It's an odd thing, to be called slurs before you know what they mean. The first time I was ever called a slur was in fifth grade. I was walking outside of my elementary school when a stranger called out to me, asking me what I was looking at. He said "faggot". "Tranny." It wasn't long after that my classmates followed suit in this name-calling. From that point on, I thought that was the only defining factor of me. Everyone else saw me that way. Being a queer teen in a rural town of Iowa, I was always the 'different' one. Starting in high school, people accused me of looking at them in the locker rooms. I got called a rapist for nothing other than being transgender. I stopped using the women's bathroom after I learned of Nex Benedict, a non-binary teenager brutally beaten by three classmates in the women's bathroom. They died. That factor really put into perspective that, no matter where I am, I'm not as safe as I think. I took the long trek down to the nurse's bathroom every day, and I still do, no matter how far away it is from my class. Sometimes, I feel like that nurse's bathroom defines me. That I am no more loved than the ceramic tiles of the floor. That, like the germs on the faucet handle, I am a danger to be wiped away. That I'll flicker out like the left light bulb in the ceiling. I figured I'd be dead before I turned 18. Whether by my own hands or by another one's, I didn't know. It's always felt like both have been reasonable possibilities. 1 in 5 transgender people commit suicide and transgender homicide is on the rise. I always checked behind me when going to my car. I locked it right away. Yet, despite that, I'm here. I'm alive. I'm happy. I'm me. I started really going by my preferred name, CJ, my Sophomore year. Since, I've faced a lot more. More outward hatred, more accusations, more name-calling. Despite it all, I continue. I continue for those like me who have lost their lives. I continue for my sibling, who is experimenting with their gender. I continue for those who paved this path of justice and freedom for me. I continue for the future generation of queer individuals in hopes they do not have to face the fear many others before them have. I've always wanted to serve, and I intend on doing such. I plan to go to college and work with those with special needs or in a mental health field. I want those without a voice to be able to speak. I want those who don't feel loved to find love in me. I want those who don't have a family to find one through me. I want those who can't find the light to continue to find it through me.

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.

My house doesn't matter. People believe that a house's importance is based on what it looks like, how much it costs, or where it's located. None of this is true. In fact, none of this matters in the long run. In reality, all houses are made of materials that will fade. They will burn, rot, fall, and break. However, some things do not break like a house does. Memories are the foundation of what makes a home a home. Memories do not fade. They are not made of materials that break or are lost. Memories stay forever. As long as I have a home where I can properly house and love my family, I'm happy. I have ben inspired by Barbie for a long time, even when not identifying as a woman, to show me that truly anything is possible. I have looked up to her, the shows, and more, to remember that the moral of the story isn't being the best. It isn't being the most fashionable or prettiest. The moral of every story is that love matters. I take pride knowing that I, similarly to many other Barbie fans, have followed in those footsteps of kindness, love, and care. As long as I can love others, I am happy in any home.

I've dealt with mental health throughout my life starting at the age of two. My sister was born, and we very quickly realized she had autism. My dad has the same condition. I very quickly learned that not everyone's brains worked the same. Through my sister, I discovered my unending love for helping people, especially the disadvantaged. Secondly, I learned about other mental challenges through my own struggles. I developed a multitude of illnesses at once. Anorexia, suicidal ideation, depression, anxiety, and more were all things I developed during the COVID-19 pandemic. They hit me hard and fast. I lost 60 pounds in five months. I lost hair and I have next to no memory of any of those times. However, it opened my eyes. When someone thinks of mental illness, I have realized that they romanticize it. Nobody thinks about a depressed person being unable to get out of bed from exhaustion. Nobody thinks about an autistic kid who cannot think because the light is too bright. Nobody thinks about an anorexic sitting in front of their plate, but only being able to hear 'the voice' slewing insults at them. My goal is to change this. Mental illness is ugly. Mental illness kills many and destroys more. I am tired of living in a world where mental illness is considered a defect. Something that makes you wrong and lesser than others. I am tired of living in a world where I am not given compassion for my struggles and am instead called names. I am tired of hearing slurs and stereotypes thrown around like they mean nothing. They mean something, especially to me. Without knowing my sister, my dad, or my own illness, I never would've understood the gravity of that. I plan to make a difference. In college, I will strive to learn to the best of my ability so I can better aid those who have struggled like so many others have. I will make the world one person more loving towards those with mental illness. If there are only a hundred of those people, one will be me. If there are ten, one will be me. If there is one, it is me. If there are none, then my legacy and I are both long dead. I will give my life, my education, my passion, and my dreams to help those who have struggled with something that is not physically there. I will be their light. I will be the light that I wished I had when I was ill.

Trans people are four times more likely than their cisgender counterparts to develop an eating disorder. Along with the stress during the height of the COVID-19 Pandemic, I developed a deadly eating disorder. Anorexia nervosa has the highest mortality rate of any other mental illness. I developed it at thirteen years old while struggling with multiple crises of my own. One of the things people don't tell you about anorexia is that, once it gets bad enough, your body stops everything. I lost nearly all of my memory prior to my eating disorder. I still have memory issues to this day. I was not happy. In fact, I physically was unable to feel such an emotion. My hair fell out in clumps, I passed out, and I cried whenever I didn't reach my goal. I thought it was normal. I realized this was an issue when my mother gave me an ultimatum. I could choose between going to the hospital or getting better. She told me that she was worried. She cried that night, unsure if her child would ever grow to see adulthood. I had no goal for my body other than to get skinnier. Smaller. Better. I was wishing for my death without knowing it. On January 17th, 2021, I began my journey to recovery. In reality, it was the most difficult process I have ever been through. There were many weeks worth of crying, being unable to move, passing out, and more. Eating became a struggle that I learned to live with. Too many people take for granted the basic task and ability to eat. There was a shift in me where I was able to start feeling positive feelings. I was put on an antidepressant to aid me in my struggles with anorexia and depression. Soon, with the consistent use of medication and therapy, I started to get better. I stopped being so hateful. I try to be positive every day. I found that I find happiness through aiding others in their life. I realized I had finally found a purpose of mine. To help. Being in the pharmaceutical industry would allow me to better help those around me struggling with mental health issues as I am. Because of my illness, I am stronger and closer to my goal of helping people than ever. I plan, in the future, to in some way be that support for somebody else. Medication and doctoral support is one of the first steps to helping someone recover, which is who I plan to be for so many others. If it weren't for the support I received during my illness and recovery, I likely would have died. I know my goal is to be a figure of love, support, and knowledge for others who need it.

I've always prided myself on being good. Good in school, good with manners, good at reading and writing, good at math, good with children, good in conversation, good grades, and good personhood. In the past, there were two things that I was not good at. To begin with, I didn't have a good mentality, but I also wasn't a good older sibling. However, I worked to change that, which is why I believe I am a good example of what being a Slytherin really means. For background, my sister has autism. She was diagnosed at the age of two, and since then, any perceived love, affection, and time went to her before it went to me. I became envious and resentful of how much more love she seemed to have. Regardless of what I perceived, the beginning of my ambition to change and better myself started in 2021. When COVID-19 hit, I spiraled deep into an eating disorder (anorexia nervosa). This was fueled by my lack of a healthy mentality. I was convinced I was too fat and too ugly for my own good. I began to starve myself, and it took a heavy hit on my home. I was deep into my illness for over a year. I ate less than 800 calories a day. I thought that, because I was beginning recovery, everything would be okay again. I was wrong. My sister picked up on the same habits I had desperately grappled to get out of. I found myself realizing I needed to prove a better example for her. As I got better, I worked harder and harder to show my sister a good example and support. I'd always been envious of her, but as I was put on meds and got better, I learned to cope with my anger, understanding it came from a place of insecurity inside myself. I found help through a therapist and dietician. I discovered that the places I was struggling originated from points of insecurity in myself. I'm a perfect example of a Slytherin. I found a challenge, and despite how hard it was to overcome, I managed to do so. I have managed to better my relationship with my sister despite that meaning that I had to search within my own trauma and uncover my flaws. I am ambitious, resourceful, and careful with my actions. Through the use of the traits that I and many others commonly associate with the Slytherin house, I have bettered myself and my relationships.

I wasn't always a strong and forthright person. However, my experience with death changed that. In 2020, I developed a severe eating disorder. I lost almost 60 pounds in less than 5 or 6 months, and I found myself facing an ultimatum. I was going to recover, or I was going to die. Those with anorexia have the highest death rates out of any mental illness. If I had decided not to pursue recovery, I would've died. I, obviously, chose recovery. I've been in recovery for over three years now, and still find myself facing challenges. Despite this, my mentality shifted completely as I grew to love myself and my body once again. As I recovered, I discovered that I no longer had time for those who sat around and did nothing. I had experienced death, and I didn't need to stall any longer. I joined the speech club, where I made it to state and all-state in two different categories. I began enjoying presenting to the world through public speaking. I began taking leadership roles in school projects. I started to take college courses to further my education, continuously striving for straight A's. I have climbed my way to the top, helping others along the way while I go. Through the influence of others, such as teachers, friends, doctors, family, and more, I've learned to stand up for myself and my thoughts. Admittedly, I have made many mistakes in life. My depression and anxiety symptoms have only amplified such an issue for me. However, I've learned to roll with the punches and continue to grow. By observing others and listening to criticism, I have learned what I can do better on to improve myself. I am taking antidepressant medication and working on mindfulness to better myself and my mental health. I am a leader because I care for others as I have learned to do *through* others. Through the help of others' influence, as well as boosting myself up throughout the years, I have learned to be determined and motivated. I refuse to quit, even after something has deterred me. I have grown to love not only myself but others too. I have recovered and grown more stable throughout the years, making me a better, more reliable person. I'm a leader in the sense that I see the inherent value in everyone. I am a leader because I have worked on myself in order to provide better care for myself and others. I am a leader who almost died, and yet I still stand.

My parents have always put one thing above all else but my own health and development: education. By the time I was in fifth grade, my parents had gotten me to the point of reading college-level material. By my freshman year of high school, I was taking college courses for duel-enrollment. Despite all these achievements that I had made, my parents knew I was lacking something. They noticed I was depressed, introverted, and constantly self-conscious about my appearance and my presentation. I hated speaking my mind and my parents wanted to help me find something that changed that for me. Both of my parents urged me to join some sort of extracurricular to help me grow out of my shell. I refused this for a long time. However, this year, that changed. I decided to participate in the speech club, which my dad had adamantly recommended. I joined the group improv section. I was horrible at it at first, but as the weeks progressed, we made it all the way to State competitions. My friends not only accepted my quirks, but embraced them. For the first time, I felt confident in myself. I knew I could make a room laugh and that I could be heard. That changed everything for me. Seeing my grandpa, my teachers, strangers, and my friends laugh at my own work was the most rewarding feeling I had ever felt. I felt like I was hit by a truck. At that moment, I realized that I was able to speak and make people happy, that I could change the environment of a room simply by what I said and how I acted. I had never felt so empowered. I had never wanted so strongly to voice who I was and what I believed in. I still want to do that and I intend to each day. With the aid of a scholarship such as this, I can advance onto my dreams of graduating from community college as well as getting a job involving talking to many others. I want to work with children who suffer from mental illness and their parents to recover. That not only takes skill, but improvisation, speaking, and affability skills. With this new experience not only with improvisation but socialization and affability, I'm more prepared for the future of my education. I have plenty of plans for my educational future, including more education involving speech. I already have credit in speech (Fundamentals of Oral Communication) and I intend to continue. Everything I have planned for my life goes back to speech. The place where I made such amazing friends, good habits, and fun memories.

I was born to be in the crowd, to blend in. At least, that's what I thought. My sister was diagnosed with autism early on, exposing me to so many amazing careers that I wanted to be. Since I was six, I set myself on being a pediatric occupational therapist, a job that most others had never heard of before. It made me excited and happy to go a new way than my other peers. There was a roadblock for me, though. When I was younger, I was told to be quiet, soft, and feminine. I was taught to be polite and well-mannered and as perfect as I could be. My happy-go-lucky attitude, excitement, my positivity, and confidence vanished. For years, I was like this. I was angry and hateful and as quiet as I could. Especially during the COVID-19 outbreak. I developed anorexia, most literally losing my ability to feed my brain enough to feel happiness or release dopamine and serotonin. I gave up on my goals and who I was. In the year 2021, though, that began to change. It started when I really started being happy with myself. When I recovered from my eating disorder, an already unusual illness and unique experience, I got on fluoxetine which lessened my issues regarding my depression. After I went through that hardship, I experienced a shift. I found myself happier, more excited, and more positive. I felt more like who I was before I was taught not to be that person. I got my old goals and aspirations back. I was excited to start each morning and am to this day. I wanted to do good for those who needed it. I found my passion again in schoolwork and volunteering. I've volunteered for over 100 hours at a transitional care center at St. Luke's. I've found joy in helping others. I'm taking college courses in high school so I can save both time and money for when I go to university. I want to take courses regarding child health, nutrition, and mental illness. All of which are both interests of mine and things I have been through. I know the pain that those illnesses cause people and their families. I feel like it's my job, my reason for being here, to do good. I smile every day, I say hello to everyone I meet, and I try to be as positive as I can. It isn't for no reason, it's because it's my job. I know what I am on this earth for, and each day I bring myself closer to reaching and maintaining that goal.

My life has been a confusing one. A rollercoaster, some might say. With a sibling with autism, a father with severe heart issues, heredity for addiction, mental illness, and other disorders, as well as developing depression and an eating disorder, I know how crazy life can be. I had no professional aid when my dad nearly died of his aortic dissection, a day that has given me trauma and relentless issues to this day. It took over a year for me to get specialists to aid me during my two years of having anorexia and my trip to recovery. I was, for a while, unaccepted due to my gender identity as gender non-conforming, and my label of being a lesbian has earned me nothing but slurs and anger from some others. I struggled with this and the fact that I would always be 'different'. I really began to find my purpose when I was six years old. My sister received physical therapy to aid her in muscle development. From that day forward for seven years straight, I wanted to be a pediatric occupational therapist. Now, I just want to make a difference. I want to be the person that I needed during all of my struggles and hardships. I want to be understanding, loving, and unconditionally caring. I want to accept those who are unaccepted and lift the voices of the unheard. I want to aid those who are systemically brought down and fight for the rights of anyone who needs an additional voice in their team. By being a therapist, a pediatrician, or in any health-related field I choose to go into, I can make a difference and help others. One of my biggest passions is the idea of traveling to underfunded areas in the United States with minimal mental health care, or else to another country in a similar situation. By doing this, I can take care of others. Not just those who can pay, not just those with insurance and riches, but those who really need it. I want to give my time and service to those who truly cannot otherwise access it. I find my inspiration from my mother and countless others who consistently have given their time and effort and money to those who are in need, despite the fact that they are not obligated to. I want to be like that as well. I can't reach my passions without help. I cannot aid others without aid for myself. With a scholarship, I grow one step closer to achieving my dreams. I grow one step closer to bettering the world.

Covid hurt everyone. From the elderly to fetuses, everyone was impacted. However, a certain group found a flare in the most deadly illness there is. Studies have found that there was a record amount of resurfacing eating disorders when COVID first hit the United States. This wasn't just people who previously experienced eating disorders, though. A shocking amount of people with new eating disorders arrived. I was one of those people. I started counting calories. I started weighing myself obsessively. I skipped meals. Slowly, I grew less empathetic. I lost my hair. I couldn't run. I couldn't sleep. I was always sad and angry. I passed out a lot. In one year, I dropped over fifty pounds and lost my period, my hair, my dopamine and serotonin creation, and my bone mass. I developed severe depression and osteopenia. I nearly died. In January 2021, however, my mother gave me an ultimatum. Recover or hospitalize myself. I chose the former. The issue with recovery is that it's harder than staying in the illness. It's harder to eat than to starve. It's harder to force myself to break my unhealthy mindset than let it lay. If I had had someone like a psychiatrist or another specialized therapist, I might've done better. It took over a year, almost two, of hardcore treatment. I went to a dietician weekly, I got lessons, and constantly had others review my food to make sure I was doing well enough. My life went 180 degrees and for the better, though I didn't know it at the time. I'm now happier than ever, as well as healthier than ever. Now that I have a therapist, dietician, and medication, I am leading a lovely life that I enjoy living. However, I know that not everybody has this privilege. Due to this knowledge, I want to help others who have gone through what I have. Depression kills, eating disorders kill, and anxiety kills. I plan on changing that. I want to make a difference in the world. I may not be an award winner. I may not be a billionaire or a leader. I may not be a hero, but I will make a difference. With or without this scholarship, I will make a difference to those who have also struggled with mental health issues, but with it, I have a better chance. Regardless of how little of a chance, it's still better than nothing. I can be the person that I needed but never had during my eating disorder, but I need help to get there.

Psychology isn't necessarily what one may think of when the idea of understanding our universe. However, it is a crucial part that cannot be left out. To understand how we understand, we have to understand ourselves first. To do this, delving into psychology, development, morals, and more all are necessary to figure out. There's a saying that 'you have to love yourself before you can love someone else'. This saying also runs true for other matters. You have to understand your own mind before you can start to understand the differences someone else may have. We must understand our own Earth before we understand Mars or the moon or the sun. Uncovering what lies within our brains uncovers a world of possibilities. With this, we can far better understand literature, why we think of philosophy the way we do, and what we might be missing with mathematics. Vise versa comes into play as well. The basic curiosity about things around us has existed for millennia. Without this, humans would not have developed electricity, swords, and how the heart pumps blood. Nearly nothing would be discovered if it weren't for primal curiosity. With an opportunity to go into a psychology-related college and university, I would be able to do research on the mind and interactions. By studying mental disabilities, I can better further how to stop ableism and make it easier for those with such disabilities to function. I can research how trauma impacts memories and future decisions so more awareness can be spread on how functioning people still may needs accommodations. I can research how being in space for a prolonged period of time may impact the individual's mental, physical, and emotional well-being. I can study motivation and curiosity itself. Learning is necessary for survival. This isn't just a statement for the Stone Age. Even in today's world, learning and constantly adapting are necessary. With more information, more learning, and more knowledge, the world will be able to develop. People will be able to develop. Without this new knowledge and curiosity, what will the world be? Will it be a blank slate, asking for knowledge but receiving none? Will it fall into our laps? With more development, we can learn. With more learning, we can develop. Giving people like me an opportunity to rise and get into a profession where we can make a difference in the world is an immense opportunity. I will make you proud. I will make us proud. I will make the world knowledgeable.

My inspiration for being a feminist is not a positive one. While I am a non-binary/gender non-conforming person, I do align with what feminism stands for. I first defined feminism as a far-left radical movement that was too out there to be realistic. Years ago, I declared that I would never join the feminist movement. There was no need for it, in my mind. Sure, women got paid less, but it wasn't enough to be a big deal, right? A woman was sexually assaulted in a neighboring town in the past year. I specifically remember being told by my father that anyone dressing so promiscuously was inadvertantly asking for it. My mother told me I was gross because I wouldn't shave for a few days. Both of these instances stand out in my mind. I had always been one to believe that society governed how one acted, thought, felt, and anything else. I was wrong. Being 14 and informed that I was not allowed to choose how to handle my own body related to hair and dressing made me wonder 'where does it end?' Roe v. Wade being overturned the next year only aided in my curiosity. Women not being allowed to do what they want with their body has been the sole idea of feminism for centuries. Now, I have grown to understand that feminism is not a far left idealist ideology, but one of basic decency which those with more priviledge have not afforded. Daily, women of color, LGBTQ+ women, disabled women, and more have all been impacted by how women alone are treated, not begining to consider their struggle with other marginalized groups they may be in. As someone with more priviledge than others in the community to express my thoughts, I do my best to work for what women need in my school. By advocating for what accomodation girls in my school need, whether it be privacy, more time in bathrooms, gym accomodations, and more, I try each day to fight for what is needed for basic decency for women at my school. I do find myself struggling sometimes. Misogyny is so embedded into society that I have grown to expect it of myself. I do each and every thing I can each and every day to stop those harmful ideologies. While I do have positive experiences with feminism and my mother, the realization of how prominent sexism is in general society shocked me awake, for better or for worse. I won't stop until men, women, and everyone inbetween is equal. Whether that be through pay, play, clothing, shaving, or anything else.

In 2020, I was diagnosed clinically with anorexia nervosa. With this, I was unable to feel much empathy, happiness, or general contentment with my life and those around me. I realized this was an issue when my mother gave me an ultimatum. Recover or go to the hospital. She cried that night about how worried she was about me. A specific memory of mine that I have from when I was at my worst was a boy my age going through a severe recovery process from an accident on Facebook. My mom talked about him sometimes and I specifically remember saying "Good for him" when news of his improvements was released. That made my mom cry because I had no enthusiasm or empathy in my voice. On January 17th, 2021, I began my journey to recovery. In reality, it was the most difficult process I have ever been through. There were many weeks worth of crying, being unable to move, passing out, and more. Eating became a struggle that I learned to live with. In late 2021, I was put on fluoxetine to aid in my depression issues. During that time when I had fought so hard to recover and got chemical help to feel better, something changed. There was a shift in me where I was able to start feeling good feelings. I didn't worry any longer about how many calories were in my food or how much I hated my body. I started to love myself little by little. I stopped hating my sister. I stopped hating myself. I stopped hating my life. Moving to the present, I find myself trying to be positive every day. When someone's upset I offer them a hug and words of encouragement instead of saying "too bad". I find myself more passionate than ever to help others. I felt motivated for the first time in years. I realized I had finally found a purpose of mine. To help. While I am unsure of where the idea of helping will take me when it comes to what job I get when I graduate, I know why I want to do what I'm doing, which is all that matters. If I can help just one person not experience what I did. If I can make someone feel a little less alone, then I've completed my purpose. Without the support I received, I would never have made any form of recovery. I plan, in the future, to in some way be that support for somebody else. I want to do good in this world, not just for me but for others too. I have hard days. I have days I still hate my body and my own mind the enemy. Other days are different. Most days, I'm excited and energetic, and friendly. I feel horrible for how I acted when I was at my worst. I am more than set on never getting to a point like that again. I plan on making up for how I acted three-fold. I plan on helping no matter what. Recovery is hard, but I am harder.