The message that "anyone can go to college" was often highlighted when I was younger but never seemed feasible for me. No one in my family had ever completed their educational pursuits, my mother dropped out after a few semesters and my grandfather never made it past the first year. My perspective became that "anyone can sign up for college, but no one finishes it". It became even more prevalent to me that college was not an option after I became a ward of the court when I was twelve. Moving between group homes and youth shelters, there was no chance that someone would take a "dysfunctional youth" at their university. Throughout this period of my life, I kept decent grades but it was difficult to keep up with the constant moving around. When I graduated from high school, I did not pursue college as I did not think I had that opportunity. Then when I was eighteen years old, I found out I was pregnant. As a single mother, living in a tiny town there were limited job opportunities. After a few years of struggling to find a job that was lucrative enough to support myself and my child, I decided to enroll in the local community college. I figured taking a few courses while juggling being a mother and working would not be too difficult. A marriage and two children later, I finally graduated with two associate's degrees. The nearest university was over two hours away, which made it nearly impossible to attend. I re-entered the workforce and found my spot in the local behavioral health clinic. This began an almost four-year break in my educational pursuits. My family decided to relocate to Las Vegas to be closer to my grandmother. I enrolled at UNLV right away and completed a semester before realizing that paying out-of-state tuition was too much of a financial burden and did not return the following semester. Two years later I had divorced my husband and found myself to be a single mother while juggling a career as a correctional officer. I knew there was no room for advancement without a degree, so I petitioned for in-state tuition rates and returned to UNLV. I have spent the last four years finishing my Bachelor's degree in Psychology and my Master's degree in Social Work. Being a first-generation, single mother, taking multiple breaks along the way, and in my thirties now; I am finally looking toward graduation. I would say that my path was not traditional, but it has shown that despite all odds a college education is possible.

I have actively been working in the mental health field for over ten years. My path has been windy at points, but I have never lost the passion to make an impact on others' lives. In 2018 I was hired as a Forensic Specialist for the State of Nevada. My position was as a correctional officer for the mentally ill, who were court-ordered to complete a psychiatric hospitalization before they could face their legal issues. I struggled with the work requirements here, as finding the middle ground between corrections and mental health care was often quite difficult. However, I knew that I would keep supporting this population in some manner even after I left that job four years later. As my education comes to an end, I decided that I wanted to use my Master of Social Work license to return to law enforcement. This time though, I wanted to be the one supporting the individual struggling before being incarcerated. I found that the school district was hiring social workers to respond to crises throughout the area, to reduce the criminalization of youth. This was the perfect position for me! I had been working with homeless youth for the last year and with my background in corrections, I could finally blend my two passions and support those who needed me most. Once I graduate, I can apply for licensee verification through the school district and will begin in that role by the fall semester. I plan to incorporate all that I have learned through school, work experience, and my ethical standards to support these youth. By the time law enforcement and I are called, these students will most likely have had the worst day of their lives up to this point. It is my responsibility to slow everything down and get to the root cause of the situation. Often when a youth engages in unsafe behaviors, it is due to needing to meet a need. By taking the time to find out that need and connecting the student to the right support, I could essentially prevent them from entering the school-to-jail pipeline. For this to be successful, it is my responsibility as a social worker to advocate for appropriate resources. Right now, I am working with a team of administrators to continue bringing homeless youth resources to high school campuses across the Las Vegas Valley, so that these students can get the help they need before engaging in illegal activity to meet their needs. In addition, I am looking into state policies that reduce progressive discipline so that I can advocate to our school board and local government to amend these policies to be inclusive and supportive of all students and staff. By working in the field and advocating for policy change, I have a chance to make a long-lasting positive impact.

My mental health journey started at the age of 10. By this point in my life, I had been regularly sexually assaulted by my mother's boyfriend for over two years. At my annual physical exam, my primary care physician informed my mother that I was "anorexic - failure to thrive" because I had stopped eating and was losing weight at a rapid pace. I had no idea what the doctor meant by this but I spent the next 15 years learning the toll Anorexia Nervosa would have on my life. After that initial conversation, no one paid much attention to the damage I was doing to my body until my school principal intervened two years later. I went to a tiny performing arts school, there was only 30 students in the whole program. My principal was involved in everything we did; from academics, to dance class, to observing lunch. He noticed that I would never show up to the lunch area, or would make excuses about why I did not bring food that day. Then during one of our performance trips, I collapsed. He sat by my hospital bed the entire evening, waiting to talk to the doctor about what he had been witnessing over the last few months. It was that night that everyone found out that I was struggling with anorexia. After that initial hospital visit, I would spend the next several years in and out of treatment facilities, hospitals, and residential care programs. The sexual assault was reported by a clinician at the time, my mother lost custody and I became a ward of the court. When I wasn't in the hospital, I moved from one group home to another and eventually dumped in a shelter as I was "too difficult" because of the medical needs required to care for someone who had an eating disorder. I felt hopeless, alone, and unwanted. Beyond that, I hated every aspect of myself and desperately wanted to do anything I could to change who I was. I ended up trying to commit suicide a few times during this darkness. As the years went on, the mental health diagnosis list increased. I had anorexia nervosa, depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder all by the age of 16. Life was so bleak, then shortly after my 18th birthday, I found out I was pregnant. It came as a huge surprise as I was horrifically underweight and had been told by numerous doctors there was no chance I would ever have children after the damage I had done over the years of starvation. I struggled to care for myself enough to grow that baby though, she was the most important thing to me. After months of discomfort and personal sacrifice, she was born. Annabelle was the most perfect baby girl I could have hoped for. On her eighth day of life, she awoke crying and so I began to feed her. Approximately 2 minutes into her feeding, her little body went limp. Emergency response arrived almost immediately and we were able to revive her. She spent 8 more days in the NICU before passing away from a rare blood disease. My heart broke that day. I fell back into the darkness and spent another seven years fighting myself. The grief along with the mental health issues I already had nearly killed me. It took two more beautiful children, a disastrous marriage, and a ton of therapy to make it to the other side. This is why I am pursuing a social work career so that I can be that support for someone else.

My mental health journey started at the age of 10. By this point in my life, I had been regularly sexually assaulted by my mother's boyfriend for over two years. At my annual physical exam, my primary care physician informed my mother that I was "anorexic - failure to thrive" because I had stopped eating and was losing weight at a rapid pace. I had no idea what the doctor meant by this but I spent the next 15 years learning the toll Anorexia Nervosa would have on my life. After that initial conversation, no one paid much attention to the damage I was doing to my body until my school principal intervened two years later. I went to a tiny performing arts school, there was only 30 students in the whole program. My principal was involved in everything we did; from academics, to dance class, to observing lunch. He noticed that I would never show up to the lunch area, or would make excuses about why I did not bring food that day. Then during one of our performance trips, I collapsed. He sat by my hospital bed the entire evening, waiting to talk to the doctor about what he had been witnessing over the last few months. It was that night that everyone found out that I was struggling with anorexia. After that initial hospital visit, I would spend the next several years in and out of treatment facilities, hospitals, and residential care programs. The sexual assault was reported by a clinician at the time, my mother lost custody and I became a ward of the court. When I wasn't in the hospital, I moved from one group home to another and eventually dumped in a shelter as I was "too difficult" because of the medical needs required to care for someone who had an eating disorder. I felt hopeless, alone, and unwanted. Beyond that, I hated every aspect of myself and desperately wanted to do anything I could to change who I was. I ended up trying to commit suicide a few times during this darkness. As the years went on, the mental health diagnosis list increased. I had anorexia nervosa, depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder all by the age of 16. Life was so bleak, then shortly after my 18th birthday, I found out I was pregnant. It came as a huge surprise as I was horrifically underweight and had been told by numerous doctors there was no chance I would ever have children after the damage I had done over the years of starvation. I struggled to care for myself enough to grow that baby though, she was the most important thing to me. After months of discomfort and personal sacrifice, she was born. Annabelle was the most perfect baby girl I could have hoped for. On her eighth day of life, she awoke crying and so I began to feed her. Approximately 2 minutes into her feeding, her little body went limp. Emergency response arrived almost immediately and we were able to revive her. She spent 8 more days in the NICU before passing away from a rare blood disease. My heart broke that day. I fell back into the darkness and spent another seven years fighting myself. The grief along with the mental health issues I already had nearly killed me. It took two more beautiful children, a disastrous marriage, and a ton of therapy to make it to the other side. This is why I am pursuing a social work career so that I can be that support for someone else.

The law enforcement community is one that is near to my heart. In 2018 I was hired as a Forensic Specialist for the State of Nevada. My position was as a correctional officer for the mentally ill, who were court-ordered to complete a psychiatric hospitalization before they could face their legal issues. I struggled with the work requirements here, as finding the middle ground between corrections and mental health care was often quite difficult. In my last two years of school, I was hurt on the job and heart broken I would not be returning as an officer. Instead of allowing that hurdle end my career in law enforcement, I change my academic direction. I entered a master's program in the field of Social Work focusing on trauma. Upon graduation I applied to be on a team of social workers within the school police department. Now my role is not only to support the officers in the field with difficult cases, but connect with the officers on a personal level to support officer wellness. The reality of my injury could have left me in a place of victimization, instead I used that event to guide my future endeavors to support the law enforcement community in a different way. Although I am no longer on the front lines of law enforcement, I can be there for the officers as a resource to better themselves and their loved ones. My dedication to the field has not waivered, but my focus has changed. Is no longer to protect the community from violent offenders, but to support our officers in their daily assignments. Often times I have to take over a case that the officer is working on, because it does not fall under the classification of criminal activity instead it requires a social worker to intervene and support the individual or family to avoid further police involvement. By being that bridge between law enforcement and community, I can help be a guide through the appropriate next steps in seeking long-term support. Although my path in law enforcement is not a common one, I find myself humbled by the unique opportunities I have been awarded. They have guided my vision to not only support the law enforcement community, but also build up my local community members. It allows for the connection between law enforcement and community to grow and develop as we navigate this difficult world.

I come from an isolated small town in northern California. I was raised by a single mother who had a physical disability that left her unable to operate a vehicle. Life in a small town did not offer the opportunity to learn about other cultures or heritages. It was not until I was an adult that I spent any amount of time outside that small town. As soon as I could, I started traveling all over the United States. Then when I was twenty-four years old, I had the opportunity to move to Las Vegas, Nevada. It is one of the most diverse cities in the United States. My first few months living here were somewhat of a culture shock. There were so many stores, foods, and new people to meet that I became overwhelmed. It has been amazing though getting to learn about various backgrounds and cultures that I would have never encountered if I remained in that small town. Ever since I left, I have made it my goal to visit at least one new place in the United States each year. Two years ago I got to travel outside the US for the first time. I went to Jamaica, the Grand Cayman Islands, and Mexico. It was the most incredible trip of my life. I got to meet so many individuals along the way who taught me about the history of their land and introduced me to various cultural norms. I tried tons of new foods, finding my new favorite is jerk chicken from Jamaica. I hope to continue to stamp new countries in my passport, while visiting at least one new country every two years. As a social worker, I must learn more about other cultures, perspectives, and environments. It will be my responsibility to support individuals from diverse backgrounds and the only way I can do that effectively is by learning as much as I can about their culture. By embracing travel and learning from my experiences within different countries, I can get first-hand insight into the lives these individuals live daily. This will allow me to incorporate important cultural aspects into their treatment plans while also understanding the various situations they come from.

While I am not entering the technology area specifically, technology has the potential to impact my work greatly. I am finishing my Master of Social Work degree focusing on trauma-informed practice. One area in which technology can impact my clientele is through exposure therapy. There are programs on virtual reality headsets that can safely expose clients to their greatest fears. These programs are evidence-based and have shown to be effective in reducing post-traumatic stress disorder symptoms when combined with talk therapy. As a new therapist working with traumatized individuals, access to these cutting-edge interventions offers my clientele the potential to have a better future. As they begin to speak on their fears and past traumatization, I can create a personalized exposure within the virtual reality for them to confront their fears in a safe space. By removing the fear of physically experiencing such traumatization again, instead of facing it within a space they have already deemed safe, the client can begin to overcome these deeply rooted wounds. Virtual reality has the potential to become a staple part of trauma therapy to help individuals overcome their fears. Another area of technology that will impact my work is telehealth. Many individuals need therapy for various reasons but may not be able to attend in-person sessions. By accessing telehealth the individual can still get the support they need without unnecessary hurdles. Telehealth is exceptionally important here in Nevada because most of the state is so rural. By offering these types of interventions clients who otherwise would be unable to access support due to geographical issues, can now seek support from qualified professionals regardless of how far they are.

My mental health greatly impacted my academic performance, especially when I first started college. My mental health challenges began when I was ten years old. My childhood pediatrician noticed at my annual check-up that I was malnourished and underweight. He identified it as "anorexia - failure to thrive". I was too young to understand what that meant, but he was on the right track. Not more than two years later, I was under the grip of anorexia with very little hope of recovery. I spent the next decade in and out of treatment facilities and hospitals. I never got the opportunity to attend a regular high school, as I was too ill to be on campus. I remained on independent study all four years of high school. This isolation hindered my understanding of pursuing a college education. I came from a tiny town and the nearest university was well over two hours away. The only concept of college I had was that of our local community college. It took me two years after high school graduation to apply there, as I was still too ill to attend on-campus courses. Beyond the physical limitations, the hatred I had for myself ran very deep. I was struggling with not only a debilitating eating disorder but was also diagnosed with anxiety, depression, and post-traumatic stress disorder. My mind was far too overwhelmed with these issues to focus on coursework. However, I decided to try anyway. It took me three years and multiple leave of absence to obtain two associate degrees. After fighting so hard to complete that program, I decided college was not in the cards. I took a four-year break from school and focused my energy on recovery from my mental health issues. After being in recovery from anorexia for over a year, I finally committed to enrolling at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas to obtain my Bachelor's degree. I knew if I quit one more time, I would not return, so I finished that program and immediately began the Master of Social Work program at UNLV. I am not going to pretend that my mental health is completely healed. There are still many days that I wake up and am overwhelmed by it. I am still highly sensitive about my body and appearance, taking all remarks very personally. Flashbacks and nightmares remain a part of my life. However, it is no longer all encumbersome. I have built the necessary tools to handle my mental health and if I do come across a time that it becomes too much again, I know I can reach out for support.

My mental health journey started at the age of 10. By this point in my life, I had been regularly sexually assaulted by my mother's boyfriend for over two years. At my annual physical exam, my primary care physician informed my mother that I was "anorexic - failure to thrive" because I had stopped eating and was losing weight at a rapid pace. I had no idea what the doctor meant by this but I spent the next 15 years learning the toll Anorexia Nervosa would have on my life. After that initial conversation, no one paid much attention to the damage I was doing to my body until my school principal intervened two years later. I went to a tiny performing arts school, there was only 30 students in the whole program. My principal was involved in everything we did; from academics, to dance class, to observing lunch. He noticed that I would never show up to the lunch area, or would make excuses about why I did not bring food that day. Then during one of our performance trips, I collapsed. He sat by my hospital bed the entire evening, waiting to talk to the doctor about what he had been witnessing over the last few months. It was that night that everyone found out that I was struggling with anorexia. After that initial hospital visit, I would spend the next several years in and out of treatment facilities, hospitals, and residential care programs. The sexual assault was reported by a clinician at the time, my mother lost custody and I became a ward of the court. When I wasn't in the hospital, I moved from one group home to another and eventually dumped in a shelter as I was "too difficult" because of the medical needs required to care for someone who had an eating disorder. I felt hopeless, alone, and unwanted. Beyond that, I hated every aspect of myself and desperately wanted to do anything I could to change who I was. I ended up trying to commit suicide a few times during this darkness. As the years went on, the mental health diagnosis list increased. I had anorexia nervosa, depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder all by the age of 16. Life was so bleak, then shortly after my 18th birthday, I found out I was pregnant. It came as a huge surprise as I was horrifically underweight and had been told by numerous doctors there was no chance I would ever have children after the damage I had done over the years of starvation. I struggled to care for myself enough to grow that baby though, she was the most important thing to me. After months of discomfort and personal sacrifice, she was born. Annabelle was the most perfect baby girl I could have hoped for. On her eighth day of life, she awoke crying and so I began to feed her. Approximately 2 minutes into her feeding, her little body went limp. Emergency response arrived almost immediately and we were able to revive her. She spent 8 more days in the NICU before passing away from a rare blood disease. My heart broke that day. I fell back into the darkness and spent another seven years fighting myself. The grief along with the mental health issues I already had nearly killed me. It took two more beautiful children, a disastrous marriage, and a ton of therapy to make it to the other side. There are still days I struggle, but overall I can say recovery is possible. Due to everything I have gone through, I did not have much trust in others for a very long time. In the recent years, I have found that as a I build myself up then I have more opportunities to meet like minded people. My pursuit to not only better myself, but support others is due to what I experienced. I hope through obtaining this Masters of Social Work degree that I can provide solace to someone else that is struggling, providing hope that they too can overcome.

My mental health journey started at the age of 10. By this point in my life, I had been regularly sexually assaulted by my mother's boyfriend for over two years. At my annual physical exam, my primary care physician informed my mother that I was "anorexic - failure to thrive" because I had stopped eating and was losing weight at a rapid pace. I had no idea what the doctor meant by this but I spent the next 15 years learning the toll Anorexia Nervosa would have on my life. After that initial conversation, no one paid much attention to the damage I was doing to my body until my school principal intervened two years later. I went to a tiny performing arts school, there was only 30 students in the whole program. My principal was involved in everything we did; from academics, to dance class, to observing lunch. He noticed that I would never show up to the lunch area, or would make excuses about why I did not bring food that day. Then during one of our performance trips, I collapsed. He sat by my hospital bed the entire evening, waiting to talk to the doctor about what he had been witnessing over the last few months. It was that night that everyone found out that I was struggling with anorexia. After that initial hospital visit, I would spend the next several years in and out of treatment facilities, hospitals, and residential care programs. The sexual assault was reported by a clinician at the time, my mother lost custody and I became a ward of the court. When I wasn't in the hospital, I moved from one group home to another and eventually dumped in a shelter as I was "too difficult" because of the medical needs required to care for someone who had an eating disorder. I felt hopeless, alone, and unwanted. Beyond that, I hated every aspect of myself and desperately wanted to do anything I could to change who I was. I ended up trying to commit suicide a few times during this darkness. As the years went on, the mental health diagnosis list increased. I had anorexia nervosa, depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder all by the age of 16. Life was so bleak, then shortly after my 18th birthday, I found out I was pregnant. It came as a huge surprise as I was horrifically underweight and had been told by numerous doctors there was no chance I would ever have children after the damage I had done over the years of starvation. I struggled to care for myself enough to grow that baby though, she was the most important thing to me. After months of discomfort and personal sacrifice, she was born. Annabelle was the most perfect baby girl I could have hoped for. On her eighth day of life, she awoke crying and so I began to feed her. Approximately 2 minutes into her feeding, her little body went limp. Emergency response arrived almost immediately and we were able to revive her. She spent 8 more days in the NICU before passing away from a rare blood disease. My heart broke that day. I fell back into the darkness and spent another seven years fighting myself. The grief along with the mental health issues I already had nearly killed me. It took two more beautiful children, a disastrous marriage, and a ton of therapy to make it to the other side. There are still days I struggle, but overall I can say recovery is possible. I am living proof.

My mental health journey started at the age of 10. By this point in my life, I had been regularly sexually assaulted by my mother's boyfriend for over two years. At my annual physical exam, my primary care physician informed my mother that I was "anorexic - failure to thrive" because I had stopped eating and was losing weight at a rapid pace. I had no idea what the doctor meant by this but I spent the next 15 years learning the toll Anorexia Nervosa would have on my life. After that initial conversation, no one paid much attention to the damage I was doing to my body until my school principal intervened two years later. I went to a tiny performing arts school, there was only 30 students in the whole program. My principal was involved in everything we did; from academics, to dance class, to observing lunch. He noticed that I would never show up to the lunch area, or would make excuses about why I did not bring food that day. Then during one of our performance trips, I collapsed. He sat by my hospital bed the entire evening, waiting to talk to the doctor about what he had been witnessing over the last few months. It was that night that everyone found out that I was struggling with anorexia. After that initial hospital visit, I would spend the next several years in and out of treatment facilities, hospitals, and residential care programs. The sexual assault was reported by a clinician at the time, my mother lost custody and I became a ward of the court. When I wasn't in the hospital, I moved from one group home to another and eventually dumped in a shelter as I was "too difficult" because of the medical needs required to care for someone who had an eating disorder. I felt hopeless, alone, and unwanted. Beyond that, I hated every aspect of myself and desperately wanted to do anything I could to change who I was. I ended up trying to commit suicide a few times during this darkness. As the years went on, the mental health diagnosis list increased. I had anorexia nervosa, depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder all by the age of 16. Life was so bleak, then shortly after my 18th birthday, I found out I was pregnant. It came as a huge surprise as I was horrifically underweight and had been told by numerous doctors there was no chance I would ever have children after the damage I had done over the years of starvation. I struggled to care for myself enough to grow that baby though, she was the most important thing to me. After months of discomfort and personal sacrifice, she was born. Annabelle was the most perfect baby girl I could have hoped for. On her eighth day of life, she awoke crying and so I began to feed her. Approximately 2 minutes into her feeding, her little body went limp. Emergency response arrived almost immediately and we were able to revive her. She spent 8 more days in the NICU before passing away from a rare blood disease. My heart broke that day. I fell back into the darkness and spent another seven years fighting myself. The grief along with the mental health issues I already had nearly killed me. It took two more beautiful children, a disastrous marriage, and a ton of therapy to make it to the other side. This is why I am pursuing a social work career so that I can be that support for someone else.

The message that "anyone can go to college" was often highlighted when I was younger but never seemed feasible for me. No one in my family had ever completed their educational pursuits, my mother dropped out after a few semesters and my grandfather never made it past the first year. My perspective became that "anyone can sign up for college, but no one finishes it". It became even more prevalent to me that college was not an option after I became a ward of the court when I was twelve. Moving between group homes and youth shelters, there was no chance that someone would take a "dysfunctional youth" at their university. Throughout this period of my life, I kept decent grades but it was difficult to keep up with the constant moving around. When I graduated from high school, I did not pursue college as I did not think I had that opportunity. Then when I was eighteen years old, I found out I was pregnant. As a single mother, living in a tiny town there were limited job opportunities. After a few years of struggling to find a job that was lucrative enough to support myself and my child, I decided to enroll in the local community college. I figured taking a few courses while juggling being a mother and working would not be too difficult. A marriage and two children later, I finally graduated with two associate's degrees. The nearest university was over two hours away, which made it nearly impossible to attend. I re-entered the workforce and found my spot in the local behavioral health clinic. This began an almost four-year break in my educational pursuits. My family decided to relocate to Las Vegas to be closer to my grandmother. I enrolled at UNLV right away and completed a semester before realizing that paying out-of-state tuition was too much of a financial burden and did not return the following semester. Two years later I had divorced my husband and found myself to be a single mother while juggling a career as a correctional officer. I knew there was no room for advancement without a degree, so I petitioned for in-state tuition rates and returned to UNLV. I have spent the last four years finishing my Bachelor's degree in Psychology and my Master's degree in Social Work. Being a first-generation, single mother, taking multiple breaks along the way, and in my thirties now; I am finally looking toward graduation. I would say that my path was not traditional, but it has shown that despite all odds a college education is possible.

I have actively been working in the mental health field for over ten years. My path has been windy at points, but I have never lost the passion to make an impact on others' lives. In 2018 I was hired as a Forensic Specialist for the State of Nevada. My position was as a correctional officer for the mentally ill, who were court-ordered to complete a psychiatric hospitalization before they could face their legal issues. I struggled with the work requirements here, as finding the middle ground between corrections and mental health care was often quite difficult. However, I knew that I would keep supporting this population in some manner even after I left that job four years later. As my education comes to an end, I decided that I wanted to use my Master of Social Work license to return to law enforcement. This time though, I wanted to be the one supporting the individual struggling before being incarcerated. I found that the school district was hiring social workers to respond to crises throughout the area, to reduce the criminalization of youth. This was the perfect position for me! I had been working with homeless youth for the last year and with my background in corrections, I could finally blend my two passions and support those who needed me most. Once I graduate, I can apply for licensee verification through the school district and will begin in that role by the fall semester. I plan to incorporate all that I have learned through school, work experience, and my ethical standards to support these youth. By the time law enforcement and I are called, these students will most likely have had the worst day of their lives up to this point. It is my responsibility to slow everything down and get to the root cause of the situation. Often when a youth engages in unsafe behaviors, it is due to needing to meet a need. By taking the time to find out that need and connecting the student to the right support, I could essentially prevent them from entering the school-to-jail pipeline. For this to be successful, it is my responsibility as a social worker to advocate for appropriate resources. Right now, I am working with a team of administrators to continue bringing homeless youth resources to high school campuses across the Las Vegas Valley, so that these students can get the help they need before engaging in illegal activity to meet their needs. In addition, I am looking into state policies that reduce progressive discipline so that I can advocate to our school board and local government to amend these policies to be inclusive and supportive of all students and staff. By working in the field and advocating for policy change, I have a chance to make a long-lasting positive impact.

My mental health journey started at the age of 10. By this point in my life, I had been regularly sexually assaulted by my mother's boyfriend for over two years. At my annual physical exam, my primary care physician informed my mother that I was "anorexic - failure to thrive" because I had stopped eating and was losing weight at a rapid pace. I had no idea what the doctor meant by this but I spent the next 15 years learning the toll Anorexia Nervosa would have on my life. After that initial conversation, no one paid much attention to the damage I was doing to my body until my school principal intervened two years later. I went to a tiny performing arts school, there was only 30 students in the whole program. My principal was involved in everything we did; from academics, to dance class, to observing lunch. He noticed that I would never show up to the lunch area, or would make excuses about why I did not bring food that day. Then during one of our performance trips, I collapsed. He sat by my hospital bed the entire evening, waiting to talk to the doctor about what he had been witnessing over the last few months. It was that night that everyone found out that I was struggling with anorexia. After that initial hospital visit, I would spend the next several years in and out of treatment facilities, hospitals, and residential care programs. The sexual assault was reported by a clinician at the time, my mother lost custody and I became a ward of the court. When I wasn't in the hospital, I moved from one group home to another and eventually dumped in a shelter as I was "too difficult" because of the medical needs required to care for someone who had an eating disorder. I felt hopeless, alone, and unwanted. Beyond that, I hated every aspect of myself and desperately wanted to do anything I could to change who I was. I ended up trying to commit suicide a few times during this darkness. As the years went on, the mental health diagnosis list increased. I had anorexia nervosa, depression, anxiety, and post-traumatic stress disorder all by the age of 16. Life was so bleak, then shortly after my 18th birthday, I found out I was pregnant. It came as a huge surprise as I was horrifically underweight and had been told by numerous doctors there was no chance I would ever have children after the damage I had done over the years of starvation. I struggled to care for myself enough to grow that baby though, she was the most important thing to me. After months of discomfort and personal sacrifice, she was born. Annabelle was the most perfect baby girl I could have hoped for. On her eighth day of life, she awoke crying and so I began to feed her. Approximately 2 minutes into her feeding, her little body went limp. Emergency response arrived almost immediately and we were able to revive her. She spent 8 more days in the NICU before passing away from a rare blood disease. My heart broke that day. I fell back into the darkness and spent another seven years fighting myself. The grief along with the mental health issues I already had nearly killed me. It took two more beautiful children, a disastrous marriage, and a ton of therapy to make it to the other side. There are still days I struggle, but overall I can say recovery is possible. I am living proof.