For years I have measured my worth by how much I could give to other people. Whether it was with guys I was in relationships with or friendships, I constantly found myself trying to prove I was enough. I believe that if I loved harder, fought harder, and tried harder to be a version of myself they would want, they would finally choose me. In the process I found myself emotionally exhausted and drained. I was far from anything I have ever wanted to be and slowly I lost myself. No matter how much I gave, I still felt like I was asking for the bare minimum; for love, for reassurance, and for the feeling that I actually mattered. Listening to Olivia Rodrigo’s “Enough for You” put words to emotions I had struggled to explain. When she sings, “I wore makeup when we dated ‘cause I thought you’d like me more” and “I tried so hard to be everything that you liked just for you to say you’re not the compliment type,” I recognized my own habit of changing pieces of myself in hopes of finally feeling chosen. Her words, “Stupid, emotional, obsessive little me,” captured the shame I often felt for caring so deeply, while “All I’ve ever wanted was to be enough for you” reflected the question that lingered not only in romantic relationships but also in friendships and even within my own family. The lyrics “Don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?” and “Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserved nothing?” reminded me of the moments I accepted less than I deserved because I believed any amount of love was better than none. Yet the lyric that gives me the most hope is, “Someday I’ll be everything to somebody else. And they’ll think that I am so exciting.” To me, it isn’t just about finding the right person, it’s about learning that I don’t have to shrink, change, or constantly prove my worth to deserve love and respect. My journey has been about realizing that being “enough” was never something I had to earn and over time, I began to realize that constantly begging for someone else’s love meant I wasn’t giving that same kindness to myself. I was so focused on earning validation from others that I forgot my worth was never something I had to prove. While I’m still learning to believe that every day, I’ve started choosing relationships built on mutual respect instead of constant effort to be “enough.” That lesson has been one of the most important parts of my journey.

My sophomore year of high school started off as one of the best times in my life. I made the varsity cross country team, which was something I was really proud of. Running had always been my thing. It made me feel strong, confident, and like I belonged somewhere. I loved pushing myself and finishing races knowing I gave it everything I had. For a while, I really felt like I had my life together. That changed during a race when I was just a few steps away from the finish line and my body completely gave out. I remember everything getting blurry and then waking up confused on the ground with people around me. At first I thought it was just dehydration or a bad day and that I would be fine. I really wanted to believe that. But it kept happening. At practice I would push through even when I didn’t feel right, but then I started blacking out during runs and waking up on the ground not remembering falling. It went from being scary to becoming my normal. Then it got worse and I started having seizures. There were times I couldn’t feel my legs and I couldn’t move at all. Sometimes after episodes I didn’t even know where I was or what was going on. It felt like I was losing control of my own body. After a lot of hospital visits, tests, and not knowing what was wrong with me, I was diagnosed with POTS, which is a chronic illness that affects my nervous system and causes all of these symptoms. Even though I finally had a name for it, it didn’t make anything easier. I felt like I lost the version of myself I used to be. I had to leave regular school for a while and do online classes because I couldn’t function normally day to day. Everyone else was living their lives and I was stuck in bed half the time hooked up to monitors or recovering from episodes. I started feeling really disconnected from everything and honestly kind of worthless at times. There were days I couldn’t even get out of bed. Standing up felt impossible sometimes. I missed a lot of school and lost routines and just felt like my life was falling apart. I didn’t feel like myself anymore and I didn’t know if I ever would again. I fell into a deep depression. On top of that, I kind of lost my faith during that time too. I felt like I was being left alone in it and I didn’t understand why it was happening to me. I would constantly ask, “Why me God?”, and there was never an answer. But something changed after one really bad episode. I passed out in the ocean and began seizing in the water. My body began to drown. I was in the hospital and they thought I might not be okay after possibly getting water in my lungs and I was really scared. In that moment I just prayed. Not because I had some perfect faith, but because I didn’t know what else to do. Once I was told I was okay, I knew that God saved me, and I wouldn’t take that second chance for granted. After that I started slowly finding my way back to God and trying to rebuild my faith. I started believing that maybe there was a reason for everything I was going through even if I couldn’t see it yet. I decided I didn’t want to just give up on my life. It wasn’t an easy recovery. I still deal with symptoms and there were a lot of setbacks, but I learned how to manage things better and listen to my body. I started pushing myself again in small ways. I’ve even been slowly starting to run again, despite it being hard, which honestly means a lot to me because I never thought I would be able to do that again. I kept up with my schoolwork even when I was missing a lot of school and tried really hard to not let everything fall apart. Over time I started getting parts of my life back. I went back to school, made new friends, learned how to drive, and even started working again after having to quit jobs before because of my condition. Things that I thought I might never be able to do again started becoming possible. Living with POTS changed me a lot. It made me appreciate things I used to take for granted like just being able to get out of bed or make it through a normal day. It also made me a lot more understanding of other people because you never really know what someone is going through. Now I want to use what I went through to help other people who feel like they don’t have control over their lives. Becoming a social worker is something I am set on. I want to be someone who understands people and can support them when they’re struggling because I know what that feels like to feel alone in the darkness. I also know what it feels like to feel invisible, like no one would ever understand me. I wouldn’t have chosen this journey, and there are still hard days, but I also know it made me stronger in a way I never expected. It taught me how to keep going even when everything feels like it’s against me, and I think that’s something I’ll carry with me forever.

I embody selflessness by choosing to support others, even when it costs me something personally. Living with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS) has made daily life unpredictable. Sophomore and Junior year were one of the hardest of my life, as I was in and out of hospitals and experiencing severe symptoms that sometimes left me unable to function normally. There were moments when I became extremely weak, confused, or unable to move properly, and times where I struggled to remember what was happening around me. Even in the middle of all of that, I still tried to show up for other people, because I believe compassion should not disappear just because someone is struggling. One of the most meaningful moments of selflessness in my life happened at my job. I was working with a girl who suddenly looked like she was about to pass out. I remember immediately feeling the fear of what it could do to my own body if I stepped in because it triggers my POTS when seeing things that relate to it. But another thing I remember was not hesitating. I stayed with her, made sure she was safe, and got her what she needed. In that moment, I wasn’t thinking about my condition or how I felt. I was only thinking about making sure she was okay. As we continued working together, I learned she was also dealing with ongoing medical challenges of her own. Because of that, I naturally began helping her more often. I would assist her with tasks, bring her things she needed, and check in on her when she seemed overwhelmed or unwell. Even on days when I was exhausted or barely managing my own symptoms, I still tried to be someone she could lean on. I understood what it felt like to have a body that was constantly fighting against you, and I didn’t want her to feel alone in that experience. Over time, she became one of my friends. I cared about her deeply, not because I felt bad for her, but because I genuinely wanted her to feel supported and seen. Unfortunately, she passed away a little over a year ago due to her medical condition. Losing her was one of the most painful experiences of my life. It made everything feel heavier, but it also made me realize how powerful even the smallest acts of support and kindness can be. Sometimes, being there for someone is what helps them get through a moment they thought they couldn’t survive. This experience, combined with my own health journey, has shaped my desire to become a social worker. I want to be the person who stays when things are hard, who listens when someone feels unheard, and who reminds people, especially children in foster care or unstable situations, that they are not alone. To me, selflessness means showing up even when it is difficult and choosing to care deeply in a world where people are often overlooked. That is the kind of presence I hope to bring into my future career, and the kind of impact I hope to leave behind.