorDash, take welding jobs when I can find them, and do freelance graphic design. I also drive refrigerated trucks for Vindeket Foods, a local food rescue nonprofit. My schedule often means working around classes, family responsibilities, and the volunteer commitments that have been important to me for years. There have been times when balancing everything has been exhausting. I have had to learn how to manage my time differently and accept that I cannot always do everything I would like to do. I have had to make difficult choices about where my time and energy are most valuable. At the same time, being older has given me a perspective I might not have had as a younger student. I understand why I am in school, and I don't take the opportunity for granted. My family has also been part of my motivation. I want my children to see that it is never too late to pursue something meaningful. I want them to understand that sometimes the most important decisions in life are the ones that require the most courage. Going back to school has shown them that changing direction is possible, even when the safer choice is to stay where you are. Returning to school has also connected me with a community of other nontraditional students. Through my work with ALVS, I now help students who are navigating many of the same challenges I face. I have learned that being a returning student isn't just about overcoming obstacles for yourself. It is also about using your experience to help the people coming behind you. The challenges of returning to school have been real, but they have also made this journey more meaningful. I am not simply earning another credential. I am building a new career, creating a different future for my family, and proving to myself and others that starting over is possible.

For me, leadership through service means being willing to step into the places where people need someone to walk alongside them. I have learned that leadership is not always about having the loudest voice or being in charge. Sometimes it is simply being willing to show up consistently, create a safe place for others, and serve without expecting anything in return. Much of my volunteer work has centered on recovery and helping people rebuild their lives. For several years, I have led Celebrate Recovery groups in Fort Collins, including at Vineyard Church of the Rockies and the Fort Collins Rescue Mission. In these roles, I do more than attend meetings. I help organize and facilitate weekly gatherings, prepare lessons, lead discussions, and create an environment where people can be honest about their struggles without fear of judgment. I also serve as a peer mentor at Harvest Farm rehabilitation center, walking alongside men who are working to overcome addiction and make significant changes in their lives. One of the most meaningful parts of this work is seeing what happens when people realize they are not alone. I have watched people who once felt hopeless begin to rebuild relationships, find purpose, and believe that their future can be different from their past. Those experiences have taught me that service is not about rescuing people. It is about walking beside them long enough for them to discover their own strength and hope. My commitment to service extends beyond recovery work. I volunteer with Vindeket Foods, helping redistribute rescued food to families in need throughout Northern Colorado. I also contribute my graphic design skills to community organizations such as Love FoCo, using the skills I am developing at Colorado State University to support organizations that serve others. At CSU, I work as the Marketing Coordinator for Adult Learners and Veterans Services, where I help support other nontraditional students through outreach, communication, and community building. I believe leadership through service is important because communities are strengthened when people stop asking, "What can I get?" and start asking, "What can I give?" Service creates connections between people who might otherwise never meet and reminds us that our individual talents can become something much larger when we use them for others. My own path has taught me that leadership does not require a particular age, title, or position. I spent more than twenty years as a welder before returning to school at fifty-one to pursue graphic design. Now, I am learning to combine my creative skills with my commitment to service. Whether I am leading a recovery group, mentoring someone through a difficult season, rescuing food, or creating a design for a nonprofit, I see each opportunity as another way to contribute. To me, servant leadership is ultimately about showing up. It is choosing to be present, choosing to listen, and choosing to use whatever gifts you have to make someone else's path a little easier. I believe that when we lead through service, we don't just change individual lives, we help create communities where people feel valued, supported, and capable of becoming something more.

Being the first person in my family to pursue a four-year college degree is meaningful to me because I am not simply earning a degree—I am creating a path that didn't exist before me. At fifty-four years old, I am also proving that education does not have an expiration date and that it is never too late to change the direction of your life. For more than twenty years, I worked as a welder in the vacuum chamber industry. I had built a stable career and a life around that work, but over time I began to feel that I had more to offer. I had always been drawn to creativity, and for more than two decades I played in bands and designed our album covers, posters, and merchandise. At the same time, I spent years volunteering with people in recovery, watching individuals rebuild their lives after addiction, homelessness, and difficult circumstances. Eventually, I realized that I wanted to combine those two parts of my life: creativity and service. At fifty-one, I made the difficult decision to leave my welding career and return to school to pursue graphic design. I earned my Associate of Applied Science in Graphic Design from Front Range Community College with a 4.0 GPA and then transferred to Colorado State University to pursue my bachelor's degree. Being a first-generation college student has meant learning how to navigate a world that was unfamiliar to me. I have had to figure out financial aid, scholarships, transferring credits, balancing work and school, and what it means to pursue a professional career in a field completely different from the one I spent most of my adult life in. There have been moments when the path forward wasn't obvious, but each challenge has reinforced my belief that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. At CSU, I work as the Marketing Coordinator for Adult Learners and Veterans Services, helping support other nontraditional students as they navigate higher education. My own experience has made me especially passionate about helping people who may wonder whether they belong in college or whether it is too late for them to begin. I want my presence at CSU to demonstrate that people from different backgrounds and generations have something valuable to contribute. My long-term goal is to build a career in graphic design focused on nonprofits, recovery organizations, and community-based initiatives. I want to use visual storytelling, branding, and communication to help organizations reach people who are often overlooked and to create work that communicates dignity, hope, and possibility. Being the first in my family to pursue a four-year degree means I am changing more than my own future. I am showing the people around me that education can open doors at any stage of life. I hope my journey encourages others in my family and community to believe that they, too, can pursue something they once thought was out of reach. I may have started this journey later than many students, but I have learned that starting late is not the same as starting too late. My education is giving me the opportunity to build a new future while creating a path that I hope others will be able to follow.

I spent more than twenty years building vacuum chambers as a welder before I ever imagined I would become a graphic design student. Welding provided a stable career and allowed me to support my family, but over time I began to realize that while I enjoyed the work, it wasn't where I felt called to make my greatest impact. For years, I volunteered with people in recovery, walking alongside men and women rebuilding their lives after addiction, homelessness, and broken relationships. Creativity had always been part of my life. For more than twenty years, I played in bands throughout Colorado, designing our album covers, concert posters, and merchandise. Although I loved the creative process, I never imagined it could become a career. Returning to college at fifty-one meant leaving behind a steady income, trading certainty for classrooms, deadlines, and financial uncertainty. It was one of the hardest decisions my family and I have ever made, but it was also one of the most meaningful. After earning my Associate of Applied Science in Graphic Design with a 4.0 GPA from Front Range Community College, I transferred to Colorado State University to continue pursuing my bachelor's degree. My first day at CSU almost became my last. I arrived at orientation with only $1,000 in financial aid and wasn't sure I could afford to attend. Staff members from Adult Learners and Veterans Services (ALVS) encouraged me to file a financial aid appeal and convinced me to interview for a student marketing position even though I wasn't sure I would be enrolling. My appeal was approved, I was hired, and that single day completely changed the direction of my life. Today I work as the Marketing Coordinator for ALVS while attending CSU full-time. Supporting other adult learners has become one of the most rewarding parts of my education because I understand firsthand the challenges of returning to school later in life. Every day I have the opportunity to encourage students who, like me, are balancing family responsibilities, work, and academics while pursuing a second chance. Outside the classroom, my commitment to community continues to shape everything I do. I lead Celebrate Recovery groups in Fort Collins, mentor men at Harvest Farm rehabilitation center, volunteer with Vindeket Foods, and contribute graphic design work to organizations like Love FoCo. These experiences have shown me that thoughtful communication and strong visual storytelling can help people feel seen, welcomed, and valued. They have also shaped my career goals. After graduation, I plan to build a graphic design practice focused on nonprofits, recovery organizations, and community-based initiatives. I want to create branding, awareness campaigns, and visual communication that help organizations reach more people and tell their stories with dignity and authenticity. My education at CSU is giving me the creative and conceptual tools to combine design with the service work that has already become my life's passion. Returning to college in my fifties has taught me that education is about much more than earning a degree. It is about becoming the kind of person who can use their talents to make a lasting difference. This scholarship would ease the financial burden my family has taken on during this journey and allow me to continue investing my time and energy where it matters most: serving my community. More importantly, it would represent something I have come to value deeply—that it is never too late for a second chance, and that when people invest in someone willing to start over, the impact reaches far beyond one individual.

I returned to college at fifty-two after leaving a welding career of more than twenty years to pursue a bachelor's degree in graphic design. Going back to school was never going to be easy financially, but my wife and I believed it was the right decision. Like many non-traditional students, I couldn't simply stop working to become a full-time student. Instead, I had to learn how to balance work, school, family, and community service while pursuing a degree that would allow me to serve others in a new way. Today, I work approximately fifteen hours each week as the Marketing Coordinator for Adult Learners and Veterans Services (ALVS) at Colorado State University. I create social media content, digital signage, newsletters, and promotional materials that help connect adult learners, veterans, student parents, and other non-traditional students with resources and opportunities on campus. The job has become much more than a paycheck. As a non-traditional student myself, I understand many of the challenges our students face, and it is rewarding to contribute to a department that helped make my own transition to CSU possible. Outside of my campus job, I continue serving my community through volunteer work with recovery programs and nonprofit organizations. I lead Celebrate Recovery groups, mentor men at Harvest Farm rehabilitation center, volunteer with Vindeket Foods, and contribute design work to organizations like Love FoCo. While these roles aren't paid, they remind me why I returned to school in the first place. My long-term goal is to combine graphic design with nonprofit and recovery work, creating visual communication that serves people and strengthens communities. One semester in particular tested every part of my schedule. I was taking a full course load while working my campus job, trying to earn strong grades, meeting volunteer commitments, and helping support my family. Like many students, I often felt there weren't enough hours in the day. Assignments competed with work deadlines, evenings filled with recovery meetings replaced study time, and weekends became opportunities to catch up instead of rest. The biggest challenge wasn't simply time management—it was learning to prioritize without losing sight of why I was doing all of it. I became much more intentional with my schedule. I planned coursework around work shifts, used breaks between classes to study, and learned to begin projects earlier instead of waiting until deadlines approached. I also accepted that I couldn't do everything perfectly. Some weeks required saying no to good opportunities so I could fulfill the commitments I had already made. Rather than seeing work as something that distracted me from school, I began viewing both as part of the same purpose. My job at ALVS reinforced the communication and design skills I was learning in the classroom, while my education immediately improved the work I was doing for the department. Balancing work and school continues to be challenging, but it has also strengthened my discipline, resilience, and sense of purpose. Every scholarship I receive helps reduce the financial pressure of returning to school later in life. More importantly, it allows me to spend less time worrying about how to pay for my education and more time preparing to use my degree to serve nonprofits, recovery organizations, and the community that has invested so much in me.

At fifty-one years old, I made a decision that many people around me probably thought was irresponsible: I left a stable welding career of more than twenty years to return to school and pursue graphic design. On the surface, it looked like a career change. In reality, it was the result of years of internal struggle, recovery work, and learning how to stop living out of fear. For most of my adult life, I worked in the vacuum chamber welding industry. It was steady work with good pay, and after two decades I had built an identity around being dependable and hardworking. But underneath that stability, I was struggling in ways I kept hidden for years. I spent much of my life believing that weakness should stay private and that asking for help meant failure. I became very good at managing appearances while quietly carrying things I didn’t know how to face honestly. At the same time, I was deeply involved in recovery communities and volunteer work. I mentored men rebuilding their lives after addiction and homelessness, led Celebrate Recovery groups, and watched people find hope after believing their lives were beyond repair. Seeing transformation happen in other people forced me to confront parts of my own life that I had ignored for years. Eventually, I realized that if I truly believed people could change, I had to believe it about myself too. One of the hardest moments of my life was admitting the truth about my own struggles to someone I trusted and respected. That moment taught me something important: healing only begins when honesty begins. Education became part of that process for me. Going back to school wasn’t just about learning software or earning a degree—it was about rebuilding my life with intention instead of fear. I started at Front Range Community College, where I earned my Associate degree in Graphic Design while balancing work, family responsibilities, and community involvement. I graduated with a 4.0 GPA and transferred to Colorado State University to pursue my bachelor’s degree. The transition has not been easy financially. My wife and I still support a household while living on a fraction of the income we once had. I work while attending school full-time, deliver food between classes, and continue volunteering in recovery and community programs throughout Fort Collins. But despite the difficulty, I know I made the right decision. The struggle I continue to rise above is not just financial uncertainty or returning to school later in life. It is learning to live honestly instead of hiding behind fear, shame, or the expectations I built for myself over decades. Education gave me the opportunity to start over and pursue meaningful work that combines creativity with service to others. Today, my goal is to use graphic design to support nonprofits, recovery organizations, and underserved communities through branding, outreach, and visual storytelling. I want my work to help people feel seen and valued, especially people who believe they have made too many mistakes to begin again. One of the greatest lessons I’ve learned is that it is never too late to change direction. Sometimes the hardest thing a person can do is believe that a new future is still possible.

I spent over twenty years working as a welder in the vacuum chamber industry before returning to school at fifty-one to pursue graphic design. Creativity had always been part of my life long before I saw it as a career path. For years I played in touring bands and designed our album covers, posters, and merchandise, but I never had the technical skills to fully bring my ideas to life. At the same time, I was deeply involved in recovery ministry and community service, walking alongside people rebuilding their lives after addiction, homelessness, and incarceration. Those experiences became the foundation of my creative voice. What inspires me most is transformation. I’m inspired by people who are learning to believe they still have value after years of shame or failure. I’m inspired by underground music culture, emotionally honest storytelling, and visual art that communicates something real rather than something polished and empty. My years working in recovery communities have taught me that people connect most deeply with authenticity, and I try to bring that honesty into my design work. My creative voice is shaped by a combination of blue-collar work, music culture, and community service. Spending two decades welding taught me precision, discipline, and problem-solving, while music and design taught me expression and emotion. I think people would describe my work as conceptual, raw, and emotionally driven. Much of my work explores themes of identity, mental health, struggle, hope, and restoration. Several of my projects have been featured in exhibitions and publications, including the Digital Alchemy Design Exhibition, Flow State Design Exhibition, and AVANTART Magazine. After earning a 4.0 GPA at Front Range Community College, I transferred to Colorado State University, where I continue to grow both conceptually and technically as a designer. My dream is to build a creative career focused on nonprofits, recovery organizations, and community-based work. I want to create branding, awareness campaigns, and visual systems that help overlooked people feel seen and respected. Design has the power to communicate dignity and humanity, especially for people who are often ignored by society. I don’t just want to make visually interesting work — I want to create work that genuinely helps people. Community involvement is already a major part of my life. I work as the Marketing Coordinator for Adult Learners and Veterans Services at CSU, where I help support nontraditional students navigating higher education. I also lead Celebrate Recovery groups in Fort Collins, mentor men in recovery through Harvest Farm rehabilitation center, volunteer design work for Love FoCo community resource center, and drive refrigerated trucks for Vindeket Foods, helping redistribute rescued food to families in need. Returning to school later in life has taught me that creativity and service do not have to exist separately. My goal is to combine both through work that tells honest stories, builds connection, and reminds people that change is possible no matter where they come from.

Recovery isn’t just about quitting a substance or a habit, it’s about digging deep into the past to uncover the pain, patterns, and wounds that fueled addiction in the first place. Real recovery means facing those hard truths with honesty, courage, and humility, and then choosing every day to live differently. For me, recovery is not passive, it's active. It’s showing up for myself and for others. In the 12th Step, we’re taught to give back, and I’ve found that service is what fuels my healing. I lead two Celebrate Recovery groups one at my church and one at a homeless shelter, and I’ve shared my testimony in prisons. Every time I walk with someone else through their struggles, I’m reminded of how far I’ve come and how much hope there really is. Recovery also means sacrifice and change. After more than 20 years in welding, I left behind a steady paycheck to return to school for graphic design while also working toward becoming a licensed addiction counselor. This choice has severely limited my income, but it reflects my commitment to building a life that serves others and makes a real impact. Most of all, recovery means freedom, purpose, and hope. It gave me back my life and my family. It taught me that our deepest struggles can be transformed into strength, and that healing grows when it’s shared.

Hi, my name is Brian Villers. I'm a first-generation college student in my 50s, pursuing a degree in Graphic Design at Colorado State University. Like Kalia, I believe in living with excellence and never giving up on your dreams — mine just took a little longer to find. After 25 years in welding and manufacturing, I made a life-changing decision to go back to school. It wasn't just about changing careers; it was about changing my entire life and finding ways to give back more meaningfully. I've had my share of struggles, including addiction, but recovery taught me that our lowest points can become our greatest strengths. Now I spend much of my time helping others rebuild their lives. I lead Celebrate Recovery groups at the Fort Collins Rescue Mission and my church, showing up consistently because I know how much it matters when someone believes in you. Every week, I volunteer with Vindeket Foods, driving a refrigerated truck to rescue thousands of pounds of groceries that would otherwise go to waste. I also mentor men coming out of addiction at Harvest Farm — the same place that helped me when I needed it most. Like Kalia served on the Black Student Union executive board, I've learned that real leadership means lifting others up. Sports were part of my life growing up — middle school basketball and later intramural volleyball. I wasn't the best athlete, but I loved the team atmosphere and learning to show up for others. That same spirit drives me now, just in different venues. I believe life is a team sport, and we all need each other to win. Right now I'm balancing school, helping my family, and working to build a nonprofit called CR Foco to expand recovery services in our area, especially for young people. One big reason I'm pushing so hard is my daughter, Noelle. She's in college too, working toward a degree in music education. I want her to see that it's never too late to dream big, start again, and live with purpose. We've even done homework side by side at the kitchen table, encouraging each other through late nights and tough assignments. My wife currently carries most of our household income while I work part-time gigs to help make ends meet. Money is tight and the stress is real. This scholarship would ease that pressure so I can keep showing up for my family, my studies, and the people I serve in recovery. More than the financial help, being chosen in honor of Kalia — someone who clearly lived with the work ethic, kindness, and drive to excel that I strive for daily — would mean everything. I may not have the perfect résumé, but I do have a heart that's all-in and a track record of turning my life around to help others do the same. I'm building something that matters — not just a new career, but a legacy my daughter and community can be proud of. Like Kalia, I'm committed to living, loving, laughing, and learning every day. Thank you for considering me.

# David Cross Design Arts Scholarship Essay - Revised At 52 years old, pursuing a degree in graphic design and photography isn't about starting a career—it's about answering a calling. My passion for design comes from a deep, personal need to bridge creativity and healing. I've spent the past seven years in faith-based recovery work, leading Celebrate Recovery groups in prisons, shelters, and churches. These environments often lack the resources to present their work with the dignity it deserves. That's where design comes in—not just to make things look better, but to tell stories that restore hope and dignity to people in crisis. One of the most meaningful projects I've completed is my "Mental Health Stamps" series. Each stamp represents someone close to me who's been impacted by mental illness: my daughter lives with bipolar disorder, I live with anxiety, my father carries PTSD from Vietnam, and my brother-in-law tragically ended his life in a murder-suicide after battling psychosis caused by undiagnosed CTE. I created these stamps to humanize mental illness—to show faces, not labels—and to use design as a tool for empathy. The work lives in my online portfolio not just as art, but as testimony. These stamps serve as a visual conversation starter to reduce stigma and spark awareness. The projects that move me most are ones that carry this kind of personal and social impact. I want to create branding, posters, and awareness campaigns for nonprofits working with addiction, homelessness, and mental health. These organizations often have the heart but not the budget for compelling visuals. I want to be the bridge between grassroots service and professional-level design. I've also begun using photography to document life inside recovery meetings and food rescue missions. I volunteer weekly for Vindeket Foods, rescuing thousands of pounds of food from being wasted. With my camera, I capture the dignity of volunteers, the beauty in reclaimed produce, and the unseen faces behind community resilience. My lens isn't focused on perfection—it's focused on truth. I've worked in Adobe Illustrator, Photoshop, and InDesign, and am now exploring motion graphics and short video storytelling. Digital tools give me the ability to match the emotional tone of a story to its visual execution. Design isn't just visual—it's emotional translation, and the digital toolbox lets me amplify those stories across mediums and platforms. This scholarship would allow me to stay focused on school and service instead of having to sacrifice either to meet basic expenses. More than that, it would be an investment in someone using design as a spiritual and social tool—someone who believes design can heal, illuminate, and empower. I'm not pursuing this degree for a title. I'm pursuing it so I can help others believe in their own worth again—through powerful visuals, honest storytelling, and compassion that can be seen and felt. **Portfolio Link:** https://www.frownedupondesigns.com/graphic-design-portfolio

I'm 52 years old, and I'll be honest - going back to school at this age is scary, but I know it's what I need to do. Like Debra S. Jackson, I am returning to formal education because life has shown me a deeper calling that requires new tools and knowledge. My journey has been marked by struggle, recovery, and ultimately, service. Years of battling addiction taught me the devastating impact of untreated mental health issues and substance abuse. But more importantly, my recovery journey revealed my life's true purpose: helping others find their way back to hope. For six years, I have been mentored by Pastor Jeff Faust and have grown into a leadership role at Vineyard Church of the Rockies, where I now lead Celebrate Recovery. What began as my own healing process has evolved into guiding dozens of others through similar journeys. I've watched broken lives rebuild, families reunite, and individuals discover their worth again. This experience shaped my core values: every person deserves dignity, second chances, and professional-quality support regardless of their circumstances. However, I've witnessed a critical gap in how we serve vulnerable populations. Many nonprofits working with homeless individuals, mental health centers, and recovery organizations struggle with outdated materials and unclear messaging that doesn't reflect the inherent worth of the people they serve. These organizations often cannot afford professional creative services that could dramatically improve their outreach. That's when it hit me - I could combine both things I'm passionate about. I am pursuing education in graphic design and photography alongside my alcohol and drug counseling license. This will allow me to serve my community on multiple levels – creating compelling visual communications that break through stigma while providing the direct human connection that sustains recovery. This isn't about getting a degree to advance my career. At 52, I'm way past that. This is about doing better for the people who trust me to help them. Like Debra Jackson, I plan to leverage my creative and clinical training to elevate the conversation around addiction, homelessness, and mental health. Professional-quality design and photography can transform how society views these issues, while evidence-based counseling practices provide support that truly saves lives. The financial reality of returning to school at this stage while maintaining my current community commitments presents significant challenges. This scholarship would provide crucial support as I balance coursework with my ongoing leadership responsibilities at Celebrate Recovery, allowing me to focus on studies without compromising the service I provide to individuals who depend on our program. Here's what I want to happen after I graduate: a future where every nonprofit serving vulnerable populations has access to professional-quality creative services, where recovery programs are supported by counselors who understand both clinical and creative aspects of healing, and where communities have leaders who bridge the gap between professional services and grassroots support. At this stage of my life, I'm not pursuing education for traditional career advancement. I'm seeking tools to amplify the impact I'm already making and to demonstrate that second chances – whether in recovery or education – can create extraordinary transformation. Look, I'm not going to lie - I need this scholarship. But it's not just about the money; it's an investment in a vision where art, education, and healing converge to create lasting community change. Just as Debra Jackson's return to education opened new doors, my educational journey will enable me to serve at a level worthy of the trust my community has placed in me.

Art has the power to transform lives, and I believe this transformation happens not just through beauty, but through connection and understanding. My passion lies at the intersection of visual arts and community education, where graphic design and photography become tools for healing and hope. Growing up, I witnessed firsthand how addiction and mental health challenges can devastate families and communities. These experiences ignited my desire to serve those facing similar struggles, but I knew I wanted to approach this mission differently. While many focus solely on direct counseling, I recognized that effective outreach requires compelling visual communication that breaks through stigma and reaches people where they are. My educational journey is preparing me to bridge the gap between professional creative services and community need. Through my studies in graphic design and photography, I'm developing the technical skills to create high-quality visual content that nonprofits desperately need but rarely can afford. Simultaneously, I'm working toward my alcohol and drug counseling license, understanding that true community impact requires both behind-the-scenes support and face-to-face connection. This dual approach reflects my belief that education and the arts must work together to create lasting change. Visual literacy is cultural literacy – when we help organizations communicate their missions clearly and compassionately, we're educating the broader community about resources, reducing barriers to seeking help, and challenging misconceptions about addiction and mental health. My plan is to provide professional-quality graphic design and photography services to nonprofits serving homeless populations, mental health centers, and recovery organizations. These groups often struggle with outdated materials, unclear messaging, or imagery that doesn't reflect the dignity of the people they serve. By offering my creative skills, I can help them reach more people who need their services while elevating the conversation around these critical issues. Concurrently, I will run recovery support groups, applying my counseling education directly to help individuals navigate their healing journeys. This combination allows me to impact my community on multiple levels – creating the materials that bring people to services and providing the human connection that keeps them engaged. Like Alice M. Williams, who helped first-graders read at fifth-grade level by exceeding expectations, I want to exceed what people expect from both artists and counselors. I want to show that creativity and clinical practice can work together, that beautiful design can serve social justice, and that every person struggling with addiction or homelessness deserves materials and services that reflect their inherent worth. Through my degree, I'm not just learning skills – I'm preparing to be a bridge between worlds that too often remain separate. My community will benefit from having someone who understands both the power of visual storytelling and the complexity of human healing, someone committed to ensuring that the most vulnerable among us have access to both professional-quality resources and genuine human connection. This scholarship would support my mission to prove that when arts and education combine with compassion, extraordinary transformation becomes possible.

I'm Brian Villers, a 52-year-old first-generation college student pursuing Graphic Design at CSU. My journey to this place has been marked by transformation — from personal trauma and addiction to becoming a leader in Celebrate Recovery and mental health advocacy. But my understanding of mental health's devastating reach deepened when it struck my own family in ways I never imagined. Personal and Family Struggle My own recovery from trauma and addiction taught me that healing is possible, but mental health doesn't discriminate. At 18, my daughter had a 4.25 GPA and was headed to Reed College in Oregon — a bright future ahead. Then bipolar 1 disorder emerged, and everything changed. She ended up living on the streets in a manic state for over a year, struggling with addiction alongside other young people in Boulder. As a father and someone in recovery, watching my daughter's descent was devastating. I created a photo journal documenting her experience and the other kids living on the streets, using drugs like fentanyl. This wasn't just advocacy work — it was a parent's desperate attempt to understand and bear witness to a crisis that was consuming my child. The photos captured both the humanity and the heartbreak of young people lost in mental health and addiction struggles. My beliefs about mental health have been shaped by both sides of this battle. As someone in recovery, I learned that addiction and trauma are not moral failings but conditions that respond to community, compassion, and consistent support. As a parent watching my daughter struggle, I've learned that mental health crises can strike anyone, regardless of intelligence, family support, or opportunity. I believe mental health awareness isn't just about conversation — it's about community, dignity, and creative expression. It's about recognizing that brilliant young people can be derailed by brain chemistry, and that our response must be rooted in love, not judgment. My daughter continues to struggle at 21, but I've seen glimpses of her resilience and potential. This reinforces my belief that no one is beyond help, and that the right support at the right time can save lives. These experiences have profoundly affected my relationships. My 33-year marriage to my wife has been tested and strengthened as we've navigated both my recovery and our daughter's mental health crisis. We've learned to support each other through trauma while maintaining hope for our daughter's future. My relationships in recovery communities have deepened as I've shared not just my own story but the ongoing pain of watching a child struggle. This vulnerability has allowed me to connect with other parents facing similar challenges and has enhanced my ability to lead with empathy and authenticity. Over the last several years, I've dedicated myself to creating safe spaces for those in crisis — leading recovery groups at my church, the Fort Collins Rescue Mission, and even a prison program in Sterling. My volunteer work with Vindeket Foods brought rescued nourishment to families in need, and now I'm co-founding CR FoCo, a faith-based nonprofit centered on trauma-informed recovery. My choice to study Graphic Design is deeply personal and urgent. I design materials — flyers, branding, social media visuals — that speak hope and healing to people who feel unseen. My vision is to use design as a tool for transformation, helping nonprofits tell powerful stories that reduce stigma and bring people back from the margins. Every design I create is informed by my daughter's face, by the young people I photographed on Boulder's streets, by the knowledge that effective outreach and compassionate messaging can be the difference between life and death. My career aspirations extend beyond traditional graphic design. I want to specialize in visual storytelling for mental health organizations, creating campaigns that reach young people in crisis and their families. I want to develop resources that help parents navigate the mental health system and advocate for their children. The photo journal I created of my daughter's experience isn't just documentation — it's the beginning of a larger project to humanize mental health and addiction struggles through powerful visual narratives. This scholarship would ease financial strain, allowing me to reduce gig hours and invest more in design projects that highlight mental health voices, from youth outreach to digital campaigns. More importantly, it would support my mission to create a world where young people like my daughter have better access to mental health resources and where families don't have to navigate these crises alone. My daughter's story is still being written. My recovery continues daily. But both experiences have taught me that mental health awareness must be backed by action, community, and creative expression that breaks through stigma and reaches people where they are. Thank you for supporting artists and advocates who are working to make mental health visible in every corner of our community, especially for the young people who need it most.