Some of my earliest memories were in the kitchen, with my Baba–my dad’s mother. I didn’t usually have a good time with Baba, as she tended to scream profanities at me and force hot sauce down my throat when I “talked back.” However, I knew that if I managed to coax her into helping me bake a cake or make homemade ice cream, the likelihood of going to sleep with a burning mouth and a bruised heart would decrease. I grew up with a love for pastry and baking arts. My holiday wish lists included fancy flaky salts, 6-inch baking pans, and KitchenAid mixers. I began baking as a coping mechanism to deal with the obsessive thoughts, compulsions, and depressive symptoms that started bubbling up in my brain during high school. If my mother arrived home to the scent of browned butter or rosemary focaccia bread, she would immediately ask me what was wrong. My response was often along the lines of: “I was late to class again because I couldn’t line my steps up the way I wanted to. Try this frosting–do I need more vanilla extract?” I am currently a junior at Texas Christian University studying psychology. My own personal struggles with mental health motivated me to pursue this path. I see people all the time, including my mom and myself, struggling with things out of our control and I want to be able to help. A knowledgeable, unconditionally loving support system is so important in helping comfort people, and I want to help provide that to enable more people to be who they truly are, not what their disease makes them to be. Just as I found a coping mechanism in baking that helped me, I want to do the same for others who are struggling and do not have a way to cope. I plan to make a difference in the world of psychology by doing research and advancing humanity’s knowledge of the complex worlds in our minds. Even though I have a realistic and empowering goal that I am passionate about, I sometimes wonder how my life would be different if I had gone to pastry school. What would I be doing right now if I chose that path? Waking up bright and early to prepare dough for my world famous brown butter chocolate chip cookies? Frosting red velvet cupcakes while waiting for my lemon bars, fresh out of the oven, to cool down? It is hard to know exactly what the future holds. I may eventually have a large psychology practice and help those in need. Maybe I will be a Deaf educator, utilizing my sign language skills to give hearing impaired children the quality education they deserve. Maybe I will have my dream bakery. Or, I may open a psychology practice with baking therapy as a way to help people center themselves by focusing on step-by-step tasks and the prescribed, consistent order of the recipes. This might even make enough of a splash in the world of mental health that my practice becomes famous. That way I can use my hard earned money to build open multiple psychology practices and baking therapy centers, combining my two passions. I am working on achieving my dreams by attending a prestigious university with a strong healthcare and psychology program. I have a 3.97 GPA, I research in TCU’s Memory and Aging Lab, and I am already planning to continue towards a graduate and a post-graduate degree. And of course, I still bake almost every weekend.

One of the most important parts of my personal identity, and the experiences that most shaped me into who I am, come from being my mother’s daughter. She is the epitome of what I want to be when I am older, and has motivated me to pursue a healthcare profession in psychology. My mother immigrated to America from Russia when she was a teenager, and was dealt an unfortunate hand of cards. She grew up navigating horrific abuse from both of her parents, struggling to learn the English language while living in a filthy Russian ghetto in the slums of Chicago, and wrestling with mental illness: She fought incredibly hard to get where she is today. Though the majority of my childhood was spent with my single mother, I wouldn’t have changed it for the world. She shielded me from and overcompensated for the lack of affection and attention from my biological father. I received everything I ever needed from her: unconditional love, support for everything I was interested in, and a comfortable and safe home. I seriously won the mother lottery, and I couldn’t ask for anyone better. I have been diagnosed with severe obsessive-compulsive disorder and treatment resistant major depressive disorder. These illnesses have tried incredibly hard to ruin my life, and almost taken it. And yet, despite her own struggles, my mother has always been there for me, and this reliability and unconditional support has given me the perfect example of what I want to be for other people in my future. Mental health can often appear as a brick wall in front of you and life, but my mother taught me how to tear down that wall, and how to rebuild my obstacles into a bridge forward. With the funds from the FIAH scholarship, I will continue to pursue my degree in psychology. I see people all the time, including my mom and myself, struggling with things out of our control and I want to be able to help. A knowledgeable, unconditionally loving support system is so important in comforting those in need, and I want to be that person–like how my mom has always been for me. I plan to make a difference in the world of psychology by doing research and advancing humanity’s knowledge of the complex and elusive worlds in our minds. I want to eliminate the stigma surrounding mental health so people can live their lives to the fullest. No one deserves to silently suffer, and I want to be able to truly give them the help they need.

I’ve always been the weird girl. I am sometimes late to class because I’m matching my footsteps with sentences in my head. I walk strangely and take extra steps or jump up and down to make my feet feel “right.” If I touch paper the wrong way with my fingernail, I might have to run to the bathroom and scrub my hands until the phantom feeling of the contact goes away. Sometimes I don’t have the energy to get out of bed and I tuck myself away, avoiding my friends and family. I lose interest in all the things that used to make me feel good. I have no tangible reason to feel the way I do or do the things I do. The summer before my freshman year at Texas Christian University, I finally opened up to my mom about the extent of what I had been going through and how it was affecting my life. I saw a psychiatrist and was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder and major depressive disorder. Getting put on medications and learning coping mechanisms did not make my struggles disappear, despite my hopes. It was very disheartening learning that no matter how hard I tried to fix my brain myself (exercise, socialization, helping others, sunshine, etc), I would likely need medication for the rest of my life. However, my compassionate and understanding mother helped me know that I will always have a loving support system there for me. Even though I was secretly miserable and constantly in a battle with my mind and body, I tried to live my life as “normally” as possible. In high school I was in multiple clubs in which I demonstrated leadership. I had to push past my own issues and focus on the general well-being of my teams. I was the Vice President of the Animal Rights Club, a founding member of the Literature Club, president of Book Battle, as well as various other leadership positions. I also regularly volunteer: in the past I was often found at local libraries shelving books and cleaning, but as of more recently I have enjoyed helping out at animal shelters such as Operation Kindness. Taking care of other beings, like walking dogs or playing with cats, makes me want to take care of myself, too. Helping others made me feel more connected to my community and pushed me towards my passion for leadership and contributing to the world of healthcare, where I could help those who may not be able to help themselves. My own personal experiences make me much more understanding of what others may be struggling with. A knowledgeable, unconditionally loving support system is so important in helping comfort people, and I want to be that person. While I don’t think a career working as a therapist or psychiatrist is for me, I want to do research and advance humanity’s knowledge of mental health and psychology. I want to be able to help people the way I have been helped, and let those that are struggling know that they are not alone and they deserve to feel better. Just because you don’t have a “reason” to feel the way you do and there are people who “have it much worse” than you, doesn’t invalidate your experiences. Everyone deserves a fair shot at life, and mental health shouldn’t be the thing that sets you back.

I want to be the kind of person that makes everyone feel seen, loved, and important–whether it's a scared shelter cat, or a human struggling with issues nobody else can see. The biggest chunk of my personal identity and the thing that most shaped me into who I am is being my mother’s daughter. My mother is an immigrant from the Soviet Union. Her and her family worked incredibly hard to get to America and rebuild their lives. However, despite how they banded together, they weren’t the healthiest family. My mother spent most of her childhood being abused and berated by her parents and grandparents, and she didn’t want me to grow up the same way. She learned what not to do. One of the most important lessons my mom taught me is how to be self-sufficient and resilient to whatever life throws my way. She built her life from the ground up and single-handedly earned everything she has, and she always reminds me to never rely on anyone else. She also ingrained in me a strong sense of empathy: One of my favorite things about her is how she understands me, and I want to let others experience that same level of comfort. That desire to connect with others also sent me towards the arts. I was a part of choir from fifth grade through high school. Being a part of something greater than just me felt strange at first, as I usually preferred to carry my own weight, but the beauty of the music and the connection with people around me won over in the end. My sophomore year, I joined technical theatre. Being behind the scenes let me help others shine and being an integral part in a greater whole made me realize just how much I liked helping others succeed. My life of volunteering began by shelving books at my local libraries after school and on weekends. It was eye-opening to get glimpses into others’ very different lives: Some people were expecting a new child and checking out maternity guides, some were Ph.D. students looking at advanced scientific journals. My senior year, I became Vice President of my school’s Animal Rights Club. I began regularly volunteering at animal shelters and Operation Kindness. It was so sad to see so many lonely animals hoping for a new, loving home, but I hope that my time spent there made them feel as good as I did. My mom is incredibly compassionate, and her ability to care for everything and everyone, big and small, definitely rubbed off on me over the years. I am also incredibly passionate about mental health, partially because of how personal it is to me. I see people all the time, including myself, struggling with things out of our control and I want to help. My mother and I both suffer from obsessive-compulsive disorder, and she was only able to help me understand what I was going through because of the care she has received. A knowledgeable, unconditionally loving support system is so important in helping comfort people, and I want to be that person. I am currently in my sophomore year at Texas Christian University and I plan to make a difference in the world of psychology by doing research and advancing humanity’s knowledge of how the brain works. This scholarship will help me apply that knowledge to help people who can’t or don’t know how to help themselves. I want to destroy the stigma surrounding mental health and allow people who struggle with mental illnesses to live their lives to the fullest.

I would say that the biggest chunk of my personal identity and the thing that most shaped me into who I am is being my mother’s daughter. My mother is an immigrant from the Soviet Union. Her and her family spent years of their life and practically all their money trying to get to America and rebuild their lives. However, despite how they banded together and entered their new home as a team, they weren’t the healthiest family. My mother spent most of her childhood being verbally abused and berated by her parents and grandparents, and she didn’t want me to grow up the same way. She learned what not to do. The majority of my childhood was spent with my single mother, and I wouldn’t have changed it for the world. She shielded me from and overcompensated for the lack of affection and attention from my biological father. I received everything I ever needed from her: unconditional love, support for everything I was interested in, and a comfortable and safe home. I seriously won the mother lottery, and I couldn’t ask for anyone better. One of the most important lessons my mom taught me over the years is how to be self-sufficient and resilient to whatever life throws my way. She built her life from the ground up and single-handedly earned every cent she has. She always reminds me to never rely on anyone else (especially a man) and be able to stand alone. When her and my father divorced, there’s a reason he fell flat on his butt and my mom continued to be the strong, independent woman she still is and raised me with anything and everything we could ever need. Even now, life throws some struggles our way and we still manage to persevere and do the best we can with the cards we were dealt. I was recently diagnosed with depression and obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). I tend to be a bit embarrassed about what I go through and usually keep it to myself, but I know that I can always run to my mom and she will support and love me no matter what. My mom is the greatest role model in my life, and if I end up exactly like her in 30 years I will know I did well. She motivates me to try new things even if I’m confident it won’t work out, and it often somehow does when she is behind me. She never doubts me and always offers unwavering support, bolstering my worth and helping me realize my potential. She never lets me settle for less than what I deserve, and she is the reason I am as confident as I am. With the funds from the Doc & Glo Scholarship, I would continue to pursue my degree in psychology. I see people all the time, including my mom and myself, struggling with things out of our control and I want to be able to help. A knowledgeable, unconditionally loving support system is so important in helping comfort people, and I want to be that person–like how my mom is for me. I plan to make a difference in the world of psychology by doing research and advancing humanity’s knowledge. I want to be able to help people who can’t help themselves. I want to get rid of the stigma surrounding mental health and allow people to live their lives to the fullest.

I have a supportive, unconditionally loving mother. My family isn’t poor. I have dogs, a wonderful boyfriend of almost two years, and lots of friends. I did well in high school, got all A’s every year, was in choir and theatre, won academic and extracurricular awards, and balanced a part-time job. I was in multiple clubs, founder or president of some. I did community service and volunteer work regularly. I should be having the time of my life and enjoying all of the opportunities and privileges that I am so fortunate to have. I have no reason to be depressed. I have no reason to be anxious. And yet, here I am: miserable most of the time, obsessing over nothing, and avoiding my friends and family who love me and want the best for me. The summer before my freshman year at Texas Christian University, I finally opened up to my mom and told her what I was dealing with. We went to a psychiatrist where I was diagnosed with clinical depression and obsessive-compulsive disorder (symptoms of which I had been dealing with for a long time before I became depressed). The issue with how I thought about my personal struggles is how unfounded they are. I am almost embarrassed to feel the way that I do because I don’t have a tangible reason; my life is amazing. I feel so ungrateful for everything in my life: How can I have everything I have and STILL feel this way? I am not the only person I know that has struggled with mental health. My mom herself also deals with depression and OCD. My mom’s friend’s husband killed himself after a long battle with alcoholism and financial struggles. My best friend’s father suffered from paranoid schizophrenia, and he spent his entire life not understanding why he felt so out of control and why he experienced the things he did. So many people deal with mental illness, so why is it so stigmatized? And in communities where people openly discuss their struggles, why does it frequently turn into a competition of who is the worst off? I am currently trying new medications to find something that will work for me, which has helped me realize just how difficult yet rewarding the fields of psychology and psychiatry are. A knowledgeable, unconditionally loving support system is so important in helping comfort people, and I want to be that person. While I don’t think a career working as a therapist or psychiatrist is for me, I want to do research and advance humanity’s knowledge of mental health and psychology. I want to be able to help people the way I have been helped, and let those that are struggling know that they are not alone and they deserve to feel better. Just because you don’t have a “reason” to feel the way you do and there are people who “have it much worse” than you, doesn’t invalidate your experiences. Everyone deserves a fair shot at life, and mental health shouldn’t be the thing that sets you back.