A parent is a mother or father. What happens when you're the adult taking care of your 15 year old niece because her dad died when she was young and her mom abandoned her with you in the middle of the night? I am neither a mother nor a father in the biological sense. I am an aunt that was gifted the opportunity to raise my niece. When her stepdad and mom divorced, and they moved in, I never would've imagined I would be here. My niece's mom is an alcoholic and as an addict, she doesn't like boundaries. She didn't last long at my house because it is a "no drinking" house. That was almost a year ago. I have placed her in travel volleyball which she cultivated not only her skills but confidence on and off court. She's made the high school's varsity as the only an incoming Sophomore, and received nearly straight A+'s. I couldn't be more proud of her. I've worked multiple jobs beginning with an overnight job to cater her school schedule and stay at full-time hours. I went from being a full-time student to learning it's okay to take only a few classes at a time. Now, I work as a Behavioral Technician for an ABA company pursuing my certification as a Registered Behavioral Technician and my Bachelor's in Child Development. Which I will later become a BCBA. What's the hardest part about doing this and being a student? I would say everything. I am constantly tired. I manage multiple schedules, work as many hours, show up for practices, and weekend games, not to mention the travel games. I am at a point where I am scheduling basic tasks to make sure they get done- shower, cooking, cleaning, etc. I am often up late and then up early for the morning. While, yes this is hard. Parenting itself is hard. I've had multiple moments of crying wondering if I am doing enough for her. I know I would do it all over again. I know her mom can't afford college. My solution to help her is to go to school, earn my degree, become a BCBA, and allow her to live with me through college. I will also be saving up enough money to help pay for her college experience. As for my future, I do not have any of my own children yet. I want to be able to provide for myself in a way that I need to. I have health issues that a good clean diet can help keep it manageable. However, life is expensive. A quart of raw dairy is $10 in California. A college education in my field of special education will lead to a better paying job that will keep me healthy. The added bonus is I am changing lives. I am breaking dysfunctional cycles with my niece, teaching her that there are other ways to live other than an addict's life. I am changing the lives of my client's through ABA therapy. My life is also being changed. My niece teaches me patience. She teaches me how to work through problems alongside her. This scholarship will help support me financially through school, and show my niece that even though life can be hard, she can do it too.

Do you ever wonder why life has so many paths that you can take? I do. I wonder why people choose the choices that they make. I wonder how if they understand that those precise choices have consequences; whether they are good or bad. And I wonder if the people in my life throughout my childhood understand the effect that their choices had on me. I come from a dysfunctional family line. Where until I really was an adult, my choices were made for me. You may be saying, well duh, you were a child. However, I grew up in a family full of addicts. I didn't have a lot of choices growing up. If I was with my mom, I went everywhere with her. If I was with my dad, I stayed home. I tried to express my thoughts, opinions, and the likes, but I was never heard. I like math because it is black and white. There is a wrong and right answer. I can control the problem and change my methods as needed. I don't get that in life. Life is messy. It always will be. There is no absolute truth in life anymore. It is express how you feel and that's how you feel. I fear that one day murder will become acceptable because in America we live based on our emotions. We allow our emotions to rule over us. Math is the opposite. The numbers don't usually lie. 1+1=2. That is how it is, how it's always been, and how it always will be. Although math evolves like humans, it stays right or wrong. If you receive the wrong answer, you go back and fix your mistake(s). I can compartmentalize. I can process. I can think through the answer. Whereas life will always be grey. It will always be messy, outside my box. Math allows me to refocus on life. It creates a space for me to become messy after I've taken control of something small. I may not be able to control much, but math I can work through.

Twenty years ago, and yet it still feels like yesterday. Some have called me strong when I tell this story; my story. How do you explain to them that strength like that doesn't belong to a 10 year old little girl. My father was an alcoholic, no matter how much he loved me. No matter how much I loved him. It wasn't a quick and easy death. I had to watch him wither away while he attempted to be a father to a little girl who needed both parents but had only one. Losing him etched a hole in my heart, no man could ever fill. However, many around me banned together to fill my needs. I physically never lacked. I always had a roof over my head and food on my table. I am very grateful for that. People around me took care of me. My first and second grade teacher would provide clothing when she noticed I was need. The school secretary would watch me after-school until I was picked up by a family member. My neighbors had me over for dinner. I wasn't just raised by a single person, but a community. As an adult, I never wanted another child to feel alone or abandoned. Children who needed a safe space have always gravitated towards me as an adult. I never did intentionally. My friends would joke that no matter where I go, I would make "friends". There is a longing inside my heart to see a child's potential blossom. I want to teach them, show them, that they are valuable. That they are worthy. That they are enough in this world. As a teacher, I get to see that. I get to be a part of that; even if it is only for a short moment in time. The last Christmas card my dad ever wrote to me was to never change because he loved my passionate, caring heart. I decided to become a Special Education teacher when I began my job as a Registered Behavior Technician. I am in and out of homes, helping those children break the limits that they were given. As a teacher, I can help continue breaking those limits. I want to teach them, show them, that they are valuable. That they are worthy. That they are enough in this world While my dad is not here today, I believe he would be proud of me. As for me, whether I fail or succeed in life, that is what keeps me going. As I type this, I can hear his infectious laugh and his words of encouragement, "I'm proud of you, Mija."

In the book, "The Servant: a Simple Story about the True Essence of Leadership" James C. Hunter writes, "Leadership is simply character in action." If we go by this definition then we must ask ourselves the question of what character is being put into action. I think about good and bad leaders in my life; I think about their qualities. The best leader I have served under has these qualities: selflessness, patience, humility, good communication skills, commitment, and self-control. Being under the leadership of this particular leader has taught me a lot. It's taught me that while I may be in a leadership role, it doesn't mean I am a leader. To lead, I must serve. I must have the ability to identify and meet needs and then put them into action. This will empower me to serve and sacrifice for others, as I build authority or influence. This is leadership. Excellent leaders don't have "followers", they create other leaders. They create healthy environments for people to make mistakes and grow. It's important to allow mistakes because that is where growth happens- in uncomfortable places. I have experienced both good and poor leadership. Poor leadership barked orders at me without any guidance, leaving me fearful to ask for help and clarification questions. While, on the other hand, the leader who sacrificed their time to allow me to make mistakes, and grow, creating space for questions, saw the fruit of their labor (and mine). That leader inspired me to learn, grow, and work harder. Cultivating leadership and leaders takes time and sacrifice. Businesses need leaders who are emotionally healthy to retain employees, promote new leaders within the company, and grow. For example, Inn-N-Out as a company, has outstanding reviews as a place to work. You will always have some who have had bad experiences, no company, and no one is perfect. However, overall, it is a great place to work. Why? Simply put, they sacrifice for their employees with competitive benefits, wages, scheduling, and giving leaders within the company opportunities to grow. In the end, we need leaders, and not just simply leaders, but leaders with good qualities who sacrifice and serve the people they are leading. Without these leaders, there would be chaos, no sense of direction, and a lack of any movement forward. Would you rather be a leader who never listened to you, and barked demands at others? Or is your desire to be a true leader who creates an environment where those around you feel valued and important, sacrificing your time to build future leaders that also inspire the following generation?

I have always had big dreams for myself. I distinctively remember being in the 5th grade and stating how I wanted to be the first woman president to a friend. While a lot has changed in my career goals growing up my ambition never wavered. I’ve finally decided on a boarding school. I envision this boarding school to be private and Christian-based. I would like to open the academics up for surrounding areas with the option to opt-out of utilizing the room and board. I envision the school to value leadership, respect, and trust. This includes working with family dynamics of a variety of backgrounds. I want to create a safe space by providing resources for the whole family. The heart behind this is to provide a safe space for children to develop. In my own experience, I did not grow up in a safe space. I grew up with an emotionally absent alcoholic father and a drug-addicted mother. From the time I was in kindergarten until I was 12 years old, my mom was in and out of jail. If I was out of school and my mom wasn’t in prison, I would “be with her. Days with her looked a lot like begging to go home during an all-night shopping trip or being left with a friend of hers. My father passed away from liver cancer brought on by his alcoholism when I was only 10 years old. In that same year Child Protective Services would remove me from my home. That would be when my mom got sober and remained this way. My removal was a blessing in disguise. I was placed with my half-brother and his family. It would be here where I would slowly begin to heal from abandonment issues. Gradually, I learned how to go with the flow and suppress my needs and wants. I did as I was told. So, when I was told I needed to go to college after graduation, I did. What I didn’t realize was that this was would be a mistake. Not because I didn’t like college, but I didn’t go for myself. I went on someone else’s desires rather than my own volition. I struggled with college. From the years 2012-2021, I was in and out of college. In late 2018 to 2021, I was attending an online college. Online gave me the ability to work school around a job rather than work a job around my classes. However, these turned out to be some of the roughest school years. Not because of it being all online and working full-time but because of life. In 2018, my closest brother committed suicide. If that alone wasn’t enough, I also planned the memorial service all on my own. Shortly a few months later, my closest sister died from a seizure (epilepsy). I took an academic break for a while. Then, in 2020 I partially lost my income and the pandemic hit. In 2022, I was let go from my job as a nanny. After re-evaluating my life, why I went to school, and what my dreams were with my degrees, I decided to enroll at a different online college. I knew that I wanted to choose an online college with resources for tutoring beyond just writing. I wanted resources that would be available to me when I began to feel overwhelmed. I feel confident in choosing Arizona State University to help me achieve a bachelor’s in child development and business Administration. I hope to one day open a boarding school.

It took me a while to sit down for this prompt. In 2018, my world turned upside down and inside out overnight. I received a phone call from my mom late one night. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to call since we were both night owls. However, immediately she asked to speak to my roommate. Which was weird. When my roommate handed me back the phone, my mom had told me Joey had died by taking his own life I was in more disbelief than shock. How could this happen? He wasn’t the type of person to do this. He was the life-of-the-party type of person. I had just seen him. I was just at his apartment the other weekend. He had just asked me if I would co-sign a car loan with him. The room began to spin and stop all at the same time. My first instinct was not, “Am I okay?”, but rather, "I needed to go to my mom and make sure she's okay". During the time of the news, I couldn’t focus on me. I had to focus on my mom. I didn’t have answers that I desperately wish I had for both of us. I made phone calls to family delivering the horrific news. I planned a memorial service in California. She planned one in Vegas, where he lived. I kept working and putting these emotions on hold. Planning the memorial service around the same time of my 25th birthday was not ideal. I now associate my birthday with one of the most horrific events in my life. Looking back, I went back to survival mode and wouldn’t deal with any of the “ugly” emotions. I would justify it by telling people we weren’t close. That we didn’t have an amazing relationship. Truth be told, I was scared that if I allowed myself to feel the pain of grief, it would never stop. I miss my brother every day. We didn’t have a great relationship, but it was slowly mending. Since his death, I sit with a lot of what-ifs. I sat with anger for a while. Joey left behind a 10-year-old daughter. The same age I was when our dad died. I sat with sadness. I had to mourn the loss of any type of relationship with him. I had to mourn the things that I could no longer have. He wouldn’t be able to walk me down the aisle at my wedding. He wouldn’t know the person I would fight to be. Holidays are empty and will never be the same, something always missing. Grief is weird. One day you can be totally okay and another day, everything just comes crashing down like a wave on the ocean shore. Now, I do everything in my power to walk my niece through this grief as she enters her teenage years. I don’t know if my brother felt so alone, he thought suicide was the only option. I don’t know if he couldn’t see beyond the darkness. I do know that as I get older and work through my darkness, I can relate. We are responsible for our actions. How do you change your path if it’s all you’ve ever known and never found a better way? I see the damage suicide does that the person who commits it doesn’t see. I see how it ruins a family. I have experienced the damage. I am all my mom has left of her kids. I try to never give up because giving up means heartbreak for someone else.

Like learning how to breathe writing became essential to who I am today. I have always been a decent writer and storyteller. In school assignments, I would write what I knew. As a child, I always kept a diary. That diary would turn into a journal that would hold my deepest thoughts as a teenager. It held my boldest dreams, my fears, and every thought. My teenage self would come to use this as a form of self-expression. I did not feel emotionally safe verbally communicating what I was feeling or what I was going through. In all honesty, I don’t think I could have even spoken about my trauma verbally. I could barely process what was going on. In high school, I was sexually assaulted by a close family member, my stepdad and my mom were divorcing, and I still had to deal with school. I tried coming out to a friend who simply brushed me off as someone who wanted attention. Even though I was a decent student, my home life was chaotic and affected my schoolwork. During my sophomore year, I discovered that writing everything down uncensored helped ease the pain a little. I began journaling along with writing freeform poetry. At 21 years old, I began seeing a therapist. We utilized this to process big emotions, trauma, and pivotal moments. I wrote unsent letters to people, like my dad who died from liver cancer when I was a child. I would write a letter to my older brother who committed suicide and would never know how much I loved him but was so angry at him for leaving his daughter behind as our dad had left me. I write to break free from the bondage of being held back from insecurities when I feel nothing but loneliness. When I began developing a relationship with God and learning how to pray and talk with Him, I began with letters. It was awkward for me to speak aloud as a result, I would write letters to Him. I write to help me muddle through the thoughts that run through my brain on a hamster wheel. To write is for me to breathe. Writing is more than therapeutic for me at this stage of my life. It is who I am. Emotions that flow from my heart to my brain are to be put into words. Writing is a tool that helped me heal from my trauma- sexual abuse, loss, and insecurities. It has helped me connect with myself, God, and other human beings.

My mom and I didn’t always have the best relationship. My mom was toxic and co-dependent on me as her daughter. She would take me everywhere with her. I remember as a child being taken out at all hours of the night- from late-night shopping to going to her friends’ houses to be dropped off. You see, my mom was an addict. For the first 10 years of my life, she chose drugs, but I was still her safety net disguised as her “road dog”. However, I vividly remember making a promise to myself as a young child- I would never be like my parents. I wasn’t talking about their characteristics. I made that promise to never allow myself to become addicted to drugs and alcohol. This way I wouldn’t put my future children through the same trauma I went through. I bounced between being on the road with my mom wherever she went and my own house with my father. Sometimes, being with my mom meant I would stay with her friends for multiple days so she could go and use drugs with other friends. The only stability I knew was my alcoholic father that would leave me unattended while he slept off the booze. It wasn’t until after my dad passed from liver cancer from being an alcoholic, and I went into the foster care system at 10 years old, that my mom became sober. Even in my teen years, we had a strained relationship. I’m not saying I didn’t love my mom because I did, and I still do. However, while she was incarcerated, I lived in a home of stability. The stability that I didn’t know I craved as a child. So coming home was an adjustment. As a teen, I experienced her co-dependency along with manipulation and controlling behaviors. My emotions turned into fear. A fear I would disappoint her. A fear that she wouldn’t love me anymore. Thankfully, our relationship wouldn’t stay this way. It wouldn’t stay strained. As an adult, I began going to counseling where I would work on my childhood trauma and healthy boundaries. After more tragedies within our family, we began to become closer. In most recent years, we have been the closest we have been. The pandemic helped us navigate each other and learn communication. My mom is a human that was once stuck in an addiction she couldn’t get out of. Watching her, I learned many things I didn’t want for my future and future family. I didn’t want to be content in a dysfunctional family dynamic and thankfully because of Jesus (and hard work), things are different. I also learned what strength is. My mom survived the death of her son back in 2018. She survived the death of her husband in 2005. She survived her second husband’s infidelity which would lead to a divorce. That event pushed her to have a depression breakdown. While she wasn’t always there emotionally for me in my childhood, she is there now. She supports me in whatever path I choose to take. Knowing her support is there is my backbone now. She is my best friend. I would not be able to simply follow my dreams without her. I tell her almost everything. We laugh. We cry together. We lean on each other for support. This relationship between us is the relationship I once prayed for as a teenager. I am thankful to Jesus for her and the healing He has brought between us.

One of my passions is traveling. I enjoy discovering and learning about different cultures. In 2017, after I graduated from a discipleship program, I was given an opportunity. This opportunity was to teach at a private school. I took the opportunity and moved to Mexico. I wasn’t fluent in Spanish, but I could get by. The principal had given me an English-speaking class. This consisted of children who were just learning English from ages 6 years old to 13 years old. It also mainly consisted of children who were on scholarship from a small town, Cuna Maya. A Christian organization known as Youth With A Mission (YWAM) was heavily active in this area and the director’s daughter was a student at the school. Shortly upon arriving and making these connections with YWAM, I would come to also volunteer with them once a week. Many of my students were a part of this community. I took this once-a-week volunteer opportunity to engage and create relationships with parents beyond the classroom. Within YWAM, I taught other children (6 years old to 18 years old) basic English words. These were children who couldn’t go to school, had to work to feed their families, and so on. This was when my passion was ignited for third-world countries. I wanted to help those who wanted to receive an education. In 2018, I made a trip to Belize. Here, I helped a missionary family in connection with my local church. Since they were relocating from Guatemala, they didn’t know anyone yet in Belize. I may not have taken part upfront with the community in San Ignacio, Belize. I did help establish a family that would be. I utilized my passion for children and nannied theirs during the summer. I also would help run the Children’s ministry during this time. About a year later, my church would organize a mission trip to Belize to go help. I was also a part of this team. At that time, we redesigned the children’s room and built a playground. We also helped local schoolteachers with tips and tools they could utilize in the classroom. In the future, I would like to continue to organize missions like this. Being a part of the travel industry allows me to create a community wherever I travel, as I have in Belize and Mexico. I plan on investing my own money while raising other money to provide for different needs in communities.

We were told today that we matter Yet I’m lost in a sea of people Wondering where did I go wrong? I’m not a yellow crayon that stands out Surrounded but all alone When everyone is moving forward And for you time stands still Where do I go from here? Late at night I’m wondering why I couldn’t have made better choices An empty feeling Confused on which path I should choose Everyone says a breakthrough is coming But it’s never promised All I know is the breakdown Wondering where do I go from here? A voice inside my head Telling me I’m not worth a shit I’m tired of fighting that voice I’m worn down I’m broke down When time stands still Where do I go from here? Should I disappear? Would you even know I was ever here?

They say you never appreciate what you have until it’s gone. As cliché as it is, it’s mainly true. At the end of 2018, my life turned upside down in a matter of one phone call. I was sitting in my room with my roommate at midnight. I had just tried to call my mom to talk, and I had no answer. So, when she seemingly returned my phone call, I thought nothing of it. When she asked me to speak with my roommate, I found it a little weird, but ultimately brushed it off. After speaking with my mom, my roommate returned the phone to me, and my mom spoke those life-alternating words-my brother is dead. My mind couldn’t comprehend it. The world began to spin, and I went straight into caretaker mode. Questions forming in my head at lightning speed, I raced to pack some items and head home. Luckily, since my mom already spoke with my roommate, she was already getting ready to drive me. My brother didn’t have some lifelong battle with cancer. There was no struggle with health-related issues. He struggled with depression. He struggled with feeling like his life had no meaning. He struggled with the poor decisions he had made. He felt alone like life would be better without him. That same night, he gave up his life to suicide. The thing about battling depression is that an outsider doesn't understand what is going on in one's own head. My brother wasn’t the kind of person who would commit suicide (or so we had thought). He was the life of the party. Everyone knew him, and he knew everyone. Looking back now, I wish we had more time together to be closer because we never were before. We were more like oil and water while I was growing up, partly due to a wide age gap (9 years apart), and partly due to personality differences. Yet, I could understand some of this inner turmoil. But it’s different now. Everything has changed. Birthdays are different. Holidays are sadder. There is a missing puzzle piece that will never be found. I watch my mom suffer through this grief. I was the opposite, I tried to be mature about it. I tried to force the grieving process to heal faster. I slowly learned that grief and trauma are in a time zone of their own. Upon following my brother’s death, I had to plan the memorial service. It was my responsibility to contact every family member on our dad’s side. Why is it almost always a funeral that brings distant families closer? Even if we swore, we would never talk to them again. It’s like a brief pause in a civil war. We lay our arms down and remember that person. We remember who they were as a person, who they were to us. I was always distant from my half-siblings because of the friction they had with our dad and my mom. It was at my brother’s memorial that brought us together. As a family, we realized that we needed each other. We needed to connect beyond the surface. This was my lesson: I cannot live life on my own, all alone. I will always need a community. This included my family for those who chose to be in my life. I realized that even in the darkest of seasons, when all seems bleak and I can’t see anything around me, I can still reach out and feel them surrounding me. My community supports me. A strong community will build you up when all you see is darkness. It encourages you. It pours out love when you need it the most. A strong community will know you well enough to remind you of who you are, and your capabilities. My community is my strength in my weakness.

My entire life, I have been different. I was bullied for it. I am under 5 feet tall; to be specific I am 4'6". I used to walk on my tiptoes and had my feet broken to be put in casts and to walk properly. My fingers don't go straight and lay flat. I've been called ugly straight to my face by someone a year younger than me. All these little beatings about my physical appearance would eventually takes it toll on me. By the time, I entered high school, I was a very broken human being. I lacked self-confidence. I lacked the ability to love myself at all. So, I searched for love in all the wrong places. I searched for validation through boys and other relationships. I would tape up post-it notes on my mirrors to remind myself that I am loved. It wouldn't be until almost ten years later that I would actually begin my inner healing. I began seeing a therapist. We would run through old memories, how it affected me, and the triggers. I began this healing when I began my journey with God. For many, they don't believe or will think it's foolish. However, for me, it was life altering. Where I thought I wasn't loved, I found someone that poured out love unconditionally. For me, God never withheld His love. I began seeing a light into a tunnel of darkness. The traumatic memories began healing. It gave me hope to hold onto. If there's nothing out there and I believe in God, I lose nothing. But if God is real and holds me accountable, I lose everything. I couldn't love anyone else until I loved myself first. Working on my healing to love myself, helps me love others. Becoming secure in my identity and identifying the reasons behind my triggers, I can forgive others without holding grudges. I can forgive without being passive aggressive. My own trauma and journey has led me to hold onto the belief that "words are powerful". Words can be life giving or or life taking. Thus leading me to use my words carefully. Children, specifically, absorb words and those words can stay with them for a long time. In that time, I believe these words said to us can shape us.

In a time of my life when I was the most insecure, the most doubtful, and most demanding person to myself, I found one of my many mentors, Christy Jordan. In 2015, I decided to be a part of a discipleship program known as Encounter Discipleship in Pomona, California. One day, the program director walked me into a meeting (to later find out it was the mentor's meeting). Christy Jordan would later tell me how she knew she wanted to mentor me during this program. Unbeknownst to me, I honestly did need her soft, tender, loving spirit. The first outing we had a mentor and mentee is one I will never forget. I am unsure if she ever realized how much these words hit me to the core. She said, " You can ask me for anything. If I can do it, I will. But if you don't ask, then I can't bless you. And you're taking my blessing away because blessing you are a blessing to me." I gripped my seat in the car tightly, slightly uncomfortable. I didn't want to take her blessing away, but I was always taught never to ask for help. I was stuck; what could I do? So, I replied with "okay." This encounter with Christy was the first of many. Her gentle spirit and loving heart would open up old mother wounds, so I could begin to heal them. It was who she was at her core. She would consistently validate my feelings. She listened wholeheartedly and attentively. She never said an unkind word about anyone. She taught me how sometimes people couldn't give what others need because of that person's wounds. She is who I want to become. I want women (of any generation) to feel emotionally safe with me. I want to be a kind person whose actions speak for themselves. My life is not my own, nor would I want it to be that way. I want to be a giving person (with respectable boundaries). When people think of me, I could care less about what I did, but I want them to think about who I am as a person. My career path and goals fit perfectly in this. I want to open a boarding school. I want children to have a safe environment, no matter what is going on at home. It is here that I want to teach them (of all ages) more than just education. While education is most definitely important, becoming a genuinely kind and caring person is also essential.

It is always talk about how pornography and masturbation is a sin. it is talked about the bondage and damage it does in the brain. It is talked about in the male gender. However, the topic of it affecting women is almost taboo. The church does not talk about it. This is a piece of my story of how Jesus changed my life. It is well known that humans struggle with masturbation and pornography. Within that percentage, a startling number of women are struggling with this. I was one of those women. Until Jesus met me here. I lived in a lifestyle that would consistently leaving me empty. I would use pornography and masturbations as coping mechanism. As a way to numb myself from the loneliness or hurt I was feeling. It would temporarily satisfy me. Then, it would leave me feeling ashamed, guilty, and empty. One day, I was done. I was done feeling sick and tired of running around in a vicious cycle. I was chasing emptiness. Pornography and masturbation leaves you empty. I finally sought help. It took everything in me to seek this help from God and others. I finally spent time with God in my private time, while I was still ashamed. I was ashamed for how long it had taken me to come back to God. I was ashamed for walking away in the first place. Lastly, I was ashamed for feeling like I was better off living with sin. However, in my private time, I poured my heart and soul out to Him. I talked about the trauma of losing my brother in 2018. I talked about how it triggered my survival mode, and I sobbed about how broken I had truly been feeling. The best part of this is, he listened to me. He listened until I was done, and when I was done, I didn't receive harshness or passive aggressiveness. He poured out his grace, forgiving me of my sins. Reminding me that I was the reason Jesus went to the cross. That he has been waiting for me with open hands and not condemnation. Everyday, I am reminded that I am powerless on my own. True freedom is a choice to sacrifice lies that the Satan is trying to speak over me. Instead, true freedom is learning how to give up my selfish desires, allow Jesus to take control of my life, and learn how to wholeheartedly trust him. When I keep an eternal perspective like this, then I remain walking in freedom. It is because of Jesus I have freedom and only because of Jesus.

Trauma happens too often in our world. While my story may be similar to others, it is still my story to tell. As a child, you don't often (if at all) get to make your own choices. My childhood consisted of other people's mistakes, choices, trauma, and dysfunction. I am simply a byproduct. Despite this, as an adult, I am responsible for overcoming the trauma that I have endured and the healing. My father chose alcohol, and my mother chose drugs. Their choices led to my childhood of emotional neglect. If my mother was in prison, I stayed with my father. He was what I would consider stable in all of the chaos. The reason is, while he may have been an alcoholic, I still felt safe and loved by him. My mother, on the other hand, was a different story. She would emotionally use me. When she wasn't in jail, she would take me out of the home and call her lifestyle "going on an adventure." I didn't know any better. I didn't realize that being left at my mom's friend's house for days at a time wasn't normal. I didn't know that raising myself (with the help of neighbors and other families) wasn't normal. When I was with my dad, I was on my own a lot of the time. It was never about a single traumatic or another. These traumatic events of my childhood were a domino effect. I was shaped and affected by each one of these moments. As a young girl, I promised myself that I would never use alcohol or drugs. I saw the damage it could do. The consequences of my parent's action left me searching, searching for a father figure in a nonsexual way. It taught me how not to express myself. Out of survival mode, I learned how to take care of others first. My story does not end here. It is simply the intro, and I am thankful for that. I am grateful that I am not where I should have been despite the circumstances and my environment. I should have been partying, using drugs and alcohol as a way to mask pain. I am not. It takes everything in me to go past what my circumstances taught me. I regularly see a therapist for healing trauma and wounds. I incorporate healthy boundaries in my life. I am learning how to express myself. I did not overcome these traumas alone. I have a family to thank for this. For example, my sister-in-law introduced Jesus and God to me. That was the turning point for me, even if I didn't know it. About eight years later, I would embark on this journey to step out of the family dysfunction that I would claim as my own. When I had rededicated my life to Jesus, I began a healing process. I was starting to learn that there was an unconditional love for me. My pastors (then) would see me through a lot of learning curves. They saw me through making my own mistakes. My senior pastor is now like a father to me. In this process since 2012, I have learned many lessons and truths. I have learned that my identity and value do not come from being abandoned by my parents. The fear of abandonment is slowly breaking off. The truth is, I am valuable for being simply me. I am not valued based on my gifts, talents, or abilities. Yes, this includes taking care of others. I am learning how to take care of myself and identify my own needs. All the while still taking care of others out of want and desire versus obligation and desperation. I was never alone in this process. I built accountability. I made healthy friendships that are emotionally safe. I know many people do not believe in God, and that is their decision. However, this was mine. To believe in a God who wholeheartedly believed in me. That saved me from the generational curses of alcohol and drugs. I chose to follow this path because I have never felt more alive. When I lived the way I wanted to live, I lived in shame and fear. Overcoming my challenges has made me who I am. In my family, I chose the road less traveled. I decided to continue to heal from previous traumas. I chose God. I choose hope and life. The people who have walked in and out of my life have helped me in one way or another. People and learning how to choose different healthy choices are the ways I have overcome my obstacles.

We all want to leave a legacy behind. However, what does that mean? Webster dictionary defines legacy as a noun. It is "a gift by will especially money or other personal property." Webster dictionary also defines it as "something transmitted by or received from an ancestor or predecessor or from the past." Leaving money as a legacy behind can be valuable. It can help a financially struggling college student graduate without any loans. It can help an orphanage in a third world country purchase the supplies it needs for the children. However, in my opinion, leaving a legacy is much more than just money. Leaving a legacy is leaving behind a lesson for future generations to hold onto. You can leave a legacy of hope. It is what you choose to do with your life and what those choices will teach future generations. In my personal life, I want to leave a legacy of love behind. This may sound cheesy ( and maybe it is, but it is true. This is about how I have chosen to love well, even with those whom have chosen to harm me. My passion for children stems from my own experiences during childhood. While, I may have had materialistically everything I needed, I was emotionally neglected. I made a commitment at a young age to pour out to others. I want to provide a space for those who feel they need to a place to escape. I want to choose to be kind because you may never know. Words and actions stay with people forever.

As the movie Lion King once sings, it's the circle of life. While they may not be referring to, giving back to your community, the concept still applies. Giving back to a community means reaching out to people whom may not have the opportunity for resources or help that they need. It is important for humans to give back because it changes the world, one child, one community, at a time. In my own life, I have received help from my community- teachers, neighbors, and more. I was not simply raised by my mother or father. I had been raised by my community. My teachers at school and the administration cared deeply for me, and showed compassion for my home environment situation. I have a specific memory of my first and second grade teacher giving me a brand new pair of shoes with charms on the laces. While as a child, I was simply excited for a pair of shoes. Now, I see that memory and realize that she understood a need and had provided it. She met a basic need that showed love and compassion. If these people had decided not to give back in my community, I am unsure where I would be in life. It is because of these people that I have given back and plan on continuing to be involved in my community. I started giving back to the community in 2015. During this time, I was a volunteering at a food bank in Pomona at a local church. During this time, I would serve in various areas. Whether it was handing an item to a family to keep the line moving, or going around praying for those who wanted it. I am also regularly involved with our children's ministry at the church (Vacation Bible School and other activities). I have big dreams and plans for my future community. The goal is to build a boarding school that is open for preschool to 12th grade. The school will have an inclusion policy and partnering ABA therapists. It will also have an opt-out option for room and board. This opens the school up as a private school for the community it is a part of. The school will hold outreach programs for older children to be a part of. This gives them a sense of purpose. I want to help raise a generation that despite their environment and what others may say, they believe in themselves. That is how I would like to give back to my community, through mentorship.