Going to college is my way of finally stepping into the future I have worked toward for years. It means building a life that is stable, purposeful, and grounded in everything I have lived through. College is not just a path for a career to me. It is proof that the hard parts of my life did not break me. Every time I sit down for a lecture or finish an assignment, I am reminding myself that I deserve to be here and that I am capable of moving forward. As a first generation college student, education has always felt like something I needed to figure out on my own. Nothing about this has been simple. I became a mom young, and I have had to build my life piece by piece while carrying responsibilities that most people my age did not have. I have juggled parenting, work, health problems, and the pressure of trying to stay ahead while everything in my world kept shifting. College gives me structure and direction. It gives me a path that leads to a career where I can support my family and still do something meaningful. My goal is to finish my degree in Human Services and continue into a graduate program so I can keep growing in the field. I am already working as a Parent Peer Specialist, and every family I support pushes me further toward my long term goals. I want to be someone who can sit with people in the hardest moments of their lives with empathy and real understanding. I want to be the voice and support that so many families do not get. My education allows me to take my lived experience and turn it into something that can actually change lives. This scholarship would remove a lot of the barriers that keep trying to slow me down. Every month I am balancing tuition, medical needs, and caring for my child. When emergencies come up, school is the thing that almost gets pushed aside, even though it means everything to me. Receiving this support would mean I can stay consistent, stay focused, and stay enrolled without sacrificing the stability of my home. College is my chance to break patterns that have been in my family for generations. It is my chance to show my son that he can build anything he wants. It is my chance to give back to my community with education and training, not just survival skills. When I think about what I want to accomplish, it goes far beyond getting a diploma. I want to become a professional who understands trauma, policy, and real world barriers, and who can advocate for families who feel ignored or overlooked. I want to push for change in the systems that failed me and failed so many others. To me, going to college means choosing a future that is bigger than my past. It means believing in my own potential even when life has made that difficult. It means finally stepping into the career I have always wanted and creating a foundation my son can grow on. This scholarship would help me stay on that path and continue building the life I know I am capable of creating.

Mental health is important to me because it has shaped the way I see people, the way I show up in my community, and the way I push forward in school. Living with bipolar disorder, trauma, and chronic medical issues has forced me to understand myself on a deeper level. I have experienced what it feels like to fight for care, be dismissed, and still keep moving. Those experiences are exactly why I want to help make mental health support more accessible for anyone who needs it. My unique contribution would be using my lived experience to bridge the gap between families, providers, and the people who don’t know how to ask for help. I want to create support that is honest, culturally aware, and rooted in understanding behavior through a trauma-informed lens. When people are understood, they can heal. I also believe support should meet people where they already are. School, home, and community spaces should feel safe to ask for help. My goal is to reduce barriers, normalize care, and make sure no one feels alone when they are struggling.

I grew up watching people fall through cracks that were never meant to hold them, and for a long time I thought that was just the way the world worked. Becoming a parent, supporting family members with serious mental health needs, and navigating my own health struggles showed me how much weight people carry without support. Those experiences shaped the way I move through this field. They taught me that care is not a job. It is a responsibility, and it is something you offer with your whole self. I plan to use my career in human services to build the kind of support that I know my community deserves. I want to be the person families can go to when they feel lost or overwhelmed. I want to be someone who understands the system without losing sight of the humanity inside it. Every family has a story. Every individual is dealing with layers of lived experience, trauma, stress, and hope. I have lived through those layers myself. That is why I show up the way I do. My work now as a parent peer specialist is the foundation of the future I want to build. I sit with parents during their hardest moments. I help them navigate school systems, clinical teams, county services, and the emotional weight that comes with raising a child who has complex needs. I walk them through crisis plans, IEP meetings, and safety planning. I advocate for trauma informed care and I help families understand that they deserve to be heard. The impact I want to make is simple. I want people to feel like they are not alone anymore. I want to continue my education so I can bring stronger skills and a deeper understanding of policy, mental health, and child development into my work. My goal is to eventually move into higher level advocacy and family systems work, possibly running programs or creating trauma informed training and consulting for schools, counties, and providers. I want to take everything I have lived and everything I have learned and turn it into something that changes how our systems respond to families. When you help one family stabilize, you change the way that child grows up, the way that parent heals, and the way the next generation sees the world. That kind of change spreads far beyond one moment or one meeting. Receiving this scholarship would lift a huge weight off my shoulders as a single parent and a full time student. It would give me the chance to focus on what I am learning rather than worrying about how I will cover tuition, books, or the unexpected costs that come with raising a child with special needs. It would help me move forward faster and with more stability, and it would allow me to continue showing up for the families I support without burning out or stretching myself thin. My career is not just about earning a degree. It is about building a future where families are understood and supported, where children receive help early, and where trauma informed practice is the standard rather than the exception. I want my work to make the world safer, kinder, and easier to navigate for the people who are always told to be strong even when they are exhausted. That is the impact I plan to make, and I am ready to keep doing the work.

Mental health matters to me because it is something I have had to navigate my entire life. Living with bipolar disorder and CPTSD has shaped the way I move through the world, the way I study, and the way I show up for my son and the families I support. Mental health is not something I can ignore or push aside. It affects my energy, my focus, and my stability, so I treat it like a core part of my well being. It has taught me to know myself, understand my limits, and create space for regulation. These lessons guide how I advocate for others. As a student, I carry a full course load while working in human services and raising my son. Balancing everything means I need to check in with myself often. I use planners and structure to stay grounded. I ask for clarity when assignments or expectations feel overwhelming. I take breaks when I need to regulate, and I return with a clearer mind. Instead of seeing mental health as a barrier, I see it as a reason to develop strong habits and tools that help me stay steady. Every semester teaches me something new about how to manage stress in a healthier way. Advocating for mental health in my community is a natural part of who I am and what I do. In my role as a parent peer specialist, I work with families who are overwhelmed by their own challenges. Many of them have children with emotional, behavioral, or developmental needs. I use my lived experience to help them understand that seeking support is a strength, not a failure. I normalize conversations about mental health. I share grounding skills and routine ideas. I walk families through crisis planning and emotional safety strategies. I remind parents that they deserve care too. My goal is to make families feel seen, supported, and respected. I also advocate at home by keeping emotional conversations open with my son. He sees me model regulation and honesty. If I am having a hard day, I tell him I need a moment to breathe so we both feel safe. I want him to grow up with emotional awareness instead of shame. I want him to know that help is always available and that he never has to hide what he feels. My lived experience drives my career goals. I want to become a trauma informed professional who supports families who feel lost in the system. I understand crisis from the inside. I know what it feels like to try to get help and not be heard. I want to be a person who listens, validates, and guides without judgment. With my education, I plan to become a strong advocate for reform, access, and respectful treatment. I want to help build services that feel human and supportive rather than cold and confusing. This scholarship would reduce stress and allow me to stay focused on my degree. It would help me balance school, parenting, and the demands of my work without sacrificing my own mental health. It would give me the space to continue developing the skills I need to make a real difference in this field. Mental health has shaped who I am, but it has also given me purpose. It has made me more compassionate, more patient, and more determined to create change. I plan to use my education, my lived experience, and my voice to advocate for others and make a positive impact in the world of mental health.

My future has always centered on stability, purpose, and creating something better for my son and for the families I work with. I am studying human services because I want to be part of the system that helps people feel seen, supported, and understood. I have spent years learning how to advocate for my own child through medical needs, school struggles, and constant changes, and that path pushed me toward a career where I can lift other families who are walking through similar challenges. My long term plan is to continue my education through my bachelor degree and then move on to my master degree. I want to keep building my skills so I can serve families with complex needs, especially children with developmental delays, behavioral challenges, trauma backgrounds, and larger systems barriers. I want to work in a role where I can influence real change, whether that is through parent support, program development, or state and local advocacy. I know how heavy it feels to be a parent fighting for services, for safety, and for basic understanding. My plan is to turn that lived experience into something that protects and uplifts others. This scholarship would make an enormous difference in reaching that future. As a single parent, every part of school is a balancing act. Tuition, books, technology, transportation, and childcare all compete with medical needs, housing needs, and day to day expenses. Every dollar I spend on school is a dollar taken from another essential part of our life. Receiving this scholarship would take away a huge amount of stress and allow me to stay focused on my coursework instead of constantly worrying about how to keep up financially. It would also give me more room to breathe so I can keep showing up fully in the work I already do. I support families who are overwhelmed, scared, and often unheard. The more stable I am, the more present I can be for them. I would be able to finish assignments on time, stay consistent in my classes, and continue building toward a career where I can open doors for others who often feel shut out of the system. My goal is not only to complete school but to use my education to make a lasting impact. I want to advocate for better school practices, more accessible mental health supports, and stronger community based programs. I want to help families who feel alone or misunderstood. I want to be the person I needed years ago when everything felt too big to manage. The future I am working toward is one where I am financially stable, emotionally grounded, and professionally prepared to help families navigate the systems that shape their lives. Education is a major part of that. With this scholarship, I can move forward with less fear and more confidence, knowing that someone believes in my path and is willing to help me keep going. This scholarship would not just support my schooling. It would support my son, my work, and the families I serve. It would bring me closer to the career I have been building toward through every hardship, every late night of studying, and every moment I had to choose resilience over giving up. It would help me become the person I know I am meant to be.

My mental health journey has shaped the way I see the world and the way I support the people around me. I live with bipolar and anxiety and those experiences have influenced my beliefs, my relationships, and the direction of my career. I grew up around mental health struggles that were never really talked about, so I spent a lot of my early life trying to make sense of intense emotions without guidance or language. It took time for me to understand what I was experiencing, and even longer to feel safe enough to talk about it. That silence pushed me to care deeply about creating open and honest spaces for others. My mental health has taught me compassion. I know what it feels like to be overwhelmed, misunderstood, or dismissed. It has shown me that most people who are struggling are not weak. They are exhausted. They are trying their best with what they have. Because of that, I approach people gently. I listen before I assume. I remind myself that everyone has a story that others cannot see. This perspective has shaped my beliefs and the foundation of my work in human services. My relationships have changed as I learned to take my mental health seriously. I became more honest with the people close to me and I learned to walk away from situations that were unhealthy. Being a single mother while navigating mental health challenges has also taught me to protect my energy and stay grounded for my son. I want him to grow up in a home where emotions are understood and supported instead of ignored. That goal has guided me through some of the hardest moments of my life. In my career as a parent peer specialist, my mental health experience is one of my greatest strengths. Families come to me during some of their most stressful moments. They are tired, confused, and scared that they are failing. Because I have lived through my own challenges, I can sit with them in a real and understanding way. I know what it feels like to advocate for answers, to juggle appointments, to manage symptoms while still trying to be present for your child. I know how heavy it can feel when you are trying to hold everything together. These shared experiences help families feel understood and less alone. My goal is to continue my education in human services and work in the mental health field where I can support children and families with both professional knowledge and lived experience. I want to be someone who listens and understands the full picture before offering guidance. I want to help families feel confident and supported instead of judged. My dream is to create a career that blends advocacy, education, and genuine connection so families can access mental health support without shame. Receiving this scholarship would make a real difference for me and my son. As a single parent, balancing school, work, and family responsibilities is already a challenge. Financial stress adds another weight to carry. This support would allow me to stay focused on my education and move toward a career where I can make a positive impact on the world through mental health work. My mental health journey has not been easy but it has made me strong, understanding, and dedicated to helping others. It has shaped the person I am and the professional I am becoming. I want to use everything I have lived through to make a difference for families who feel unseen and to create real change in the mental health world.

Adversity has been a constant part of my life, both physically and mentally, but it has never stopped me from moving toward the kind of work I want to do. I grew up in instability, surrounded by addiction, incarceration, and pressure that forced me to become independent long before most people my age even thought about adulthood. At seventeen I became a mother, and I have been raising my son on my own ever since. Being a single parent while balancing school, work, and life has tested every part of me, yet it has also given me a sense of direction that I did not have as a child. My physical health has made the journey even more complicated. I live with chronic medical issues including mast cell problems, connective tissue dysfunction, and severe ovarian complications that sometimes lead to sepsis. There have been many months where I sat in pain, knowing that if things worsened I would have no choice but to go to the hospital and hope they believed me. I have gone through long nights of fever and nausea, while still needing to wake up in the morning to get my son ready for school and support him through his own needs. My health has taken me to the edge more than once, but it has also taught me resilience, patience, and a deeper understanding of how many families live with conditions that the world does not see. Mental adversity has been just as real. I carry the impact of trauma from my childhood and my early relationship. I have bipolar disorder and complex trauma, and some days come with emotional weight that is hard to explain. But instead of letting those challenges bury me, I have chosen to stay connected to therapy, to my psychiatric care, and to the coping strategies that keep me grounded and focused. My mental health journey has made me more understanding, more compassionate, and more committed to the work I do with families today. Every obstacle I have faced pushed me toward Human Services rather than away from it. The more I endured, the more I understood what it feels like to sit in a meeting and not be heard. The more I navigated medical systems that dismissed my pain, the more determined I became to advocate for people who are ignored. As a Parent Peer Specialist, I work with families who feel overwhelmed, unsupported, and lost inside systems that are supposed to protect them. My lived experience helps me connect with them in a way that is real. I know what it feels like to survive instead of live. I know what it feels like to build a future with no roadmap. And I know how important it is for someone to walk beside you. Despite every challenge, I have stayed in school. I have kept my grades high. I have moved further in my education than I ever believed possible as a child. My long term goal is to build trauma informed support for families, advocate for better mental health access, and continue speaking publicly about the ways we can improve care for children and parents. I keep going because my son is watching me. I keep going because every family I help deserves someone who understands them. And I keep going because adversity has shaped me, not defeated me. My career goals are not just dreams. They are promises I intend to keep.

My journey as a single mother has been anything but linear. I became a mom at seventeen, in the middle of a life that was already full of instability, pressure, and survival. I did not grow up with a safety net. I did not have anyone stepping in to guide me through school, college, or adulthood. When I became a mother, I had to learn how to build that safety net myself while raising a child who needed more from me than the world ever gave me. Going back to school was something I wanted for years, but every time I tried, life would pull me back. I was working long hours, dealing with medical issues that were ignored for most of my childhood, and raising a child with special needs, often completely on my own. I moved through periods of housing instability, financial strain, and a lack of consistent support. Most of my classmates went home to quiet study spaces. I went home to melt downs, therapies, and unpredictable days. But I kept going because I knew that education was the one thing no one could take from me. Being a single mother has shaped nearly everything about my values and my goals. It taught me resilience, patience, and how to advocate without backing down. It also taught me how much the system fails families who do not have the right guidance. That is why I chose Human Services. I want to offer other parents the support I needed and never had. I want to make sure no one feels as alone, confused, or dismissed as I did sitting in meetings where decisions were made about my child with no effort to explain what was happening. My goal is to use my education to build trauma informed supports for families and children who are navigating complex emotional, developmental, and behavioral needs. I want to continue speaking at conferences, consulting, and eventually building my own practice for family support and education. Receiving this scholarship would change the way I move through school. It would take away the constant fear of choosing between bills and textbooks. It would allow me to reduce my work hours and focus more on classes, internships, and training that will prepare me for the career I am building. Most important, it would give me more time with my son. As a single parent, time is the most valuable thing I have, and it is the thing I sacrifice the most. This support would give both of us room to breathe. My dream is simple. I want to give my son a life where he does not have to recover from his childhood. I want to show him that growth is possible at any age and that breaking cycles is not instant, but it is worth it. I want to build a future where my education opens doors not only for me but for the families I will serve. Everything I am doing now is for that future. I am proud of the mother I have become and proud of the student I am now. This scholarship would help me continue building the life I promised my son and the life I spent years believing I would never have.

I am currently studying Human Services because every part of my life has led me toward this work. I have been the parent, the advocate, the navigator, the one who had to fight through systems while learning them at the same time. My major gives me the language, structure, and credentials to do the work I am already living every day. I want to deepen my ability to support families who feel lost or unheard, especially families raising children with disabilities or experiencing barriers that most people never see. Being a single parent in college has been the hardest and most meaningful thing I have ever done. My son Mateo has a neurodevelopmental disorder along with ADHD, anxiety, and complex medical needs. School is not simple for him. Life is not simple for him. That means my life is full of constant advocacy, meetings, therapies, transportation challenges, and emotional labor. There are days when I am writing a paper while managing a meltdown, days when I am in class on my phone in the car during an early pick up, and days when my own health issues collide with my responsibilities. I have mast cell dysfunction, chronic pain from a past injury, and a long list of other medical complications that come with real limits. Still, I push through because I want Mateo to see that we can build something better for ourselves. The obstacles have been more than academic. I have had to contend with housing instability, medical emergencies, long stretches without reliable support, and moments where I felt completely burnt out. There have been times when I went to class with no sleep because Mateo had been up all night, or when I missed my own appointments because I had to choose between caring for him or caring for myself. I have studied during hospital waits, therapy sessions, and car rides. I have learned to adapt, work quickly, ask for help when I can, and accept that perfection is not the goal. Showing up is the goal. Moving forward is the goal. Through all of this, I have kept strong grades, excelled in my program, spoken at state conferences, continued my work as a parent peer specialist, and built a reputation for bringing compassion and lived experience into every space I enter. I am proud of that. I earned that. My journey has turned me into someone who can sit with families in their hardest moments because I know what it feels like to stand in those storms. When I finish my degree, I plan to continue my education and eventually start a practice or organization focused on trauma informed care, parent advocacy, and support families navigating disability services. I want to change the way families are treated when they ask for help. I want to build bridges between schools, services, and parents so that fewer families feel like they are fighting alone. I want to bring lived experience into leadership spaces where it can actually shift policy and practice. Mateo is my reason, but he is also the reminder that there are thousands of children like him whose futures depend on the adults willing to show up and fight for change. This scholarship would ease the financial pressure that sits on my shoulders daily. It would mean groceries without counting every dollar, gas for the long drives to therapy, and breathing room so I can focus on my classes instead of worrying about which bill has to wait. It would give me the stability to keep going, stay enrolled, and reach the future I am working toward.

Living with mast cell dysfunction has shaped my life in ways that many people will never see or understand. It is unpredictable and exhausting. It affects everything from what I can eat to how my body reacts to basic things like temperature changes or stress. It has added complications to the health conditions I already manage, and it continues to be a major factor in my day to day life. It can turn simple moments into painful ones and routine tasks into challenges that require planning and awareness. Even with all of that, this condition has taught me a lot about myself. Before my symptoms became severe, I never paid attention to the small signals my body was trying to give me. Now I can recognize the earliest signs of a flare and understand what sets my system off. I have learned to pay attention to patterns, to slow down when I need to, and to take my symptoms seriously. I also had to learn how to stand up for myself in medical offices when I felt ignored or dismissed. That experience changed my confidence and strengthened my voice. I learned that advocating for myself is not only allowed but necessary. The part I am most grateful for is the community I have found. Chronic illness can feel isolating, especially when the condition is rare or misunderstood. Connecting with others who face similar struggles gave me support that I did not know I needed. It also pushed me into the field of human services and peer support. I realized how powerful it is to have someone who understands your story and does not question your reality. These connections helped me discover the kind of professional I want to be, one who leads with compassion and lived experience. My mast cell issues also changed how I see strength. There was a time when I thought strength meant pretending everything was fine. Now I know strength is listening to my body, resting when I need to, and finding new ways to adapt when something becomes too hard. Strength is also letting other people help. It is allowing myself to be vulnerable and honest about the pain, the fear, and the frustration. This shift has made me a better parent, especially for a child with special needs who also struggles with sensory and medical challenges. He sees me manage my health with patience and problem solving, and I hope it teaches him that there is nothing weak about needing care or support. These experiences connect directly to my career goals. I want to continue working in trauma informed care and expand into creating a nonprofit focused on consulting and education for families and professionals. Living with mast cell dysfunction gave me an understanding of how medical trauma, stress, and chronic symptoms affect the body and mind. It has shown me how easily families can feel overwhelmed, unheard, or lost. I want to take everything I have learned through my own health journey and use it to help others navigate theirs. While I would never choose this condition, I can say that it has shaped me into someone who is more empathetic, more reflective, and more driven to support others. It has shown me that even in the middle of chaos, there are things to be grateful for. The people I have met, the strength I have built, and the purpose I have found are all things I would not have without this journey.

My identity as a queer pansexual woman has shaped my life in ways that continue to influence my beliefs, my relationships, and the direction of my education. I have known since I was young that I was drawn to people regardless of gender, but especially to women. Even before I had the language for it, I knew that my heart worked differently than what people around me expected. Being open about this has not always been easy. In my family and in my small community, anything outside of a straight identity was judged, misunderstood, or simply not talked about. The stigma around my identity followed me into adulthood. One of the hardest challenges I faced was the reaction from my dad. When he found out I was not straight, he stopped speaking to me for a long time. His silence hurt in a way I did not expect. It made me feel like I had to choose between living honestly and keeping peace in my family. For a while, I tried to downplay my identity to avoid conflict and to keep some sense of closeness with him. But hiding who I am never felt right. Over time, I learned that I cannot control how other people respond to me, but I can control how I show up in my own life. I can choose authenticity even when it comes with loss. This experience shaped my beliefs about identity and acceptance. It taught me that love should not be conditional and that people deserve to feel safe and understood in their own families. It taught me how damaging silence and shame can be, especially for young people who are still learning to understand themselves. It made me want to fight for a world where queer youth are supported rather than pushed away. These lessons influence everything from the way I parent to the way I advocate for others in my work. My identity also shaped my career aspirations. I am studying Human Services because I want to support families and young people who feel marginalized or misunderstood. I want to create spaces where queer individuals are met with respect and compassion, not judgment. Through my work as a Parent Peer Specialist, I already support parents and children who face stigma due to disability, trauma, or identity. My experiences as a queer woman give me a deeper understanding of how important it is for people to feel seen. I want to use my degree to push for inclusive, trauma informed practices in schools and service systems, especially in rural communities where acceptance can be limited. Receiving this scholarship would lessen the financial pressure I carry as a single parent working through college while raising my son. It would allow me to stay focused on my degree and continue moving toward a career that gives back to the LGBTQ community. More importantly, it would help me keep building a future where my son grows up seeing me live openly and confidently. I want him to know that authenticity is a strength, not something to hide. My journey as a queer pansexual woman has not always been easy, but it has made me stronger, more empathetic, and more determined. I want to use my education to advocate for LGBTQ rights and create safer spaces for youth and families who feel alone. My identity is not something I struggle with anymore. It is something I am proud of, and it guides me toward a future centered on understanding, support, and change.

My identity as a Cuban American and a first generation college student has shaped my life in ways that continue to influence every decision I make. I grew up in a small town where I was one of the only students with a visibly Hispanic name. No one tried to pronounce it correctly. I was told to go by Carrie starting in preschool because my real name was considered too difficult or too different. That experience stayed with me. I learned early that being part of an underrepresented group meant adapting to a world that did not always make space for me. My family came from a mix of cultures and histories. My grandfather immigrated from Germany. My father immigrated from Cuba. Both came to the United States searching for opportunity, but the reality of low income life, language barriers, and limited resources made everything harder. We lived in a community where most families struggled, and support systems were stretched thin. College was not a common path, and it was not something I had guidance for. I grew up in a household where survival came first and education came second because there was no time or energy left for anything else. Being part of an underrepresented group taught me resilience. It taught me how to work hard even when I felt out of place. It taught me how to advocate for myself when others did not take the time to understand me. These experiences shaped the way I see the world and the commitment I have to breaking generational cycles. My identity is not something I hide from. It is something that explains why I push forward even when the path feels lonely. My background also shaped how I relate to others. I understand what it feels like to be misunderstood. I understand the pressure of carrying cultural expectations and the weight of being the one who has to create new opportunities for the next generation. This is part of the reason why I went into the Human Services field. I want to support families who feel left out, overlooked, or unheard. I want to help people who are marginalized in the same way I often felt growing up. Being a first generation student comes with its own challenges. I had no one to show me how financial aid works or what college expectations look like. Returning to school as an adult while raising my son and supporting my nieces meant doing everything from scratch. My path has been nontraditional, but it has been shaped by determination. My identity pushed me to keep going because I want my son to see that someone from our background can succeed, even without privilege or stability. Receiving this scholarship would help me continue my education and move closer to my goal of creating a nonprofit focused on trauma informed consulting. I want to contribute to communities like the one I grew up in, where underrepresented families deserve more support, more understanding, and more opportunities. My identity has shaped my path by teaching me that representation matters. People deserve to see someone who understands their life and their culture. I hope to be that person for others through my work.

My experience with mental health has shaped almost every part of who I am, from the way I see the world to the way I build relationships to the career I am committed to pursuing. Living with bipolar disorder and complex trauma has not been an easy path, but it has taught me how to understand myself, how to care for others with empathy, and how to build a future that is grounded in healing rather than survival. For most of my life, I did not have the language to describe what I was feeling. I only knew that my emotions came in extremes and that my reactions were shaped by things I had gone through long before I understood how deeply they affected me. I grew up in an environment where stability was rare and where stress, conflict, and unpredictability were normal. Over time, that constant pressure shaped my nervous system, my trust in others, and the way I carried myself. When I finally received my diagnoses as an adult, it felt like someone had finally handed me the missing puzzle pieces. It did not fix everything, but it gave me clarity. I realized my reactions were not character flaws. They were shaped by trauma and by a brain that processes emotions differently. This understanding changed everything. It changed the way I parent, the way I communicate, and the way I handle conflict. I learned how important it is to slow down, reflect, and understand what is happening in my body rather than blame myself for feeling too much or needing a moment to regroup. It helped me build healthier relationships because I could finally explain my needs and recognize when I was becoming overwhelmed. It also helped me understand why I had struggled for so many years with self doubt and burnout. Once I had the right support, I was able to develop healthier patterns that allowed me to show up more fully for myself and for the people I care about. My experience with mental health also shaped my beliefs. I believe that people deserve compassion long before they deserve judgment. I believe that behavior is communication and that pain often shows up before words do. I believe in slowing down, listening, and trying to understand what a person has survived rather than assuming they are difficult or unmotivated. These beliefs did not come from textbooks. They came from lived experience. They came from the moments where I felt invisible or misunderstood, and from the moments where someone finally met me with patience and helped me feel safe. These experiences are the reason I chose the Human Services field. My bipolar disorder and trauma do not make me less capable. They make me more aware. They help me recognize signs of distress in others. They help me advocate for people who feel overwhelmed or unsupported. They help me stay grounded in empathy when I work with families who are struggling. Today, as a Parent Peer Specialist, I use my lived experience to help parents navigate systems that often misunderstand them. I know how valuable it is to feel seen. I know how life changing it can be when someone believes you and listens without judgment. My mental health journey is still ongoing, and it probably always will be, it has taught me resilience, self awareness, and compassion. It shaped my career goals because I want to create spaces where people feel understood and supported, especially families who are carrying trauma and mental health challenges of their own. My experience does not hold me back. It guides me.

I want to make a change in my life because I have already lived the kind of life that forces you to grow up fast, survive things you should never have had to experience, and rebuild from the ground up. For a long time I felt like I was always catching up, always trying to clean up the messes that life placed on my shoulders before I had any choice in the matter. I want something different for myself now. I want stability, purpose, education, and a career that lets me use everything I went through to help other people who feel lost in the same ways I used to. The biggest step I have taken toward this change was returning to school and committing to my education. I became a mother very young, and I did not have guidance, stability, or support. I had to rebuild my life while raising my son, who has autism and complex needs. Deciding to go back to school as an adult was a turning point for me. I wanted to understand the systems that control access to services. I wanted to be able to advocate for him with confidence. Once I entered my Human Services program, it changed everything. I finally felt like I was moving forward rather than fighting to stay afloat. I also became a Parent Peer Specialist, which has allowed me to take real steps toward building the kind of change I want to see. I help families who are overwhelmed by school meetings, county processes, and the realities of raising children with disabilities. I give them the support I never had. I help people understand that they are not alone and that there are ways to navigate the chaos. This work has shaped me more than anything else, and it is one of the clearest steps I have taken toward my goal of becoming a leader in trauma informed practice. This scholarship would help me keep going. I am a single parent with a child who has medical and developmental needs. Balancing school, work, parenting, and caregiving has been one of the hardest things I have ever done, and the financial strain is real. This scholarship would give me room to breathe so that I can stay focused on my degree and continue moving toward my long term goal of creating a nonprofit that brings trauma informed consulting to schools, service agencies, and rural communities. It would give me the chance to continue my education without falling behind every time life throws something new at me. If I am given this second chance, I plan to pay it forward by continuing to support families who feel lost or ignored. I know how it feels to sit in a room full of professionals and feel completely overwhelmed. I know what it is like to not understand the language they use or the decisions they make. I want to be the voice that reminds families that they deserve compassion, that they deserve support, and that they deserve a system that listens. I want to continue speaking at conferences, joining committees, and using my lived experience to push for changes in how we treat children and families who are struggling. I want to make a change because I know I can. I have already done the hardest parts. Now I want to finish what I started and turn my experiences into something that helps other people rise too.

My biggest dream, the one that feels both inspiring and just out of reach, is to create my own nonprofit that specializes in trauma informed consulting for schools, service agencies, and community programs. I want to build something that helps professionals understand the lived experiences of families like mine, and supports them in responding with empathy, structure, and real awareness instead of judgment or confusion. This dream has grown slowly through my life, shaped by everything I have lived and everything I have learned, and it feels like the natural direction for my future. The spark for this dream came from years of trying to navigate systems that did not understand me, my son, or my family. I grew up in a home without structure or emotional safety, where trauma shaped every part of my daily life. As a teen, I took on responsibilities that were far beyond my age. As a young parent raising my son with autism, I spent years trying to understand school systems, county programs, and medical providers that seemed to speak a different language. I knew what I needed, but I did not know how to ask for it. I knew what my child needed, but I did not know how to make people hear me. When I entered the Human Services field and later became a Parent Peer Specialist, I realized that it was not just me. So many families feel lost, overwhelmed, dismissed, or misunderstood. They are not difficult families. They are families that have experienced trauma. They are families navigating crisis, disability, poverty, and instability without enough support. They are people doing the best they can in systems that do not always know how to meet them where they are. This is where my dream began to take shape. I want to build a nonprofit that provides training, consulting, and hands on support to professionals so they understand the deeper context behind behavior, communication, and family dynamics. I want to help schools learn how to respond to children with compassion instead of punishment. I want county workers to see the difference between defiance and fear. I want medical providers to understand how trauma affects decision making. I want families to feel safe, heard, and supported at the tables where decisions are made about their lives. To reach this dream, I know I need education, leadership experience, and partnerships. My current work gives me a foundation, but I want to deepen my knowledge through my degree and eventually complete graduate level study in trauma, child development, or special education. I want to continue speaking at conferences and joining statewide committees so I can build the connections needed to turn this vision into reality. I plan to develop workshops, training materials, and pilot programs that I can expand into a full nonprofit model. This dream feels big because it requires courage and long term dedication, but it also feels deeply possible. Everything I have overcome has prepared me to build something meaningful. I want to use my education to create a future where families are met with compassion, where trauma informed practice is the standard, and where no parent or child has to fight alone. That is my dream, and it is the direction I am determined to move toward.

Education has given me something I never had growing up. It gave me direction. When I was younger, everything in my life felt unstable, unpredictable, and overwhelming. I spent so many years trying to survive from one moment to the next that I never had a chance to imagine a future for myself. When I finally entered college as an adult, education became more than a place to take classes. It became the place where I started to understand my past, where I learned how to rebuild, and where I found a sense of purpose that I never felt before. My path has never been the typical one. I grew up in an environment where I was responsible for younger children before I fully understood what responsibility even meant. I worked at a very young age to keep food in the house and to take care of basic needs when the adults around me had to work long hours or were simply not able to be present. By the time I was sixteen, I had moved out, and shortly after that I became a mother. I was still learning how to take care of myself while trying to take care of a child with no real support system behind me. I faced situations that were unsafe and isolating. There was no guide, no clear path, and no one who showed me how to move forward. I had to figure everything out on my own. The turning point came when I decided to go back to school. In the beginning I did it for my son. He has autism and complex needs, and I wanted to understand the systems around us so that I could advocate for him. I did not want to feel lost every time I walked into a school meeting. I did not want to feel powerless when someone made decisions about my child. I wanted to be informed. I wanted to be confident. Over time I realized that school was not only helping me support him. It was helping me understand myself. My Human Services program became the first place where everything started to make sense. Concepts that I had lived through for years suddenly had names and explanations. Trauma, crisis response, child development, and the challenges families face when they cannot access services were no longer just things I lived with. They were things I could learn about, understand, and use to help others. Education gave me the language I never had. It helped me see that my experiences were not a sign of failure. They were lived knowledge. This new understanding led me toward advocacy. Today I work as a Parent Peer Specialist, supporting families who are trying to make sense of the same complicated systems that once overwhelmed me. I help parents in school meetings. I help families manage crisis situations. I walk people through the steps that used to feel impossible. I know exactly what it is like to sit at a table and feel misunderstood or dismissed. I know what it feels like when people make decisions about your child without hearing your voice. My education gave me the confidence to stand with families now and make sure they are not facing these moments alone. Speaking at a statewide conference this year was one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. I was invited to share my story at the Circles of Life Conference. I talked about raising my son, rebuilding my life after years of instability, and finding my way through systems that were not built for families like mine. I talked about breaking cycles and about the importance of lived experience in shaping real change. My education made it possible for me to speak with clarity and purpose. It helped me explain what families go through in a way that professionals could understand and learn from. The challenges I have faced are the same challenges that motivate me today. I have navigated poverty, instability, single parenting, and the emotional weight of raising children without support. I have worked multiple jobs while going to school and caring for my family. Education did not erase these experiences, but it helped me make sense of them. It helped me see the value in what I lived through. It gave me direction and helped me understand how I can use my knowledge to create change. When I transfer to my next campus, I plan to use both my education and my lived experience to support other students, especially students who feel like they do not belong in academic spaces. I want to join groups that support caregivers, students with disabilities, first generation students, and anyone who is balancing school with real life. I also want to continue speaking at events, working on committees, and building stronger supports for families in rural communities. My long term goal is to help create programs that understand families realistically. I want to bring compassion, trauma informed practice, and real lived experience into the systems that shape the lives of children. I want to make sure families feel heard and understood, and that they receive support that actually fits their lives. Education gave me direction when I needed it most. Now I want to use it to help others rise higher than their circumstances and create a future where no one has to fight alone.