The first time I realized what “family” really meant, I was seven years old, sitting at my grandparents’ kitchen table while they helped me sound out words for homework. I wasn’t in their care because of a court order, but because life had shifted and they stepped up. That table became my anchor. Growing up with my grandparents taught me that stability isn’t guaranteed, but it can be built. They lived simply, grew food, saved carefully, and showed up for people. Their faith wasn’t loud, but it was constant: you help because that’s what you do. We said grace before meals, tended the garden together, and canned vegetables in the fall so we’d be ready for winter. I watched them give without expecting applause. That perspective stuck with me. Watching them care for me, and later helping care for them, shaped how I see the world. I learned early that dignity often comes from small things, a home-cooked meal, a safe place to sleep, someone who listens without rushing. When you’ve been on the receiving end of that kind of care, you don’t forget it. You look for ways to pass it on. That’s why I started my wig store. I meet women who’ve lost their hair to illness and, with it, a piece of their confidence. Designing a wig that feels comfortable and looks like they aren't just business. It’s restoration. I test cap constructions, blend colors, and adjust fit until it’s right, because I know what it means to look in the mirror and not recognize yourself. Giving someone back that recognition is holy work to me. It’s the same reason I became an unpaid home care worker. I’ve seen how one overlooked detail, like a missed medication or an uncomfortable day, can steal someone’s independence. So I problem-solve. I’ve even coded simple apps to track meds because tech should serve people, not confuse them. If a tool doesn’t make life easier for the person using it, I redesign it. My faith influences this work quietly but deeply. I believe we’re meant to protect and rebuild what life breaks. That belief drives my goals now: I’m studying computer science, graphic design, and cybersecurity because I want to build tools that make people safer and more self-reliant. I want to secure data the way my grandparents secured a home — with attention, consistency, and care. I’m not flashy with money or choices. I invest in Traditional and Roth IRAs, I garden, I care for my polydactyl cats with their extra toes — all reminders that steady, attentive care matters. Extra effort for the overlooked is always worth it. My grandparents gave me a foundation when I needed it. My goal is to pay that forward. Whether I’m securing someone’s data or helping them face the world with confidence again, I want my work to say: you’re not alone, and you’re worth protecting.

A project that reflects my curiosity and creativity is my wig store. I started it because I saw how many women lose their hair due to illnesses like cancer, alopecia, or autoimmune conditions, and I witnessed firsthand how much that loss impacts their confidence and sense of self. I got curious: could I design wigs that not only look natural, but also feel comfortable enough to wear all day without irritation? That question turned into months of experimentation. I began researching cap construction, studying how different materials breathe and move. I tested synthetic fibers against human hair, mixed custom color blends, and even redesigned lace fronts to better match different skin tones and hairlines. I’d wear the prototypes myself, ask friends to test them, collect honest feedback, and head back to my worktable to redesign. It wasn’t just about selling a product. It was about solving a deeply personal problem with empathy, patience, and design thinking. That same approach shapes how I tackle problems in computer science and cybersecurity today. I’m drawn to graphic design and application development because I like building things that are both functional and beautiful. When I see a problem, I don’t get overwhelmed. I break it into smaller pieces, research what’s already been tried, test possible solutions, and iterate until it works. I don’t need the flashiest or most complex solution. I need the one that actually works for the person using it, especially if that person is vulnerable or overlooked. As an unpaid home care worker, I’ve learned that small, practical solutions can have huge impacts. Sometimes dignity comes from something as simple as a medication reminder app I coded so a client wouldn’t miss a dose, or a wig that helps a woman look in the mirror and recognize herself again after chemo. Both are about restoring independence. I’m not a big risk-taker with money. Raised by my grandparents, I learned to plan, save, and invest carefully. I grow my own vegetables, can food for the year, and contribute to both a Traditional and Roth IRA because stability matters to me. But I am willing to take creative risks to help people. My goal is to use tech and design to build tools that make life easier, safer, and more dignified , whether that’s a secure app that protects user data or a custom wig that protects someone’s confidence. That curiosity, asking “how can I make this better for someone?”, is what drives me. It’s why I garden and preserve food instead of buying into trends. It’s why I care for polydactyl cats with their extra toes; I appreciate things that are a little different and need gentle support. And it’s why I study cybersecurity. In a world where people can lose so much hair, health, privacy, peace of mind, I want to be someone who helps them feel secure again, online and in real life.