Growing up in a multicultural household, mental health was not something openly discussed, even when its effects were clearly present. I come from a family where emotional resilience was my duty, and difficulties were framed as things to endure in silence. Because of this, my earliest experiences with mental illness were indirect, felt behavior and tension rather than through explicit conversations. I learned from a young age to pay attention to physical symptoms of externalization, because they were often the only indicators that someone was struggling. Over time, I began to piece together how mental illness had shaped the dynamics in my family, even if no one used clinical terms to describe what was happening. Depression was one of the first patterns I recognized, though I didn’t have the language for it at the time. I noticed how I would become overwhelmed by pressure, uncertainty, or expectations, but my distress was framed as simply being stressed, tired, or lazy. Cultural values around perseverance and self-sacrifice made it difficult for me to admit when I was struggling with my mental health. Because of that, symptoms were minimized and hidden, leading to cycles of bursts of anger and emotional strain. These moments stay with me, not because they were dramatic, but because they were consistent. Looking back at how I pushed myself beyond my limits has made me more aware of the ways mental illness can blend into everyday life, especially when it is never named. Mental illness also played a role in the ways my family communicated. Emotional vulnerability was not encouraged, resulting in many underlying issues that went unaddressed. When I dealt with sadness, exhaustion, and withdrawal, I was received poorly and with anger. This created an environment where I felt misunderstood and alone in my struggles. I grew up navigating the tension between love and anger, knowing that the lack of communication was not due to a lack of care, but rather a fear of mental illness and the consequences that follow acknowledgement. Understanding this dynamic helped me recognize how cultural expectations can complicate the experience of mental illness within families. These family patterns also influenced how I dealt with my own mental health. I observed my family internalize stress, downplay feelings, and continue functioning despite being overwhelmed. It took time to recognize that these habits were not signs of strength, but rather reflections of the environment I grew up in. As I began studying psychology, I realized how common these patterns are among families who avoid discussing mental health due to stigma or cultural expectations. Learning more about these issues helped me understand not only my own experiences, but also the experiences of people I had grown up around. It gave me a vocabulary for things I had previously felt, and it offered context for the emotional challenges that had impacted my family and me over the years. Mental illness has affected my life not as a single defining event, but as a series of moments that have shaped how I understand people, relationships, and emotional well-being. These experiences are part of the reason I chose to study psychology and pursue a PsyD with an emphasis in families, couples, and children. This is why I feel extremely motivated to work with individuals and families from diverse cultural backgrounds. I want to help create spaces where people can talk about their struggles without shame and where emotional pain is recognized rather than dismissed. By understanding how mental illness has influenced my own family, I hope to better support others who may be navigating similar experiences in silence.

1. As an individual who comes from two very strong, proud, and rich cultures, mental health never crossed my mind. Sadness felt like shame, and anxiety needed to be kept secret. There is a classic saying in Hindi: "Log kya kahenge", meaning, "What will they say?" I was so enamored by the idea of keeping everyone else's peace that I lost my own. As an adolescent, I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. I was taking medication and seeing a White therapist. As lovely as she was, she was the result of a long search after having faced prejudice in this new and foreign space. Although kind, supportive, and available, she could not understand the difficulties that growing up in a predominantly white school district created for me, a half-Indian, half-Indonesian girl. She could not understand my cultural obligations nor the choices my family would make. I am grateful to her as she opened the door to this field for me, but I strive to be a licensed clinician who approaches with cultural humility with a theoretical orientation in structural family therapy. I am grateful to be enrolled in an APA-accredited PsyD program where I get to learn all the powerful and impactful foundations of being an effective clinician, dedicated to lifelong learning. 2. Today, I am a practicum student in community mental health. I work with individuals who are coming out of incarceration, experiencing homelessness, and are mandated to embark on the journey of sobriety. I believe that this population deserves so much more, from resources to kindness. These individuals work hard every day to overcome obstacles that have been systemically placed to keep them stuck in a cyclical disadvantage. They deserve clinicians who are trained and passionate about supporting them. Many of our clients are dealing with substance use disorders and schizophrenia; they must be equipped with better, more manageable resources that encourage them to succeed. My change would be better training for therapists and more funding to support this population. How can we expect individuals to focus on bettering their mental health if they do not have the money to buy a bus pass to transport themselves to sessions? Can we truly be effective therapists if the client's basic necessities are not being met? 3. Connection looks different in the year 2025. Post-COVID-19 era of Zoom, a boost in online services, and even a preference for it, has been interesting to navigate. Some benefits include resource savings: from gasoline to even renting out an office space, the cost of daily living has been reduced in the name of ease, comfort, and accessibility for both parties. But, as I am learning in my Psychodiagnostic Assessments class, in-person interviewing, assessment, and general sessions are important as 70% of our job is observing behavior. The way a client shakes their leg could be indicative of restless leg syndrome, general anxiety, itchiness, and so many other possible reasons, but through telehealth, the clinician may never even know that the client shook their leg in the first place. Although the wonders of telehealth allow for client accommodations in terms of commuting and time, it is beneficial to have in-person sessions as well. Innovation in this space could look like a hybrid, where diagnostic interviewing remains in person, and general sessions could shift online for convenience. We must meet the client where they are at, but we must also fulfill our ethical requirements to be thorough. AI, although rising in popularity, does not have a key element that we encompass: humanity. It is through human connection that we are most effective.

In this world, where mental health struggles are still too often stigmatized, especially within Asian American communities, raising awareness, promoting empathy, and driving systemic change are not just necessary acts but my personal missions. As an Indian-Indonesian American woman, I have witnessed how mental illness can be silenced by cultural shame. These lived experiences, combined with my academic and professional pursuits, have shaped my purpose to only heal but also advocate. My passion for mental health advocacy began with my own journey through depression and anxiety starting at the age of 12. Seeking therapy at 14, despite cultural resistance, was one of the most difficult decisions of my life but also one of the most transformative. That early decision sparked a fire within to help others access the support I fought for. It also opened my eyes to the barriers many Asian American youth face when it comes to mental wellness. Since then, I have dedicated myself to advocacy through action. As Vice President of the Counseling and Psychological Services Student Ambassador program at Purdue, I have helped create inclusive peer support spaces and facilitated workshops on topics like perfectionism, eating disorders, and anxiety. My goal has always been to normalize mental health conversations and equip students, especially those from marginalized backgrounds, with tools for healing. I have also volunteered as a Crisis Intervention Specialist for Mental Health America, where I supported individuals in acute mental health distress. Answering those calls required deep empathy, cultural sensitivity, and composure. These are skills I honed through training and these interactions, often with people who felt unseen and unheard, reaffirmed the importance of accessible and culturally competent care. My academic path reflects my commitment to this work. As a Psychological Sciences major with a Public Policy minor, I have explored both the human experience and the forces that shape it. I worked as an undergraduate research assistant at the Military Family Research Institute; Operation Military Experience where I investigated how deployment-related stress impacts adolescent mental health in military families. This role has taught me how policy and family systems intersect with trauma and resilience. These insights will guide my future clinical practice. Professionally, I have worked with neurodivergent adolescents as a behavior technician at the Center for Autism and Related Disorders, and I am now working as a Behavioral Health Technician at a residential treatment center. These roles have shown me the importance of meeting people where they are and of practicing patience, validation, and strength-based support. Across all my roles, I have seen how critical it is to treat mental health and disability not as limitations but as aspects of the human condition that deserve compassion and care. Receiving this scholarship would not only ease the financial burden of my educational journey but also symbolize a recognition of the cultural and personal battles I have fought to stand where I am today. It would empower me to continue advocating, learning, and supporting those who, like I once did, struggle in silence. My long-term goal is to earn a Doctorate in Clinical Psychology, focusing on trauma-informed care and culturally responsive therapy. I hope to open a community mental health clinic that prioritizes Asian American youth, immigrants, and those from collectivist cultures. I want to blend evidence-based practice with cultural humility. To advocate for change is to believe in a future where every person, regardless of background or diagnosis, is treated with dignity. I am ready to help build that future, not only as a clinician but as a leader grounded in resilience, compassion, and lived truth.

At age twelve, I sat alone in my room, unsure how to explain what I was feeling. My chest was tight, my thoughts raced, and I didn’t know why I couldn’t stop crying. In my culture, mental health is rarely discussed, let alone understood. I was told to be grateful and stay strong. But what I really needed was someone to tell me that what I was feeling was real, and that I wasn’t weak for needing help. By age fourteen, I found the strength to ask for therapy. It was a small decision, but it changed the entire course of my life. I made my mental health a priority at a time when silence would have been easier. That choice taught me that self-care isn’t indulgence. It is survival. It is a declaration that your life, your peace, and your holistic wellness matter. Since then, I have built my life around advocating for mental health in all its forms: emotional, mental, physical, and social. I began working in healthcare at fifteen, volunteering at a pediatric dentistry and a physical therapy office. Later, I worked in urgent care and studied Sports Medicine, witnessing the physical side of health. But it wasn’t until I majored in Psychology in college that I found my true calling. I knew I wanted to become a Clinical Psychologist focused on children and families from underserved communities. Throughout college, I prioritized my own well-being while also helping others. I volunteered with Mental Health America as a 988 Crisis Line operator, answering calls from people in crisis with empathy and calm. I worked as a researcher with the Military Family Research Institute, studying the mental health of children affected by parental deployment. I later worked as an Applied Behavior Analysis technician, supporting children with autism. Today, I work at a residential treatment center for adults who are healing from trauma. This work is not easy, and there are days when I carry heavy stories home. But I practice what I preach. I go to therapy. I set boundaries. I take breaks when needed. I have learned that to truly support others, I must care for myself first. Not just for their sake, but for mine. I have made peace with the idea that self-care is not selfish. It is the foundation that allows me to show up for others with strength, patience, and compassion. I am now preparing to enter a Doctoral Program in Clinical Psychology. My vision is to create culturally responsive, trauma-informed mental health service for youth from all backgrounds. I want to bring psychoeducation into schools, normalize mental health conversations at home, and build safe spaces where children can feel seen and supported. I want to make healing accessible, not a privilege reserved for those who can afford it. The lesson I learned at fourteen continues to guide me today: wellness is not a luxury or a trend. It is a human right. By making my health a nonnegotiable priority, I became someone who not only survived adversity, but now walks with others through theirs. Receiving the SnapWell Scholarship would allow me to continue this work while reducing my financial burden as I pursue my doctorate. More importantly, it would affirm the truth I live every day: that wellness matters, that it is worth fighting for, and that it must begin with ourselves.

I was raised between two cultures: my father, from India, and my mother, from Indonesia. They taught me the importance of family, community, and resilience. But mental health was not a conversation we were had. I began struggling with depression and anxiety at age twelve, yet I learned quickly to keep quiet. In my culture, seeking help is often viewed as weakness, a shame that reflects poorly on the family. By fourteen, I knew I could not stay silent anymore, so I asked for help. And I decided that, one day, I would help others find their voices too. Since then, I have devoted myself to serving others, especially those whose stories are too often silenced and similar to mine. I began working in healthcare at fifteen, volunteering at a pediatric dental clinic and later a physical therapy center. In high school, I worked at an urgent care clinic to align with my Sports Medicine program. Each step allowed me to witness the impact of consistent, compassionate care. Still, I knew I was drawn to something deeper: healing the mind and heart. I majored in Psychology during my undergraduate college and have committed myself to becoming a Licensed Clinical Psychologist. My passion lies in working with children and adolescents, particularly those from collectivist cultures, immigrant families, or historically underserved communities. I have volunteered with Mental Health America as a 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline operator, listening to people in their most vulnerable moments. I worked as an undergraduate researcher with the Military Family Research Institute, exploring how parental deployment affects children’s mental health. Later, I became an Applied Behavior Analysis technician, working with children with autism, an often overlooked and underrepresented population. Today, I work at a residential treatment center, walking beside patients on their hardest days. This path has not been easy. The work is heavy. I carry stories with me that are heartbreaking. But I also witness transformation. I have seen people rediscover hope, laughter, and believe that healing is possible. It is those moments that keep me going. This fall, I will begin my Doctoral Program in Clinical Psychology. My long-term goal is to create culturally responsive, trauma-informed mental health service for youth and families from underrepresented backgrounds. I want to integrate psychoeducation, advocacy, and empathy to dismantle harmful stigmas. I want to be the person I needed when I was younger, someone who believes that children are the future. I want to champion prevention, not just intervention. Graduate school is expensive, and I will be taking out significant student loans to make this dream possible. But my purpose has never felt more clear. I am not just pursuing a degree. I am fighting for a future where every child, regardless of race, culture, or income, has access to the mental health care they deserve. The Sloane Stephens Doc & Glo Scholarship would ease my financial burden, but more than that, it would honor the values I live by: resilience, kindness, and the belief that every single one of us deserves the chance to grow, to thrive, and to be given the tools to succeed. Like Sloane, I believe in giving back. And I am committed to uplifting the next generation because I know how powerful it is when even one person shows up, and the legacy it can leave behind.

I have worked in healthcare since I was fifteen years old. My journey began at a pediatric dental office, where I volunteered to support children through their earliest healthcare experiences. I then moved on to a physical therapy center, where I observed how healing the body required just as much compassion as it did science. Later, I joined an urgent care clinic while still in high school, aligning my experience with my Sports Medicine program. Each role and each patient shaped my understanding of care not as a job, but as a human commitment to be present for others in their most vulnerable moments. In college, I followed that passion into the field of psychology, determined to become a Licensed Clinical Psychologist. I was not driven solely by academics, but by a dream to make a difference, to champion accessibility, and to dismantle the taboos around mental health that too often silence those in need, especially those in ethnic and underserved communities. While pursuing my degree, I volunteered with Mental Health America as a 988 Crisis Line operator, answering calls from people in emotional distress. I also served as an undergraduate researcher with the Military Family Research Institute, focusing on the mental health of children from families with deployed parents. Later, I became an Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) technician, working directly with children on the autism spectrum, a population that is both underserved and misrepresented in mainstream mental health care. Now, as I begin a Doctoral Program in Clinical Psychology, I continue to work as a Behavior Technician at a residential treatment center. This work is deeply rewarding, yet emotionally demanding. Mental health care has the power to change lives, but it also reveals the painful truth that everyone carries unseen burdens. Sometimes, the most impactful thing we can offer is not a quick solution, but time, attention, and empathy. What motivates me is the transformation I have witnessed. I have seen patients rediscover hope, regain trust in others, and find joy again. I have learned that walking beside someone, listening without judgment, and holding space for them to process their pain can be more powerful than any textbook intervention. I show up for them because I once needed someone to show up for me. That struggle shaped my purpose, and I have never wavered from this path. With the degree I am pursuing, I hope to create a new wave of visibility and compassion within mental health care. My goal is to work with youth, particularly those from immigrant or collectivist cultures where mental illness is often misunderstood. In many communities, seeking help is seen as weakness, and mental health challenges are viewed as family shame. I want to change that narrative. I aim to incorporate psychoeducation into my work, meeting patients and families where they are, culturally and emotionally. I want to be a clinician who not only treats, but advocates. Someone who helps others see that needing support does not mean you are broken, it means you are human. This scholarship would not only support my educational journey, but it would also symbolize the very values that drive me: commitment, compassion, and the belief that everyone deserves access to healing. I hope to be a lifelong healthcare worker who gives back to the communities that raised me and to serve as a pillar for those still finding their voice.

Mental health is extremely personal to me. Not just as someone who has struggled, but someone who has watched loved ones struggle. My journey began when I was struggling with anxiety and depression at the age of twelve, but it wasn’t until two years later that I found the courage to seek therapy. Coming from a culture where mental health is rarely discussed, I faced stigma not just from the outside world, but also from within my own family. Still, I persisted, because I knew healing was possible. That journey ignited my passion for psychology and my commitment to helping others who feel silenced or misunderstood. As a graduate student in clinical psychology, mental health and holistic wellness are at the center of my academic and professional journey. But beyond my studies, I am an advocate. I served as a Crisis Intervention Specialist with Mental Health America, where I supported individuals experiencing acute emotional distress. I’ve also worked as a behavior technician in ABA therapy, helping children and families navigate mental and behavioral challenges. On my undergraduate campus, I served as the vice president of the Counseling and Psychological Services Student Ambassador program, where I helped promote resources, organized awareness events, and encouraged students to prioritize their well-being. To me, advocacy means showing up with both compassion and action. It means having tough conversations in communities where mental health is still taboo. It means making sure students feel seen, heard, and supported, not just when they’re struggling, but every day. I believe that by normalizing mental health care, we can create a culture where asking for help is seen as a strength, not a weakness. This type education is not just helping me build a career; it is helping me fulfill a calling to help others heal and find their voice. My mission is to create a foundation to encompass these goals to spread awareness, to destigmatize seeking help, to create ease of access to resources, and to provide care that emphasizes cultural competency. I have approached this journey with both heart and strategy as I know that affording graduate school requires more than what I can afford. Receiving this scholarship would not only support my educational journey, but also reaffirm my mission: to be a voice for those who feel voiceless, and to change the narrative around mental health, one conversation, one person, one community at a time. As someone pursuing a career dedicated to helping others heal, I know that every bit of support helps me continue to show up fully and do this work. This scholarship would allow me to achieve my goal of becoming a clinical psychologist who gives back to her community.