Option 3: Purpose & Connection How do relationships — romantic or otherwise — play a role in your long-term personal or professional goals? Relationships—romantic, familial, and communal—have shaped every part of who I am and the future I am working toward. When I think about the role relationships play in my long‑term goals, I always return to the example set by my parents. They both came from disadvantaged backgrounds marked by instability, trauma, and emotional hardship, yet they built a partnership rooted in respect, healing, and intentional love. Their relationship taught me that connection is not just something you receive; it is something you build, protect, and extend to others. It is the foundation of the community I rely on and the kind of community I hope to create for others. My mother grew up in a single‑parent household where mental and emotional abuse were part of her daily reality. She learned early that love did not always come with safety, and that survival sometimes meant staying quiet, shrinking herself, or carrying burdens no child should have to carry. My father’s childhood was different in structure but similar in pain. He lived in a two‑parent home, but it was filled with mental, emotional, and physical abuse. He grew up navigating chaos, learning to read danger in the smallest shifts of tone or expression. Both of them entered adulthood with wounds that could have easily shaped them into people who repeated the cycles they came from. Instead, they chose each other—and they chose differently. Their romantic relationship became a place where they unlearned the patterns they grew up with. They prioritized respect because they knew what disrespect could destroy. They practiced healthy communication because silence and anger had once been weapons in their homes. They emphasized self‑love because they understood that you cannot pour into someone else from an empty or wounded place. Watching them build a relationship grounded in healing taught me that love is not just a feeling; it is a commitment to growth, accountability, and mutual care. Their example also shaped how I view community. My parents never pretended they could do everything alone. They surrounded themselves with people who supported them—friends who became family, mentors who offered guidance, and relatives who stepped in when life became overwhelming. That community became a safety net during moments of doubt, struggle, or financial hardship. It showed me that strength is not measured by isolation but by the willingness to lean on others and allow others to lean on you. This understanding influences my long‑term goals in powerful ways. Professionally, I want to enter the skilled trades as a welder, eventually specializing in deep‑sea welding. It is a field that requires teamwork, trust, and communication—qualities I learned by watching my parents build a healthy partnership. I want to be part of work environments where people support one another, where respect is the standard, and where no one feels alone in their challenges. Personally, I want to build relationships that reflect the same intentionality my parents modeled. I want to surround myself with people who challenge me, uplift me, and remind me of my purpose when I start to doubt myself. I also want to be that person for others, especially young people who come from backgrounds like my parents’. I hope to mentor students who feel unseen or unsupported, helping them understand that their past does not define their future and that healthy relationships—romantic or otherwise—can change the trajectory of their lives. My parents’ story is proof that love can be a form of resistance, healing, and transformation. Their relationship taught me that connection is not just meaningful—it is necessary. It is the foundation of my goals, the source of my resilience, and the reason I believe so deeply in the power of community.

My interest in Welding Technology comes from a deep desire to build something real, something lasting, and something that reflects the strength I’ve had to develop throughout my life. Welding is a field where precision, discipline, and resilience matter—qualities I’ve earned through years of overcoming challenges with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder. These conditions shaped my childhood and teenage years in ways that weren’t always easy. They affected my focus, my emotions, and my confidence, especially in school and sports. But they also taught me how to fight for my goals, how to stay grounded when life feels overwhelming, and how to turn setbacks into motivation. Growing up with ADHD meant that staying organized and focused took twice the effort. Anxiety made even simple tasks feel heavier, and DMDD brought emotional challenges that I had to learn to manage with patience and maturity. Instead of letting these struggles define me, I learned to adapt. I built routines, leaned on mentors, and pushed myself to stay consistent even on the hardest days. These experiences taught me how to stay locked in on a task, how to problem‑solve under pressure, and how to keep going when things get tough—all skills that translate directly into welding. Football was always my outlet, my passion, and the place where I learned discipline and teamwork. The sport gave me structure and taught me how to lead, how to communicate, and how to push through physical and mental barriers. When I suffered a season‑ending injury, it felt like the ground shifted beneath me. Losing football, even temporarily, was one of the hardest moments of my life. But it also forced me to step back and think about my future in a bigger way. Instead of giving up, I chose to pivot. That pivot led me to Welding Technology. Welding gives me the same sense of purpose and intensity that football did, but in a way that builds long‑term stability. It blends hands‑on skill with technical knowledge, and it opens doors to careers that support entire communities—from infrastructure to marine construction to deep‑sea welding. I plan to attend Blinn College not only to earn my welding certifications and begin my associate degree, but also to give my body the time it needs to fully heal so I can prepare for Division I football. Blinn gives me the space to grow academically, physically, and mentally while staying committed to both of my goals: welding and football. The impact I hope to make goes beyond myself. I want to use welding to contribute to projects that keep communities safe and functioning. I want to show younger athletes and students—especially those with ADHD, anxiety, or emotional challenges—that their struggles don’t disqualify them from success. If anything, they can become strengths. Everything I’ve overcome has prepared me for this next chapter. Welding Technology isn’t just a career path for me—it’s a chance to build a future defined by resilience, purpose, and the determination to rise above every challenge I’ve faced.

Lightning McQueen’s story in Cars has stayed with me because it captures a lesson that becomes more meaningful the older you get: success means nothing if you lose your character along the way. The movie may be designed for children, but its message about humility, community, and personal growth has had a lasting impact on my life. Lightning’s journey from self-centered superstar to someone who understands the value of relationships mirrors the kind of growth many of us go through as we learn who we want to be. At the beginning of the movie, Lightning McQueen is at the top of his game—famous, talented, and convinced he doesn’t need anyone. He believes winning is everything, and he treats the people around him like they’re replaceable. That mindset pushes him forward in his career, but it also isolates him. He has no real friends, no support system, and no sense of gratitude for the opportunities he’s been given. His entire identity is built on being number one, and he can’t imagine a world where he isn’t the center of attention. But life has a way of humbling you, and for Lightning, that moment comes when he gets stranded in Radiator Springs. Suddenly, he’s not a star—he’s just another car in a small town that doesn’t care about his trophies or his fame. At first, he fights it. He’s rude, impatient, and convinced he’s too important to be stuck there. Yet the town’s residents—Mater, Sally, Doc Hudson, and the rest—don’t treat him like a celebrity. They treat him like a person who needs to slow down, listen, and learn. That shift is what makes the movie powerful. Lightning doesn’t change because he wins another race; he changes because a community shows him what real success looks like. Doc Hudson teaches him that greatness isn’t about being the fastest—it’s about how you treat people when no one is watching. Sally shows him the beauty of slowing down and appreciating life beyond the spotlight. Mater gives him unconditional friendship, something Lightning didn’t even realize he was missing. Through them, he learns that respect, kindness, and humility matter more than fame. This message has shaped how I see my own goals and relationships. It’s easy to get caught up in achievements—grades, sports, recognition, or future career plans. But Cars reminds me that none of that matters if you forget to be a good person. Lightning’s fall from the top shows how quickly success can fade, but his rise as a better friend and teammate shows what truly lasts. The people who support you, the community that grounds you, and the character you build along the way are what define you. The movie taught me that no matter how far you go in life, you never get there alone. Staying humble, treating people with respect, and valuing relationships over ego are what keep you grounded. Lightning McQueen became a better racer once he became a better person—and that’s a lesson I carry with me every day.

As a young Black man preparing to enter college, I understand that leadership begins with who I am on the inside: my values, my discipline, and my willingness to persevere through challenges that could have easily stopped me. These qualities have shaped my journey and continue to guide the future I am building for myself, my family, and my community. Growing up with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder has not been easy. These conditions affected my focus, my emotions, and my confidence. There were days when school felt overwhelming, when frustration came faster than solutions, and when I questioned whether I would ever get ahead. But these challenges forced me to develop resilience early. I learned how to pause, breathe, and push forward even when my mind felt like it was working against me. Over time, I realized that perseverance is not about being perfect—it is about refusing to quit and showing up with purpose, even on the hard days. My passion for welding grew out of that same mindset. Welding demands focus, patience, and precision—qualities I have worked hard to build within myself. When I weld, everything else quiets down. The arc, the metal, and the movement require full attention, and that challenge motivates me. I am drawn to the idea that a welder’s work becomes part of the world—bridges, ships, pipelines, and structures that people rely on every day. Welding gives me a sense of control and creativity, and it allows me to turn my energy and discipline into something strong, useful, and lasting. It is a career where my hands, my mind, and my determination all matter. Sports also played a major role in shaping my character. Football and basketball taught me discipline, teamwork, and emotional control. On the field and on the court, I learned how to communicate under pressure and how to push through fatigue and frustration. One moment that stands out is when a younger teammate struggled during conditioning and wanted to quit. Instead of letting him fall behind, I ran beside him, talked him through his breathing, and helped him finish every drill. That experience taught me that leadership is not about being in front—it is about lifting others up so they can rise with you. My volunteer work strengthened my understanding of service and uplift. Serving at Allen Community Outreach, Prairie Estates Nursing Home, Frisco Family Services Resale, Cornerstone Resale, and Hope’s Door taught me humility and compassion. I learned how to serve people from different backgrounds and how to show up even when the work was not glamorous. At Prairie Estates, I spent time with an elderly resident who rarely spoke. Over time, through patience and simple conversation, she began opening up. That moment taught me that leadership can be quiet, steady, and rooted in humanity. After college, I plan to mentor young boys who struggle with ADHD or emotional challenges, introduce students to skilled trades, and eventually open a welding shop or training program that provides jobs and apprenticeships in underserved communities. My long‑term goal is to build a legacy rooted in service, opportunity, and empowerment. My journey has not been perfect, but it has been purposeful. Every challenge has prepared me for the next chapter. College will give me the tools to build a career I am passionate about, but more importantly, it will give me the foundation to uplift others. I am committed to being a leader who stands on integrity, responsibility, and service—and to building a future that honors my family, my community, and the generations who will come after me.

My journey as a writer began long before I ever thought of myself as one. Growing up with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder meant that my emotions, thoughts, and reactions often felt louder and heavier than everyone else’s. I struggled to express what I was feeling, and even more, I struggled with being misunderstood. In school, I was labeled the “bad kid” because people saw my behavior but not the challenges behind it. Writing became the first place where I felt fully heard. It allowed me to slow down my thoughts, explain my feelings, and create worlds where kids like me weren’t judged—they were understood. That is why I want to write for children. I want young readers to see themselves, their classmates, and their differences reflected with compassion instead of criticism. The manuscript I am submitting is the first book in a series I hope to create about children with different disabilities and neurodivergent experiences—ADHD, Tourette’s, Down syndrome, autism, and more. These stories highlight voices and challenges that are rarely centered in children’s books, especially from the perspective of a kid who has lived through them. My main character is a child who struggles with emotional regulation and focus, just like I did, but he is also creative, curious, and full of potential. The story mirrors my own life: the frustration of being misunderstood, the fear of being judged, and the hope that someone will finally take the time to understand what’s really going on. Writing this book is meaningful to me because it gives a voice to kids who are often spoken about but rarely spoken for. Children’s books shape how young people see themselves and the world around them. When kids only see one type of “normal,” anyone who falls outside of that picture becomes a target for teasing, exclusion, or bullying. Diverse stories—especially those that explain hidden challenges—teach children empathy early. When a child understands why a classmate might struggle to sit still, or why another child makes unexpected sounds, or why someone learns differently, they are more likely to respond with patience instead of judgment. My hope is that kids who read my manuscript walk away with a simple but powerful message: everyone has challenges, even if you can’t see them, and kindness makes a difference. Beyond this manuscript, my goal is to build an entire series that educates children about disabilities and neurodivergence in a way that is honest, gentle, and empowering. I want to create books that teachers can use in classrooms, that parents can read at bedtime, and that kids can see themselves in. I want to make sure no child grows up feeling like I did—misunderstood, mislabeled, or alone. If my books can help even one child feel seen or help one classroom become more inclusive, then my struggles will have created something meaningful. Writing these stories is not just a creative project for me—it is a mission. I want to change the way children understand differences so that future generations grow up more empathetic, more informed, and more accepting. My hope is that these books will not only educate but also inspire kids to treat each other with compassion, because understanding is the first step toward kindness.

From a young age, I learned that life does not always move in a straight line. Growing up with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder meant that I often had to work twice as hard to stay focused, manage my emotions, and keep pushing forward when things felt overwhelming. These challenges affected my schoolwork, my relationships at home, and even my performance in sports. But they also shaped me into someone who refuses to quit—someone who learns from every setback and is determined to build a future defined by discipline, purpose, and skill. That future, for me, is becoming a deep‑sea welder. Welding first caught my attention because it blends hands‑on work, technical precision, and physical strength—three things that fit naturally with who I am. I’ve always learned best by doing, and welding is a field where your focus, your hands, and your mind all work together. The more I learned about underwater welding, the more I realized it was the perfect match for my personality and abilities. It requires courage, attention to detail, and the ability to stay calm under pressure. Those are qualities I’ve been developing my entire life, especially while managing ADHD and anxiety. What once felt like obstacles have become strengths: I’ve learned how to channel my energy, stay locked in on a task, and push through frustration without giving up. As I explored welding more deeply, I realized it is not just a technical trade—it is a bridge between art and science. Every weld requires creativity, visualization, and craftsmanship. Welders shape metal the way artists shape clay, turning raw materials into structures that are both functional and visually precise. At the same time, welding is grounded in science: metallurgy, physics, chemistry, engineering, and problem‑solving. A welding technology degree brings these worlds together, teaching students to understand how heat transforms metal, how pressure affects materials underwater, and how to design structures that are safe, efficient, and sustainable. This blend of art and science is what makes welding so important to communities. Underwater welders help build and repair the infrastructure that keeps cities and industries running—bridges, pipelines, ships, offshore platforms, and renewable‑energy structures. With a Welding Technology degree, I can contribute to safer transportation systems, stronger coastal protections, and more reliable energy networks. I can support environmental sustainability by ensuring that marine structures are built and repaired in ways that reduce waste, prevent leaks, and protect ecosystems. Beyond the technical work, I want to use my training to mentor young people—especially students who learn best through hands‑on work or who feel overlooked in traditional classrooms. I want to show them that skilled trades are powerful pathways to stability, creativity, and community impact. My long‑term goal is to earn a degree in Welding Technology, become a certified commercial diver, and work as a deep‑sea welder on offshore structures and marine repairs. My challenges have taught me resilience. My sports experiences have taught me discipline. My community service has taught me purpose. Welding allows me to bring all of these strengths together while using both art and science to serve the world around me. I’m not just working toward a job—I’m building a future that reflects who I am, what I’ve overcome, and what I hope to contribute to my community.

Throughout high school, one of the biggest challenges I faced was learning how to manage my mental health while still trying to succeed in school, at home, and on the football field. I have lived with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder since I was young, but it wasn’t until my teenage years that these challenges began to feel overwhelming. There were days when focusing in class felt impossible, moments when my emotions felt bigger than I could control, and times when the pressure of sports and school made me shut down instead of push forward. These struggles affected my grades, my relationships, and even my confidence as an athlete. For a while, I felt like I was losing my way. I didn’t always know how to express what I was feeling, and I didn’t always make the best decisions. But with support from my family, teachers, coaches, counselors, therapists, and my parents’ fraternity and sorority members, I slowly learned how to understand myself better. I began to recognize my triggers, communicate more openly, and use healthier ways to cope with stress. Talking about my problems was the hardest part because shutting down was easy. I had to learn that asking for help is not a weakness—it’s a strength. Over time, I started to regain control of my feelings, rebuild my focus, and remind myself of the goals I wanted to reach. As I grew through these challenges, they didn’t just change how I saw myself—they changed how I saw the world. My experiences taught me patience, resilience, and the importance of giving myself grace. I realized how many people walk around carrying battles no one else can see. That understanding made me more empathetic, more intentional with my relationships, and more aware of how important it is to check on the people around me. I became someone who listens more carefully, notices when others are struggling and tries to create space where people feel safe being honest. These experiences also shaped my goals for the future. Instead of letting my struggles hold me back, they pushed me toward a purpose bigger than myself. I know what it feels like to be misunderstood, to feel frustrated with yourself, or to think you’re falling behind. Because of that, I want to be someone younger students can talk to—especially athletes who may feel pressure to “tough it out” instead of speaking up. My journey made me want to advocate for mental health, to normalize asking for help, and to show others that their challenges don’t define their potential. Most importantly, my struggles taught me that strength isn’t about pretending everything is fine—it’s about being honest, getting support, and choosing to keep going. If I can use my story to help even one person feel less alone, less anxious, or less ashamed, then everything I went through will have a greater purpose. My mental‑health journey didn’t just shape who I am; it shaped the kind of person I want to be in my community and the impact I hope to make in the world.

Throughout high school, one of the biggest challenges I faced was learning how to manage my mental health while still trying to succeed in school, at home, and on the football field. I have lived with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder since I was young, but it wasn’t until my teenage years that these challenges began to feel overwhelming. There were days when focusing in class felt impossible, moments when my emotions felt bigger than I could control, and times when the pressure of sports and school made me shut down instead of push forward. These struggles affected my grades, my relationships, and even my confidence as an athlete. For a while, I felt like I was losing my way. I didn’t always know how to express what I was feeling, and I didn’t always make the best decisions. But with support from my family, teachers, coaches, counselors/therapists, and my mom and dad’s sorority and fraternity members, I slowly learned how to understand myself better. I began to recognize my triggers, communicate more openly, and use healthier ways to cope with stress. Talking about my problems was the hardest part because shutting down was easy. I had to learn that asking for help is not a weakness—it’s a strength. Over time, I started to regain control of my feelings, rebuild my focus, and remind myself of the goals I wanted to reach. Overcoming these challenges has shaped me into a stronger and more self-aware person. It taught me patience, resilience, and the importance of giving myself grace. Strangely enough, I was harder on myself than others were on me. I didn’t believe I deserved grace, but was more than willing to give it to others. My struggles became my purpose. Most importantly, they inspired me to help others who may be dealing with similar struggles. I know what it feels like to be misunderstood, to feel frustrated with yourself, or to think you’re falling behind. Because of that, I want to be someone younger students can talk to—especially athletes who may feel pressure to “tough it out” instead of speaking up. My challenges have motivated me to encourage others to take their mental health seriously, to ask for support when they need it, and to believe that their challenges do not define their future. If I can use my story to help even one person feel less alone, less anxious, less hurt, then everything I went through will have a greater purpose.

From a young age, I learned that life does not always move in a straight line. Growing up with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder meant that I often had to work twice as hard to stay focused, manage my emotions, and keep pushing forward when things felt overwhelming. These challenges affected my schoolwork, my relationships at home, and even my performance in sports. But they also shaped me into someone who refuses to quit, someone who learns from every setback, and someone who is determined to build a future defined by discipline, purpose, and skill. That future, for me, is becoming a deep-sea welder. Welding first caught my attention because it combines hands on work, technical precision, and physical strength—three things that fit naturally with who I am. I’ve always learned best by doing, and welding is a career where your focus, your hands, and your mind all work together. The more I learned about underwater welding, the more I realized it was the perfect match for my personality and abilities. It requires courage, attention to detail, and the ability to stay calm under pressure. Those are qualities I’ve been developing my entire life, especially while managing ADHD and anxiety. What used to feel like obstacles have now become strengths: I’ve learned how to channel my energy, how to stay locked in on a task, and how to push through moments of frustration without giving up. My experiences in football and basketball played a major role in building those strengths. Sports taught me discipline, teamwork, and resilience. On the field and on the court, I learned how to control my emotions, communicate with others, and stay focused even when the game wasn’t going my way. Early morning practices, tough losses, and long conditioning sessions taught me how to push through discomfort and stay committed to a goal. Deep sea welding demands that same level of toughness—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Whether it’s working in tight spaces, handling heavy equipment, or staying calm underwater, the mindset I built through athletics will guide me through every challenge. My volunteer work in the community also shaped my desire to pursue a career that has real impact. Helping others taught me patience, empathy, and responsibility. I learned how to show up for people, how to work with different personalities, and how to take pride in contributing to something bigger than myself. Welding, especially underwater welding, supports entire communities by helping build and repair the structures that keep industries and cities running. Knowing that my work can make a difference motivates me even more. My long-term goal is to earn a degree in Welding Technology, become a certified commercial diver, and work as a deep-sea welder on offshore structures, pipelines, and marine repairs. I know the path won’t be easy, but nothing in my life has been easy—and that’s exactly why I’m ready. My challenges have taught me resilience. My sports experiences have taught me discipline. My community service has taught me purpose. And welding gives me the opportunity to bring all of those strengths together into a career I can be proud of. I’m not just working toward a job—I’m building a future that reflects who I am, what I’ve overcome, and what I’m capable of achieving.

Throughout high school, one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that preparing for my future starts long before I step onto a college campus. For me, that preparation includes not only managing my mental health challenges—ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder (DMDD)—but also taking responsibility for my financial future. I have been told how easy it is for student loan debt to follow someone for years, and I am determined to avoid that path by planning ahead, working hard, and saving every dollar I can. Living with ADHD, anxiety, and DMDD has shaped the way I approach both school and work. These conditions can make it difficult to stay organized, manage stress, and keep my emotions steady, especially when balancing multiple responsibilities. There were times when focusing in class felt like a battle, and moments when anxiety made even simple tasks feel overwhelming. But instead of letting these challenges hold me back, I’ve learned to work with them. I’ve built routines, asked for support when I needed it, and developed coping strategies that help me stay grounded and productive. These skills have carried over into my job and my financial planning. I currently work part‑time through Texas Workforce at Freddy’s Custard, and this job has become a major part of my plan to pay for college without relying on loans. Every shift teaches me something—how to stay patient during busy hours, how to communicate with customers and coworkers, and how to stay focused even when my ADHD or anxiety tries to pull me in different directions. Most importantly, it teaches me discipline. Instead of spending my paychecks, I save them. I remind myself that every hour I work now is one less dollar I’ll have to borrow later. My goal is to continue working throughout the school year and increase my hours over the summer so I can build a stronger financial cushion before starting college. I know that welding school will require tools, equipment, transportation, and living expenses—not just tuition. By saving early, I’m giving myself the best chance to cover these costs out of pocket. Scholarships like this one are also a crucial part of my plan. Every award I receive brings me one step closer to starting my welding career without the weight of debt holding me back. Avoiding student loans isn’t just about money for me—it’s about freedom. It’s about being able to focus on my education without worrying about how much I’ll owe later. It’s about starting my welding career with confidence instead of financial stress. And it’s about proving to myself that despite the challenges I’ve faced with ADHD, anxiety, and DMDD, I am capable of building a stable and successful future. Working now, saving consistently, and applying for scholarships are the steps I’m taking to make that future possible. I’m proud of the progress I’ve made, and I’m committed to continuing the hard work so I can enter college—and eventually the workforce—without the burden of student loan debt.

When I think about a time when I helped someone in need, I always return to the moment my family’s world shifted unexpectedly. I was only eleven years old, in the middle of my 6th‑grade football season, when my mom contracted MRSA in the hospital shortly after giving birth to my baby brother, Logan. What was supposed to be a joyful time quickly turned frightening. The infection became so severe that she needed emergency surgery and had to remain in the hospital for weeks while receiving antibiotics through an IV. When she finally came home, she was still weak, exhausted, and unable to do even the simplest tasks. Overnight, my childhood felt like it had been put on pause. With my mom recovering and my dad working long hours to keep our household steady, many responsibilities fell on me. At first, I didn’t fully understand how serious everything was—I just knew my mom needed help, and I couldn’t stand to see her struggling. What started as small tasks quickly grew into a daily routine that required patience, discipline, and a level of maturity I hadn’t yet realized I possessed. Every day after school, I came home and took care of the chores on my own. I cleaned the house, washed dishes, folded laundry, and made sure everything stayed organized so my mom could rest without stress. I also helped care for my newborn brother, which was a challenge all on its own. I learned how to change diapers, prepare bottles, soothe him when he cried, and keep him entertained so my mom could sleep. At eleven years old, I was suddenly balancing homework, football practice, and responsibilities that many adults find overwhelming. There were evenings when my dad worked late, and it was up to me to make sure both my mom and the baby ate. I would fix simple meals, bring my mom water and snacks, and check on her constantly to make sure she was comfortable. I tried to keep the house quiet so she could heal peacefully, and I made it my mission to keep her spirits up. Even though I was young, I understood that recovery isn’t just physical—it’s emotional too. I wanted her to feel supported, not alone. Looking back, that month changed me. It taught me what it truly means to step up for someone you love. I learned how to stay calm in stressful situations, how to manage responsibilities without being asked, and how to put someone else’s needs before my own. It also showed me the strength that exists within families, especially when everyone works together to get through something difficult. Helping my mom during that time didn’t feel like a burden—it felt like a purpose. I realized that being there for someone in need doesn’t always require grand gestures. Sometimes it’s the everyday actions—cleaning the house, warming a bottle, offering a smile—that make the biggest difference. That experience shaped the way I approach challenges today. It taught me resilience, empathy, and the importance of showing up for others even when life feels overwhelming. Most importantly, it helped me understand the kind of person I want to be: someone dependable, compassionate, and willing to help when others are struggling. That month may have been one of the hardest periods of my childhood, but it also became one of the most defining. It showed me that even at eleven years old, I had the ability to make a real impact on someone’s life—and that lesson has stayed with me ever since.

Throughout high school, one of the biggest challenges I faced was learning how to manage my mental health while still trying to succeed in school, at home, and on the football field. I have lived with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder since I was young, but it wasn’t until my teenage years that these challenges began to feel overwhelming. There were days when focusing in class felt impossible, moments when my emotions felt bigger than I could control, and times when the pressure of sports and school made me shut down instead of push forward. These struggles affected my grades, my relationships, and even my confidence as an athlete. For a while, I felt like I was losing my way. I didn’t always know how to express what I was feeling, and I didn’t always make the best decisions. But with support from my family, teachers, coaches, counselors and therapists, and even members of my parents’ fraternity and sorority, I slowly learned how to understand myself better. I began to recognize my triggers, communicate more openly, and use healthier ways to cope with stress. Talking about my problems was the hardest part because shutting down was easy. I had to learn that asking for help is not a weakness—it’s a strength. Over time, I started to regain control of my feelings, rebuild my focus, and remind myself of the goals I wanted to reach. Overcoming these challenges has shaped me into a stronger and more self‑aware person. It taught me patience, resilience, and the importance of giving myself grace. I used to be harder on myself than anyone else was, and I didn’t believe I deserved the same grace I gave to others. But as I grew, my struggles became my purpose. They pushed me to look beyond myself and pay attention to the people around me who might be fighting silent battles of their own. That’s why I started speaking openly about my mental health with kids my age—teammates, classmates, and younger students who look up to me. I realized that being honest about what I’ve been through can make someone else feel safe enough to open up too. Whether it’s talking to a teammate after practice, checking on someone who seems off, or sharing my story during conversations at school, I try to be the person I needed when I was struggling. A lot of athletes feel pressure to “tough it out,” but I make it clear that strength also looks like asking for help, taking a break, or admitting when you’re overwhelmed. Every time someone tells me they relate to what I’m saying, I’m reminded that speaking up matters. My challenges have motivated me to encourage others to take their mental health seriously, to ask for support when they need it, and to believe that their challenges do not define their future. If I can use my story to help even one person feel less alone, less anxious, or less ashamed of what they’re going through, then everything I’ve faced will have a greater purpose.

Education has given me something I didn’t always have growing up—a sense of direction, a reason to push forward, and a belief that my future can look different from my past. For a long time, school felt like a place where I was trying to survive instead of succeeding. Living with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder made even simple tasks feel overwhelming. Focusing in class was a daily battle, and managing my emotions sometimes felt impossible. When you add family disruptions and moments where I made mistakes that put me on the wrong side of the law, it became easy to believe that my story was already written for me. But education slowly became the thing that helped me rewrite it. ADHD made it hard to sit still, stay organized, or keep my mind from racing. Anxiety made me second‑guess myself, worry about failing, and feel pressure even when no one else was putting it on me. DMDD made my emotions feel bigger than I could control, which led to misunderstandings, conflicts, and consequences I didn’t always know how to avoid. At home, things weren’t always stable, and the disruptions in my family life added stress I didn’t know how to express. On top of that, the legal trouble I faced during my teenage years made me feel like I was drifting further away from the person I wanted to become. For a while, I let all of this pull me down. My grades slipped. My motivation dropped. I felt like I was disappointing myself and everyone who believed in me. But even in the middle of all that, something in me refused to quit. I realized that if I wanted a different future, I had to fight for it. Education became the place where I learned how to fight back—not against people, but against the version of myself that didn’t believe I could do better. I started learning how to manage my ADHD instead of letting it control me. I learned how to recognize my anxiety and calm myself before it took over. I learned how to express my emotions in healthier ways and how to ask for help instead of shutting down. Most importantly, I learned how to take responsibility for my choices and use my past as motivation instead of shame. Bringing my GPA back up is one of the accomplishments I’m most proud of. It wasn’t easy. It took late nights, tutoring, discipline, and a mindset shift. But every time I saw my grades improve, it reminded me that I’m capable of more than my struggles. It reminded me that I’m not defined by the mistakes I’ve made or the challenges I’ve faced. I’m defined by the work I’m willing to put in to rise above them. Now, preparing for college feels like preparing for a new life. It represents opportunity—something I didn’t always feel like I had. College means stability, growth, and a chance to build a future where I can support myself, help my family, and break cycles that held me back. It means proving to myself that I can stay focused, stay committed, and stay on the right path. Education has given me a clearer vision of who I want to be: someone who uses his experiences to help others who feel lost, misunderstood, or overwhelmed by their own challenges. I know what it feels like to struggle with mental health, to feel like you’re falling behind, or to make mistakes that feel too big to come back from. I want to show others—especially young people dealing with ADHD, anxiety, or emotional disorders—that their story isn’t over. They can still rise. My goal is to use my education to build a stable career, support my family, and be a positive example for people who grew up facing similar obstacles. I want to show that you can come from a complicated background and still create something meaningful. I want to use my voice and my experiences to encourage others to take their education seriously, to ask for help when they need it, and to believe that they deserve a future they can be proud of. Education didn’t just give me direction—it gave me hope, courage, and faith in myself to overcome. It helped me understand that my challenges don’t make me weak; they make me resilient. And now, as I prepare for college, I’m more motivated than ever to keep growing, keep learning, and keep building a future that reflects the strength it took to get here.

Throughout high school, one of the biggest challenges I faced was learning how to manage my mental health while still trying to succeed in school, at home, and on the football field. I have lived with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder since I was young, but it wasn’t until my teenage years that these challenges began to feel overwhelming. There were days when focusing in class felt impossible, moments when my emotions felt bigger than I could control, and times when the pressure of sports and school made me shut down instead of push forward. These struggles affected my grades, my relationships, and even my confidence as an athlete. For a while, I felt like I was losing my way. I didn’t always know how to express what I was feeling, and I didn’t always make the best decisions. But with support from my family, teachers, coaches, counselors/therapists, and my mom and dad’s sorority and fraternity members, I slowly learned how to understand myself better. I began to recognize my triggers, communicate more openly, and use healthier ways to cope with stress. Talking about my problems was the hardest part because shutting down was easy. I had to learn that asking for help is not a weakness—it’s a strength. Over time, I started to regain control of my feelings, rebuild my focus, and remind myself of the goals I wanted to reach. Overcoming these challenges has shaped me into a stronger and more self aware person. It taught me patience, resilience, and the importance of giving myself grace. Strangely enough, I was harder on myself than others were on me. I didn’t believe I deserved grace, but was more than willing to give it to others. My struggles became my purpose. Most importantly, they inspired me to help others who may be dealing with similar struggles. I know what it feels like to be misunderstood, to feel frustrated with yourself, or to think you’re falling behind. Because of that, I want to be someone younger students can talk to—especially athletes who may feel pressure to “tough it out” instead of speaking up. My challenges have motivated me to encourage others to take their mental health seriously, to ask for support when they need it, and to believe that their challenges do not define their future. If I can use my story to help even one person feel less alone, less anxious, less hurt, then everything I went through will have a greater purpose.

Diverse representation in STEM careers matters because it strengthens the workforce, expands innovation, and ensures that the technologies and infrastructure we build actually serve everyone. In fields like welding—where precision, safety, and problem‑solving directly affect communities—the impact of who is at the table becomes even more visible. Seeing people from different backgrounds in STEM roles expands access and possibility. When young people encounter welders, engineers, or technicians who look like them or share their lived experiences, it breaks the stereotype of who “belongs” in technical fields. This visibility helps counter the historic underrepresentation of women, people of color, and other marginalized groups in STEM and encourages more students to pursue these paths. STEM fields thrive on problem‑solving, and diverse teams bring a wider range of perspectives to the table. Different cultural experiences, physical abilities, and ways of thinking lead to more creative solutions and fewer blind spots. Research shows that when any field includes people with varied backgrounds, innovation increases and products become more accurate and inclusive. My goal is to become a deep-sea welder. In welding specifically—where work affects buildings, bridges, pipelines, and underwater structures—diverse perspectives help teams anticipate risks, adapt techniques, and improve safety practices. Welding is a skilled technical field within STEM, and like many technical trades, it has historically lacked diversity. National data shows that women and many racial and ethnic groups remain underrepresented across STEM occupations, including skilled trades. Increasing representation strengthens the workforce and helps meet the growing demand for technical talent. When welders come from a wider range of communities, the field benefits from: - New problem‑solving approaches shaped by different life experiences; - Better mentorship pipelines for students who might not otherwise consider welding; - A stronger, more resilient workforce that reflects the country’s demographics; and - More equitable access to high‑paying, high‑skill careers. Underrepresented students in STEM often face unwelcoming environments or a lack of mentors who understand their experiences. This contributes to higher dropout rates, especially among women and students of color. Research shows that identity‑similar mentors, inclusive learning environments, and visible role models significantly improve retention and success. In welding programs and apprenticeships, representation helps students feel seen, supported, and confident that they can thrive. A diverse STEM workforce is essential for national innovation and economic strength. Organizations like the National Science Board emphasize that broadening participation in STEM—including skilled technical fields like welding—is critical to meeting future workforce needs. As technology evolves and welding becomes more advanced (robotics, underwater engineering, precision fabrication), the field benefits from drawing talent from every community.

Throughout high school, one of the biggest challenges I faced was learning how to manage my mental health while still trying to succeed in school, at home, and on the football field. I have lived with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder since I was young, but it wasn’t until my teenage years that these challenges began to feel overwhelming. There were days when focusing in class felt impossible, moments when my emotions felt bigger than I could control, and times when the pressure of sports and school made me shut down instead of push forward. These struggles affected my grades, my relationships, and even my confidence as an athlete. For a while, I felt like I was losing my way. I didn’t always know how to express what I was feeling, and I didn’t always make the best decisions. But with support from my family, teachers, coaches, counselors/therapists, and my mom and dad’s sorority and fraternity members, I slowly learned how to understand myself better. I began to recognize my triggers, communicate more openly, and use healthier ways to cope with stress. Talking about my problems was the hardest part because shutting down was easy. I had to learn that asking for help is not a weakness—it’s a strength. Over time, I started to regain control of my feelings, rebuild my focus, and remind myself of the goals I wanted to reach. Overcoming these challenges has shaped me into a stronger and more self aware person. It taught me patience, resilience, and the importance of giving myself grace. Strangely enough, I was harder on myself than others were on me. I didn’t believe I deserved grace, but was more than willing to give it to others. My struggles became my purpose. Most importantly, they inspired me to help others who may be dealing with similar struggles. I know what it feels like to be misunderstood, to feel frustrated with yourself, or to think you’re falling behind. Because of that, I want to be someone younger students can talk to—especially athletes who may feel pressure to “tough it out” instead of speaking up. My challenges have motivated me to encourage others to take their mental health seriously, to ask for support when they need it, and to believe that their challenges do not define their future. If I can use my story to help even one person feel less alone, less anxious, less hurt, then everything I went through will have a greater purpose.

Pursuing a career in welding is more than a personal goal for me—it is a pathway to stability, purpose, and the chance to give back to the community that shaped me. Welding is a STEM field built on precision, problem‑solving, and innovation, and it offers a hands‑on way to contribute to the world around me. I am drawn to welding because it allows me to build things that last, solve real‑world challenges, and use technical skill to create opportunities not only for myself, but for others who come from backgrounds like mine. My interest in welding grew from a combination of curiosity and necessity. Growing up, I learned early how important it is to be able to fix things, work with my hands, and stay focused even when situations get tough. Sports like football and basketball taught me discipline, teamwork, and how to push through challenges. Those same qualities show up in welding—steady hands, mental toughness, and the ability to stay locked in on the task in front of me. Welding gives me a sense of pride because it is a craft where effort shows in the final product. When you weld something, you can see the strength you built. You can see the impact of your work. Choosing welding as my STEM pathway also comes from wanting a career that offers growth and long‑term opportunity. Welding is used in construction, manufacturing, transportation, energy, and even underwater infrastructure. My goal is to become a deep‑sea welder, a field that requires advanced training, courage, and a commitment to safety and precision. It is a career that will allow me to travel, work on major projects, and continue learning new techniques and technologies. I want a future where I can support myself, help my family, and build a career that reflects the work ethic they taught me. But my goals go beyond personal success. I want to use my welding degree to uplift my community in meaningful ways. Many young people in my area don’t always see examples of successful STEM careers that don’t require a traditional four‑year college path. I want to change that. Once I am established in my career, I plan to mentor students who are interested in trades, especially those who may feel overlooked or unsure of their direction. I want to show them that skilled trades are powerful, respected, and full of opportunity. I also hope to volunteer with local youth programs and community centers to introduce welding and other technical skills to students early. Sometimes all someone needs is exposure—one moment where they see a possibility they didn’t know existed. I want to help create those moments. Whether it’s speaking at schools, helping with hands‑on workshops, or guiding students through certification programs, I want to be a resource for the next generation. In the long term, I hope to contribute to community development projects, especially those focused on rebuilding or improving local infrastructure. Welding is a skill that can directly impact neighborhoods—repairing structures, supporting small businesses, and helping create safer, stronger environments. Being able to use my training to make a physical difference in the place I come from is something I look forward to. Pursuing a career in welding is my way of building a future that is strong, stable, and meaningful. It is a chance to honor the people who supported me, create opportunities for those coming after me, and use STEM skills to make a real impact. With this degree, I won’t just be building structures—I’ll be helping build a better community.

I see myself as a positive force in society because I lead with responsibility, empathy, and a commitment to growth—qualities that guide my choices now and shape the impact I want to make in the future. Even as a teenager, I understand that influence isn’t only about achievements; it’s about how you show up for others, how you respond to challenges, and how you use your experiences to uplift the people around you. I try to be that kind of presence every day. Whether I’m helping my peers or contributing through community service, I focus on being someone others can depend on, especially my little brother, Logan. I’ve learned that consistency, respect, and accountability are forms of leadership that matter just as much as being outspoken. In a world where social norms often reward popularity over character, I choose to lead by example—by working hard, staying disciplined, and treating people with dignity. These values help me build trust and inspire others to believe in their own potential. Current social norms also shape how I think about my role in society. Today’s world is fast-paced, highly connected, and often influenced by social media. Social media will misguide you to believe that you have to have everything figured out, present a perfect image, and succeed without showing struggle. But we know this isn't true. I believe real strength comes from honesty and resilience. I’ve faced challenges—academic setbacks, personal obstacles, and moments where I had to rebuild my confidence. Instead of hiding those experiences, I use them to show others that growth is possible, that mistakes don’t define you, and that perseverance is a skill you build over time. In a society that sometimes encourages comparison, I try to encourage self-belief, self-affirmation, and self-love. Looking toward the future, I see myself continuing to be a positive force by building a career in welding that allows me to contribute to my community in meaningful ways. My goal is to become a welder and eventually specialize in deep-sea welding. This path will allow me to support major infrastructure projects, contribute to economic development, and provide for my family with stability and pride. But beyond my career, I want to be someone who gives back—especially to young people who may feel overlooked or unsure of their direction. I plan to mentor students who remind me of myself: those who have potential but need guidance, encouragement, and someone who believes in them. I want to show them that skilled trades are honorable, valuable, and essential to our society. I also want to help create opportunities for youth in underserved communities by supporting programs that teach hands-on skills, financial literacy, and career readiness. My long-term vision is to build a legacy of service—one where my success becomes a doorway for others. Ultimately, I see myself as a positive force because I am committed to growth, grounded in my values, and determined to uplift others. The world is changing quickly, and social norms continue to evolve, but the need for integrity, compassion, and leadership remains constant. I want to be someone who brings those qualities into every space I enter—now and in the future.

I am working toward a future built on purpose, discipline, and service, and my academic and professional goals reflect the lessons I’ve learned from the communities that have shaped me. I plan to become a certified welder, eventually specializing in deep-sea welding. Welding gives me a sense of direction because it rewards precision, effort, and resilience—qualities I’ve developed through both athletics and personal setbacks. After facing challenges in football and navigating the pressures of senior year, I found that welding offers a path where I can build something real, take pride in my work, and create long‑term stability for myself and my family. My academic journey will begin at Blinn College, where I intend to complete my welding certifications while working toward an associate degree. I also plan to walk on to the football team, not just to continue the sport I love, but to rebuild my confidence and prove to myself that setbacks don’t define my future. My long‑term goal is to transfer to a four‑year university, continue playing football, and expand my technical training so I can enter the workforce with both skill and leadership experience. Education is more than a requirement for me—it’s a tool that will help break generational patterns, build financial independence, and position myself to give back. Giving back has always been a part of who I am, and my community service experiences have shaped the kind of man I want to become. Through volunteering at Allen Community Outreach and Prairie Estates Nursing Home, I learned the importance of patience, empathy, and simply showing up for people. Whether I was sorting donations for families in need or spending time with seniors who just wanted conversation, I realized that service isn’t always about big gestures. Sometimes it’s about being present, respectful, and willing to help without expecting anything in return. My work at Frisco Family Services Resale and Cornerstone Resale, where I completed more than 28 combined hours, taught me responsibility and consistency. Sorting donations, organizing inventory, and helping maintain a clean environment required teamwork and attention to detail. These experiences opened my eyes to how many families rely on community resources during difficult times. I saw how something as simple as a well‑organized store or a clean donation area can restore dignity and hope for someone going through a tough moment. Volunteering with Hope’s Door, a domestic violence support organization, had one of the biggest impacts on me. Even in a short shift, I felt the weight of the organization’s mission and the strength of the people it serves. It reminded me that safety and stability are not things everyone has, and it reinforced my belief that men have a responsibility to be protectors, allies, and advocates. That experience pushed me to think more deeply about the kind of man I want to be—someone who stands up for others and uses his voice and actions to make a difference. These service experiences have inspired me to continue giving back throughout my life. I want to use my welding career not only to support myself but also to contribute to community projects, mentor younger athletes, and stay involved in local service organizations. I’ve learned that leadership isn’t about titles—it’s about character, consistency, and the willingness to help even when no one is watching. My goals are rooted in growth, responsibility, and the desire to uplift others. As I continue my education and career, I carry with me the belief that every person has the power to make a difference, and I’m committed to being someone who uses that power to build a better world.

Throughout high school, one of the biggest challenges I faced was learning how to manage my mental health while still trying to succeed in school, at home, and on the football field. I have lived with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder since I was young, but it wasn’t until my teenage years that these challenges began to feel overwhelming. There were days when focusing in class felt impossible, moments when my emotions felt bigger than I could control, and times when the pressure of sports and school made me shut down instead of push forward. These struggles affected my grades, my relationships, and even my confidence as an athlete. For a while, I felt like I was losing my way. I didn’t always know how to express what I was feeling, and I didn’t always make the best decisions. But with support from my family, teachers, coaches, counselors and therapists, and even members of my parents’ fraternity and sorority, I slowly learned how to understand myself better. I began to recognize my triggers, communicate more openly, and use healthier ways to cope with stress. Talking about my problems was the hardest part because shutting down was easy. I had to learn that asking for help is not a weakness—it’s a strength. Over time, I started to regain control of my feelings, rebuild my focus, and remind myself of the goals I wanted to reach. Overcoming these challenges has shaped me into a stronger and more self‑aware person. It taught me patience, resilience, and the importance of giving myself grace. Strangely enough, I was harder on myself than others were on me. I didn’t believe I deserved grace, but I was always willing to give it to others. My struggles became my purpose. Most importantly, they inspired me to help others who may be dealing with similar battles. I know what it feels like to be misunderstood, to feel frustrated with yourself, or to think you’re falling behind. Because of that, I want to be someone younger students can talk to—especially athletes who may feel pressure to “tough it out” instead of speaking up. My challenges have motivated me to encourage others to take their mental health seriously, to ask for support when they need it, and to believe that their challenges do not define their future. If I can use my story to help even one person feel less alone, less anxious, or less overwhelmed, then everything I went through will have a greater purpose. Choosing a career in welding is another way I plan to make a positive impact on the world. Welding is a skill that builds the structures people depend on every day—bridges, pipelines, ships, buildings, and the systems that keep communities running. As someone who has learned to stay focused under pressure and work through difficult moments, welding gives me a chance to turn those strengths into something real and lasting. I want to create work that keeps people safe, supports families, and strengthens communities. Whether I’m repairing equipment, helping build infrastructure, or eventually becoming a deep‑sea welder, I will be contributing to projects that matter. Welding allows me to take the discipline I learned from sports, the resilience I gained from my mental‑health journey, and the desire I have to help others—and turn all of it into a career that makes a difference. My goal is not just to build things, but to build a future I can be proud of and a world that is stronger because of the work I put into it.

A moment that changed the direction of my senior year—and my future—happened under the Friday night lights. Football has always been more than a sport to me; it has been my structure, my motivation, and the place where I learned discipline and brotherhood. When I suffered a serious shoulder injury early in the season, I didn’t realize it would end my year completely. What I thought was a minor setback turned into season ending surgery and months of rehab. Suddenly, everything I had worked for felt like it was slipping away. The hardest part wasn’t the pain or the surgery—it was watching my teammates finish the season without me. I had trained with them, sweated with them, and dreamed with them. I wanted to be on the field helping them win, not standing on the sidelines in a sling. Even more painful was knowing that this was the year Division I scouts were watching. I had been told I had real potential, and I knew this season could have opened doors to full ride scholarships. Losing that opportunity felt like losing a piece of my future. But sitting in disappointment wasn’t going to change anything. Once I accepted that my season was over, I made a decision: if my path had to change, then I would change with it. Rehab became my new training ground. I showed up early, stayed late, and treated every session like practice. I learned patience, discipline, and how to push through frustration. I also learned how to support my teammates in a different way—by encouraging them, helping younger players study plays, and staying connected to the team even when I couldn’t suit up. That experience taught me that leadership isn’t only about being on the field; it’s about showing up even when things don’t go your way. When it became clear that Division I opportunities wouldn’t come this year, I had to rethink my college plans. Instead of giving up, I chose a new route: attending junior college to reduce expenses and rebuild my athletic future. Blinn College became the perfect fit—not only because of its strong academic programs, but because it gives me the chance to walk on the football team and prove myself again. My goal is to earn my spot, show coaches what I can do, and hopefully earn the opportunity to transfer to a Division I school later. This setback didn’t end my dream; it just changed the path I’ll take to get there. What I learned from this experience is that plans can fall apart, but purpose doesn’t. I learned how to adapt, how to stay committed even when circumstances shift, and how to turn disappointment into motivation. My injury didn’t break me—it redirected me. And now, I’m more determined than ever to build a future I can be proud of. Hopefully, my time at Blinn will lead to a full-ride scholarship offer from Texas A & M College Station. In the meantime, I will be working every day to be ready, if and when the time comes.

Growing up, I learned early that life doesn’t always move in a straight line. I am a senior at Braswell High School, and much of my journey has been shaped by my experiences living with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder. These challenges affected my schoolwork, my relationships, and even my confidence, but they also taught me resilience, empathy, and the importance of understanding others. Outside of school, I enjoy sports like football and basketball, volunteering in my community, and writing stories that help young people feel seen. My community service hours at places like Allen Community Outreach, Prairie Estates Nursing Home, and local resale centers showed me how powerful it is to give back and how much people can grow when someone believes in them. After high school, I plan to attend college to obtain an associate's degree in Welding Technology that will allow me to make enough money to continue my hobby as both a writer and an advocate for youth mental health. My long‑term goal is to create children’s books that teach young readers about disabilities and behavioral differences—stories that explain ADHD, Tourette’s, Down syndrome, autism, and other conditions in ways kids can understand. I want to help children learn early that not everyone thinks, feels, or reacts the same way, and that differences should be met with kindness, not judgment. This mission comes from my own experience of being labeled a “bad kid” because people didn’t understand what I was going through. I don’t want any child to feel that kind of isolation. If I could start my own charity, it would focus on supporting youth with mental and behavioral disorders. The mission would be simple: to educate, empower, and uplift children who face hidden challenges, while also teaching their peers how to respond with empathy instead of criticism. The charity would serve children ages 5–17 who struggle with conditions like ADHD, anxiety disorders, mood disorders, autism spectrum disorders, and other behavioral or emotional challenges. Volunteers would play a major role by offering services such as mentorship programs, homework support, emotional regulation workshops, and social‑skills groups. They could help run after‑school programs where kids learn coping strategies, mindfulness techniques, and communication skills in a safe, judgment‑free environment. Another key service would be classroom presentations and story‑based lessons that teach students about neurodiversity and behavioral differences. These sessions would help reduce bullying by giving children the language and understanding they need to treat others with compassion. Volunteers could also support parents by hosting informational sessions that explain diagnoses, offer resources, and build community among families facing similar challenges. My dream is to create a world where children with mental and behavioral disorders are not misunderstood or pushed aside, but supported, included, and celebrated for who they are. Through writing, advocacy, and community service, I hope to be part of that change. My experiences have shaped my purpose, and I want to use them to make life better for the next generation of kids who just need someone to understand them.

Throughout high school, one of the biggest challenges I faced was learning how to manage my mental health while still trying to succeed in school, at home, and on the football field. I have lived with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder since I was young, but it wasn’t until my teenage years that these challenges began to feel overwhelming. There were days when focusing in class felt impossible, moments when my emotions felt bigger than I could control, and times when the pressure of sports and school made me shut down instead of push forward. These struggles affected my grades, my relationships, and even my confidence as an athlete. For a while, I felt like I was losing my way. I didn’t always know how to express what I was feeling, and I didn’t always make the best decisions. But with support from my family, teachers, coaches, counselors/therapists, and my mom and dad’s sorority and fraternity members, I slowly learned how to understand myself better. I began to recognize my triggers, communicate more openly, and use healthier ways to cope with stress. Talking about my problems was the hardest part because shutting down was easy. I had to learn that asking for help is not a weakness—it’s a strength. Over time, I started to regain control of my feelings, rebuild my focus, and remind myself of the goals I wanted to reach. Overcoming these challenges has shaped me into a stronger and more self aware person. It taught me patience, resilience, and the importance of giving myself grace. Strangely enough, I was harder on myself than others were on me. I didn’t believe I deserved grace, but was more than willing to give it to others. My struggles became my purpose. Most importantly, they inspired me to help others who may be dealing with similar struggles. I know what it feels like to be misunderstood, to feel frustrated with yourself, or to think you’re falling behind. Because of that, I want to be someone younger students can talk to—especially athletes who may feel pressure to “tough it out” instead of speaking up. My challenges have motivated me to encourage others to take their mental health seriously, to ask for support when they need it, and to believe that their challenges do not define their future. If I can use my story to help even one person feel less alone, less anxious, less hurt, then everything I went through will have a greater purpose.

From a young age, I learned that life does not always move in a straight line. Growing up with ADHD, anxiety, and Disruptive Mood Dysregulation Disorder meant that I often had to work twice as hard to stay focused, manage my emotions, and keep pushing forward when things felt overwhelming. These challenges affected my schoolwork, my relationships at home, and even my performance in sports. But they also shaped me into someone who refuses to quit, someone who learns from every setback, and someone who is determined to build a future defined by discipline, purpose, and skill. That future, for me, is becoming a deep-sea welder. Welding first caught my attention because it combines hands on work, technical precision, and physical strength—three things that fit naturally with who I am. I’ve always learned best by doing, and welding is a career where your focus, your hands, and your mind all work together. The more I learned about underwater welding, the more I realized it was the perfect match for my personality and abilities. It requires courage, attention to detail, and the ability to stay calm under pressure. Those are qualities I’ve been developing my entire life, especially while managing ADHD and anxiety. What used to feel like obstacles have now become strengths: I’ve learned how to channel my energy, how to stay locked in on a task, and how to push through moments of frustration without giving up. My experiences in football and basketball played a major role in building those strengths. Sports taught me discipline, teamwork, and resilience. On the field and on the court, I learned how to control my emotions, communicate with others, and stay focused even when the game wasn’t going my way. Early morning practices, tough losses, and long conditioning sessions taught me how to push through discomfort and stay committed to a goal. Deep sea welding demands that same level of toughness—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Whether it’s working in tight spaces, handling heavy equipment, or staying calm underwater, the mindset I built through athletics will guide me through every challenge. My volunteer work in the community also shaped my desire to pursue a career that has real impact. Helping others taught me patience, empathy, and responsibility. I learned how to show up for people, how to work with different personalities, and how to take pride in contributing to something bigger than myself. Welding, especially underwater welding, supports entire communities by helping build and repair the structures that keep industries and cities running. Knowing that my work can make a difference motivates me even more. My long-term goal is to earn a degree in Welding Technology, become a certified commercial diver, and work as a deep-sea welder on offshore structures, pipelines, and marine repairs. I know the path won’t be easy, but nothing in my life has been easy—and that’s exactly why I’m ready. My challenges have taught me resilience. My sports experiences have taught me discipline. My community service has taught me purpose. And welding gives me the opportunity to bring all of those strengths together into a career I can be proud of. I’m not just working toward a job—I’m building a future that reflects who I am, what I’ve overcome, and what I’m capable of achieving.