Are you sure? A phrase that always feels like a massive gust of wind coming in to knock you back to where you started. Parents, family members and friends have all used this phrase in conversations about education and career choices. I am choosing to no longer give that phrase power over me. I have always been the type of person to know exactly what and want and how I'm going to get there. I have tried a few different career fields and I currently work as a Neuromuscular Re-education Therapist for a chiropractor. I spend my day treating patients who are suffering from chronic and acute pain. I finally feel like I have found the career that allows me to be challenged every day, and open communication where my input matters. With most all careers in health care, education is a key component. I frequently find myself with my hands tied because I don't have the proper education to give the best care I can. Through my current role I am constantly flooded with horror stories of doctors and medical practicioners acting unethically or just plainly being rude or dismissive. I make it a consistent goal of mine to change my patients perspectives on health care and show them that there are people who care and want to help find solutions. It is an odd conversation when a patient refers to you as a doctor and you have to correct them. Knowing in the back of your head that is exactly where you want to be. It is an even more complicated situation when they come back and ask you why you are not a doctor, and have to take some time to self-reflect and ask yourself the same question. It has been a long road to get myself to where I am at in my current role. It took many months of training, with many mistakes and learning experiences in those mistakes. After all the training, practicing and studying I finally made it and started working on my own. Only to come in unprepared for the process of proving my abilities and gaining the trust of my patients. I have come to terms with the fact that all of those experiences can not be counted as a loss. They are the foundation to knowing more education is the next step for me. Letting it all go is my sacrifice for my future and the patients who will able to benefit from the knowledge I will gain. The power that once was held by an "Are you sure?", will now be transferred to a confident and persistent "Yes, I am".

The phone rang in my pocket. The name was familiar, but an uncommon occurence on the screen of my phone with a red decline button, and a green answer button underneath. Dad. I put the phone back in my pocket, and continued perfecting my croissants. The kitchen was quiet that day. Learning how to make French pastries took a lot of focus. The phone in my pocket buzzed again. A text, "Call me ASAP" I stepped out of the classroom and into the bathroom. Frustrated I answered, "I'm in class, what do you need?" He responded calmer than I expected. "Are you sitting down, are there people around you?" My stomach sank and I wasn't able to respond. "She's been drinking again, and there's been an accident." The tears flowed, my skin was hot, and the breaths I was able to take were not substantial. My father filled me in on the details and hurried off of the phone. I picked myself up off of the floor wiped my tears and made my way back to class and continued working in silence as if nothing even happened. A student from across the room came to me and asked what was wrong. Tears filled my eyes and she guided me out of the classroom where my beloved instructor followed. They brought me to a room, opened their arms and listened to my heart. They were both aware of my struggles with mental health and triggers that came from my family. They knew that creating a safe space for me to recover in was absolutely necessary. After it was all said and done, I returned to class the next week and thanked them because I was unsure where I would've ended up if they hasn't taken notice. Awareness is key.

Sunflowers have always been my favorite flower. They stand tall, and confidently show off their intricate pattern of seeds and pedals. In all of their beauty, they seemingly defy gravity. A massive flower held up by a skinny stem standing multiple feet off of the ground. But the stem is no normal stem, it is designed in a way that grants the flower stability, resistance to impact and trust in the process. The stem is the foundation, but the flower receives the attention of our eyes and curiosities. Our society has put us in a pattern of noticing the features, clothing and body language of the people around us. We all have a foundation that is bypassed when it comes to the consideration of a person as a whole. In my own personal journey, I have become very aware of these tendencies. The struggle of mental health has always been present in my life. I have always been an observer, and still can't decide if it's a trauma response or a utilizable characteristic. My household includes a Mother with bipolar disorder who struggles with prescription drug and alcohol abuse, who also experienced sexual abuse as a child. My Father, who adopted me at age five after my biological father was removed from my life. He endured physical abuse throughout his whole childhood and has a tendency to respond aggressively to just about everything. My older brother, who I watched struggle through school because of OCD and ADD. He later developed PTSD and turned to alcohol after several years in the military and working as a law enforcement officer. With all of that, I encountered my own struggles with anxiety, depression, and an unhealthy relationship with food. Who would have thought, the two successful business owners who frequently found themselves involved in the community, the star football player who had everyone smitten with his red curls, the tri-sport athlete who was nominated as captain of the softball team and elected Miss OHS for excellence in academics, citizenship, school involvement, attitude and willingness to help others, they were crumbling under the faces they were presenting to the world. After many years of struggling to find a balance and more than anything trying to get understanding of what mental health is, I turned to therapy. I saw myself being pulled back into the same path of the normal I grew up in. I decided that my life was my responsibility and it was time to get vulnerable. Once a week, for over three years I sat in a room filled with lavender toned furniture and tiny succulents. For a while, going into a room with a woman I barely knew and spilling all of my deep dark secrets with was overwhelming. I am extremely grateful that I chose to trust the process and continue to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. My understanding of therapy was very limited going in. I expected to go into a room talk about the things that were bothering me for an hour and leave. Wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. I went in and I learned. I learned more about myself and what I wanted and needed in life. Because of her guidance, I finished a degree, learned to set healthy boundaries at home and at work, and I learned what it meant to value myself and my time. The world is a chaotic place that I believe we will never have the ability to fully understand. But I intend to live my life walking a path of constant growth. There are many goals I have in line, and markers I have set for myself, but they all lead to my personal growth. After many years of watching my family struggle with mental health, I know that it is not only a goal of mine, but a responsibility I now have to break the cycle. I intend to raise a family where mental health is a common topic and addressed properly. My hope is to be influence and raise influencers to be a part of the change when it comes to the stigma of mental health. It took me nineteen years to gain an understanding of mental health. I now know that it requires check-ups and routine maintenance. Taking care of your mental health is not always seeing a doctor or counselor, or finding a treatment plan. Sometimes it's making choices that seemingly hurt others. Other times it's maintaining a routine and having a hard conversation. I have made some hard choices in the last several years for the benefit of my mental health. I put up some hard boundaries with family. I changed career fields and am choosing to go back to school. I have difficult and sometimes embarrassing conversations with my partner, coworkers, and friends about my mental health. I do it all knowing it is difficult, but it's the foundation for my future. We are all flowers. Some are roses, who prosper among other roses on the same bush. Some are daffodils and tulips who maintain their own stem but still live closely together. I like to think of myself as a sunflower. They are strong and don't mind standing tall all on their own. Not everyone is the same, and we all have different needs. We all have a stem as our foundation and a flower that the world sees us as. It is our choice what we put into our foundation because the world will always see us as another flower in the field.

"While I breath, I hope" A phrase, no a guide for making it through any situation. It is written on the back of the shirts I wear everyday. There are subtle reminders all throughout the building that have us sit back, take a breath and keep moving forward. My current role has me working in a facility with people with a multitude of diagnosis's that require a lot of hope to get through. Eight years old, at the base of the big mulberry tree in the yard. I was surrounded by blackberry bushes that acted as a curtain of protection. It was happening again. My face was red, I could barely breath and my hands were shaking. I knew they wouldn't find me in there. I stayed for a while until I calmed down and felt like I was safe coming out. I walked back in the house to the silence that had replaced the screaming and yelling I found unbearable. I knew it wouldn't stay that way, but I knew if I didn't give them a reason I wouldn't be the one on the receiving end. I devoted myself to paying attention to their responses. If I made sure my chores were done before they asked, made good grades, avoided instigating fights with my brother and always did more than what was expected, I would be safe. High school breaks you. The pressure coming from all different angles all day, everyday. It was my first week, and I had the dreaded oral communications course first hour. Our first speech was to be about ourself. Nothing I hated more than talking about myself. I knew that I could do something big and distracting to take some of the focus off of me. I decorated a giant box that I could turn and utilize through my speech to hold the attention of my peers. It was the night before the speech and I was still working out some of the details to my masterpiece. It was getting late and my mother was attempting to console me as I hurriedly attempted to get everything perfect. And then the box had tore a tiny bit on the corner. I was absolutely devastated. I broke down into tears, and spiraled so intensely that I found myself in the floor hyperventilating with my mother standing over me. She spoke to me in a disappointed tone, " I don't understand why you're acting like this, it's just a stupid box." The years that followed included many occurrence like this one, but behind closed doors. No one to see those tears or labored breathing again, or so I thought. I spent my teen years searching for outlets to keep my mind busy and express myself. I found exercise and sports were a key part of my survival. I eventually worked myself to be the top performer of my softball team and was nominated to be captain. I told my coach that I did not believe that I needed to be captain. I had a teammate who I was sure would make me miserable if I were to take it on. One of many opportunities I have turned down in my life due to low self worth and anxiety. After high school, I decided to go to college locally. My mother insisted that I would be happier living at home. My parents took on a new habit of drinking alcohol everyday after work. It wasn't something I was used to. I was never a fan of the idea of the loss of control I watched them experience. Little did I know, that was just the beginning. I had moved in with a friend because I could no longer handle the fighting that had occurred while my parent's fifteen year marriage crumbled. I had finished my first year of college and informed my parents that I was moving to the city to pursue my dreams. It took a lot for me to even muster up the thought of talking to them about it. They both were not fans, I was criticized for weeks before the big move. It became so unbearable that I devised a plan with a friend to clear out my things in the middle of the night so I could avoid the hurtful criticism they made available to me consistently. I found refuge with my Aunt and her family in the city. It was a tough transition. My new home had a very event filled, fast paced environment. I found the only way to cope with it all was isolation. I frequently secluded myself to my room, and found that if I spent too much time with others I became snappy and easily aggravated. At times I struggled to breath so intensely, I made my way outside, took off as much clothing as possible and laid flat on my back on the cold concrete. My Aunt worried and frequently checked in. We had a conversation about anxiety and suggested medication or therapy. I had never been an advocate for medication because of horror stories I'd heard, so we settled for therapy. I had assumed three, maybe six months. Never did I think it would go for more than three years. Once a week, for over three years I went to therapy. I found that I had almost no coping skills, and that I wasn't just frustrated to the point where I was having trouble breathing. I was having anxiety attacks and they are serious. All along I had though it was normal. It was difficult to find out that I was most likely having these issues because of some trauma I experienced as a child, but I have used it as motivation to be an advocate for mental health awareness. Inspired by my own ability to overcome my struggle with mental health everyday. I am pursuing a career in homeopathic healthcare, Breathing deeply and instilling hope in as many people as I can.

Maybe it was something you ate. A phrase I have heard so often, that I can predict it to come out of the mouth of any person who's experienced me grasping my stomach and gritting my teeth. Four years of unbearable pain, migraines, brain fog, emergent bathroom trips, and a scary relationship with laxatives and Pepto. A dangerously misinterpreted disease who's seriousness can lead to many frustrating situations. Cautiously scanning menus and nutritional facts for the GF. Only to get eye rolls and snickers when I say "I have celiac, it's an allergy not a preference." It always puts a pit in my stomach when the salad I got, that was the one gluten-free item on the menu, has flaky little croutons thrown on top. My diagnosis came just a year too late. I already had the degree and the job. A degree that put me consistently working with pastries and bread for many hours. It was time for a change and I had to choose my health over anything else. I found a job at a local restaurant that promoted gluten-free, sustainably sourced food. I wasn't there long before I realized that it wasn't at all what they had promised. Sourcing some products became difficult and they were replaced with products less than subpar. I knew that I was impacted by the customers there, but I didn't realize it would put me where I am now. A daily recurring customer and I had a pretty good friendship. We traded recipes and she taught me a lot about health and healthy living. She wasn't from the area, but she was there long term because her daughter was receiving treatment in a nearby facility for an a diagnosed condition I wouldn't wish on my worst nightmare. It's called Complex Regional Pain Syndrome. It's nickname is "the suicide disease" because it causes you to feel like ignited fuel is pumping through your veins, and if wind, water, or clothing touch the affected limb it feels like all of the bones are breaking and then caught on fire. It was such an eye opening story about her daughter, who was only a few years younger than me. We talked about her daughter many times when she came in. She progressed through the program and was doing much better. So good that she was about to graduate. We celebrated with jumps of joy, and she got very serious with me for a moment. She told me that they were looking to hire at the facility that her daughter had been at and she thought that it would be something that I would be great at. A year and a half later and here I am. Working at the facility with patients with CRPS, and learning about health everyday. Through their Chiropractic and Homeopathic medicine I have also gained better control over my own health. Though some of it wasn't expected. Along side Celiac disease, I also found that I had Lyme Disease and another condition called Thoracic Outlet Syndrome. Many answered questions and a whole array of treatments and I'm feeling like a whole new person. But now it's time to keep learning. I have always believed in education and growth. I have found my passion and I'm ready to plant my roots. Having many doctor visits in my life I've found that the majority of them spend their days addressing symptoms instead of the cause. My goal is to become a Doctor of Chiropractic so there is one more doctor out there who is addressing the causes and not the symptoms.

Food is medicine. Food is Fuel. Food is the foundation.These are the statements I would like to exchange my usual phrase of "Food is my happiness" with. I am a blue eyed, blonde haired, porcelain skinned girl. I am the girl that hears the same embarrassing, fat shaming stories about her childhood at family gatherings. The girl who ate handfuls of Splenda packets, stole Reese's pieces off of her Mother's nightstand while she slept, and the girl who countless other times was caught red handed. Or was she caught with a blue tongue, after denying taking her brother's ring pop from his secret hiding spot? Good habits and bad habits take time to develop. I was put into my habits before I was even able to understand the tragedy they could bring. A fat, chunky baby who cried unless I was soothed by a bottle. Majority of my photos I cherish from my early years have a baby with a big belly, covered in food. Then came elementary school. Every year they weigh, measure and test you on your physical health. A day that I came to loathe. Year after year the results never changed, and again the results were OBESE. A word that haunts me to this day. There was never a real understanding as to why I had so many issues with food. My parents never had a conversation with my about my weight or health. But comments, they made all of the comments. A very specific one that opened my eyes to what I had become. At 13, trying to overcome the strangeness of puberty and new social norms. I sat awkwardly in a chair on the porch with a book in my hand. My father came out abruptly, as it was his normal to precede with aggression. He sat in the chair next to me and lit a cigarette while the smoke seemingly had an attraction to me. I found myself in a place of internal frustration after I had asked him multiple times not to smoke near me. I let the thought pass only to hear the sentence that still wanders into my mind every time I see myself in a mirror. "You're getting a little fat, you might keep your eye on that." Never trust a skinny chef. A sign that hung in my grandmother's kitchen. Of the people in my family, there were very few who didn't know their way around a kitchen. Food was always on my mind. It wasn't as if I was hungry all the time, but I wanted to be in the kitchen trying to break free into my creative outlet. But when you cook, you eat. Twenty- Four years of eating, sneaking foods, and looking in mirrors. When I was nineteen I moved a great distance away from the weight of the life I lived, and started a new journey. In that time, I have learned about nutrition, spent 3 years in therapy, and found a wonderful support system. Every day is a struggle. I have found the reason why I struggle with food, I have the tools to get into better habits. This is the next step of applying my knowledge, and living a healthier life. A life for me, and my future children who will begin a new cycle of healthy habits to carry down. Food is medicine. Food is Fuel. Food is the foundation. A new phrase to give me the dedication to stay focused, to make a life of healthier choices, and the use as a guide for conscious eating. Today is the day.