Mental health isn’t a side topic in my life, it’s something I’ve had to confront, manage, and learn from in deeply personal ways. As a college student living with Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD), I’ve come to understand how invisible conditions can have overwhelming effects on the mind, the body, and the spirit. PMDD isn’t just “bad PMS”, it’s a severe, chronic condition that affects emotional regulation, cognition, and energy levels. At its worst, it has made me feel like I was drowning in a version of myself that I didn’t recognize. Living with PMDD means that every month, I enter a cycle of intense emotional and physical symptoms, depression, anxiety, irritability, brain fog, and fatigue. There were times I felt like I was failing not because I didn’t care or wasn’t capable, but because I was stuck inside a wave I couldn’t control. I started doubting my ability to succeed in school, even though I had always been a strong student. I felt isolated and frustrated, wondering why I couldn’t “just push through” like everyone else seemed to. But eventually, through research, advocacy, and working with healthcare professionals, I found answers. Getting diagnosed with PMDD gave me language for what I was experiencing, and with that, came both validation and power. I learned how to manage my symptoms through lifestyle changes, mental health care, and by becoming fiercely protective of my needs and boundaries. More importantly, I became committed to advocating for mental health, especially for those whose experiences may not be visible or widely understood. Within my school community, I’ve become someone that friends and peers know they can talk to. I share my experiences with PMDD openly, not to seek sympathy, but to remind others that they aren’t alone. I also take time to check in with people around me, to ask questions that go deeper than “How are you?” and to encourage them to seek help when needed. I’ve also advocated by incorporating mental health into my academic and volunteer work. As a student majoring in Communication Disorders and Sciences with a focus in Audiology, I’m passionate about helping people be heard, both literally and emotionally. My future career in audiology will allow me to work with individuals who often face isolation and misunderstanding due to communication challenges. My experiences with PMDD have made me more attuned to the emotional complexities that can underlie physical health issues, and I want to bring that awareness into every patient interaction. This scholarship would not only support my financial journey as a student, but it would also affirm that mental health challenges are not a weakness, they’re a part of the story that makes us more compassionate, resilient, and human. I believe in changing the mental health narrative from one of stigma to one of empowerment. Through transparency, empathy, and community support, I aim to be part of that cultural shift, starting with my own voice. Mental health is not just important to me as a student, it is central to who I am, how I learn, and how I serve others Thank you!

My name is Cayla Van Sickle, and I’m currently a junior at the University of Oregon, studying Communication Disorders and Sciences with a focus in Audiology. I’m also minoring in Disability Studies. My goal is to become an audiologist who not only treats hearing and communication challenges but also serves as an advocate for individuals often overlooked by the healthcare system. I was drawn to this scholarship because Kalia D. Davis’s story deeply resonates with me. Like her, I’ve juggled academics, work, sports, and community service, all while navigating personal challenges that have shaped who I am today. Her legacy of excellence, joy, and perseverance reflects the kind of life I aspire to lead. Growing up in a large household with three sisters taught me the importance of sharing space, time, and empathy. In a busy home, I learned to speak up while also learning when to listen, skills that have directly influenced my career path in communication sciences. But family also meant support, especially as I faced one of my biggest personal challenges: living with Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD). PMDD is a hormonal condition that affects both emotional regulation and physical health, and for a long time, I didn’t have a name for what I was feeling. The experience was isolating and confusing. But eventually, with proper diagnosis and treatment, I began to understand my body and mind better. It gave me strength and compassion, especially for others who quietly battle conditions that aren’t always visible. At the same time, I challenged myself physically by setting a goal I once thought was impossible: to run a half marathon. With asthma and no prior distance running experience, it felt like a reach. But I trained for months, failed repeatedly, and kept going. When I finally crossed that finish line, I knew I could face anything, academically, emotionally, physically. That race wasn’t just about running, it was about proving to myself that perseverance is a daily choice. In the classroom, I bring that same mindset. I’ve maintained a strong GPA while also volunteering with CASA, working on environmental initiatives, and serving veterans. I believe that serving others is not just a responsibility, it’s a privilege. My major is demanding and competitive, but it’s also a field where I can make a lasting difference. Whether it’s helping a child hear their parent’s voice for the first time or guiding a veteran through their hearing recovery, I know that my future profession will allow me to live with purpose. Financially, this scholarship would be a major relief. My sister and I are both in college, and every bit of support helps my family keep our dreams alive. But more importantly, this scholarship would remind me that I’m not alone, that there are people like Kalia, and those who loved her, who believe in supporting others who strive with their whole hearts. Kalia lived a life full of purpose, kindness, and ambition. If selected, I would carry her legacy with pride, through my education, my service, and my commitment to growing, learning, and helping others every step of the way.

Some people are born gifted, but I’ve learned that determination can be even more powerful. My most meaningful “failure” wasn’t a single event, but a limitation I faced for years: my physical health. As someone with asthma and minimal running experience, I never imagined I could become a distance runner. But I set a goal: to run a half marathon. And I failed, over and over, at first. I struggled to breathe, doubted myself, and nearly quit many times. But each failure became a lesson. With patience, persistence, and relentless effort, I trained my body and mind to push past the limits I once accepted. Completing that race wasn’t just a personal victory, it was a transformation. This experience taught me that discipline can build what talent alone cannot. It’s a mindset I now bring to my academic and professional journey. I’m currently pursuing a degree in Communication Disorders and Sciences with a focus in Audiology. It’s a highly specialized, competitive field that demands years of education, precision, and heart. The same grit I developed as a runner fuels my ambition to become an audiologist, not just to succeed academically, but to serve others through science, compassion, and advocacy. Like Jore Lund, I believe that service is foundational to a meaningful life. I’ve volunteered extensively, with veterans, in environmental conservation, and as a Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA) for foster youth. These experiences deepened my understanding of resilience, not just in myself, but in the communities I serve. Audiology may not seem like dirty, muddy work, but it absolutely requires hands-on commitment, situational awareness, and emotional presence. It’s about helping people regain connection, with their loved ones, their environment, and themselves. Jore Lund’s legacy reminds me that we grow not in comfort, but in challenge. His life was a model of integrating physical labor, intellectual effort, and deep care for the world. I want to carry that legacy forward, through sweat, science, and service. I may not be a farmer, but I know what it’s like to build something slowly, through failure and perseverance. I know what it’s like to breathe hard, to hurt, to keep going anyway. And I know that the work I do in audiology will one day help people, perhaps veterans, children, or elders, hear the world more clearly. I’m honored to apply for this scholarship not only because of financial need, but because I believe I carry the spirit of its namesake: determined, humble, hands-on, and deeply committed to making my small corner of the world better.

My life’s journey has always been shaped by reflection and intention. One of the best ways I have learned to understand my path, and to understand others, is through the simple yet profound practice of using my planner. It's more than just a tool to organize my day; it's a way for me to ground myself in gratitude, joy, and future aspirations. It is a small, yet sturdy, spiral book with frogs on the cover and gold embellishments protecting the edges, I liked the exterior, but what really sold me was the interior. Like any decent planner, there are dates and to-do lists, but what I found to be especially unique and endearing were the sections labeled 'I'm looking forward to:', 'I am grateful for:', and 'Highlight of the week:' The design appeals to me, but it's the functional interior that truly speaks to my heart. Each week, it encourages me to reflect on what I am looking forward to, what I am grateful for, and the highlight of my week. This combination allows me to be active in cultivating the values I wish to embody: gratitude, joy, and mindfulness. In many ways, these sections of my planner mirror the larger goals I have for my future. Just as I reflect on what I'm grateful for, I often think of the larger forces that have shaped me into who I am today. A significant part of my story comes from my family and their experiences with hearing loss. My father’s hearing loss, resulting from a traumatic injury while working as a naval engineer, and my mother’s genetic hearing condition, have profoundly shaped my understanding of disability. Growing up in a household where my parents were progressively deaf, I witnessed firsthand the challenges they faced. The early memories of my mother struggling to hear my baby cries or the oven beeping, and my father's missed opportunities due to his accident, have led me to a profound belief in the need for societal change for those living with hearing loss. These experiences, while deeply personal, have driven my goal to become an audiologist. I want to be someone who helps others, much like my parents, navigate the complexities of hearing loss and disability. This goal is not just rooted in empathy but also in the knowledge that I, too, carry the genetic markers for hearing loss, and this may affect me or my future children. My ultimate goal is to bridge the gap for individuals who are faced with life-changing challenges, helping them to preserve or regain a sense of normalcy in their lives. To do this, I will need to pursue a rigorous and thoughtful educational plan, along with tangible resources, and create a solid structure for my future work.

As the second oldest of four girls I was lucky to be surrounded by women constantly trying to be the best selves. My mom set a standard of character that I still aspire to in that she is a pillar of positivity and patience. Wise from a young age, my mom allowed each of her children the space and safety to express ourselves. In this I developed a deep sense of compassion and understanding for those around me. Both professionally and personally, my passion for helping people, specifically those with hearing loss, really came from watching my parents struggle with their hearing loss. My dad lost his hearing while he was a naval engineer, and the ship's horn blew while he was right next to it, damaging his eardrums and resulting in a TBI. My mom on the other hand has a genetic condition where she gradually loses her hearing, she started losing her hearing when she was around 20 years old which was also the same time she had my older sister. By the time I was born both of my parents were significantly deaf and though my parents are not completely deaf, it still has a profound effect on the way I view deafness and disability. So many of my earliest memories are of my incredibly young mother not being able to hear her baby cry or the oven beep, It was my dad being passed up for opportunities because he was never the same after his accident. For my family, already trying to come out of poverty, their added struggles shaped the beliefs I have of a world that needs fundamental change. Additionally, I carry the gene for young hearing loss, and it is something that can happen to me or affect my future children. Knowing the impact of deafness, I want to be an audiologist to help families and individuals navigate sudden disability and bridge the gap between old lives and new. In my personal life, my mom continues to encourage me to be a kind and patient person, the same kind of person that she has modeled for me my entire life. Having a woman in my life that is profoundly important not only because she is my mother but also because she continues to show up for me in any way that she can. The women around me but especially my mom, have shaped my passion for helping others, by helping me.