I have never been able to look at medicine as only science. I studied molecular biology to understand what happens inside the human body, and anthropology to understand everything that happens around it. Now, as a graduate student in public health and a clinical research coordinator at Johns Hopkins All Children's Hospital, I have found my place at the intersection of the two. My long-term goal is to become a physician-scientist specializing in pediatric hematology and oncology. I want to care for patients, lead trials, and conduct research that changes how we understand and treat disease. More importantly, I want to ensure that people who benefit from those advances are not determined by geography, race, language, income, or access to a major academic medical center. I help bring research out of protocols and into the lives of actual patients and families. I screen patients for studies, coordinate study procedures, and contribute to research across pediatric specialties. I have also had the opportunity to conduct and present my research on pediatric thrombosis, including work examining differences in biomarkers among children with different types of blood clots. Research has shown me the extraordinary possibilities of medicine. Public health has taught me to continually ask who those possibilities are reaching. A patient never enters a hospital as just a diagnosis. They arrive with a family, culture, language, history, financial circumstances, fears, and previous experiences with healthcare. Those factors influence whether someone trusts a research team, can return for follow-up visits, understands a consent form, or even has the opportunity to participate in research. My anthropology background has made me attentive to those realities, while public health has given me the tools to think beyond individual encounters and examine the systems creating them. That perspective is especially important to me as a future physician. I do not want to spend my career only treating the consequences of inequity one patient at a time. I want to investigate why those inequities exist and help redesign the systems that perpetuate them. Ultimately, I hope to lead clinical research focused on children with hematologic diseases while continuing to care for patients directly. I want to develop trials that intentionally reach populations historically underrepresented in research, mentor students who may not have seen themselves represented in medicine or science, and build collaborations that make discoveries from major research institutions meaningful to communities far beyond their walls. Being a first-generation student has made me especially aware that talent and ambition exist everywhere, even when opportunity does not. My career will be dedicated to narrowing that distance. There are countless individuals, all around the world, more than capable of making change. Yet, those people are never given the resources. My understanding of health has also been shaped by the privilege of traveling and learning from communities outside of my own. In Guatemala, I volunteered with Volunteers Around the World, working to provide medical education alongside local community members. I have been fortunate to travel, and each experience has challenged me to look beyond my own assumptions and recognize how differently people experience the same world. Those opportunities are a privilege I do not take lightly, and they have strengthened my commitment to building a career in medicine that remains responsive to the communities I serve. To me, making a positive impact through medicine means more than discovering a better treatment. It means asking who was included in discovering it, who can access it, and who might still be left behind. I want to spend my career asking those questions, and building a healthcare system where the answers become more equitable.

I have spent much of my life learning how to exist in two seemingly contradictory worlds. I have been hurt by the medical system, and yet I chose everyday to build my future within it. Living with Ehlers-Danlos syndrome (EDS) and postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome (POTS) has shaped nearly every part of how I understand health, disability, and medicine. POTS taught me early that something as simple as standing can become complicated when your body does not respond the way it should. Struggling with this as a kid truly changed my outlook on all of the seemingly small mundane day to day tasks. EDS has been different. As I have gotten older, its impact on my life has become harder to ignore. Pain that I once pushed through has become more persistent, physical activities require careful planning, and I have had to cope with the fact that determination cannot always override what my body is allowing me to do. For someone who has always defined herself by how much she can do, that has been difficult to accept. Even harder has been navigating a healthcare system that does not always know what to do with bodies like mine. I know what it feels like to enter a medical appointment hoping for answers and leave feeling dismissed. I know the exhaustion of explaining symptoms that are difficult to see and the draining experience of having to prove that something is wrong while already using so much energy just to manage it. Those experiences could have pushed me away from healthcare entirely. Instead, I went toward it. I became an EMT. I entered clinical research. I studied molecular biology, anthropology, and public health, and I am now pursuing my masters in public health while building a career in research and working toward applying to medical school. There is an irony in dedicating my life to the same system that has, at times, failed me, but that contradiction has become one of my greatest motivations. I do not want my future patients to have to fight so hard just to feel heard. Being part of the disabled community has also taught me something medicine could not, which is the power of simply being understood. Finding other disabled people meant finding people who I did not have to justify why I was exhausted, explain why plans sometimes had to change, or prove that I could be both disabled and ambitious. For the first time, experiences that had made me feel isolated became experiences that connected me to other people. That community changed my worldview. It taught me that disability is not an individual failure to overcome, but rather that the greater problem is the world that was built without disabled people in mind. It also taught me how powerful it is when someone says, in words or actions, “I believe you.” I want to bring that lesson into my medical career, research, and public health. I want to ask questions that include patients who are often excluded, design research based on the realities of their lives, and practice medicine that treats listening as a clinical skill rather than a bonus. As my disability has become more challenging, my ambitions have not become smaller. They have become more personal. I cannot undo the moments when medicine failed me, but I can allow them to shape the kind of healthcare professional I become. I want to help build a medical system in which disabled people feel less alone, are believed sooner, and do not have to become experts in fighting for themselves just to receive care.

Since I was a little girl, I dreamed of wearing a white coat and changing lives as a doctor. What I didn’t know was how personal that dream would become. In middle school, I was a committed student and competitive gymnast until everything changed overnight. After a state competition, I collapsed and was rushed to the hospital, marking the start of a long, exhausting journey with chronic illness. I spent over a year on bed rest, visited countless doctors, and faced more questions than answers before being diagnosed with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS) and Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS). Navigating that experience as a young, non-white woman was isolating and disheartening. I was often not believed, or labeled as anxious rather than genuinely ill. It took years, and immense privilege, advocacy, and persistence, to receive proper diagnoses and care. I struggled to face the truth that, the medical system doesn’t always know how to care for people like me. Girls and women, particularly those from minority backgrounds, are frequently misdiagnosed, under-treated, or simply unheard. That realization fueled a deeper sense of purpose in me. I didn’t just want to become a doctor anymore. I needed to become one. I knew jumping straight into medical school wouldn’t be enough. If I wanted to truly advocate for women, I needed to understand the barriers they face beyond the exam room. That’s why I chose to pursue a Master of Public Health before applying to medical school. I want to gain the tools to look critically at health disparities, research outcomes, and community needs. During my undergraduate career, I’ve been fortunate to do work that aligns with my goals. At Johns Hopkins All Children’s Hospital, I contributed to a project on venous thromboembolism in sickle cell disease pediatrics, which I presented at the International Society on Thrombosis and Haemostasis. That project reaffirmed the importance of centering underserved populations in clinical care and data. When women and minorities are not just participants in research but leaders of it, the resulting care becomes more equitable and effective. I believe in the power of women to uplifting other women in healthcare. When a woman sees a provider who looks like her, or shares her cultural understanding, she is more likely to feel safe, heard, and cared for. That kind of trust is foundational to healing. My own journey would have been profoundly different if I had seen more women in positions of medical authority who understood the complicated ways that illness presents in female bodies. As a woman in healthcare, I recognize the opportunity that comes with that identity. It means I can connect with patients and communities in a way that builds bridges where there were once walls. It means I can advocate not only with clinical expertise but also with lived experience. I will help build a healthcare system that values empathy, accessibility, and inclusion just as much as innovation. One of my greatest restrictions is the immense financial burden of my education. This scholarship represents a belief in my potential to change this field. I am committed to pushing healthcare to be more inclusive and compassionate. Every research project, late night of studying, and time I’ve had to explain my illness, is a part of the journey toward that goal. I didn’t choose healthcare just because I wanted a career. I chose it because I believe that no girl should have to wonder if her pain is real, if her voice will be heard, or if she is broken beyond repair. I’ve lived those questions. Now, I want to be part of the answer.

I used to define myself as a student-athlete. More specifically, I was a gymnast, with chalky hands, sore muscles, and quiet tenacity. Everything changed one night, hours after a state competition, when I collapsed and was rushed to the hospital. That single moment cracked my world open. I had no idea then that I was beginning a year-long journey mostly spent in bed, grappling with constant dizziness, rapid heart rate, fatigue, and excruciating pain. Eventually, I was diagnosed with Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome (POTS) and Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS), both of which are invisible, often misunderstood physical disabilities that drastically altered the course of my life. I was only a teenager, watching the world continue on without me while I lay in the same four walls, day after day. School, sports, and friendships became distant concepts. But what hurt the most was not the physical pain, it was the way the medical system failed to see me. I was a young girl with symptoms doctors couldn’t neatly explain or fix, and so they dismissed me. I was told I was “too anxious,” “too active,” “too dramatic.” The invisibility of my conditions created a silence around my suffering that was louder than any diagnosis. Yet, through that silence, I found my voice. I started to see the medical world not just as a patient, but as someone determined to make it better. That year in bed became the groundwork for my future. With time, treatment, and an unrelenting determination (also need to credit my mom who was a huge advocate for me), I re-entered the classroom, slowly reclaimed pieces of my independence, and reimagined who I could become. My disabilities shaped me, and still do, but they never diminished me. They expanded my capacity for empathy, resilience, and advocacy. Now, I am pursuing a Master of Public Health with plans to apply to medical school. My dream is to become a physician who truly listens, particularly to girls like me, young people whose bodies don’t follow the textbook but whose experiences deserve to be seen, believed, and understood. I want to help close the diagnostic gap for invisible illnesses and ensure that physical accessibility is just one part of a larger movement toward medical and educational equity. Navigating college with disabilities hasn’t been easy. From inaccessible buildings to outdated classroom accommodations, I’ve had to fight for basic inclusion while managing chronic symptoms. To manage pain I have enrolled in pain clinics, often not covered by insurance, invested in a service dog, and have an immense amount of my own money and family’s money, just to keep a functional quality of life. Scholarships like this one ease the immense financial burden of higher education, especially for disabled students who face unique healthcare costs and often have reduced working capacity. Financial assistance would not only help me complete my masters degree, but it would also serve as a vote of confidence in my potential. I also vow that by assisting in making this public health degree possible I will pay it forward by being a positive change in the healthcare field, brining awareness to those with disabilities. Writing for this scholarship was a reminder that my voice and my story matter, so thank you for being a part in giving me the opportunity to share such a huge part of who I am. I no longer define myself by what I’ve lost. I define myself by what I’ve built, which is a path of purpose. I may walk that path differently than others, but I walk it proudly. Thank you for considering my application.

As a non-white, disabled, first-generation college student and woman pursuing a medical career, I was quickly drawn to this scholarship. I recently faced a wave of discouragement after sitting in a room of student researchers and learning I was the only one whose parents were not doctors, much less attended college. However, this is far from the first time I have been in a situation where I must work harder than the other students to prove my worth. When I was only twelve years old, I spent nearly a year on bed rest while seeing hundreds of doctors. I was diagnosed with both Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia syndrome and Ehlers-Danlos syndrome. Doctors told me I should get a wheelchair, and countless people have told me my lifelong dreams of being a doctor are not meant for people "in my circumstances." Little did they know they were fueling my passion. My challenges have taught me to be resilient and persistent. I have now completed my junior year of undergraduate school with a double major in pre-med molecular biology and anthropology, and I am applying to medical schools. I am pursuing an additional degree in anthropology because I strive to reach non-traditional demographics in my medical practice. I strive to treat patients of all ages, ethnicities, races, and financial statuses. Despite being proud of myself, I do not doubt that the systemic discouragement will continue throughout my senior year and through medical school. The challenges of gender or ethnic discrimination, being the first to navigate college, and struggles with my health come and go. The challenge I have found the most consistent in my life is financial struggle. My full-time working parents have made countless sacrifices to ensure my siblings and I are always provided for. I have watched their attempt to help me obtain my degree through financial assistance take an extreme toll on their quality of life. This scholarship will help me pursue my dreams by securing another year of education as a non-traditional student. It will also benefit people beyond myself by giving my family financial relief. My mother was the only one of six kids in her household to graduate high school. She has always been my greatest inspiration because of that and reasons that go far beyond it. She has been unable to pursue further education because of her devotion to supporting my siblings and me financially and physically. By alleviating the financial stresses of the remainder of my undergraduate degree, she can return to school as she has long aspired to do. When reading Carol's story, I saw glimpses of my mom in the nurturing, aspiration, and dedication to family and education. I loved that it was included that Carol inspired her children. A parent's ability to inspire learning is often overlooked because of their different paths in doing so themselves. My mom's high school completion inspired me to go to college, and her commitment to going back to school when possible inspires me to attend medical school despite the lengthy process. She has taught me that time does not hinder passion or limit education despite the world's pressure to put us on an age-specific trajectory. I dream of my mother and I standing next to one another, degrees in hand. This scholarship will be a step in making at least one, but in many ways, both of those degrees possible. It would be an honor for me to carry on Carol B. Warrens's name through my commitment to not just lifelong learning and education but also my commitment to family and inspiring non-traditional learning paths.

I included as many photos as possible to capture the truly unique, outgoing, and loving personality of my dog and best friend, Kyon. I'd like to share the story (or caption) for the picture of Kyon literally breaking through the window screen. Being the attention hog he is, Kyon would not stop bringing his toys to my family and me in the kitchen, so we put him outside. As we began to eat dinner, he launched through the window. The lesson learned here was that, like it or not, he is a part of the family ALL the time.

STEM occupations have always been essential, but now, they are even more valuable with the Covid-19 pandemic at hand. The post-pandemic world is unknown to us and therefore will raise questions in which we have never considered. People with careers in STEM fields will be the first to try and answer these unprecedented questions. When one thinks of the pandemic in terms of STEM workers, they think of vaccine development and treating those who got the virus; however, the STEM field goes much deeper than this, especially when considering the post-pandemic world. For example, a large population of the world will have mental health effects because of the pandemic, and it is up to those within our STEM occupations to help these people. The post-pandemic world also deals with other effects of the current time, such as long-term vaccine effects. We have all heard "we will get through this" many times, but getting through it is not enough. We need to rebuild and become stronger than we once were, which is impossible without those same STEM occupations. The relentless research and treatment of the Corona Virus itself is just the beginning. The pandemic forced us to learn about the spread of viruses, vaccination processes, and the human body itself in a rapid time. This information does not go away as virus case numbers decrease. The research will continue and change the world for the better. The most valuable part of our world's rebuilding after the pandemic is the new surge of information and opportunity within the STEM field. As a young mind going into the field myself, I take great pride in saying the information learned from this tragic virus will improve and even save lives as we go forward.

Rise to Glory My mind is bouncing in different directions as I lay in the hospital bed. My head is pounding, my body aching and my eyes are desperately watching the door for the doctors' return. I always thought I knew myself until everything I thought I was was ripped away from me. I would’ve told you I was the perpetual student and athlete, a gymnast to be specific. The question I wouldn’t have been able to answer is “Who would I be without those things?”. That’s a question nobody can answer until it’s experienced. Now I answer, I am stronger. It took the crumbling of my life to rebuild something beautiful. I have a form of dysautonomia called postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, POTS for short. In simple terms, my autonomic nervous system doesn’t work correctly causing a plethora of symptoms. The average diagnosis time is six years. Mine was two. I am blessed, but I didn’t feel blessed being lowered on a metal table smothered in wires that attached to my head and chest. The numbers on all the machines danced, and I knew their meaning. Receiving a diagnosis was supposed to be celebratory and I pretended to rejoice, but what would putting a name to my pain do? It was hard to see the light when I was wondering with my eyes closed. I chose on that day to open them, to enter doors that were being opened rather than trying to pry open ones that had been slammed in my face. I drug myself, unable to stand, clawing the carpeted hall, all the way to my parents' room. I was competing in the gymnastics state competition that morning. Then my worst nightmare woke me that night. Hours before I was flipping on a four-inch balance beam for the last time. That night's hospital visit blurred into a month of them, then six months, then a year of different hospitals and doctors. I couldn’t tell you the name of one. That night still haunts me. I still wake up at 3 AM with a mixture of tears and sweat leaking down my cheeks and then I stand up because I can. The worst part was seeing the people I love hurting because of me and not being able to stop it. I’d lie in bed, in too much pain to sleep, and hear my mom crying down the hall. That broke me. I persevered and came back stronger. I’ve learned to love new things. I viewed basketball as a distraction from my broken reality. Basketball was like being in a relationship with someone after losing the love of my life. It was there to help me get by. I thought only my doctors were healing me, but I now know that everything from teachers to coaches helped pick up my broken parts. It was up to me to put them back together. I had to get knocked down unimaginably hard to stand up taller than I once was. Occasionally I feel whole, other times I discover pieces I didn’t know were missing. Life is a game of trial and error. I realized that if I never learn from my errors or feel blessed after my trials, I am playing the game of life wrong. I won’t lie, my hands still shake typing this, my heart still sobs at the things I’ve lost from this trial, but overall I am stronger. I feel strong sitting here, writing for a process I feared I would never experience, the college admissions process. I feel strong as I confidently say, I’d indubitably be a great addition to any school as my strength will only be a benefit. It wasn’t a fall from but rather a start to rise to glory and perhaps it was life's most difficult journey, but also it's most rewarding.

I've fallen in love with biology since I knew what it was. I like to say I've changed my career choice over time but the field not so much. In preschool, I wanted to be a doctor, then a neurosurgeon then a cardio surgeon and now a general surgeon. My interest roots from my life long dream of dedicating the rest of my life to helping others. This quickly led me to medicine but I also love science. I want to apply what I know to the real world, in a positive way for the rest of my life. I've had the opportunity to sit in on several surgeries in person by shadowing an anesthesiologists, for lack of a better way to describe it, I LOVE it. As I finally had the opportunity to see a real surgery before my eyes, a fear swelled over me. This was different from videos, there would be new smells and sounds. I was afraid I would fall out of love with my life long plan, but trust me I didn't. The opposite happened, the more surgeries I watch, the deeper I fall in love with my future career. I've fallen in love with the science and the meticulous skills of a surgeon, but more than anything, I've fallen in love with the mere fact that I can save lives doing what I love. I also extended on this interest by attending seminars, conferences, and joining clubs. This includes the Congress of Future Physicians and Medical Leaders, Pre-Med club, and more. These activities and opportunities have allowed me to be prepared for this field. I’m also very suited for my career choice and the medical field because I work precisely and diligently. I dedicate myself to the task at hand and like to be challenged. I’m certain both of those qualities will be very beneficial in this field. In terms of being suited mentally, I’m a very compassionate person and wish to better lives. I face adversity head on and build upon myself until I can achieve my desired result.I work with a positive purpose. My inspiration from biology connects to my inspiration from cultural and language studies. I can use my opportunity and knowledge to save lives in other places and understanding their language and culture is of huge importance (plus I love it)! I'd love to do something similar to Doctors Without Borders or White Helmets in the future. I’m suited for this field of study because I’m committed to it and have no doubt that I love it and will dedicate myself to achieving my goals within the field.

I am an advocate for both people and the environment. I do small things for the environment such as recycle, turn off lights, and more. I am vegetarian for environmental reasons. Beef production is a leading cause of deforestation. Outside of myself, I love to educate on such topics and allow people to know how changes can help our world and future. I also advocate for injustices including racial injustices and sex and gender inequalities. My resources and leadership roles allow me to educate people in and outside of our student body. I’ve used statistics of course but being a compassionate biracial woman in a diverse community inspires me to fight for change within society from a more personal point of view. One thing that I feel sets me apart from other advocates of injustice is not only do I want to educate but also to be educated. Leaders are also listeners, to be competent you have to know your audience. As someone who is very compassionate and feels others' emotions I quickly grow passionate about what those I’m leading care about. Rather than speaking for people I like to amplify their voice. My everyday life shows my use of the qualities looked for in the MSP. I’ve shown leadership through the student council and being captain of sports. I’ve shown my commitment to advance diversity by being in/ working with clubs such as Black Student Union, Pride, International Club, planning international day celebrations and more. These go hand in hand with inclusion by making a more inclusive society and safe space. I’ve gone on mission trips to help those less fortunate than me which speaks to my dedication to service. My overall fight for justice in and out of school for all people, such as education and advocacy of my social media platforms, shows my commitment to social justice. My whole life I’ve been called to help people, this is why I chose the medical career path and also why I will continue to advocate and educate. Due to the challenges I’ve faced unique to me and those common to people like me I feel called and motivated to continue my advocacy forever. Personally I have faced health challenges and think more awareness surrounding the effects of chronic illness on mental health and daily life. It’s also hard to have an invisible illness that people constantly question and shouldn’t. Outside of my personal struggles, more broadly I struggle as a biracial woman and want to advocate for those like me. I’ve already done this in many ways such as putting up educational posters and having conversations with people of authority on fixing the sexualization of girls in schools. I've fallen in love with biology since I knew what it was. I like to say I've changed my career choice over time but the field not so much. In preschool, I wanted to be a doctor, then a neurosurgeon then a cardio surgeon and now a general surgeon. My interest roots from my life long dream of dedicating the rest of my life to helping others. This quickly led me to medicine but I also love science. I want to apply what I know to the real world, in a positive way for the rest of my life. I've had the opportunity to sit in on several surgeries in person by shadowing an anesthesiologists, for lack of a better way to describe it, I LOVE it. As I finally had the opportunity to see a real surgery before my eyes, a fear swelled over me. This was different from videos, there would be new smells and sounds. I was afraid I would fall out of love with my life long plan, but trust me I didn't. The opposite happened, the more surgeries I watch, the deeper I fall in love with my future career. I've fallen in love with the science and the meticulous skills of a surgeon, but more than anything, I've fallen in love with the mere fact that I can save lives doing what I love. I also extended on this interest by attending seminars, conferences, and joining clubs. This includes the Congress of Future Physicians and Medical Leaders, Pre-Med club, and more. These activities and opportunities have allowed me to be prepared for this field. I’m also very suited for my career choice and the medical field because I work precisely and diligently. I dedicate myself to the task at hand and like to be challenged. I’m certain both of those qualities will be very beneficial in this field. In terms of being suited mentally, I’m a very compassionate person and wish to better lives. I face adversity head on and build upon myself until I can achieve my desired result. I work with a positive purpose. My inspiration from biology connects to my inspiration from cultural and language studies. I can use my opportunity and knowledge to save lives in other places and understanding their language and culture is of huge importance (plus I love it)! I'd love to do something similar to Doctors Without Borders or White Helmets in the future. I’m suited for this field of study because I’m committed to it and have no doubt that I love it and will dedicate myself to achieving my goals within the field.

My favorite film is The Hunger Games because of the character Katniss. She has been my favorite character since I first read the books in 4th grade. Throughout middle school I wore the classic Katniss braid in my hair every single day. Though I don’t wear the braid anymore, I still relate to her the same, if not more. I relate to her because I too have faced challenges and overcome them. From the beginning she is always sacrificing herself for the protection of her sister, Primrose. She volunteers as tribute to go fight in The Hunger Games, knowing her thin odds of survival, so that her sister does not have to. I’d do the exact same for my sister Taylor. When I was in middle school I thought it was exhilarating that Katniss looked so much like me and her sister looked so much like my sister. My sister has blonde hair like Prim and I have brown like Katniss. As I’ve gotten older the ways I relate to Katniss have evolved. She is tough but compassionate and an advocate for who she loves. Her defense of the ones she loves does not end at Prim, and mine does not end at Taylor. She puts her life in harm's way time and time again for Peeta, for Rue, for Finnick, for Gale, and for everyone she loves. This ‘others before self’ lifestyle is exactly what makes my relation to Katniss different from any other character. I may not be in The Hunger Games, but I am in our society. Are they really that different? The Hunger Games is hands down the best film because of not just Katniss but all of its characters and the unique and outstanding plot.

I was raised in a Christian home and it’s important to me to continue to grow my faith. It’s important to understand that you can always have a stronger relationship with God. I feel by facilitating conversation on campus about my religious journey I can strengthen my relationship and other students' relationships with God. The missions trips I’ve been blessed to attend through St. Mary’s Divine Word in Kirtland to both Mishawaka, Indiana and Logan, West Virginia have inspired me to want to continue Christian outreach. I’ve worked in domestic violence shelters during them and also food banks outside of my youth group and both have been something I want to continue to do. I want to go into the medical field and feel strongly about the study of cultures as well. I feel this is important to tie into my religious beliefs. God is giving me the opportunity to change the world and making connections with people in my future who truly need that relationship with Him is something I look forward to. I would love to participate in something similar to Doctors Without Borders or White Helmets and I feel working with people within these types of groups in the future I could spread God’s words. Sharing ideas like these, how I will incorporate sharing religion in my career, on campus will facilitate these needed conversations that really connect everyday life, your future, and religion. Knowing I can start this idea of using religion within my work and education at Pepperdine is compelling. Personal growth is a huge part of all aspects of life and faith does nothing but embrace and encourage this growth in all aspects. I have faced adversity through health issues as I have a form of dysautonomia called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. In my greatest times of trial I was able to turn to God and pray. Without Him I would never be where I am today. My relationship with Him has allowed me to persevere and grow to love myself despite my illness. It also encouraged me to, at my worst, fight and put my trust in him. This taught me that no matter who is around me or what is happening I am never alone.