“What's wrong with Dad?” was the question that led to my 7-year-old self's discovery of mental illness. My dad, a lifelong runner, had a herniated disk in his back. On the couch for months, unable to move, while being told by his doctor he would never run again, he fell into a deep depression. His dad jokes turned into yells of annoyance. His calming guitar was laid upon the shelf, in silence for months. To me, it felt like my dad had turned into someone else. At the age of 10, my mom took me to the doctor. We were told I was susceptible to the same depression my dad faced, and my mom had started noticing the symptoms. The rest of my childhood went by in a dark hue, much of which I do not remember. When I turned 15, I once again found myself sitting in the hospital waiting room. I had known I had moderate anxiety for a while at that point, so I expected a conversation revolving around that. 4 blood draws, 2 urine samples, a written psych eval, and a long talk later, I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa. My denial of this diagnosis persisted for months. Eventually, during my sophomore year of high school, I was forced to drop out of school to be admitted into the hospital where I was met with the reality of this illness: my heart was one cough away from failing. I spent 2 years in different treatment centers, trying to physically and mentally recover. Within these 2 years, I had another depressive episode and my anxiety spiked to an all time high. I remember making a list of all the mental illnesses I had been diagnosed with. It felt too large and overwhelming, much like a collection. Many months of hard work, support from my family and friends, and honesty about my symptoms led to my recovery and started freshman year of college. Throughout my recovery I had become interested in psychology, knowing I could help people find resilience within themselves just as I had. Slowly, my “collection” of mental illnesses has shrunk. However, many of these illnesses stay on my list, such as anorexia nervosa, as I know I will always be susceptible to a relapse. I have learned so much about myself through my own and my dad's struggles with mental illness. We have an understanding to watch out for each other in case one of us slips back into the darkness of depression. I admire his strength in recovering, and am proud of my own. I have found solace in running, letting it wipe my anxieties away. It has been one of the biggest tools I have found in my recovery from depression, anxiety, and anorexia nervosa. After being told he could never run again and seeing no way out, my dad proved his doctors wrong, going on his first run 5 years ago. We often call and chat about how our training is going, the unspoken pride we have for each other's recovery being so loud. It's been 13 years since my dad was catapulted into his depression after his herniated spine, and next year we plan on running a marathon together. Mental illness has plagued my dad and me for the past 13 years, weighing my brother and my mom down with it. Never once have any of us wavered in our support of one another. The energy, patience, and love it takes to support loved ones through mental illness is incredible, and it has brought my family closer together.

Currently, I am preparing to begin my pursuit of a doctorate in clinical psychology at Chaminade University of Honolulu. 6 years ago, I was a high school sophomore unsure if I was going to survive through a night in the hospital. Throughout my childhood, I struggled with childhood depression which manifested into anorexia nervosa. During my sophomore year of high school, my heart failed and I dropped out of school for 5 months to recover in the hospital and intensive inpatient programs. I was lost very deep within myself and could see no way out for a long time. It was a terrifying experience. I could see the panic in my parent's eyes when the doctor updated them on my status. I could feel my heart slow down in the middle of the night right before a nurse would rush in. The nights were when my heart rate would drop the lowest; skimming 30 bpm. This meant I knew that every time I fell asleep I would either be woken by a nurse with an IV, or I would simply not wake up. I was lucky. So many people lose their lives to this illness. But with the support of my family, I made it out. It took a long time but as I recovered, I found a resilience in myself and realized that I have a strong drive pushing me to pursue my goals. I obtained my GED through community college; achieving both high school and college credits. From there, I transferred to the University of Hawaii at Manoa and spent 2.5 years acquiring my bachelor's of psychology, minor in communicology, and certificate in women and gender studies. Occasionally I wish I could have taken part in a junior and senior year of high school, or have had a 4 year college experience. However, the path I took has taught me so many lessons and given me a chance to continue my education and I would not change that for the world. At times, I sit down and reflect on this all, it seems very far away now. I notice my perseverance and the strength that I am not scared to admit I found. I graduated from college at the age of 20 and survived one of the most deadly mental health disorders. I am better for the challenges I have overcome and know that the growth I have had in pushing forward will be valuable in the mental health field. I know exactly what it feels like to see no way out, to not know if you even want to recover and to feel hopelessly alone in the face of a challenge. This insight is one of the things that drives me to support others in their battles with mental health. For that, I am appreciative that I was confronted with these challenges. 6 years later, starting my dream doctoral program, I know that I now possess the tools to succeed in making a difference in the mental health field and in the people I work with. I am proud to say that I fought my way here. I am kind, I am empathetic, I am driven, and I will continue to face challenges with resilience.

My dreams and ambitions are deeply rooted in empathy, a quality that drives every aspect of my life. As I work towards earning my doctorate in clinical psychology, I know that this pursuit is not just about the title of “Doctor,” or the prestige that may come with being a woman completing higher education. It is about becoming a woman who actively drives meaningful change in places where it is most needed. It is about stepping into spaces where hope may often feel absent, bringing not only my professional expertise but a genuine desire to listen and understand those who have been left behind by systems that should be helping them. My mom has told me that my superpowers are my kindness, my ability to feel for others, and my ability to understand them. These qualities have shaped who I am. In life, they are my foundation; and in my career, they are what drives me and gives me a sense of purpose. As I continue on my journey in the mental health field, these strengths are more than my personality traits, they fuel my passion and my determination to achieve my goals. My dream is to expand access to care for individuals struggling with homelessness and addiction. These marginalized communities are often misunderstood, systematically neglected and often left to fend for themselves. Throughout my life, I have observed the unfair treatment of these individuals and the injustices they face. The gaps in the mental health field often leave them without hope and without support. This awareness is what led me to clinical psychology. I am worth the dreams I aspire to achieve and the chance to make the changes I see are needed because I know I can support people in rebuilding their lives, I am kind, I am empathetic, and I simply because I care to. Traditionally, women have been stereotyped as the kind, caring presence who is confined to the home and supports the household. I choose to redefine these attributes; not as limitations, but as my source of strength. I am worth my dreams because I know that my kindness is not a weakness but an action, and my empathy is not passive but power. These are the tools I will use to make a lasting change in the mental health system. These tools are once again, my superpower, and the reason I am worth my dreams. They are the means I will use to create positive change.