My mental health is deeply important to me because it has directly impacted every stage of my life. My experiences with grief, trauma, addiction, and personal loss, I learned that mental health affects a person’s ability to succeed academically maintain relationships, career growth, and believe in themselves. There were periods in my life where depression and emotional struggles made it difficult to focus on responsibilities or anything. Due to those experiences, I understand how important mental health support is. As a student, prioritizing my mental health has helped me grow emotionally and academically. Therapy has played a major role in helping me better understand myself, regulate my emotions, and communicate in healthier ways. I have learned the importance of setting boundaries, and asking for help when needed. In the past, I often reacted to stress with anger. Through therapy and personal growth, I have become more patient with myself and others. I now recognize that taking care of mental health is not a weakness, but an important part of becoming a stable person. Mental health is also important to me because I plan to pursue a career in social work and eventually become an LCSW or LMSW. I want to help people who may feel unheard, overwhelmed, or unsupported during hardship in their lives. Many people struggling with mental health challenges are judged instead of understood, especially those dealing with addiction, trauma, grief, or unstable living situations. My own experiences taught me how powerful compassion and support can be during recovery and healing. Because of this, I want to create safe and supportive environments where people feel comfortable asking for help without fear of shame or judgment. This is relevant to me because I wasn’t always this lucky to have a healthy environment to recover in. I advocate for mental health in my community by speaking openly about the importance of healing, therapy, and self-improvement. I believe honest conversations help reduce stigma surrounding mental health struggles. Rather than pretending everything is perfect, I try to encourage others to seek support, communicate their feelings, and recognize that growth takes time. I also advocate by leading through example. I actively participate in Thearpy and focus on building healthier relationships and habits in my everyday life. In addition, I try to support the people around me through empathy and understanding. Sometimes advocacy is not only about public action, but about being a safe person others can talk to during difficult moments. I value human connection deeply, and I believe listening to others without judgment can make a meaningful difference in someone’s life. Mental health advocacy begins with compassion, patience, and the willingness to remind others that they are not alone. I have spent many years feeling alone and fighting mental health issues from all angles. I have grown and gained coping skills however it’s still difficult, I still struggle. My goal is to remove the stigma around “mental health isn’t as important as physical health”. mental health is important to me because I know firsthand how much it can affect a person’s quality of life, education, and future. My experiences have inspired me to continue growing as a student and individual while helping others do the same. Ive even experienced losing jobs due to mental health and my substance abuse. Through my education and future career in social work, I hope to continue advocating for mental health awareness and support within my community for years to come.

Option 1: Relationships & Impact Describe a meaningful relationship in your life that has shaped who you are today. How has that relationship influenced the way you build connections with others? Growing up, I learned that meaningful relationships are not defined by perfection, but by loyalty, growth, and the ability to stand beside one another during life’s hardest moments. The most meaningful relationship in my life is with my boyfriend. We met during a difficult period in my life when I was newly sober and trying to rebuild myself after struggling with addiction. At the time, I was unsure of who I was and whether I was truly capable of creating a better future for myself. Despite everything we have faced together, he became one of the biggest reasons I continued believing that healing and growth were possible. Over the years, we experienced many challenges together, including homelessness, unemployment, relapse, mental health struggles, grief, and the loss of close friends. We also dealt with toxic situations involving people from our pasts that created stress and instability in our lives. There were moments where life felt overwhelming and uncertain, but we continued standing beside one another through it all. Those experiences taught me that real support is not only present during good times, but also during the moments when life feels the hardest to survive. One of the biggest changes in my life came through therapy. I began working on a type of therapy focused on understanding the different parts of myself and why I react the way I do in certain situations. It encouraged me to ask difficult questions about who I truly am beneath my trauma, emotions, and past experiences. Instead of only reacting to my feelings, I started learning where those feelings came from and how to manage them in healthier ways. Before therapy, I often communicated through anger. When I felt overwhelmed, hurt, or misunderstood, I would yell or shut down emotionally because I did not know how to express myself calmly. Over time, therapy taught me the importance of self-awareness, emotional regulation, and accountability. I learned how to pause before speaking, think carefully about my reactions, and communicate more respectfully with the people around me. I also became better at setting boundaries and respecting the boundaries of others, which completely changed the way I build relationships. Throughout this process, my boyfriend supported me while also working on himself. He faced his own struggles with mental health and unhealthy behaviors, but he chose to seek help and become a better version of himself. Watching both of us actively choose growth instead of remaining trapped in unhealthy cycles has been one of the most meaningful experiences of my life. Healthy love taught me lessons I never fully understood before. In the past, I confused love with chaos, instability, or emotional extremes because that was what I had become familiar with. My current relationship showed me that healthy love is built on patience, honesty, consistency, and mutual support. Outside of therapy sessions, I continue working on my mental health independently because I genuinely want to grow as a person. For the first time in my life, healing feels exciting instead of impossible. I have realized that I am naturally an extroverted person who values human connection and meaningful conversations. I enjoy learning from others, hearing different perspectives, and surrounding myself with people who share my values, goals, and morals. While some relationships from my past were unhealthy, I still carry compassion for those people because caring about someone does not simply disappear overnight. This relationship also changed the way I connect with others. I have become more intentional about the friendships I maintain and the energy I allow into my life. After losing several family members throughout my life, I have learned to appreciate the time we have with the people we love instead of taking those moments for granted. I now value honesty, empathy, communication, and emotional support more deeply than ever before. These experiences are a major reason why I want to pursue a career in social work and eventually become an LCSW or LMSW. I understand firsthand how trauma, addiction, grief, mental health struggles, and unstable living situations can affect a person’s life. More importantly, I understand how powerful support and human connection can be during recovery and healing. My goal is to help others navigate difficult periods in their lives and remind them that they are not alone, just as others once reminded me.

The lyrics “Address the letters to the holes in my butterfly wings. Nothing’s forever, nothing is as good as it seems” from Olivia Rodrigo resonate deeply with my personal journey because they reflect both fragility and growth. These words capture the idea that beauty and pain often exist at the same time, and that change is both inevitable and necessary. For me, they mirror the challenges I have faced and the strength I have had to develop in order to move forward. The imagery of “holes in my butterfly wings” speaks to imperfection and damage that still exists even as someone is trying to grow and transform. I relate to this deeply. My life has been shaped by mental health struggles, addiction, and trauma that left lasting emotional impact. There were times when I felt broken or like I could not fully “take off” in life the way I wanted to. Yet, even in those moments, I was still changing and learning, even if it did not feel graceful. The second part of the lyric, “nothing’s forever, nothing is as good as it seems,” reflects a truth I had to learn through experience rather than theory. In my life, I have experienced both extreme highs and painful lows. There were moments where things seemed stable or hopeful, followed by setbacks that reminded me how fragile that stability could be. This cycle was especially present during my struggles with substance use and mental health, where progress and relapse often existed side by side. However, over time, I began to understand this lyric in a more empowering way. Instead of seeing it as purely negative, I now interpret it as a reminder that both pain and struggle are temporary. Just as difficult moments do not last forever, neither do moments of despair. This perspective has been especially important in my recovery, where I am currently working to maintain sobriety and rebuild my life with intention. These lyrics also connect to a deeper realization in my personal growth: external appearances rarely reflect internal reality. Things can look stable or “good” on the outside while someone is still healing internally. I have learned that true growth requires looking inward, facing discomfort, and accepting that healing is not linear. Ultimately, these lyrics reflect my journey of imperfection, resilience, and transformation. Like a butterfly with damaged wings, I am still learning how to move forward, even if my path has not been perfect. What matters most is that I continue to grow, heal, and believe that change is still possible.

My experience with substance use disorder has deeply influenced my beliefs, my relationships, and my career ambitions. What began as a long and painful cycle of addiction has become the foundation for my recovery, my values, and my desire to help others rebuild their lives. I struggled with substance use for about ten years, involving crack cocaine, methamphetamine, fentanyl, and other substances. During that time, my life became unstable, and I lost consistency in relationships, responsibilities, and direction. I experienced periods of sobriety, including 18 months clean, but also relapse. My addiction was fueled by shame, trauma, and hopelessness that made lasting change feel out of reach. One of the most defining moments of my addiction was an overdose that required hospitalization. I nearly did not survive and spent several days recovering in the hospital. Even after that experience, I returned to use for a time. Looking back, I understand I was trapped in a cycle where trauma, guilt, and addiction reinforced one another. At the time, I lacked the support and tools needed for sustained recovery. Today, I am clean and actively maintaining my sobriety. I have been clean since Halloween of my most recent recovery date, and I continue taking it one day at a time. A major part of my recovery has been my involvement in Narcotics Anonymous, which has provided structure, accountability, and community. I attend meetings regularly, contribute when I can, and participate in service work. I also share my experience with others in hospitals and institutions. I was first introduced to NA while incarcerated, and it showed me recovery was possible even in the most difficult circumstances. Today, I try to carry that message forward by supporting others who feel stuck in the same cycle I once lived in. My experiences have shaped my beliefs. I now believe people are not defined by their worst moments. Recovery is not linear, and relapse does not erase progress. Healing requires compassion, structure, and consistent support rather than judgment. My relationships have also changed. During active addiction, many were unstable and tied to environments that reinforced substance use. In recovery, I made the difficult decision to remove myself from those environments and rebuild my life in Baltimore. That transition allowed me to create distance from what fueled my addiction and begin building stability. Recovery has taught me consistency, responsibility, and accountability. I have learned I can show up for myself and others by keeping commitments and rebuilding trust. These experiences have shaped my career goals. I am pursuing a path toward becoming a licensed clinical social worker (LCSW) because I want to support individuals facing addiction and mental health challenges. I understand what it feels like to be overwhelmed, ashamed, and unsure if change is possible—and how powerful support can be. My goal is to work in clinical settings providing therapy and recovery support, helping others access care with dignity and compassion. I want to contribute to systems that recognize healing is possible at any stage of life. Ultimately, my experience with substance use disorder has transformed my life. It has strengthened my empathy, shaped my purpose, and given me direction. I am committed to continuing my recovery and becoming an LCSW who helps others find their own path forward.

My mental health has profoundly shaped my goals, relationships, and my understanding of the world. It has influenced not only how I see myself, but also how I understand suffering, resilience, and behaviors. What began as a life marked by instability and emotional setbacks has become the foundation for my purpose and desire to help others. I live with mental health diagnoses, including ADHD, PTSD, bipolar disorder, anxiety, and depression. For much of my life, I did not have the understanding to what was happening inside of me. My emotions often felt overwhelming, my thoughts chaotic, and my ability to function consistently in school and daily life was deeply affected. Looking back, I now understand many of my academic struggles were tied to untreated mental health challenges rather than a lack of ability. My life was also shaped by significant trauma. I experienced the death of my father at a young age, a lasting emotional impact I did not process at the time. In the years that followed, I entered unstable environments and relationships that were not healthy. I experienced abuse and manipulation and often lacked the tools or support to recognize or escape those patterns. These experiences led to repeated periods of crisis. I spent time in mental health hospitals when I could no longer manage my emotions. I also struggled with substance use as a coping mechanism, which resulted in serious consequences for my physical health. These experiences forced me to confront how far I had drifted from the future I wanted for myself. There were times when I felt overwhelmed and unsure if my life could change. However, I am not that person today. Today, I am six months clean. That milestone represents more than sobriety—it represents survival, accountability, and the decision to rebuild my life with intention. Recovery has required honesty, responsibility, and learning to sit with discomfort instead of escaping it. It has also required forgiveness and patience as I continue healing. As I have grown, my perspective on others has changed. I now carry deep empathy for people who are struggling, because I understand how quickly life can become unmanageable without support. I no longer judge people based on their circumstances, because I recognize that behavior is often shaped by pain that is not always visible. My relationships have also changed. In the past, I often found myself in unstable or unhealthy environments that reflected my internal struggles. Over time, I have learned the importance of boundaries, emotional safety, and surrounding myself with people who support healing. I am still growing, but I now value stability in a way I never did before. Academically and professionally, my experiences have given me a clear purpose. I am pursuing social work because I want to turn my lived experience into something that helps others. I understand what it feels like to be overwhelmed, unseen, and uncertain about the future, and I also understand what it means to slowly rebuild from that place. I am committed to supporting individuals facing mental health challenges, addiction, and trauma, and to contributing to systems that respond with compassion rather than judgment. I believe healing happens when people are treated with dignity and supported rather than defined by their struggles. My worldview has changed completely. I now see people in their complexity, not just their pain or mistakes. I understand that healing is not linear, and that progress often happens quietly over time. Today, I am more grounded, self-aware, and motivated than I have ever been. My past does not define my worth, but it has shaped my purpose

My experience with mental health has profoundly shaped my goals, my relationships, and my understanding of the world. It has influenced not only how I see myself, but also how I understand suffering, resilience, and the complexity of human behavior. What began as a life marked by instability and emotional pain has slowly become the foundation for my purpose, my education, and my desire to help others. I live with multiple mental health diagnoses, including ADHD, PTSD, bipolar disorder, anxiety, and depression. For much of my life, I did not have the language to understand what was happening inside of me. I only knew that my emotions often felt overwhelming, my thoughts felt chaotic, and my ability to focus or remain consistent in school and daily life was deeply affected. Looking back, I can see how much of my early academic struggle was connected to untreated mental health challenges rather than a lack of intelligence or effort. My life was also shaped by significant trauma and loss. I experienced the death of my father at a young age, which created a deep and lasting emotional impact that I did not fully understand at the time. In the years that followed, I found myself in unstable environments and relationships that were not safe or healthy for me. I was exposed to situations involving abuse and manipulation, and I often lacked the emotional tools or support system to recognize or escape those patterns early on. These experiences compounded over time, leading to repeated periods of crisis. I spent time in mental health hospitals during moments when I was no longer able to manage my emotional state on my own. There were periods in my life where I felt completely disconnected from stability and unsure of whether things would ever improve. I was also involved in substance use, which became both a coping mechanism and a source of further consequences in my life. Because of my addiction, I faced serious health complications, including diagnoses such as hepatitis C and other medical conditions that resulted from high-risk behavior during that time. These consequences were difficult to face, but they forced me to confront the reality of how far I had drifted from the life I wanted to build. There were moments where I felt overwhelmed by hopelessness and unsure if I would ever find my way back to myself. However, I am not that person today. Today, I am six months clean. That milestone represents more than sobriety—it represents survival, accountability, and the decision to rebuild my life with intention. Recovery has not been linear, and it has required me to face myself honestly, take responsibility for my choices, and learn healthier ways to cope with pain rather than escaping it. It has also required forgiveness—both from others and from myself. As I have begun to heal, my perspective on others has changed significantly. I have developed a deep sense of empathy for people who are struggling, because I understand how quickly life can become overwhelming when mental health is not supported. I no longer judge people based on their circumstances or behaviors, because I recognize that most actions are shaped by experiences that are not visible on the surface. My mental health journey has also shaped my relationships. In the past, I often found myself in environments that mirrored my internal chaos—relationships that were unstable, unhealthy, or emotionally unsafe. Over time, I have learned the importance of boundaries, self-respect, and emotional safety. I am still growing in this area, but I now choose relationships that support healing rather than harm it. I am learning that stability is something I deserve, not something I have to earn through suffering. Academically and professionally, these experiences have given me a clear sense of direction. I am pursuing social work because I want to transform my lived experience into something that can help others. I know what it feels like to be overwhelmed, to feel unseen, and to believe that change may not be possible. I also know what it feels like to slowly rebuild from that place. Because of this, I want to be a source of support and understanding for others navigating similar struggles. I am especially committed to supporting individuals experiencing mental health challenges, addiction, and trauma. I want to contribute to systems of care that respond with compassion rather than judgment, and that recognize the humanity of people in crisis. I believe healing becomes possible when people are treated with dignity, consistency, and genuine support. My worldview has changed because of everything I have lived through. I no longer see people in terms of their worst moments or their labels. I see complexity, pain, resilience, and the possibility of change. I understand that healing takes time and that progress is not always visible, but it is always meaningful. Today, I am more grounded, self-aware, and motivated than I have ever been. My past does not define my worth, but it has shaped my purpose. I am committed to continuing my education, growing in my recovery, and using my experiences to create positive change in the lives of others. I want my life to mean something—not just for me, but for others who are still in the place I once was.

The change I wish to see in the world is a shift toward genuine acceptance—where people are no longer made to feel ashamed of who they are, who they love, or the struggles they carry. I want to live in a world where individuals, especially those in the LGBTQ+ community and those facing addiction or mental health challenges, are seen as worthy, whole, and deserving of support. Growing up, I often felt like I was not “good enough.” As a bisexual woman, coming to terms with my identity was not easy, especially in an environment where I felt judged. When I began to notice my attraction to both men and women, I experienced criticism at home, particularly when it came to my attraction to women. I learned to hide parts of myself, even having relationships in secret, because I feared rejection. That kind of environment does not just create silence—it creates shame. It teaches you to question your identity instead of embracing it. For a long time, I carried those feelings with me, believing there was something wrong with who I was. At the same time, I was also facing mental health struggles and challenges with addiction. These experiences only intensified those feelings of not being enough. When you are already struggling internally, and the world around you reinforces that you are somehow “less than,” it becomes even harder to find your sense of worth. But through those hardships, I also gained something important: perspective. I understand what it feels like to be overlooked, misunderstood, and judged, and that understanding has shaped the person I am becoming. This is why I am pursuing a degree in social work. I want to be the kind of support system that I needed growing up. I want to help people—especially those in the LGBTQ+ community, as well as individuals dealing with addiction and mental health struggles—recognize their value and feel seen for who they truly are. I believe that no one should have to hide their identity or feel ashamed of their struggles in order to be accepted. The change I hope to see is not just tolerance, but true understanding. Tolerance allows people to exist; understanding allows them to thrive. I want a world where young people do not feel the need to hide who they love, where bisexuality and other identities are fully accepted, and where seeking help for mental health or addiction is met with compassion instead of stigma. Through social work, I plan to contribute to this change by creating safe, supportive environments where individuals can be honest about who they are without fear. I want to advocate for better mental health resources, more inclusive spaces, and stronger support systems for marginalized communities. My goal is to help others see what I have come to learn myself: that their identity is not something to be hidden, and their struggles do not define their worth. Ultimately, the change I wish to see in the world is simple but powerful—to ensure that no one grows up feeling the way I once did. Everyone deserves to feel valued, accepted, and understood. By pursuing a career in social work, I hope to be part of creating that reality for others.

I am a fan of Sabrina Carpenter not only because of her music, but because of the growth and confidence she represents. Watching her become happier, more self-assured, and more expressive over time has made me appreciate her even more as an artist and as a person. When I was younger, I didn’t really focus on song lyrics. I listened more for the rhythm, the melody, and how the music felt. I would even sing along to songs without fully understanding the words, sometimes making up my own versions of what I thought they were saying. Music, to me, was more about sound than meaning. As I’ve gotten older, that has changed. I now pay much closer attention to lyrics, and that shift has made artists like Sabrina Carpenter stand out to me in a much deeper way. One song that really impacted me was Espresso. At first, I didn’t fully understand it just by listening. But once I took the time to read the lyrics, I connected with it in a completely different way. Her writing is clever, confident, and expressive, and it made me realize how powerful lyrics can be when you truly listen to them. It wasn’t just a song anymore—it was something I could feel and relate to. Sabrina Carpenter’s career has impacted me by showing how important it is to grow into yourself and to be unapologetically confident. She expresses herself in a way that feels genuine and empowering, and that inspires me to do the same in my own life. Beyond her music, she also comes across as a kind and caring person who values her fans, which makes me respect her even more. Overall, being a fan of Sabrina Carpenter has changed the way I listen to music and how I connect with it. She has helped me appreciate not just how music sounds, but what it means. Her confidence, creativity, and authenticity continue to inspire me to embrace who I am and to grow into the best version of myself.

Faith has played a complex and evolving role in my life, shaping both my personal growth and my academic goals. While my relationship with faith has not always been easy, it has ultimately become a source of strength, guidance, and direction as I work toward a better future. Over time, I have come to understand that faith is not something that remains fixed—it grows, changes, and develops alongside us, especially through life’s most difficult moments. I was raised in a Roman Catholic environment, but some of my earliest experiences with faith were confusing and, at times, discouraging. At a young age, I was made to feel as though my mistakes defined me, which created a sense of fear rather than understanding. Instead of feeling supported, I often felt judged, and this shaped how I viewed both myself and my spirituality. As I grew older, I experienced significant personal loss, including the death of my father, which deeply impacted my mental health and my outlook on life. During this time, I struggled to understand how faith fit into my circumstances, and for a while, I distanced myself from it entirely. In addition to grief, I also faced challenges with anxiety and substance use disorder. These experiences disrupted my sense of stability and made it difficult to stay focused on my future. However, even during these periods, I was still learning—learning about resilience, consequences, and the importance of change. Although I did not always recognize it at the time, these lessons became the foundation for the growth I am experiencing today. Over time, my perspective on faith began to shift. Rather than seeing it as something rooted in fear or judgment, I started to view it as something personal and supportive. Today, I am a member of Foundry Church in Baltimore, Maryland, where I have found a welcoming and understanding community. This environment has allowed me to rebuild my faith in a healthier way—one that emphasizes compassion, accountability, and personal growth. Through this renewed connection, I have developed a stronger sense of purpose and direction in my life. Faith now plays a significant role in how I approach both my personal decisions and my academic goals. It has taught me patience during difficult times, accountability for my actions, and perseverance when faced with challenges. It has also helped me recognize that setbacks do not define my future—they are opportunities to grow and improve. This mindset has been especially important as I work toward continuing my education and building a more stable and meaningful life. As part of my commitment to personal growth, I have made intentional decisions to support my mental health and focus. One of those decisions has been to step away from social media. Although I still have access to it, I have chosen not to keep social media applications on my phone. This choice reflects my desire to reduce distractions, protect my mental well-being, and remain fully present in my goals. By limiting unnecessary influences, I have been able to dedicate more time to learning, self-reflection, and planning for my future. In addition to faith, my life experiences have strongly influenced my decision to pursue higher education. The challenges I have faced—grief, mental health struggles, and addiction—have motivated me to seek a different path. I want to create stability in my life and build a future that reflects growth, purpose, and determination. Education represents more than just academic achievement for me; it represents a second chance to fully apply myself and reach my potential. I am especially motivated now because I recognize how much I am capable of learning when I am focused and open-minded. In the past, I struggled to stay engaged in school, but today I approach learning with a renewed sense of discipline and excitement. I am ready to take advantage of the opportunities in front of me and to continue developing both academically and personally. Today, faith has become a guiding force in my life, influencing both my personal growth and my academic aspirations. Alongside my life experiences, it has encouraged me to pursue higher education with intention and determination. I am committed to continuing this path, using both my faith and my education to build a better future for myself and to create a positive impact in the lives of others. Social Media: I have chosen not to actively maintain social media accounts at this time in order to support my mental health and academic focus.

I am proof that learning does not have to follow a perfect path to be meaningful. Although my education was unconventional and often disrupted, it ultimately led me to develop resilience, curiosity, and a renewed commitment to academic growth. Throughout my learning journey, I have increasingly relied on online platforms, tools, and everyday interactions to further my understanding of the subjects I am studying. While I did not always thrive in traditional academic environments, I have grown into a more focused and motivated learner. I have always been curious, but today I approach learning with maturity, intention, and a genuine desire to absorb knowledge. One of the most impactful tools I use is artificial intelligence. AI allows me to ask questions freely without the fear of judgment, which has been essential to my growth. I often ask multiple questions in order to fully break down complex topics, and this process has strengthened both my comprehension and my confidence. In addition, I frequently use platforms such as YouTube to watch educational videos that present concepts in different ways. These videos, along with the discussions found in their comment sections, expose me to diverse perspectives. I have even begun to carry these conversations into my everyday life by asking others for their thoughts, something I was not always comfortable doing. My relationship with education has not been traditional. After the passing of my father, I struggled significantly with my mental health and was pulled out of school. During that time, I also faced challenges with addiction, which further disrupted my academic progress. Although I was not learning in a structured classroom, I was still gaining knowledge through life experiences—lessons in resilience, emotional awareness, and perseverance. As a teenager, I also faced difficulties consistent with attention-related challenges. Research shows that students with attention disorders, such as ADHD, often have lower high school completion rates compared to their peers, with some estimates ranging between 60–70%. Although I did ultimately graduate, it was not in a traditional setting. I completed my education online and required more encouragement and support than many others my age. Even now, I remain surprised—and incredibly proud—that I achieved that milestone. It represents not only academic success but also personal growth and determination. Today, I feel I am entering a new chapter in my life. I am excited to pursue higher education with a renewed mindset and a stronger sense of discipline. I have always been interested in subjects such as algebra, but I never gave myself the opportunity to fully engage with them. Now, I am prepared to take advantage of the tools and resources available to me and apply myself in ways I could not before. These online platforms and resources have helped me not only gain knowledge but also apply it in meaningful ways. I have become more open-minded, more willing to challenge myself, and more confident in my ability to learn. I now understand that education is not confined to a classroom—it is a continuous process that requires curiosity, effort, and self-reflection. Ultimately, my journey has shown me that a mind is a terrible thing to waste. Despite the obstacles I have faced, I have never stopped learning. Today, I am committed to making the most of my education and continuing to grow both academically and personally.

I think just about everyone gets teased for something growing up—it almost feels like a rite of passage. For me, it wasn’t just one thing, but a few differences that made me stand out early on. When I was younger, I had to wear an eye patch because of a vision issue. My right eye wasn’t as strong as my left, so doctors would patch my left eye to strengthen my right. To me, it was just part of what I had to do for my health. To other kids, though, it didn’t look like medical treatment—it looked like I was pretending to be a pirate. That nickname followed me more than I liked to admit, and even though it was often said as a joke, it still felt embarrassing. At that age, you don’t really have the tools to separate “joking around” from something that actually sticks with you. I just knew I felt different. I also grew up with ADHD, which made school more challenging in ways that weren’t always visible to others. I learned differently, processed information differently, and sometimes struggled with focus and organization. Things that seemed simple for other students sometimes took extra effort for me. Instead of understanding, I was often labeled as “weird” or “not paying attention,” which made me more aware of how quickly people can judge what they don’t understand. I wasn’t trying to be difficult—I just needed things explained or experienced in a different way. On top of that, I came from a different financial situation than many of the kids around me. I didn’t always have the nicest clothes, the newest shoes, or the same material things others had. Even when I tried not to think about it, kids notice those differences quickly. It sometimes made me feel like I was on the outside looking in, like I had to work harder just to feel included in spaces where others seemed to belong naturally. That feeling can be quiet, but it stays with you. At the time, all of these things felt heavy in different ways. I often felt like I had to explain myself, shrink myself, or hide parts of who I was just to avoid attention or judgment. It wasn’t always about one big moment—it was the small, everyday reminders that I was different. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve started to see those experiences differently. They didn’t just make me feel out of place—they shaped how I see other people. I learned empathy early on in a real way, not just in theory. I know what it feels like to be misunderstood, labeled, or laughed at for things you can’t easily change. Looking back, those experiences didn’t define me, but they did build me. They taught me patience, awareness, and resilience. They also taught me not to judge people too quickly, because you never really know what someone is dealing with beneath the surface. What once felt embarrassing is now part of what helps me understand others more deeply.

My faith has not always been something steady or comforting in my life. In fact, for many years, it was something I struggled with deeply. I grew up Roman Catholic, but one of my earliest memories connected to faith was being told by a priest at eight years old that I was a terrible person for something I had done. At that age, I did not fully understand right from wrong in a complex way, but I understood how those words made me feel. That moment stayed with me and shaped how I saw myself for years. Instead of feeling guided, I felt judged, and it created distance between me and my faith. As I grew older, I experienced significant loss. I lost my grandfather on my thirteenth birthday, and later, I lost my father in front of me. After that, there were more losses that followed. These experiences were overwhelming, and instead of turning toward faith, I turned away from it. I began to question God and, at times, blamed Him for the pain I was experiencing. I could not understand why so much loss and hardship was happening in my life, and that confusion turned into anger. During those years, I struggled with addiction and found myself going down a path that distanced me even further from who I wanted to be. It wasn’t until I reached one of the lowest points in my life—being incarcerated and placed in solitary confinement—that something began to change. In that space, where I had nothing but my thoughts and myself, I found God in a way I never had before. It was not through fear or judgment, but through reflection, honesty, and a desire to understand something greater than myself. That moment marked the beginning of a new relationship with my faith. It became personal instead of forced. I began to see God not as someone who condemns, but as someone who listens, guides, and offers grace. Since then, my faith has become a foundation in my life. I now attend church regularly and volunteer to help those in need. Giving back has strengthened my sense of purpose and connection, and it allows me to live out my faith through action, not just belief. My faith has helped me find peace in situations that once felt unbearable. It has taught me patience, forgiveness, and the importance of continuing forward even when life feels uncertain. It has also helped me rebuild my sense of self-worth, showing me that I am more than my past mistakes or the hardships I’ve faced. As I pursue a career in mental health, I believe my faith will have a meaningful impact on how I support others. It has given me a deeper sense of compassion and understanding, and it reminds me to meet people where they are without judgment. While I understand that not everyone shares the same beliefs, my faith will guide how I treat others—with respect, empathy, and a genuine desire to help. More than anything, my journey with faith has shown me that even in the darkest moments, growth and change are possible. It has transformed how I see my life, my struggles, and my purpose moving forward.

My experiences with mental health have shaped nearly every part of who I am—how I see the world, how I connect with others, and the path I am choosing for my future. Living with bipolar disorder, PTSD, and ADHD, along with years of struggling with addiction, has given me a perspective that is both difficult and deeply meaningful. It has forced me to confront challenges that many people do not fully understand, but it has also taught me lessons that now guide how I live my life. For a long time, my mental health influenced my beliefs in a negative way. I often believed that I was too much for people, that my emotions were something to be ashamed of, and that my struggles made me less capable than others. Being in and out of mental hospitals from a young age due to suicidal thoughts and attempts reinforced those feelings. I felt labeled by my lowest moments instead of understood for what I was going through. Over time, I began to internalize the idea that I was disposable, especially when relationships or environments could not handle my behaviors. However, as I’ve grown and worked on my recovery, my beliefs have shifted. I no longer see mental health challenges as something that makes a person weak or unworthy. Instead, I see them as something that requires understanding, patience, and proper support. I’ve learned that behavior is often a response to pain, trauma, or imbalance—not a reflection of someone’s value. This shift in belief has changed how I see both myself and others. My relationships have also been deeply affected by my mental health. In the past, I struggled with emotional regulation, trust, and communication. This made it difficult to maintain stable, healthy connections. I often felt misunderstood, and at times, I pushed people away or felt pushed away because of how I reacted to situations. Losing people—whether through addiction, distance, or conflict—only reinforced my fear of abandonment. Now, I approach relationships differently. I am learning how to communicate more openly, set boundaries, and take accountability for my actions. I also have a deeper level of empathy for others. Because I know what it feels like to struggle internally, I try to meet people with understanding rather than judgment. My experiences have made me value genuine connection and emotional honesty in a way I didn’t before. Most importantly, my mental health journey has directly influenced my career aspirations. I want to pursue a degree in mental health because I understand firsthand how important it is to feel seen, heard, and supported. There were times in my life when I did not receive the kind of help I truly needed, and that experience drives me to become someone who can offer that support to others. I want to work with individuals who are struggling with addiction, trauma, and mental health disorders—especially those who feel like they are too far gone or too difficult to understand. I know that feeling, and I want to help change that narrative. I want to be someone who looks beyond behavior and recognizes the person underneath. My experiences with mental health have not been easy, but they have given me clarity, purpose, and direction. They have reshaped my beliefs, strengthened my approach to relationships, and guided me toward a career where I can make a meaningful difference. What once felt like a burden has become the foundation of who I am becoming.

Education is important to me because for a long time, it felt completely out of reach. After losing my father, my life became unstable in ways I didn’t yet understand. Grief affected my ability to focus, to stay motivated, and to see a future for myself. Instead of being supported through that loss, I found myself surrounded by negative influences. The people around me were often struggling in the same ways I was, and I became pulled into a lifestyle centered around substance use and poor decisions. Eventually, my mother made the decision to pull me out of school in hopes that it would help me mentally. While the intention was to protect me, it did not address the deeper issues I was facing. Without structure, guidance, or healthy coping skills, I continued down a path shaped by addiction, instability, and the environment I grew up in. Substance use was something I had been exposed to early in life, and as a confused child, I didn’t know how to separate myself from those patterns. For years, education felt like something meant for other people—people with stability, support, and a clear path forward. I carried the belief that I had fallen too far behind to ever catch up. But over time, things began to change. Through my experiences, I started to recognize the cycle I was born into—addiction, unhealthy environments, and limited opportunities—and I made the decision that I did not want that to define the rest of my life. Choosing education is my way of breaking that cycle. Today, I am no longer the same person I was during those years. After struggling with addiction for a decade, I am now in recovery and actively working toward a better future. My path has not been traditional, and it has not been easy. I have faced challenges including substance abuse, domestic instability, and a criminal background—obstacles that often make people feel like higher education is no longer an option. But I am choosing to prove that it still is. Education represents more than just a degree to me. It represents growth, accountability, and the chance to build a life that is different from the one I came from. It is a way for me to gain knowledge, develop discipline, and create opportunities that I never had before. More importantly, it is a way for me to turn my experiences into something meaningful. The legacy I hope to leave is one of change and possibility. I want to show others—especially those who come from similar backgrounds—that their past does not disqualify them from a future. I want people to see that even after years of addiction, hardship, and setbacks, it is still possible to pursue education and build something better. Today, I have something I didn’t have before: a clear goal and the determination to reach it. I have a computer, a dream, and the willingness to put in the work. That may seem simple, but for me, it represents everything. Education is not just important to me—it is the foundation of the life I am working to create, and the impact I hope to leave behind.

Losing my father to alcoholism was one of the most defining experiences of my life. His passing was not just a single moment of grief—it was something that built over time. Watching someone you love struggle with addiction creates a complicated kind of pain. It is grief mixed with confusion, anger, love, and helplessness all at once. When he passed, I wasn’t just mourning who he was, but also what could have been. His death forced me to confront emotions I had spent years avoiding. I had to navigate grief, abandonment, and unanswered questions. At times, I felt anger—anger at addiction, at circumstances, and even at him. Other times, I felt deep sadness and guilt. Over time, I’ve learned that these emotions can exist at the same time, and that feeling them does not make me weak. What this experience taught me is that I am resilient, even when I don’t feel like it. I’ve learned that I can face difficult truths and still choose to grow. For many years, I coped in unhealthy ways. I struggled with substance use for ten years, along with mental health challenges including bipolar disorder, PTSD, and ADHD. I was also in and out of mental hospitals from a young age due to suicidal thoughts and attempts. During those years, I often felt misunderstood and disposable, like my struggles made me too much for people to handle. What began to change my life was learning healthier ways to cope. Meditation and journaling have impacted me in ways I never expected. There is something powerful about writing my thoughts down, seeing them on paper, and sometimes even reading them out loud. It allows me to process emotions instead of holding them in. Journaling has helped me understand my patterns, reflect on my growth, and hold myself accountable. I also pray regularly. Prayer and meditation have become a way for me to connect with God—to speak honestly about what I’m going through and to sit in stillness, allowing space for guidance and clarity. It has brought me a sense of peace and direction that I didn’t have before. These practices have grounded me and helped me become more present in my own life. Today, the most recent six months being the most stable and intentional period of my recovery. I’ve learned how to sit with my emotions instead of running from them, and how to rebuild trust with myself through consistency. My father’s story, along with my own, has shaped the direction I want to take moving forward. I want to continue my education because I want to turn my experiences into something meaningful. I plan to pursue a degree in mental health so I can help others who are facing addiction, trauma, and emotional struggles. I know what it feels like to be overwhelmed and unsure where to turn, and I want to be someone who offers support, understanding, and hope. The biggest influences in my life are the people I’ve lost and the person I’m becoming. My father’s life and passing taught me the reality of addiction, while my own journey has shown me that change is possible. Everything I’ve been through has given me purpose. I want my story to be more than survival—I want it to be something that helps others find their way forward.

Pursuing a degree in mental health is deeply personal to me. It is not based on abstract interest, but on lived experience shaped by trauma, addiction, and survival. For ten years, I struggled with substance use, which eventually took control of many areas of my life. During that time, I also experienced homelessness in my young adulthood, which forced me into constant survival mode and made stability feel out of reach for long periods. My life has also been marked by significant loss. I lost my best friend to an overdose, along with others I cared about who struggled with addiction. I also lost my father to alcoholism, which created a lasting impact on my understanding of how deeply substance use can affect families and generations. From a young age, I was in and out of mental hospitals due to suicidal thoughts and attempts. These experiences were some of the most difficult parts of my life, but they also shaped my understanding of crisis, vulnerability, and the importance of compassionate mental health care. I know firsthand what it feels like to be in moments where everything feels overwhelming and survival feels uncertain. I am diagnosed with bipolar disorder, PTSD, and ADHD. For a long time, I did not understand how these conditions were affecting my emotions, behavior, and relationships. I often felt misunderstood, judged, and dismissed. I felt like I was constantly being “disposed of” in relationships and environments because of behaviors I now understand were connected to untreated mental health conditions and trauma. That experience deeply affected my self-worth and sense of identity. Over time, I began to understand that my struggles were not just personal failures, but the result of untreated mental health conditions, trauma, and a lack of consistent support. That realization changed how I see both myself and others. I came to understand that behavior is often a reflection of internal pain, not a measure of a person’s value. My recovery has given me a new perspective. I currently have two years of sobriety, with the most recent six months being the most stable and intentional period of my life. During this time, I have started rebuilding trust with myself, taking accountability for my actions, and learning how to manage my emotions in healthier ways. This process has shown me how difficult recovery is without support, and how transformative it can be when support is present and consistent. I want to pursue mental health because I want to turn my lived experience into purpose. I want to understand the science behind trauma, bipolar disorder, ADHD, PTSD, and addiction so I can better support others who are struggling. More importantly, I want to be the kind of support I once needed—someone who sees the person behind the behavior and responds with understanding instead of judgment. My goal is to work with individuals who feel overlooked, misunderstood, or beyond help, and to help them see that change is possible. I want to contribute to a mental health system that treats people with dignity, compassion, and real opportunity for healing. This degree represents more than education for me—it represents transformation. It is a step toward using everything I have survived to help others find stability, understanding, and hope.

My name is Cheyenne, and my life experiences have shaped both who I am and the impact I hope to make through a career in social work. I have faced challenges that have given me a deep understanding of what it means to struggle, but more importantly, what it means to grow, adapt, and help others do the same. As a child, I had learning difficulties that made school challenging. I needed additional support in reading and math, and I often felt different from my peers. Having someone work with me one-on-one made a significant difference in my ability to understand and succeed. That experience stayed with me—it showed me how important patience, guidance, and individualized support can be for someone with special needs. It also gave me early insight into how easily individuals can feel overlooked when they learn differently. As I grew older, I faced additional challenges related to my mental health, including being diagnosed with bipolar disorder, PTSD, and ADHD. These experiences, combined with my struggles with addiction, gave me a firsthand understanding of how complex and interconnected mental health and behavioral challenges can be. There were times in my life when I felt misunderstood, unsupported, and defined by my struggles rather than my potential. However, through recovery and personal growth, I have gained a new perspective. I have learned that people with special needs—whether those needs are developmental, emotional, or mental—deserve compassion, structure, and advocates who genuinely understand them. My experiences have given me the ability to connect with others on a deeper level, especially those who may feel unheard or overlooked. In my career as a social worker, I plan to make a positive social impact by supporting individuals with a wide range of special needs, including those with learning disabilities, mental health conditions, and substance use disorders. I want to be someone who not only provides resources, but also offers understanding and encouragement. I believe that building trust and creating a safe, supportive environment can make a life-changing difference. I am especially passionate about helping individuals who, like me, may have fallen through the cracks at some point in their lives. Whether that means working with youth who struggle academically, individuals navigating mental health challenges, or those in recovery, my goal is to meet people where they are and help guide them toward stability and self-worth. My past has given me more than challenges—it has given me purpose. I plan to use my education and experiences to advocate for those with special needs and to remind them that they are not defined by their difficulties. With the right support, understanding, and opportunities, change is always possible.

My experience with incarceration was not just a consequence of my actions—it became the turning point that saved my life. Before my arrest, I was severely addicted to drugs and stuck in a cycle that felt impossible to escape. My legal issues stemmed from a violation of probation after I failed to attend rehab, something I avoided because I was not ready to face the reality of my addiction. On February 21st, 2024, I was in my room, alone and withdrawing, physically and emotionally depleted. I had nothing left in me. When the police arrived at my door, I knew it was over. For the first time, I felt relief instead of fear. I was taken to Harford County Detention Center, where, due to serious medical complications caused by substance abuse, I was placed in solitary confinement for three months. That isolation forced me to face myself in a way I never had before. With little to no human interaction, I sat with my thoughts, my choices, and the reality of where my life had led me. At the same time, my physical health was rapidly declining. I underwent multiple operations and came dangerously close to losing my limbs. I had never felt so sick, so weak, or so aware of the damage I had done to myself. But in that darkness, something began to change. I started to reflect and realized that if nothing changed, I would not survive. When I stood before the judge, I was given the opportunity to go to rehab. However, I was supposed to be released for the weekend before entering treatment. In that moment, I knew I would not make it back if I left. I looked around and recognized the environment that had nearly destroyed me. Instead of choosing temporary freedom, I made the difficult decision to ask to remain in custody. That decision saved my life. When I entered rehab that following Monday, it marked the beginning of true recovery. For the first time, I experienced genuine happiness and stability. I built clean time, developed coping skills, and began to understand the deeper struggles that contributed to my addiction, including being diagnosed with bipolar disorder, PTSD, and ADHD. Instead of seeing those diagnoses as setbacks, I began to understand them as challenges I could learn to manage with the right support. This experience has directly shaped my academic and career ambitions. I am pursuing a path in mental health and social services because I want to help others who feel trapped the way I once did. I understand the pain, the isolation, and the fear—but I also understand the power of support, structure, and second chances. Incarceration did not define me—it interrupted me long enough for me to choose a different ending. Now, everything I am building—my education, my career, and my purpose—is rooted in that choice: to not only survive, but to return to the very places I once struggled, and prove that transformation is possible.

I have faced challenges that shaped every part of my life, especially during ten years of drug addiction. What began as a way to cope with pain slowly became something that took control of my choices, my relationships, and my future. Addiction did not just affect one part of my life—it spread into everything. It altered how I saw myself and how I moved through the world, often leaving me feeling disconnected, stuck, and uncertain about whether change was even possible. During that time, I experienced two overdoses. Both moments forced me into a reality I could no longer avoid. They were not just frightening experiences—they were turning points that made me recognize how fragile life had become and how urgently I needed change. Still, recovery has not been simple or linear. It has been a process of returning to myself, falling forward, and rebuilding more than once. The impact of addiction extended far beyond my own experiences. I lost my best friend to an overdose, a loss that left a permanent mark on my life. I have also lost other friends to addiction in similar ways, each one reinforcing the painful reality of how widespread and devastating substance use can be. In addition, I lost my father to alcoholism. His struggle and passing brought a different kind of grief—one rooted in love, confusion, and the long-term effects addiction can have on families across generations. Alongside these losses, I also experienced homelessness during several years of my young adulthood. That period stripped life down to survival. Stability, safety, and consistency were not guaranteed. Every day required resilience, even when I felt I had none left. Those years taught me what it means to endure, but they also showed me how easily someone can fall through the cracks without support. Today, the most meaningful part of my recovery is the present—these last six months, where I have been actively committed to change in a deeper and more intentional way. This current stage of my life is different. I am not only trying to stay away from substances; I am learning how to build a life that feels worth staying present for. I am working on emotional regulation, accountability, and rebuilding trust in myself through consistent actions. Moving forward, my goal is to continue strengthening my recovery while building a stable and purpose-driven future. I plan to pursue a career in social work because I understand firsthand what it feels like to be overlooked, judged, or unsure of where to turn. I want to be the kind of support I once needed—someone who listens without judgment and understands that people are more than their worst moments or circumstances. The impact I hope to have is rooted in connection and understanding. I want to help individuals who are struggling with addiction, homelessness, or trauma feel seen and supported instead of dismissed. My experiences have given me empathy that cannot be taught in a classroom alone. I want to use that perspective to advocate for others and contribute to systems that offer real pathways to recovery and stability. My past includes loss, addiction, and survival—but it also includes resilience, growth, and the decision to keep going. I am not defined by where I started, but by the work I continue to do to create a different future.

Pursuing a degree in mental health is deeply personal to me. It is not based on abstract interest, but on lived experience shaped by trauma, addiction, and survival. For ten years, I struggled with substance use, which eventually took control of many areas of my life. During that time, I also experienced homelessness in my young adulthood, which forced me into constant survival mode and made stability feel out of reach for long periods. My life has also been marked by significant loss. I lost my best friend to an overdose, along with others I cared about who struggled with addiction. I also lost my father to alcoholism, which created a lasting impact on my understanding of how deeply substance use can affect families and generations. From a young age, I was in and out of mental hospitals due to suicidal thoughts and attempts. These experiences were some of the most difficult parts of my life, but they also shaped my understanding of crisis, vulnerability, and the importance of compassionate mental health care. I know firsthand what it feels like to be in moments where everything feels overwhelming and survival feels uncertain. I am diagnosed with bipolar disorder, PTSD, and ADHD. For a long time, I did not understand how these conditions were affecting my emotions, behavior, and relationships. I often felt misunderstood, judged, and dismissed. I felt like I was constantly being “disposed of” in relationships and environments because of behaviors I now understand were connected to untreated mental health conditions and trauma. That experience deeply affected my self-worth and sense of identity. Over time, I began to understand that my struggles were not just personal failures, but the result of untreated mental health conditions, trauma, and a lack of consistent support. That realization changed how I see both myself and others. I came to understand that behavior is often a reflection of internal pain, not a measure of a person’s value. My recovery has given me a new perspective. I currently have the most stable and intentional period of my life. During this time, I have started rebuilding trust with myself, taking accountability for my actions, and learning how to manage my emotions in healthier ways. This process has shown me how difficult recovery is without support, and how transformative it can be when support is present and consistent. I want to pursue mental health because I want to turn my lived experience into purpose. I want to understand the science behind trauma, bipolar disorder, ADHD, PTSD, and addiction so I can better support others who are struggling. More importantly, I want to be the kind of support I once needed—someone who sees the person behind the behavior and responds with understanding instead of judgment. My goal is to work with individuals who feel overlooked, misunderstood, or beyond help, and to help them see that change is possible. I want to contribute to a mental health system that treats people with dignity, compassion, and real opportunity for healing. This degree represents more than education for me—it represents transformation. It is a step toward using everything I have survived to help others find stability, understanding, and hope.

I have faced challenges that shaped every part of my life, especially during ten years of drug addiction. What began as a way to cope with pain slowly became something that took control of my choices, my relationships, and my future. Addiction did not just affect one part of my life—it spread into everything. It altered how I saw myself and how I moved through the world, often leaving me feeling disconnected, stuck, and uncertain about whether change was even possible. During that time, I experienced two overdoses. Both moments forced me into a reality I could no longer avoid. They were not just frightening experiences—they were turning points that made me recognize how fragile life had become and how urgently I needed change. Still, recovery has not been simple or linear. It has been a process of returning to myself, falling forward, and rebuilding more than once. The impact of addiction extended far beyond my own experiences. I lost my best friend to an overdose, a loss that left a permanent mark on my life. I have also lost other friends to addiction in similar ways, each one reinforcing the painful reality of how widespread and devastating substance use can be. In addition, I lost my father to alcoholism. His struggle and passing brought a different kind of grief—one rooted in love, confusion, and the long-term effects addiction can have on families across generations. Alongside these losses, I also experienced homelessness during several years of my young adulthood. That period stripped life down to survival. Stability, safety, and consistency were not guaranteed. Every day required resilience, even when I felt I had none left. Those years taught me what it means to endure, but they also showed me how easily someone can fall through the cracks without support. Today, the most meaningful part of my recovery is the present—these last six months, where I have been actively committed to change in a deeper and more intentional way. This current stage of my life is different. I am not only trying to stay away from substances; I am learning how to build a life that feels worth staying present for. I am working on emotional regulation, accountability, and rebuilding trust in myself through consistent actions. Moving forward, my goal is to continue strengthening my recovery while building a stable and purpose-driven future. I plan to pursue a career in social work because I understand firsthand what it feels like to be overlooked, judged, or unsure of where to turn. I want to be the kind of support I once needed—someone who listens without judgment and understands that people are more than their worst moments or circumstances. The impact I hope to have is rooted in connection and understanding. I want to help individuals who are struggling with addiction, homelessness, or trauma feel seen and supported instead of dismissed. My experiences have given me empathy that cannot be taught in a classroom alone. I want to use that perspective to advocate for others and contribute to systems that offer real pathways to recovery and stability. My past includes loss, addiction, and survival—but it also includes resilience, growth, and the decision to keep going. I am not defined by where I started, but by the work I continue to do to create a different future.

Higher education is more than a personal goal for me—it is the bridge between the life I was born into and the life I am determined to build, not only for myself, but for others like me. I grew up in poverty in Harford County, Maryland, in a home shaped by instability and alcohol addiction. From a young age, I understood survival before I ever understood opportunity. Some of my most meaningful childhood memories were with my late father, walking the land and searching for arrowheads—small pieces of history that made me feel connected to something greater than my circumstances. He was my hero, but he also carried deep trauma and loss, which shaped the environment I was raised in. At fourteen years old, I watched my father die. That moment changed everything. The grief was overwhelming, and without the tools to process it, I lost my way. I turned to substances to cope, repeating the very cycle I once promised I would avoid. For a period of time, my future felt uncertain, and higher education felt out of reach. But choosing a different path became the most important decision of my life. Today, I am six months sober and committed to building a future rooted in purpose. My recovery has required discipline, self-reflection, and the willingness to confront my past instead of run from it. That same determination is what now drives my education. Attending college is not just about earning a degree—it is about equipping myself with the knowledge, structure, and opportunity I need to create lasting change in my life and in my community. I am currently pursuing an associate’s degree in Human and Social Services, with the goal of becoming a Licensed Clinical Social Worker. Higher education will provide me with the clinical skills, psychological understanding, and professional training necessary to work in therapeutic settings. More importantly, it will allow me to combine lived experience with education to better serve others. My goal is to work with individuals—especially children and families—who come from unstable environments and are affected by addiction and trauma. I know what it feels like to grow up without emotional security, and I understand how easily people can fall into cycles that feel impossible to escape. Because of this, I want to be the person who helps others find a way out. The impact I hope to create is rooted in both empathy and action. I want to provide not only support, but also practical tools for healing—helping individuals build stability, process trauma, and recognize their own potential. In communities like mine, and in many Native communities, generational trauma and substance abuse continue to affect countless lives. I want to be part of breaking that cycle. Higher education is essential to that mission. Without it, I would not have the qualifications or credibility to make the difference I envision. With it, I can transform my experiences into a career that directly impacts others in meaningful ways. This scholarship would not only ease the financial burden of continuing my education, but it would also represent an investment in someone who is committed to turning adversity into purpose. I am no longer defined by the instability I grew up in or the mistakes I made—I am defined by the choices I make now. I am choosing growth. I am choosing education. And most importantly, I am choosing to use my story to help others rewrite theirs.

My identity has been shaped by the intersection of Native American and German heritage, but it is my Native roots that have most deeply influenced my sense of self, resilience, and purpose. Some of my most meaningful childhood memories are of time spent with my late father—walking the land in Maryland, searching for arrowheads and artifacts tied to early Native conflicts. Those moments were more than simple outings; they were lessons in history, belonging, and connection. My father, who was given the Native name “Two Wolves,” was my hero and my best friend. Through him, I was introduced to elders like his friend “White Wolf,” who gifted me my first cultural artifacts. Those items were more than objects—they were pieces of identity, reminders that my heritage was real and alive. My parents gave me the name “Snow Owl,” inspired by a rare sighting of a snowy owl the day they brought me home from the hospital. I have always carried that name as a symbol of resilience, uniqueness, and quiet strength. I was also named after the Cheyenne tribe, something I have always held with pride. While others sometimes reduced my name to jokes, I learned early on to stand firm in who I am and where I come from. My father’s story—his strength, his pain, and the losses he endured—became part of my foundation. My father carried deep trauma. He lost nearly every member of his family to tragic circumstances, and that grief followed him throughout his life. It often showed itself as anger and isolation, shaping the environment I grew up in. Despite this, he loved me deeply and tried to guide me in the only ways he knew how. He made me promise to never fall into the same patterns of addiction that had taken so many in our family. At fourteen years old, I watched my father die. That moment changed everything. The grief was overwhelming, and I did not yet have the tools to process it. In the years that followed, I broke the promise I made to him. I turned to substances to cope with the pain and emptiness that came with losing the most important person in my life. Addiction took hold, and for a time, I lost control of who I was becoming. But my story did not end there. Today, I stand six months clean from all mood-altering substances. That milestone represents more than time—it represents strength, accountability, and the decision to fight for a different future. Every day, I actively choose to break the cycle that has affected my family for generations. I now have a clear goal: to pursue higher education and become a psychologist or licensed clinical social worker. I want to serve my community in Baltimore, Maryland, especially those struggling with addiction, trauma, and generational pain. These are not distant concepts to me—they are lived experiences. In many Native communities, cycles of trauma and substance abuse persist, rooted in generations of loss and hardship. I refuse to let that be the end of my story. Instead, I am determined to transform my past into purpose and use my experiences to help others heal. This scholarship is more than financial support. It is an opportunity to continue rebuilding my life with intention and direction. It is a step toward honoring my father’s memory, my heritage, and the name I carry. I am no longer defined by where I come from, but by where I am determined to go.