My younger sister, Ellie, is autistic. She was diagnosed at the age of two, and it forever changed my life and what I planned to do with it. I went to and witnessed almost every therapy session my sister had, and by the age of six, I was determined to work with others with disabilities just like the staff at her places of therapy. At eight years old, I began volunteering at her local place of therapy to provide peer support and interaction with other autistic individuals. Nothing prepared me for how fulfilling and beautiful it was to see people truly blossom when given the right care, respect, support, and autonomy. There's never been another field other than general mental health and disability support care that I've had any interest in. I followed this path naturally, and it's brought me to where I am today. I currently work at a place in the summer for individuals with special needs. People with developmental and intellectual disability have higher rates of most every negative occurrence. Many face high rates of bullying and struggle to make friends. Almost 90 percent of those with developmental disabilities will be sexually abused at some point in their lifetime. Many face higher rates of suicide, homicide, and neglect than their non-disabled counterparts. Often, those with disabilities are ignored, mocked, bullied, harassed, and neglected due to their needs rather than accepted. Many think they are somehow lesser than, or cannot make any decision for themselves. Intellectually disabled does NOT equate to being stupid, and many forget that or actively ignore it. My goal is to change this perspective. Even if I cannot change the system as a whole, I can make differences with everyone I spend time around. I want to be able to provide autonomy to individuals with disabilities by letting them make decisions when it is applicable, speak up for themselves, feel their emotions rather than suggesting they repress them, and more. All behavior is a form of communication and they should be understood as such. Every individual has the right to autonomy, love, belonging, choice, and freedom in their life. Being disabled does not change that fact. By providing everyone I meet with love, empathy, patience, and independence, I can make small changes that can have lasting impacts. Caretakers must remember that the axe forgets, but the tree remembers. Things we think are small and passing looks or comments can stay with a person for their entire life. We need to ensure that we are always doing our best to foster self-love, pride, advocacy, independence, and confidence in all people we meet.

My younger sister, Ellie, was born December 28th, 2009. Her experience would forever change the trajectory of my own life and the purpose I found for myself. Very early on in her life, it was clear my sister was developmentally atypical. At around two years of age, she was diagnosed with autism. After that was a flurry of diagnoses, therapies, and more. I was present for most of my sister’s therapy sessions with her. I watched as her occupational therapist, speech therapist, and ABA therapists helped her learn and grow. I got to witness how each individual therapist helped my sister become more independent and increase her quality of life with each appointment. I watched, in real time, as my sister learned to walk, catch balls, and become verbal. This is what truly kickstarted my adoration for human services, disability care, and psychology. By the age of six, I had determined with certainty I was going to be like them, like her therapists. I had decided then and there that I would make a difference like that, that I would spend the rest of my life encouraging joy and laughter and love. Exposure to differences my sister and her autistic peers experienced taught me to not only accept but to love and appreciate the uniqueness and individuality of each person I met. I quickly grew insistent on the idea that everyone deserves an advocate, especially when they are unable to advocate for themselves. My parents have tried convincing me to go into other job fields that pay more or have less turnover rate, but I have my heart set. There is absolutely nothing that provides me with the same joy and spark that disability care does, and therefore I think there’s no other career fit for me. I think it’s a very rare gift to know your purpose so early in life, and I intend on making the most of it by helping and supporting as many people as possible. Unfortunately, the human services, especially direct support provider, field is intensely understaffed and underpaid. With the help of a scholarship, I would be able to make more of an impact on more people. Without the stress of student loans, paying additional bills, and more, it would be possible for me to truly focus on my career of helping others. Without such stressors, I will be able to provide better, higher quality care, not only in my work but in my personal and community life as well. My goal is, with the help of a bachelor’s degree from UNI, that I will be better equipped to be a source of support, encouragement, love, and autonomy for each person I come into contact with in my life. I have volunteered for multiple special needs events, and spent a large portion of my time working with special needs students in PE classes, the special education room, and more. I recently volunteered at Tim Tebow's worldwide 'Night To Shine' event, where all honored guests with special needs are the king or queen of the night and get to walk the red carpet. Each time I work and volunteer with those with special needs, I only find solidification for how much I love this field, the people in it, and making a positive difference in people's lives.

Anorexia has the highest mortality rate of any mental illness. One in ten with anorexia die. One in five of those deaths are from suicide. I nearly became one of those statistics. It started during my 5th grade year. I noticed I was bigger than the rest of my classmates. I tried to lose weight but quickly regained it. I didn't really mind, I had far more important aspects of my life at the time, such as playing tag and grounder with my friends. Then, COVID-19 rolled around. My case wasn't out of the norm. Multiple people relapsed or developed eating disorders during the pandemic. I became obsessive. All I could think about was losing weight. I lowered my calories to about 700 a day. For the record, that's less than what your body needs to consume in a day to survive in a coma-- let alone doing the heavy activity I was doing. I didn't really realize what was going on. All I knew was that I was losing weight and that that was a good thing. I dropped from 150 pounds to about 95 in five or six months. I stopped feeling. I stopped thinking. I stopped existing. I stopped remembering. I was dead for a long time, even if my heart was still beating-- weak and faint as it was. I always had the my vent's temperature gauge one degree less than my mother's. I had to be the best. I refused to eat anything ever at all. No celebratory cake. No restuarants. I ate two pancake cups a day that were exactly 220 calories and it took me over three hours to eat it. I stopped laughing. I stopped smiling. My ribs showed through my skin. I was no longer able to pick my dog up because I had lost so much muscle. I was a shell. In my sick, broken mind, that was a good thing. My mother gave me an ultimatum the night of January 16, 2021. I could choose to start my own recovery, or to get a feeding tube at the hospital. I chose the former. While it was slow and painful-- I cried more times than I could count-- I got therapy. I went to a dietician. More often than not I wanted to cut my own skin off because I thought I was too fat. Yet I started smiling again. I started laughing. I started being me again. It has been almost three years since I started this journey to recovery. I don't remember anything from the year of 2020, and that isn't hyperbolic. However, I do remember my feelings. I remember how miserable I was, how close I was to giving up. And I feel hope. I feel hope because I know that I plan on serving others who are going through the same experience I did in the future. I feel hope because maybe I can lower that mortality rate. I feel hope because not only am I happy and healthy now, but I can help someone else become the same.