Mother's Day has always been my most dreaded holiday. While my peers would create heartfelt poems with multi-colored lettering for their moms, I held back tears as I sat motionless, not knowing what to do. I would often write a card to Grandma. Many of my most cherished memories sit with my grandparents and great-grandparents, yet staying with them was not for bonding, but because of the various medical and legal emergencies my mother endured. During her dozens of inpatient hospital stays due to her mental illness she was diagnosed with PTSD, depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, BPD, and even DID. Her mental health report was perplexing and lengthy, but clearly indicated she needed help. When my mother was home, it was a constant battle between her mental illness and our family. Her extreme moods, psychosis episodes, and severe lash-outs made home life impossible. She wanted to be home with our family, but her mental disorder was so severe it only strained our relationship further. Her medical emergencies left concerns over my well-being, with constant visits from Child Protective Services. My grandparents became licensed foster parents so I would not be a ward of the state. I could not control my private life, so I joined any extracurriculars that were available to avoid my home life. Soon, my interest in innovation and STEM channeled itself into robotics and fluid power, placing first in both activities and qualifying for the FIRST Lego League nationals in the innovation category. Biotechnology became my passion, and I grew enamored with the career as I conferred with biomedical engineers from NASA and other companies. While my extracurriculars and academics were a mode of escape for me, I could not avoid my home life forever. In my senior year of high school, I was severely depressed. I had little to no motivation, missing weeks worth of school because I could not get myself out of bed. Eating or showering required too much energy. All of my relationships suffered and I rarely spoke to anyone. I kept asking for help but none came soon enough, until eventually it was too much to ask anymore. I ended up at the hospital for an eight-day inpatient stay and left with a diagnosis of severe major depression. I felt like I could finally understand my mother’s pleas for help. In the same way the mental health industry failed me, it failed my mother, and her mother too. I never got to meet my maternal grandmother because she committed suicide when my mom was still a child. The cycle of trauma just continued as I witnessed several of my mother’s suicide attempts early in my youth. Diagnosed with PTSD that stems from my experiences with my mother, I still struggle to build a relationship with her. I am still working on improving my mental health with weekly therapy and monthly psychiatrist visits, adjustments with new medications, and evolving coping mechanisms. My frustrations with the mental health industry leave me motivated in my career to work towards more accessibility and visibility in treating mental health. As I pursue my Pharmacology and Drug Development degree, I am working on a minor in Health Policy so I will be equipped to advocate for those who the industry failed. Originally my outlet from the stresses of life, my education is now the inlet to a new lane of life. My academic and domestic lives may be sloppily pasted together on a piece of construction paper folded in half, but the true charm of homemade cards lies in the effort it took to come to fruition.

I have never been able to make a genuine Mother’s Day card. While my peers would create heartfelt poems with multi-colored lettering for their moms, I held back tears as I sat motionless, not knowing what to do. Peers questioned why I didn’t engage during the crafts and I would stare blankly back at the perplexed expression on my classmates’ faces. Eventually, the teacher brought me into the hall to discuss my crafts, instructing me to write a card to Grandma. Many of my most cherished memories sit with my grandparents and great-grandparents, yet staying with them was not for bonding, but because child-care was not in the budget. My mother’s absence was not a fun-filled trip, but various medical and legal emergencies due to the lack of relief she received for her mental health. When my mother was home, it was a constant battle between her mental illness and our family. Her extreme moods, psychosis episodes, and severe lash-outs made home life impossible. I knew she wanted to be home with our family, but her mental disorder was so severe it only strained our relationship further. Her medical emergencies left concerns over my well-being, with constant visits from Child Protective Services. Concerns over my safety resulted in my grandparents becoming licensed foster parents so I would not be a ward of the state. I knew I could not control my private life, so I joined any extracurriculars that were available to avoid my home life. Soon, my interest in innovation and STEM channeled itself in robotics and fluid power, placing first in both activities and qualifying for the FIRST Lego League nationals in the innovation category. The project subject was long-term space travel and I saw an opportunity to engineer a device that makes scientific and medical tools in space. Biotechnology became my passion, and I grew enamored with the career as I conferred with biomedical engineers from NASA and other companies. While my extracurriculars and academics were a mode of escape for me, I could not completely avoid my home life. Generations of depression run on both sides of my family, so I knew I was bound to also fall ill. Eventually, I reached a breaking point where I could not avoid my issues anymore. It was my senior year of high school and I was severely depressed. I had little to no motivation, missing weeks worth of school because I could not get myself out of bed. Even eating or showering required too much energy for me. All of my relationships suffered and I rarely spoke to anyone. I kept asking for help but none came soon enough, until eventually it was too much to ask anymore. I did not believe I had anything to live for and I ended up at the hospital for an 8-day inpatient stay. Only after I reached the brink of death did I receive any help for my mental health. I felt like I could finally understand my mother’s pleas for help. In the same way the mental health industry failed me, it failed my mother, and her mother too. I never got to meet my grandmother on my mom’s side because she committed suicide when my mom was still a child. The cycle of trauma just continued as I witnessed several of my mother’s suicide attempts early in my youth. While today I am receiving treatment with both medication and therapy, every day still has its challenges. My frustrations with the mental health industry leave me motivated in my career to work towards more accessibility and visibility in treating mental health. As I pursue my Pharmacology and Drug Development degree, I am working on a minor in Health Policy so I will be equipped to advocate for those who the industry failed. My education began as my outlet from the stresses of life but is now the inlet to a new lane of life. In the past, I worked to avoid the hardships I faced, now I work to actively elevate the opportunities I can receive. My former means of escaping domestic reality and entering an alternate academic reality are behind me, as my two sides empower one another. My academic and domestic lives may be sloppily pasted together on a piece of construction paper folded in half, but the true charm of homemade cards lies in the effort it took to come to fruition.

I have never been able to make a genuine Mother’s Day card. While my peers would create heartfelt poems with multi-colored lettering for their moms, I held back tears as I sat motionless, not knowing what to do. Eventually, the teacher brought me into the hall to discuss my crafts, instructing me to write a card to Grandma. Many of my most cherished memories sit with my grandparents and great-grandparents, yet staying with them was not for bonding, but because child-care was not in the budget. My mother’s absence was not a fun-filled trip, but various medical and legal emergencies due to the lack of relief she received for her mental health. When my mother was home, it was a constant battle between her mental illness and our family. Her extreme moods, psychosis episodes, and severe lash-outs made home life impossible. She wanted to be home with our family, but her mental disorder was so severe it only strained our relationship further. Her medical emergencies left concerns over my well-being, with constant visits from Child Protective Services. My grandparents became licensed foster parents so I would not be a ward of the state. I could not control my private life, so I joined any extracurriculars that were available to avoid my home life. Soon, my interest in innovation and STEM channeled itself into robotics and fluid power, placing first in both activities and qualifying for the FIRST Lego League nationals in the innovation category. Biotechnology became my passion, and I grew enamored with the career as I conferred with biomedical engineers from NASA and other companies. While my extracurriculars and academics were a mode of escape for me, I could not avoid my home life forever. In my senior year of high school, I was severely depressed. I had little to no motivation, missing weeks worth of school because I could not get myself out of bed. Eating or showering required too much energy for me. All of my relationships suffered and I rarely spoke to anyone. I kept asking for help but none came soon enough, until eventually it was too much to ask anymore. I ended up at the hospital for an 8-day inpatient stay. I felt like I could finally understand my mother’s pleas for help. In the same way the mental health industry failed me, it failed my mother, and her mother too. I never got to meet my maternal grandmother because she committed suicide when my mom was still a child. The cycle of trauma just continued as I witnessed several of my mother’s suicide attempts early in my youth. My frustrations with the mental health industry leave me motivated in my career to work towards more accessibility and visibility in treating mental health. As I pursue my Pharmacology and Drug Development degree, I am working on a minor in Health Policy so I will be equipped to advocate for those who the industry failed. Originally my outlet from the stresses of life, my education is now the inlet to a new lane of life. In the past, I worked to avoid the hardships I faced, now I work to elevate the opportunities I can receive. My former means of escaping domestic reality and entering an alternate academic reality are behind me, as my two sides empower one another. My academic and domestic lives may be sloppily pasted together on a piece of construction paper folded in half, but the true charm of homemade cards lies in the effort it took to come to fruition.

I came home from school, entering a quiet, deafening house. I would ride the bus alone, walking the length of the trailer park home each day. I never used to ride the bus, but my older brother, a year my elder, would refuse to go to school. Throwing daily tantrums, my brother would begin verbal and physical fights with any adult who would try to take him to school. Since those adults were also my ride, I would be stuck at home while I longed to be at school, away from the chaos. After I had to stay extra days at school in the summer due to the absences my brother caused, I begged to ride the bus. I entered the living room and ran to my parent’s room to ask about the field trip our teacher just told us about. I could not seem to find my mother until I walked to the far end of the queen-sized bed. She was laying on the ground, covered in blood and holding a knife, quietly sobbing. I did not know what to do or think. I might have asked if she was okay and if she had an injury, but I cannot remember what my 6-year-old self said or did. I know my brother walked in and saw the scene, before calling my dad. We quickly got taken to our grandparent’s house and Mom was on yet another long stay at the hospital. One of my earliest memories, yet one of the dozens of memories of my mother and her illness. Staying with grandma and grandpa was a common occurrence, as my father worked two jobs, and my mother was unable to take care of two children. My mother struggled with mental health her whole life. Part of it is genetics, as my maternal grandmother and paternal grandfather both attempted suicide, my grandmother succeeding. The other factor is trauma, as my grandmother committed suicide right in front of my mom when she was 8 years old, beginning a domino effect of trauma due to the foster care system and felon family members my mother encountered afterward. The stigma around suicide and mental health has always been foreign to me, as I have seen all of the struggles first-hand my entire life. I grew up with my mother, who has BPD, PTSD, and ADHD. Doctors have diagnosed her with essentially every mental illness at some point. At first, I thought it was fun to have a quirky, different mom. I was young and did not realize why my mother acted the way she did. Others glared and made rude comments, something I never understood. My mother would often take my brother and me to random houses and leave us while she went out with her “friends”. She would chase us with knives during her psychosis episodes, and scream for hours as my brother and I hid hoping for it to pass. She would stay up for days and bring people from the streets into the home. Some of the scariest moments in my life would be in the comfort of my own home, in terror from my mother’s psychosis. When I got older and began developing the same symptoms as my mother, the harsh reality of mental illness struck me. I realized that my mother was ill, and I was becoming just like her. I knew it was only a matter of time until I showed signs, generations of mental illness encoded into my genes. My mother’s behavior made me passive, reserved and closed off, and extra amiable to avoid any conflicts. My mother’s psychosis and erratic behavior have shaped me to act indifferent in public, as I did not have a great example of how to act, but also had to essentially take care of my mom from a young age. I grew up witnessing exactly how the system has failed my mother and her illness. She was turned away from therapists and psychiatrists. Mental hospitals would ignore her when she would plead to be taken in, and it was no surprise when she ended up in a jail cell shortly thereafter. It was not long until I also faced failures in the system. I couldn’t get myself out of bed. Tasks like brushing my teeth or changing my clothes would take too much energy to do. I would only sleep or cry, and nothing would get me to feel better. I was five years clean of self-harm, yet I relapsed worse than before. I lost all of my friends and didn’t talk to anyone. I had asked for help before it got too bad, but nobody listened. I asked multiple times but everyone either thought I was joking or they didn’t care. When I was at my lowest, my father did everything he could to get me a counselor, therapist, psychiatrist, or anyone who could help me. Long wait periods resulted in my mental health worsening, and I ended up in the emergency room and then a mental ward. It should not take a week-long hospital stay to finally get the treatment and relief a patient deserves. Proper treatment put me back on my usual schedule with work, school, and extracurriculars. I have always been very academic, and school came easy to me. As I developed the bulk of my career aspirations, I saw my mother lacking the treatment she deserves. I knew I wanted to work in medicine, to create treatments for those who currently lack options. I also wanted to focus on health policy and making healthcare, both mental and physical, accessible for everyone. I have grown to understand that the majority of mental health struggles are exacerbated by the failures of the systems meant to aid those who are struggling. My career goal includes changing those failed systems and creating new medical interventions. While my relationship with my mother will never be a typical dynamic, I feel I understand her more with our shared struggles.

I spent the first fourteen years of my life from another person’s perspective. Often disrespected and ridiculed, any kindness given to me had an underlying motive. My value was more in my body and face than in my mind and actions. My words were often talked over and disregarded. When my science teacher pressured me to join robotics, I had no idea what I was signing up for. I refused to apply until the final day. I dragged my feet through the halls the day of the first practice, hanging my head low until my ears perked up. An innovation project in space? The team proposed ideas until I interjected, proposing surgery in space. The whole team stared wildly at me. Finding a plethora of information about NASA’s biomedical engineering program, I noticed a lot of weight limits that medical equipment often supersedes. I proposed a project that reduces the burden of medical instruments in space. While many initially doubted me, I worked tirelessly to design a 3D printer that creates and sanitizes medical and scientific tools in a small, lightweight area. I interviewed professionals in medical devices and biomedical engineering. Long hours were spent researching every minute detail of our project, from cost and materials to cell biology of pathogens. The project won the Global Innovation award and progressed to the national competition. Every person appeared surprised when I was the spokesperson for the team. The following year, I came out as a transgender male. Every interaction in my life changed. I went from being a woman in STEM, mansplained to, underrecognized, and underestimated, to being a man in STEM, seen as confident, brilliant, and original. My own experience showed how the achievement level could be identical between a man and a woman, yet the man will receive more praise. After my robotics project, I was immersed in biomedical engineering. I joined the PLTW Biomedical Sciences pathway. I designed a prosthetic arm, a wristband and an app that detects blood sugar, bioinformatic systems, an emergency room, and generated original experiments. I would present my ideas and the entire room would listen, an experience I did not receive before transitioning. My passion led me to major in Biomedical Engineering, specializing in neurological, degenerative, and autoimmune disorders. My research and innovation goal is to create new options for those suffering from disorders that lack current treatments. I will minor in Health Policy as my career ambitions include creating medical solutions that are accessible. I desire to induce direct change in cost, accessibility, and creation of medicine. My career interacts with my health policy activism as I work to increase quality and equity in the medical and science fields. Not only should medicine be cheaper and readily available for those who require it, but the practice should be inclusive to those who wish to study it. Underrepresented groups are often neglected in STEM, a crucial lapse that needs to be corrected. I aim to contribute to a cause that breaks the stigma of STEM. Everyone should have equal access and opportunity to science and medicine. Transitioning provided me with a perspective on the world as a whole that shaped a greater devotion to my cause.