I learned that ignoring to take care of your mental health can severely impact your quality of life. I fell flat on my feet mentally, socially, and academically as a pre-pharmacy major. With no support system that understood the challenges and the incredible amount of pressure, burnout, and isolation I felt, I received poor marks in a majority of my classes. With my grades falling, my mental health deteriorating, and my motivation fizzing out, I took a two-year gap after my freshman year of college. I didn't travel the world, volunteer at renowned organizations, or gain industry experience, I slept, took medication, and never left my house. My sunny disposition withdrew, my skin grew pale, the bags under my dry eyes darkened, and the loneliness in my chest expanded with each passing day. I didn't care anymore that I had dropped out of college, hardly showered, or worried my parents. I felt numb. Numb and indifferent. It wasn't until my parents flat out refused to entertain the severity of my mental health that I began to work on taking care of it. I ended up graduating with my B.S. in Psychology, was admitted to graduate school, built a reliable support system, and carried both research and industry experience under my belt. While I would not go through what I went experienced over again, I would not change anything about it. Instead, I just wish I treated my emotional and psychological well-being like I took care of my physical body sooner.

I took a two-year gap after my freshman year of college, but I didn't travel the world, volunteer at renowned organizations, or gain industry experience. I slept, took medication, and never left my house. My sunny disposition withdrew, my skin grew pale, the bags under my dry eyes darkened, and the loneliness in my chest expanded with each passing day. I didn't care anymore that I had dropped out of college, hardly showered, or worried my parents. I felt numb. Numb and indifferent. Then one day, I took a chance. I wasn't feeling numb or indifferent that day- I felt despair. Despair at the thought I was going to feel like this forever. On this day, I took a chance to open up to my parents for support. I sat them down, began the conversation positively, and asked them if they would be willing to sit down and solely listen to my troubles. They said no. In hindsight, I'm grateful my parents didn't recognize the gravity of my mental health decline and weren't supportive. Because the immense disappointment and anger I felt on that day was enough to force me to find people that would listen. My mental health soured my friendships in the first half of my college career, strained my relationship with my parents, and ruined my self-worth. But it also gave me courage. Courage I needed to begin the first steps toward self-improvement. I started therapy, re-enrolled to college, and began working. Despite not operating at even 70% I slowly began building my support system. My professors became my cheerleaders and letters of recommendation. My McNair, choir, and psychology classmates, ate lunch, traveled, and shared hugs with me. And somewhere along the path toward recognizing my obsessive thoughts, the color of my cheeks, surroundings, and desires resurfaced. The bitterness I held toward my parents' lack of understanding of mental health began to fade away. We were low-income. We had minimal financial resources and alternated between which bills we would pay each month. My parents didn't have the luxury to feel emotions. They were focused on surviving. Focused on ensuring my brother and I had a roof over our heads and food in our refrigerator. The improvement in my mental health gave me the ability to empathize with and recognize the social problems families like mine face on a daily basis. Environmental racism. A fractured healthcare system. Unequal opportunities in education. The social problems low-income and marginalized communities understand far too well became disgustingly obvious. The support system I cultivated over years' worth of hard work and effort encouraged my efforts in tackling these issues through research and political activism. My senior year of undergrad was my favorite. I had a reliable support system, I understood my career goals and desires, and I smiled. I smiled a lot. I smiled at the fact despite how much my mental health dragged my well-being through the mud, I still persevered and embraced all the wonders life had to offer me.

If I had $1,000 I would spend it on a bill. Well, $900 would go towards a bill. There's a wide variety to choose from! Would I spend it on the emergency veterinary medical bill I haven't paid since last year? I could also put it towards the credit card debt I accumulated due to irresponsibly allowing my parents to use it at their expense. It wouldn't hurt to take a stab at the loan I took out in order to afford my congressional internship in D.C. last spring. There's also the looming threat of not being able to afford my graduate housing's first month of rent. Paying off the taxes I owe due to receiving stipends for my research that weren't deducted most likely ranks as the highest priority right now. The remaining $100? I would keep $75 in my checking account to avoid overdraft fees. I've gotten better at budgeting and remaining financially conscious of my expenses but sometimes I slip up. The remaining $25 I would spend on food. It'll be a while before I get to eat take-out food again so I would order a regular size, Penne Rosa, with parmesan-crusted chicken, no mushrooms, substitute for broccoli, extra red pepper, and an order of 6 cheesy bread from Noodles and Company.

I took a two-year gap after my freshman year of college, but I didn't travel the world, volunteer at renowned organizations, or gain industry experience. I slept, took medication, and never left my house. My sunny disposition withdrew, my skin grew pale, the bags under my dry eyes darkened, and the loneliness in my chest expanded with each passing day. I didn't care anymore that I had dropped out of college, hardly showered, or worried my parents. I felt numb. Numb and indifferent. Then one day, I took a chance. I wasn't feeling numb or indifferent that day- I felt despair. Despair at the thought I was going to feel like this forever. On this day, I took a chance to open up to my parents for support. I sat them down, began the conversation positively, and asked them if they would be willing to sit down and solely listen to my troubles. They said no. In hindsight, I'm grateful my parents didn't recognize the gravity of my mental health decline and weren't supportive. Because the immense disappointment and anger I felt on that day was enough to force me to find people that would listen. My mental health soured my friendships in the first half of my college career, strained my relationship with my parents, and ruined my self-worth. But it also gave me courage. Courage I needed to begin the first steps toward self-improvement. I started therapy, re-enrolled to college, and began working. Despite not operating at even 70% I slowly began building my support system. My professors became my cheerleaders and letters of recommendation. My McNair, choir, and psychology classmates, ate lunch, traveled, and shared hugs with me. And somewhere along the path toward recognizing my obsessive thoughts, the color of my cheeks, surroundings, and desires resurfaced. The bitterness I held toward my parents' lack of understanding of mental health began to fade away. We were low-income. We had minimal financial resources and alternated between which bills we would pay each month. My parents didn't have the luxury to feel emotions. They were focused on surviving. Focused on ensuring my brother and I had a roof over our heads and food in our refrigerator. The improvement in my mental health gave me the ability to empathize and recognize the social problems families like mine face on a daily basis. Environmental racism. A fractured healthcare system. Unequal opportunities in education. The social problems low-income and marginalized communities understand far too well became disgustingly obvious. The support system I cultivated over years' worth of hard work and diligence encouraged my efforts in tackling these issues through research and political activism. My senior year of undergrad was my favorite. I had a reliable support system, I understood my career goals and desires, and I smiled. I smiled a lot. Smiled at the fact despite how much my mental health dragged my well-being through the mud, I still persevered and embraced all the wonders life had to offer.

Did you know Indiana's state bird is the Northern Red Cardinal, which is often cited as a symbol of future fortune for anyone lucky enough to pass by one in the open? One tried and true method to improve your physical and mental well-being is to receive 10-30 minutes of sunlight several times a week. When you paint trees, you start to realize all the various shades of green and yellow present from just one leaf! The beauty, benefits, and brilliance of nature are often overshadowed by our daily stressors from work, school, and at home. The last thing we think of after a stressful day is to go outside, stare at the grass, and write a three-page ode describing its elegant movement. Some days, I even forget to leave my room, getting blindsided by the afternoon sun when my dog has to take a tinkle. But on the days I make a conscious effort to be present in the moment, I am entranced by the beautiful images of greenery, sounds, and textures available in my environment. By making great efforts in detaching myself from my electronic devices throughout the day my mood improves, my energy increases, and the tension in my shoulders releases. This is why I love nature. It's simple, colorful, beneficial, free, and accessible with no "catch". The only fee is five minutes of my day.

My goals for the future are to become an expert in the research field of white-collar crime, create a grassroots advocacy organization, and run for office in order to create a more equitable society. As a brown, Latinx, bisexual, gender non-conforming, low-income, first-generation college graduate, and rising first-generation graduate student, I have a personal duty to vocalize the concerns of the communities I belong to as our voices ring hollow in a vast majority of spaces. I would not have came out as non-binary if it weren't for the valuable experiences, insights, and struggles my fellow non-binary friend shared in my psychology course. I would not have gained an open and support system filled with queer and BIPOC members had it not been for my McNair advisor championing the beauty and excellence of diversity in academia. As a low-income student, my parents could not afford to financially support our household let alone my college tuition. Had it not been for the Pell Grant, I would not have been able to attend undergraduate and receive my bachelor's degree. All of my accomplishments, insights, and ambitions are a direct result of my community members bravely pushing through life's struggles and overcoming any and all moments of adversity together. As a lifelong learner, social justice advocate, and a proud queer Latinx individual, I can only think of repaying those before me and continuing the pave the path they had laid down before me for others. I believe the best way for me to repay the members of my community is by taking up space in positions of power and being unapologetically vocal about mine and other marginalized and underrepresented community members' everyday experiences.

My experience as an undergraduate student was far from perfect. I fell flat on my feet socially and academically as a pre-pharmacy major. With no support system who understood the challenges and the incredible amount of pressure, burnout, and isolation I felt, I received my first and last D+ in a class. My GPA plummeted to a 2.84. It was definitely a new personal low in my academic career. With my grades falling, my mental health deteriorating, and my motivation fizzing out, I decided to take a break from school. It was the best option available at the time that would help me collect my thoughts on what I wanted in life and what I needed in order to succeed. After a thorough two years of wallowing in despair, I knew I wanted to return to academia. I missed learning new topics every week, making friends, and engaging in meaningful discussions on various social problems. So I sought out the support systems I needed that would help me return and succeed in college once more, but as a psychology major instead. My confidence was broken, my sensitivity to rejection had heightened, and I forgot how to make friends. But nonetheless, I persisted in gaining professional and research experience that would support my endeavors in successfully navigating through college. I graduated with a Bachelor's in Psychology with a 3.5 GPA, got admitted to my dream Ph.D. program, secured congressional, corporate, and research internships, and confidently came out as queer and non-binary to my family and friends. I am a firm believer in what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

The most helpful piece of financial advice I ever received came in the form of bank statements. After multiple bank statements indicating I owed over $100 in overdraft fees, I listened voraciously to the advice my bank account has been trying to tell me for years, "Start budgeting". I have a consistent track record of subscribing to a multitude of subscription services. I also, coincidentally, have a consistent track record of asking myself where my money is going at the end of every month. Without realizing it, I ended up paying hundreds of dollars for services I hardly used and didn't really need. When I had to prepare for my internship in D.C. I quickly recognized if I was to survive in D.C. for several months with a limited stipend, no dollar can go untracked or be wastefully spent. A week before my internship started, I created an excel sheet listing all of my monthly payments from music streaming services to my phone bill along with how much it would cost to save, buy groceries, and use transportation. After a while, I finally understood the value of budgeting and keeping track of my expenses. My anxiety reduced my bank statements were finally in the green, and I was finally able to list the names and dates of each of my monthly payments. Despite the repetitive suggestions from my friends, family, and professors to budget it wasn't until I experienced the pain of being in debt to my bank that I finally listened. All I can ask is please don't wait to start budgeting until money starts mysteriously disappearing from your bank account when you have a sudden emergency. Do current and future you a favor and start budgeting yesterday.

After multiple bank statements indicating I owed over $100 in overdraft fees, I realized I should start budgeting and keeping track of my monthly payments. I have a consistent track record of subscribing to a multitude of subscription services. I also, coincidentally, have a consistent track record of asking myself where my money is going at the end of every month. Without realizing it, I ended up paying hundreds of dollars for services I hardly used and didn't really need. When I had to prepare for my internship in D.C. I quickly recognized if I was to survive in D.C. for several months with a limited stipend, no dollar can go untracked or be wastefully spent. A week before my internship started, I created an excel sheet listing all of my monthly payments from music streaming services to my phone bill along with how much it would cost to save, buy groceries, and use transportation. After a while, I finally understood the value of budgeting and keeping track of my expenses. I have reduced anxiety, my bank statements are finally in the green, and I can list the names and dates of each of my monthly payments.

I stay optimistic through tough times because I like to reflect on how these experiences always have a lesson to offer afterward. Dropping out of college after only two semesters was the most anxiety-inducing I have ever felt. But this experience helped me acknowledge the importance of self-care, creating a reliable support system, and education. When I nearly lost my furry son after he took a bad fall from jumping a little too haphazardly I felt a part of me was nearly lost. However, after my dog successfully healed, I gained confidence in my decision-making skills and my ability to endure any and all hardships. And when my relationship with my parents soured, I felt a crushing sense of loneliness. But because of that experience, I was able to seek out support from other students, faculty, and professors who were key players in shaping my success in applying to graduate school. I like to reflect. A lot. However, that doesn't mean every negative experience will offer a lesson. Some lessons are harder to parse through and honestly, sometimes there are no lessons. But it's also a lot easier to remain optimistic when you have an opportunity to reflect, a reliable support system, and a cute furry son.

Socioeconomic inequality is and will continue to be the biggest problem faced by the world. Class and race are inherently tied together due to the historical beginnings of racism that never faded away and robbed marginalized communities of their ability to build intergenerational wealth. As a result, low-income and marginalized communities commonly report higher rates of poor health, insecure housing, and lower rates of pay to name a few. One way can work to solve this social problem together is by addressing the cause, the hyper-capitalistic for-profit motive. Corporations, programs, and organizations are driven by their desire to increase profits at almost any cost. Despite regulations and board committees currently in place, pollution has increased the acceleration of global warming, gas prices have skyrocketed, and social unrest has expanded. Unsurprisingly, socioeconomic inequality has widened even farther apart. By building class consciousness, funding social programs, and giving marginalized and underrepresented communities the same opportunity to hold high-ranking positions of power, we can achieve a fighting chance to combat socioeconomic inequality. Building a solid class consciousness would incentivize individuals to band together and support each other unconditionally when for example labor rights are being exploited, abused, or violated. Funding social programs such as free housing, universal health care, and a reliable transportation system would improve low-income and marginalized communities' social mobility giving them the opportunity to live healthier, pursue various careers, and build generational wealth. Lastly, many of the issues we have today such as the racial and gender wealth gap would benefit from hiring a diverse pool of applicants with insight unique to their background and skills. The world has many problems. The future is uncertain. People are hungry, tired, and scared. But, I will never lose my faith and hope in our ability to do good in the world.

Running for office, becoming an expert in the research field of white-collar crime, and creating a grassroots advocacy organization are some of my aspirational long-term professional goals. Interning in industries such as health care, congress, and government relations has strengthened my resolve to achieve the skills necessary in order to achieve my goals. Conducting research, spreading awareness, and voicing the concerns of members of my communities are how I currently and will continue to support underrepresented and marginalized communities. I am brown, Latinx, bisexual, gender non-conforming, low-income, first-generation college graduate, and a rising first-generation graduate student. I have a personal duty to vocalize the concerns of the communities I belong to as our voices ring hollow in a vast majority of spaces. I was able to highlight and spread awareness of domestic violence, stalking, and police interactions in Queer and BIPOC communities by conducting research and presenting my findings regionally and nationally. My internship experiences allowed me to raise awareness and concerns unique to my background when analyzing issues in health care, environmentalism, and LGBTQIA+ policy areas. By engaging in research, diversity programs, and political activism, I am able to consistently learn, support, and highlight the concerns unique to members of various communities. My idea of impacting social change is to build class consciousness, fund social programs, and give marginalized and underrepresented communities the same opportunity to hold high-ranking positions of power. Class and race are inherently tied together due to the historical beginnings of racism that never faded away and robbed marginalized communities of their ability to build intergenerational wealth. Building a solid class consciousness would incentivize individuals to band together and support each other unconditionally when human rights are being exploited, abused, and violated. Funding social programs such as free housing, universal health care, and a reliable transportation system would improve low-income and marginalized communities' social mobility giving them the opportunity to live healthier, pursue various careers, and build generational wealth. Lastly, many of the issues we have today such as the racial and gender wealth gap would benefit from hiring a diverse pool of applicants with insight unique to their background and skills. My goal to become an expert in white-collar crime research, build a grassroots advocacy organization, and to run for office came from my desire to create social change at the structural level. My ambition to create social change came from the experiences I have lived, shared, and witnessed in both the communities I do and do not belong to. If I have the opportunity to support, represent, and uplift the communities I belong to, I would be foolish to not take that chance.

Failing my first year of undergraduate which inevitably forced me to take a break from schooling taught me one of life's most essential lessons: support systems are the key to success. I burnt out my first year of undergraduate because I did not have anyone to rely on. When classes were getting difficult, I did not build enough confidence to share my experiences with professors, teaching assistants, or other students. When classes were finished, I did not have anyone to eat lunch or attend events with afterward. My reluctance in opening up to others forced me to endure the struggles of a first-generation college student in the accelerated pre-pharmacy program alone. My achievement of completing a Bachelor's Degree in Psychology in December 2021 was a result from learning my past mistakes. When I returned to school in 2019 I knew I had to rely on others for support in order to successfully navigate through undergraduate. Instead of relying on myself to proofread my essays, I reached out to professors who eventually became my letters of recommendation. Instead of studying alone in my room for exams, I studied in the student lounge and engaged with students from the same course to study together. Instead of sitting at home playing video games, I joined University Choir, McNair, and the Pi Sigma Alpha Political Science Honor Society to build a network of friends with whom I constantly stay in contact with still. Facing life's struggles as a first-generation college student became so much easier when I built a network of people I could rely on for support. Now as a first-generation graduate student, a support system is even more vital as I begin my transition to a Ph.D. Program in Criminology, Law & Society at the University of California, Irvine. Having a network of people whom I can rely on and vice versa strengthens my resilience, allows my optimism to shine through, and gives me a fighting chance to succeed in any and all of my endeavors. That is why if I have the opportunity to give back to the communities who have supported my academic journey through research, public policy, and mentoring I will go above and beyond in order to do so. After all, I would not have received my bachelor's, internships, life-work balance, or been admitted to a Ph.D. program in the first place had it not been for the best cheerleaders in my life.