I struggled heavily with my mental health during high school, being hospitalized twice during my freshman year. After my parents’ divorce in 2014, my dad fell extremely ill. The claws of his life-long battle with alcohol dragged him back after ten years of sobriety. For the next 6 years, my visits with him consisted of isolation and terror, never knowing what dangerous situation he’d put me in next. Although he did not die, I mourned the father he used to be. At such a young age, I could not understand where he had went. Was I the one that had changed? Had I done something to make him no longer want to be my father? I began to mourn the naive little girl that I used to be as well. I had suffered with suicidal ideation since 2016, but in 2020, my father and I were together when he passed out drunk. The incident kept replaying in my mind, and my life didn’t belong to me anymore. It only belonged to him and what he had done, so why should I keep living it? I had been in therapy for years before this and hospitalized twice after the accident, but I saw little improvement until I finally could escape my father's grasp. After many surprise visits to my house and school, I finally won a restraining order against my dad. It felt like taking an easy breath of air after years of having a stuffy cold. What I learned from this is that mental health and suicide are not an isolated concept. They are rarely just related to the person dealing with it, but rather they are a product of every event and interaction leading up to the present. The restraining order caused my environment and interpersonal relationships to greatly shift, and that was when therapy finally started creating major changes in my life. I finally felt like I had regained my agency, and I found hope that I could create a better future for myself. My surroundings had to improve before my mind could. Otherwise, I could not escape fight or flight mode long enough to focus on improving. My father's presence no longer weighs on every moment, and although I'll never be that innocent girl again, I still feel her inside me in moments of joy. This is exactly why I am pursuing a Psychology degree with the hopes of attending law school after. I am currently considering Immigration law as I am an immigrant myself. Additionally, I attended a middle school with a big immigrant community when I was younger which pushed me to learn Spanish. Because of this, I've already had experience with immigrants as a Spanish-English interpreter. In this field, I have seen first hand the generational trauma that has consumed this community, and I hope that by choosing this career field, I will be able to help them find security and prosperity in the United States. I know that their mental health will only have a chance to thrive if their surroundings are stable.

I struggled heavily with my mental health during high school, being hospitalized twice during my freshman year. After my parents’ divorce in 2014, my dad fell extremely ill. The claws of his life-long battle with alcohol dragged him back after ten years of sobriety. For the next 6 years, my visits with him consisted of isolation and terror, never knowing what dangerous situation he’d put me in next. Although he did not die, I mourned the father he used to be. At such a young age, I could not understand where he had went. Was I the one that had changed? Had I done something to make him no longer want to be my father? I had suffered with suicidal ideation since 2016, but in 2020, my father and I were together when he passed out drunk. The incident kept replaying in my mind, and my life didn’t belong to me anymore. It only belonged to him and what he had done, so why should I keep living it? I had been in therapy for years before this and hospitalized twice after the accident, but I saw little improvement until I finally could escape my father's grasp. After many surprise visits to my house and school, I finally won a restraining order against my dad. It felt like taking an easy breath of air after years of having a stuffy cold. What I learned from this is that mental health and suicide are not an isolated concept. They are rarely just related to the person dealing with it, but rather they are a product of every event and interaction leading up to the present. The restraining order caused my environment and interpersonal relationships to greatly shift, and that was when therapy finally started creating major changes in my life. I finally felt like I had regained my agency, and I found hope that I could create a better future for myself. My surroundings had to improve before my mind could. Otherwise, I could not escape fight or flight mode long enough to focus on improving. This is exactly why I am pursuing a Psychology degree with the hopes of attending law school after. I am currently considering Immigration law as I am an immigrant myself. Additionally, I attended a middle school with a big immigrant community when I was younger which pushed me to learn Spanish. Because of this, I've already had experience with immigrants as a Spanish-English interpreter. In this field, I have seen first hand the generational trauma that has consumed this community, and I hope that by choosing this career field, I will be able to help them find security and prosperity in the United States. I know that their mental health will only have a chance to thrive if their surroundings are stable.

I struggled heavily with my mental health during high school, being hospitalized twice during my freshman year. After my parents’ divorce in 2014, my dad fell extremely ill. The claws of his life-long battle with alcohol dragged him back after ten years of sobriety. For the next 6 years, my visits with him consisted of isolation and terror, never knowing what dangerous situation he’d put me in next. One haunting evening, he drank a bottle of whisky, and I pestered him to go on a bike ride. The neighbor called the ambulance after I stood on the curb screaming over my dad’s unconscious body. The sight and sound of skull on concrete consumed my mind. After this, the night terrors began. They ensured that I awoke fatigued and dreaded sleep. My life didn’t belong to me anymore. It only belonged to him and what he had done, so why should I keep living it? I had been in therapy for years before this and hospitalized twice after the accident, but I saw little improvement until I finally could escape my father's grasp. After many surprise visits to my house and school, I finally won a restraining order against my dad. It felt like taking an easy breath of air after years of having a stuffy cold. What I learned from this is that mental health is not an isolated concept. It is not just related to the person dealing with it, but rather it is a product of every event and interaction leading up to the present. The restraining order caused my environment and interpersonal relationships to greatly shift, and that was when therapy finally started creating major changes in my life. My surroundings had to improve before my mind could. Otherwise, I could not escape fight or flight mode long enough to focus on improving. This is exactly why I am pursuing a Psychology degree with the hopes of attending law school after. I am currently considering Immigration law as I am an immigrant myself. Additionally, I attended a middle school with a big immigrant community when I was younger which pushed me to learn Spanish. Because of this, I've already had experience with immigrants as a Spanish-English interpreter. In this field, I have seen first hand the generational trauma that has consumed this community, and I hope that by choosing this career field, I will be able to help them find security and prosperity in the United States. I know that their mental health will only have a chance to thrive if their surroundings are stable.

My name is Dru Collins, and I am a Chinese-American adoptee from O'Gorman High School in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. I plan to attend the University of Minnesota Twin Cities, majoring in Psychology and Spanish. 1. I struggled heavily with my mental health during high school, being hospitalized twice during my freshman year. After my parents’ divorce in 2014, my dad fell extremely ill. The claws of his life-long battle with alcohol dragged him back after ten years of sobriety. For the next 6 years, my visits with him consisted of isolation and terror, never knowing what dangerous situation he’d put me in next. One haunting evening, he drank a bottle of whisky, and I pestered him to go on a bike ride. The neighbor called the ambulance after I stood on the curb screaming over my dad’s unconscious body. The sight and sound of skull on concrete consumed my mind. After this, the night terrors began. They ensured that I awoke fatigued and dreaded sleep. My life didn’t belong to me anymore. It only belonged to him and what he had done, so why should I keep living it? I had been in therapy for years before this and hospitalized twice after the accident, but I saw little improvement until I finally could escape my father's grasp. After many surprise visits to my house and school, I finally won a restraining order against my dad. It felt like taking an easy breath of air after years of having a stuffy cold. What I learned from this is that mental health is not an isolated concept. It is not just related to the person dealing with it, but rather it is a product of every event and interaction leading up to the present. The restraining order caused my environment and interpersonal relationships to greatly shift, and that was when therapy finally started creating major changes in my life. My surroundings had to improve before my mind could. Otherwise, I could not escape fight or flight mode long enough to focus on improving. This is exactly why I am pursuing a Psychology degree with the hopes of attending law school after. I am currently considering Immigration law as I am an immigrant myself. Additionally, I attended a middle school with a big immigrant community when I was younger which pushed me to learn Spanish. Because of this, I've already had experience with immigrants as a Spanish-English interpreter. In this field, I have seen first hand the generational trauma that has consumed this community, and I hope that by choosing this career field, I will be able to help them find security and prosperity in the United States. I know that their mental health will only have a chance to thrive if their surroundings are stable.

It is always raining when I come here. Usually, I hate the rain. The splotches on my glasses annoy me, yet here, I don’t even need glasses to see. Instead, I notice the chilling breeze, the warm lights, the soft patters. This idealistic world only exists in a dream. My nights haven’t always been this calm. During the worst of it, I was screaming, but I didn’t know it yet. My mother burst into my room, begging me to wake up, but I remained mentally pinned under my dad’s sweaty body. My mom stroked my face and rocked me like a baby until I gently awoke. I can pinpoint the moment my night terrors arrived. After my parents’ divorce, my dad fell extremely ill. The claws of his life-long battle with alcohol dragged him back after ten years of sobriety. My visits with him consisted of isolation and terror, never knowing what dangerous situation he’d put me in next. One haunting evening, he drank a bottle of whisky, and I pestered him to go on a bike ride. The neighbor called the ambulance after I stood on the curb screaming over my dad’s unconscious body. The sight and sound of skull on concrete consumed my mind. When my nocturnal battles began, they ensured that I awoke fatigued and dreaded sleep. I wrestled against the tangle of blankets and launched them across the floor, slamming the walls with such force that my hands felt broken— actions unbeknownst to my conscious mind. My life didn’t belong to me anymore. It only belonged to him and what he had done, so why should I keep living it? I pulled out the pills and wrote a goodbye note, but just then, my mom entered my room: “You have a therapy appointment in half an hour.” I didn’t return home. I simultaneously loved and hated the mental hospital. Nothing could enter or exit my life without permission, and I appreciated this great sense of control. However, I despised cognitive behavioral therapy, also known as CBT. We had to fill in these blanks everyday: Something happens. I feel something. I tell myself something. I do something. Was this helpful? What could I have told myself instead? This stupid little paper didn’t feel like healing. It takes one more hospitalization and two more therapists to finally understand the value of CBT. Jen, the third and best, informs us, “You have PTSD-induced nightmares.” After many surprise visits to my house and school, I finally won a restraining order against my dad. It felt like taking an easy breath of air after years of having a stuffy cold. Sitting in Jen’s office, I realized, “He’s just a sad old man. For so long, he was my worst nightmare, but now he literally has no power over me.” Jen’s guiding and educational relationship ignited my passion for understanding trauma-based mental health. I dream of practicing preventative therapy: treating traumatized parents to prevent traumatized kids. I feel a pull to dedicate myself to this field because I know that I was one of the lucky ones. I got the help I needed and escaped the grasp of my father's disease, but many kids don't. I need to be a positive force in their lives so that they can find security and prosperity. The night terrors still occasionally invade my sleep, but thanks to medication, therapy, and my own perseverance, my physical reactions have ceased. Most of my nights, I have the privilege to walk through a rainy town with the chilling breeze, the warm lights, and the soft patters. My life finally belongs to me once more. When I awake, my mom stands in the doorway wishing me a good morning, and finally, it is.