For as long as I can remember, I’ve been fighting to survive—but more importantly, to grow. Life hasn’t always been kind, and I haven’t always had the safety net others could rely on. I’ve experienced homelessness, heartbreak, and the pressure of holding myself together while the world seemed to fall apart around me. But those same challenges, as painful as they were, shaped me into someone deeply empathetic, observant, and determined to serve. They didn’t harden me—they softened me in the right places. They taught me what it means to feel unseen, and now I’ve made it my mission to become the person who sees others. That mission led me to nursing. My decision to pursue a career in nursing isn’t just about wanting a stable job. It’s about purpose. When you’ve lived through instability—like sleeping in your car, worrying about where your next meal will come from, or fighting to keep a connection with your children—you develop a deep understanding of what it means to feel powerless. I’ve been in those moments, and they have left a mark on me. But more than anything, they’ve given me a powerful sense of compassion for others who are in pain, afraid, or vulnerable. I want to become the kind of nurse who not only treats the symptoms but also recognizes the human being behind them. My experiences as a mother have shaped me just as deeply. My children, Peyton and Reign, are my heart. Even in seasons where we’ve been physically apart, they remain my motivation. The bond I have with them taught me how to be nurturing, protective, and patient. Motherhood forced me to learn how to comfort without words, how to advocate when someone can’t speak for themselves, and how to push through exhaustion because someone else needs you. Those are the exact same skills that make a great nurse. Every day I think about the type of person I’d want caring for my children if they were ever in the hospital—and I’ve realized that I want to be that kind of person for someone else’s loved one. Working as a Registered Behavior Technician further solidified my path toward nursing. In my role, I’ve worked with children on the autism spectrum, many of whom are non-verbal or struggle with transitions, behavior, or communication. It’s in this work that I began to understand the power of consistent, compassionate care. I saw how small moments—like helping a child ask for help or gently redirecting a tantrum—can lead to breakthroughs. But I also saw the limitations of my role. I wanted to do more. I wanted to understand their medical needs, communicate with other healthcare providers, and offer support on a deeper level. Nursing became the natural next step—not just a career move, but a calling. Everything I’ve gone through has prepared me for this. My struggles have sharpened my resilience. My role as a mother has shaped my empathy. My work in behavioral health has trained my patience and presence. Nursing is the path that allows all those parts of me to come together for a greater good. I know what it feels like to be overlooked, and I never want anyone under my care to feel that way. In becoming a nurse, I’m not just choosing a profession—I’m choosing to turn my pain into purpose, my survival into service, and my journey into healing, not just for myself but for others. Nursing isn’t just something I want to do. It’s who I am becoming.