The Songs That Saw Me Billie Eilish’s music has been the soundtrack to some of the most defining moments of my life. While many of her songs have impacted me, three in particular: “Skinny,” “My Future,” and “The Greatest” have resonated with me in ways I had never anticipated and in ways that I’ll carry forever. 1. Skinny “People say I look happy, just because I got skinny...” The first time I heard this line, I cried on my cold bathroom floor. I was recovering from emergency surgery and years of battling my own reflection and insecurities. Diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes at thirteen, then hospitalized for my entire junior in high school summer, I had unintentionally lost twenty pounds. Suddenly, people praised my body - while I grieved it. I looked in the mirror and saw a stranger: ribs showing, eyes hollow, a face I didn’t recognize. The face of the skeleton I was studying in Honors Anatomy. “Skinny” gave language to something I had never been able to explain - that painful disconnection between appearance and identity. It reminded me I was still me. Maybe even the real me. And maybe… she was pretty. That song didn’t just help me heal. It helped me see myself again. 2. My Future “I’m in love with my future, can’t wait to meet her.” This line became my lifeline during months of missed milestones - color guard, student council, honors classes - all lost to hospital stays and recovery. But Billie reminded me: the future still waits for me. I began dreaming again. I founded the Type Happy Foundation, delivering care packages to newly diagnosed diabetic kids. I created my school’s Future Nurses Society and helped launch our first HOSA chapter. Billie’s words weren’t just comforting - they were motivating. They helped me believe I had a future, and that it could still be mine. 3. The Greatest “I wanted you to tell me you were proud of me...” This lyric speaks to a quiet longing I’ve carried through every IV line, every setback, and every step forward. Chronic illness can make you feel like you’re always falling short - missing events last minute and the feeling of always letting people down. But this song acknowledges that feeling: the desire to be seen, to be enough. I listen to “The Greatest” when I need to cry, and when I need to remind myself that even in moments of doubt or grief, I am still trying - and that is something to be proud of. Billie’s music sees people for who they really are, even when the world only sees their surface. That’s what her songs have done for me - and with the help of this scholarship - what I hope to do for others one day as a nurse. Because, like Billie, I believe the truth doesn’t just hurt, it heals.

The first time I heard “Defying Gravity,” I was sixteen, three years into my diagnosis of type one diabetes, and sitting alone in my room after a long day of blood tests and needles. I wasn’t just listening, I was feeling Elphaba’s words like they were written for me. “Something has changed within me, something is not the same...” Her voice gave shape to something I didn’t have the language for yet: the pain of being misunderstood, the weight of a body that suddenly felt like the enemy, and the quiet determination to rise anyway. That song - and that story - changed me. Wicked is more than a musical. It’s a mirror held up to anyone who has ever felt like they don’t belong. Elphaba’s journey of self-acceptance reminded me that being different doesn’t mean being wrong. It means being real. Her strength to embrace her identity, even when it made her an outsider, gave me the courage to accept mine - not just as a diabetic, but as a leader and a voice for others navigating invisible battles. Inspired by Elphaba’s defiance and compassion, I founded the Type Happy Foundation, a nonprofit that provides care packages and emotional support to children newly diagnosed with type one diabetes. I also launched the Future Nurses Society and helped establish my school’s first HOSA chapter, because like Elphaba, I’ve learned that changing the world often begins with standing tall in your own truth. Wicked’s themes of friendship and growth also echo in my life. “For Good” is more than a closing number - it’s a promise I live by. Every nurse who supported me through hospital stays, every friend who saw me beyond my diagnosis, has changed me for good. And now, I want to be that person for someone else - a nurse who sees the whole person, not just the chart. Watching Elphaba’s and Glinda’s friendship grow from rivalry to genuine connection taught me that people don’t have to be alike to be meaningful to each other. The musical shows how courage and kindness can coexist. And that’s a lesson I carry into everything I do. Now, with the Wicked movie bringing this story to new audiences, I’m thrilled that the magic will reach even more hearts. Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo embody the strength and softness that make Glinda and Elphaba unforgettable. Just like the stage version did for me, this film will help a new generation find their voice and their power. Wicked reminded me that I don’t have to wait for the world to make space for me - I can carve that space myself. It showed me that the things that make me different are the very things that make me strong. And it taught me that even when the world misunderstands you, you can still understand who you are. That’s why I love Wicked. Because it didn’t just entertain me - it empowered me. And it still does. This scholarship would allow me to help empower other kids, like me, with chronic illnesses as a future nurse.

The sound of vents filled my ears. Blurry figures in white masks hovered above me. The doors opened, and a rush of cold touched my skin like an old friend connecting with a body I’d grown up in, but never fully trusted. I was only halfway through high school when my skin - my body’s largest organ - met the scalpels beside me. I told my mom I loved her, then the world faded to complete darkness. With two organs failing - my pancreas at thirteen, handing me type one diabetes, and now my appendix - I had never felt truly safe in my body. I knew I wanted to be a nurse after my diabetes diagnosis, but I never imagined being the one on the table - vulnerable, dependent, afraid. When I woke up, cards, flowers, and balloons surrounded my hospital bed. But I barely recognized myself - twenty pounds lighter, ribs visible, skin pale. My parents smiled, but their eyes were tired. I felt like a stranger in my own frame, like the skeleton I was studying in Honors Anatomy at school. And then there was Callie. My nurses became my guides. The whiteboard read: “Nurse: Callie.” Blue-eyed and kind, wearing a Bluey-the-dog T-shirt and a butterfly Lego badge reel, she became my lifeline. “Let’s walk together,” she said when I couldn’t. She didn’t just see my chart - she saw me. Healing wasn’t just physical; it was also emotional. I had to learn how to inject meds, flush IV lines, and wrap my PICC line in saran wrap just to shower. I missed honor classes, color guard, and student council. Compliments came that I didn't expect: “You look so good!”, but no one saw the weight I had lost or the tears I cried each night, grieving the version of myself I feared I’d lost. But Callie was there to remind me that I was still me. Still worthy. Still whole. That realization changed everything - my perspective on not just perseverance, but also my perspective on my future in nursing. Today, I’m the founder and president of my high school’s Future Nurses Society and helped establish our first-ever HOSA chapter - both focused on inspiring future healthcare professionals with heart. I wanted other students to know that nursing isn’t just about science or scrubs - it’s about presence and compassion, listening, and leading with empathy. Outside of school, I founded the Type Happy Foundation, a 501(c)(3) nonprofit that supports newly diagnosed children with type one diabetes. We deliver “Happy Boxes” filled with comfort items, resources, and handwritten notes to kids at DMC Detroit Children’s Hospital - my second home. Through my online platform with over 3,000 followers global wide and fundraising campaigns, I’ve raised awareness, connected families, and built a growing community that proves no child is ever alone in their diagnosis = my mission since the day of my lifechanging diagnosis. Now, with the scars those scalpels left behind, I see resilience. I want to become the kind of nurse who walks beside her patients the way Callie did for me. One who understands that healing doesn’t always start with medicine - it starts with being seen. This journey has taught me that strength isn’t just physical. It’s the courage to love yourself through pain, and the decision to turn hardship into hope for others. That’s the nurse I’m becoming - one who holds a child’s hand not just to check a pulse, but to steady their heart. That is the compassion I will carry forward, which carried me, when I am a pediatric nurse.

Top Gun. It all started with being forced to watch it with my older brothers and my grandparents to significantly influencing how I view "service". I remember the movie nights at my grandparent's house. When mom and dad went to have dinner, us kids had movie night at grandma and grandpa's house. Although, it was never movies that my brothers or I wanted to watch - they all had to be "classics". I've grown up in a family of dedication. Whether that is dedication to our faith, our family, our community - we all mutually agreed that we are a dedicated family. There is a sense of pride and ownership behind what we do. It wasn't until my own two brothers decided to go into the Army and Air Force that I realized that my whole life, starting from a young age watching Top Gun, has influenced how I want to dedicate myself to service. Watching Top Gun around the age of 6 was pretty scary - being in one of those jets, going on those strenuous missions in order to serve your country was unimaginable. I had always lived a very comfortable life, and the idea of putting yourself in that position was intimidating as a kid. My life was smooth-sailing, comfortable for majority of my life. It wasn't until February 1st, 2022, that my life changed forever when I was diagnosed with type one diabetes. It was intimidating. I was living in a state of fear that I never had felt before. I was handed a life full of shots, needles, blood, pain, hospital visits, extreme high and low blood sugars, and so much more. But I didn't let this fear stop me. Fear didn't stop Maverick and Goose from their missions. Why should I? When my brothers decided to go into the Army and Air Force, my eyes were opened that my family was meant to serve. Dating back to the 1950's where my grandpa served in the Vietnam War, my family and the films we watched growing up influenced how I view service. I was taught to honor and thank those who have given everything for our country, and I wouldn't want it any other way. I am so proud to have brothers in service, and I gained a new sense of respect for every family connected to service. Since my diagnosis of type one diabetes, I knew I wanted to be a nurse. My nurses saved my life, and I wouldn't have such a positive and hopeful view on life living with this disease if it wasn't for them. I plan to impact the world by becoming a pediatric nurse and helping kids like me, who felt alone and scared with a new diagnosis. My education is rich with passion and hope. This scholarship would be incredibly special and impactful to my family and I, and I continue the generations of service in my family. It all started with Top Gun. Thank you for your time.

“The profession or practice of providing care for the sick and infirm.” – The definition of Nursing. I was once the sick and infirm. I laid on the hospital bed in the Intensive Care Unit in downtown Detroit. I laid there as my life was slowly being taken away from me. I was given a life of danger, fear, and distress. A life of shots, needles, and blood. I was diagnosed with Type One Diabetes. What I remember the most from my diagnosis is the team of nurses that saved my life. The nurses that fought for me when I couldn’t talk. The nurses that breathed hope and life into my lungs when I was moments away from a coma. Before my diagnosis, I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my future. Because of my young age I never thought I’d know what I would do with my life until I was a senior in high school. I had some small aspirations, but I felt no true passion behind any of them. After my diagnosis, I knew I would become a nurse. It was as if my diagnosis had happened at the right place, the right time, and for the right reason. When I felt lost and confused as to who I was as a person, the field of nursing gave me a whole new light to explore. I’ve chosen to work to become a Pediatric Nurse because of the nurses that saved me. When others ask me why I’m so passionate about nursing, I reply with, “I’m going to help others like my nurses helped me”. The life that was handed to me, the life of shots and needles and blood, has given me hope for my future of making an impact. Due to the radical and increasing cost of Insulin, the clear liquid in which my life depends on, my goal is to relieve as much financial burden from my parents as I can as I strive to achieve my career as a nurse. There was nothing that could have prevented this disease and the financial costs to keep me alive – so I am here sharing my story for my future in nursing, as well as support for my family who have been there for me through all the highs and lows of Type One Diabetes. I look forward to my future in nursing and making an impact in kids’ lives. I know my story will bring a new side of empathy, passion, and understanding as a Nurse. Thank you for your time.

“But you don’t look sick.” An invisible wall. A wall that will be with me for the rest of my life, a wall that I will have to sit with. A wall that many can’t see but is always visible to me. A wall that muffles the reoccurring sounds of the Intensive Care Unit, hides the concerned looks from teams of doctors and parents. A wall that lets the instinctive memory of what could have been my last slide through the cracks. I wasn’t myself for months. Friends, family, and even teachers were apprehensive about my well-being. I felt like I was disassociated from everything and everyone around me, making it hard to communicate with others when I forced myself through the pain of being undiagnosed for way too long. Saying “I’m fine” to mask the exhaustion and denying my emotions only made things worse. Doctors couldn’t figure out the mystery of the sick girl and no one knew what to do or say except for, “Are you okay?” Then, I was taken to the hospital and immediately transported to the ICU. I was in diabetic ketoacidosis and my body was eating itself. Blood draws in my wrist, tubes placed through my arms, machines encompassing me into a spiral of blurry vision with flashing lights – I felt all the energy and life I had left started to fade away. Type One Diabetes. A disease that cannot be caused, nor cured. The disease that changed my understanding of the world, showing me what it truly means to "not take anything for granted". The wall was built from the ground up when I was handed a life full of daily injections, blood sugar checks, devices with needles and tubes in me all day every day – the wall was taking over my identity. I didn’t speak, I didn’t check my phone, I lay in my hospital bed watching the clock tick, tock as the world spun and continued around me. I knew life would never be ‘normal’ again living with an illness that is not understood or commonly known. I became the sick girl, and I will forever be her. The process of getting diagnosed, grieving, and trying to ‘fit in’ as I had once before was undeniably challenging, but I began to wonder if I would ever find myself again: the girl who's always smiling and taking selfies. Life brought many obstacles being the sick girl. “What’s that on your arm?” “Why do you have to leave class?” “What’s that beeping noise?” “Why did you disappear?” The swarming of questions never stopped, buzzing around me everywhere I went. I kept wondering to myself, “Why me?” I was ready to soar through my teenage years, but the invisible wall was built. I was determined to find a way to fit in with teenagers who know what it’s like to fear losing to this disease every single day. Putting myself out there to not only my friends and classmates, but the whole world on Instagram skyrocketed my comfort with my disease when others began to reach out to me saying how much I have helped them learn to accept the invisible wall. I was welcomed into a life of blood and pain, but also a community of understanding and compassion. ‘But you don’t look sick.’ – what is sick supposed to look like? Acceptance of my disease, being a part of a community of those like me, learning to sit with the wall even on the scariest days, and having peace with the idea of emerging into my identity along with being sick. An indescribable amount of passion and advocacy has emerged to represent all juvenile diabetics who have gone through a painful diagnosis and the terrifying moments our disease brings each day. I have learned the importance of deconstructing my feelings and understanding that mental health is health. Before getting diagnosed with type one diabetes, I didn't realize how my mental health was deteriorating during the time of experiencing so much pain, as well as before. Being a teenage girl is hard enough. She's blonder, she has more friends, she's skinnier, her teeth are perfect, her teeth are white, her eyebrows are perfectly shaped, she has it all. Facing the daily thoughts and struggles as a teenage girl today is hard enough as is with social media, imagine having diabetes too. I have learned to not let my disease define who I am, but rather enhance my potential and to use my compassion and understanding to help others with their mental health as we all try to get by. The wall may be invisible, but I am not.

I believe this scholarship was made for me, as the moment I read this prompt I knew exactly what I would write about. Everyone knows the famously iconic game of Mario Kart, and this game served as more than just a game in my childhood. Mario Kart was such a huge part of my childhood and influenced my competitive spirit growing up playing with two older brothers. I have instinct and specific memories from the game: always being Rosalina or King Boo, hating rainbow road, loving Yoshi Falls, and never picking a bike as my vehicle. I can remember sitting on our old yellow couch in our basement, turning on the Wii and somehow never getting the player one Wii remote. I remember my brothers always picking grand prix and choosing the hardest map as they continued to unlock all of them. I don't have a specific exact distinct memory to share, but I vividly remember how the maps looked, the characters, playing Mario Kart on my Nintendo DS in the car, and of course, playing Mario Kart in the basement growing up with my brothers. Mario Kart was a huge part of my childhood and I never denied the opportunity to play with my friends when they had access to the game. But still, even now - it will never be just the same as it was growing up as a kid and playing with my brothers. My brothers and I all had different interests, but Mario Kart was the one game that brought us together and kept us out of Mom's hair. I always take the opportunity to thank places or places that have made an impact in my life - but this time, it's Mario Kart. I never thought I would be able to say thank you to my favorite game, but here I am! Thank you, Nintendo.

Zendaya - the famous actor, singer, and performer who became well known around the world significantly after her time at Disney. But she isn't JUST an actor, she is also a human with admirable aspects about her personality and ambitions. The aspect of Zendaya's multi-layer and evolving career I admire most is the activism chapter of her book of life. Zendaya is a strong activist for the Black Lives Matter movement, and I find her passion for advocacy is an often overlooked part of her successes. I find it inspiring to see a famous figure - like Zendaya, advocating for others as I do the same in my personal life, as an advocate and ambassador for Type One Diabetes awareness. Since my life-changing and impactful diagnosis, I have found light in advocating for myself, as well as the many others who are battling the same chronic disease I am and facing the same daily battles. It's inspiring seeing Zendaya and her advocacy work, as I know firsthand that advocacy takes heart and grit to share a powerful statement with the world. Advocacy also takes a bold personality to stand up in a world silenced by propaganda and societal expectations. It's inspiring to see someone who is famous in our bubble of society popping the barriers and expectations for what information and TRUTH are put out there. Ultimately, Zendaya is a childhood figure that I never would have that I would relate to. I may not be famous like her, but I feel famous for having the ability to be passionate about what I believe in regarding advocacy for myself and my community, like her.

I love fall, it's the best season and no one can change my mind. The leaves change to warm colors and every day begins to feel like living in my TV show. To go along with the best season of the year, the Iced Apple Crisp Oatmilk Shaken Expresso is the best fall drink that Starbucks has made. I've tried the new fall drinks almost every year from Starbucks and this one takes the cake. It's become my comfort drink, but not too comforting to my bank account. But regardless of money, this drink brings me so much joy because it gives me all the nostalgic vibes along with the warm, cozy weather that Fall brings. This drink also keeps me alive. How could a drink keep me alive? Well, I was diagnosed with Type One Diabetes a little over a year ago. Type One Diabetes is a chronic, autoimmune disease, that needs constant management and control of glucose levels. With drinks specifically, it's extremely difficult to find a drink that I enjoy and doesn't make my glucose go too high or low. This is the first drink I have ever had that has kept my blood sugar in range, preventing a trip to the hospital. So, not only is it my favorite Fall drink to for with my favorite season it is also the favorite to my dead pancreas and keeps me alive. With all this said, this drink gives me motivation to be the driven, ambitious, and bright person I am in my own Fall narrative. Another fall favorite (I know, the list just keeps going), is Gilmore Girls, the best TV show to ever be produced. Gilmore Girls is the classic early 2000s show that is the most comforting, humorous, and relatable show to curl up on the couch with a blanket. The Iced Apple Crisp Oatmilk Shaken Expresso is a drink that one of the main characters of Gilmore Girls, Rory Gilmore, would certainly order from Starbucks. And to keep going on my list of favorite Fall things (It never ends!), Rory Gilmore is my favorite character because she has influenced many areas of my life: friendships, family, boys, school, and attitude toward life. I love this drink because it reminds me of my favorite character and reminds me of the narrative that I work hard to create every day. My favorite Fall drink is Starbucks's Iced Apple Crisp Oatmilk Shaken Expresso, and for reasons beyond just the taste of the drink - the drink is written into my narrative. Thank you for reading!

"Searching how to start a conversation on a website" This quote resonates within me deeply in a complex way. This quote, from the song "Ballad of a Homeschooled Girl" jumped out to me when I sat down and listened to it for the first time. Growing up in a world where technology has the power to control our mindsets, how we think, and how we act is scary. It's scary when I'm talking to someone and they won't take their eyes off their phone. It's scary when I'm talking to someone who can't maintain eyecontact. It's scary that I feel like people don't care when I'm talking because they can't focus on what I'm saying. I'm scared. I'm scared because I was forced to grow up faster than most kids my age. I was diagnosed with Type One Diabetes just over a year ago, and I live in a drastically different world to put time and energy into overconsuming social media. I don't have time to scroll on TikTok for hours when I have to fight to stay alive every day. It's hard to make friends and connect with people my age because I don't care about what they do. I care about school, grades, college, and my future job - but I also care about connecting with God, experiencing real adventures and connecting with real people, not just through a screen. "Searching how to start a conversation on a website" I would be lying if I said I haven't done this. I haven't googled life advice. What foods are high in protein, the best ways to study, how to make my hair shiny, or my nails grow long? What clothes suit me best or what way to style my hair? I would be lying if I said I haven't compared my life to others on social media. They have gone to this location, they have these clothes, they have this car, they eat this food, they have these shoes. But - do they have to inject themselves with Insulin every day to stay alive? Did their body spontaneously attack them - putting them minutes away from a coma? But now, here I am comparing my life to theirs. They could have major personal and life events going on too. Technology has taught us the art of comparison when in reality, we are all going through our own troubles and trying to make it by. "Searching how to start a conversation on a website" Olivia perfectly captures adolescence by recognizing that this is a time in our lives when we are constantly reaching out for the next best piece of advice or best statement. What's the newest brand? What's the newest trend? We are always chasing for something more, and leaning on technology to answer our questions about growing up which, back in the day, is what parents were there for. Technology has taken the place of real people connections, and this lyric perfectly describes what it's like to grow up and try to develop and understand challenges in a world where technology has taken over. "Searching how to start a conversation on a website" I'm searching up why we can't just be teenagers anymore.

I think this scholarship was made for me, thank you, bold.org! Gilmore Girls is the best series out there, and let me tell you why. I did the math. I have watched all seven seasons of Gilmore Girls three times total, which is over 450 episodes, which means 20,250 minutes, which means I have spent 14 full days of my life watching Gilmore Girls. Now that I have that out of the way, let me tell you why Gilmore Girls is the best series in television history. This early 2000s show brings nostalgia along with all the cozy fall vibes. Stars Hollow is the perfect little town which makes it seem like home, even through a screen. Along with all the nostalgia, this show has helped shape me into the person I am today (and is the focus of many t-shirts and sweatshirts in my closet). I know it may sound crazy, but this show has given me the perspective and attitude that I have on life. It is also extremely relatable, the main mother-daughter characters being exactly like my mom and I: shopping, food, boy, coffee obsessed. This show is my comfort show, a show I can watch over and over and I never get tired of it. I have watched Gilmore Girls throughout the highs and lows that my years bring. But why has Gilmore Girls shaped me into the person I am today? I wholeheartedly relate to Rory Gilmore in Gilmore Girls, and I find so much comfort in the show because we are so similar. Rory Gilmore is a shy, introverted, smart, hardworking girl who cares deeply for her family and education. But, Rory is extroverted and fun with her close-knit group of people - I am this same way. Watching Rory excel in her academics and focus on college gave me perspective going into high school, having a character like Rory to idolize and get motivation from to be the best student and person I can be has helped me get through the rough patches of life. Rory and I have faced some of the same problems, as well, such as stress, boys, friends, and the high expectations we have for ourselves. Rory was the first character I was ever able to connect and relate to, supporting my statement that Gilmore Girls is the best series. Why should you watch Gilmore Girls? Gilmore Girls are real people. The diverse range of characters branches out to many different people and personalities. The characters are understandable, relatable, and emotional. The stories are unique but can connect to many audiences and pull heartstrings - all while having twists and humor. Gilmore Girls is the best series because it is not caught up in new "trends" or techniques to make a film fit into a certain category - Gilmore Girls can be relatable to anyone. So, when you get the chance, I highly recommend giving Gilmore Girls a watch (maybe not 14 whole days worth)! Thank you for your time.

I love math for a reason that not many high schoolers do. I love math because it keeps me alive. I was diagnosed with Type One Diabetes almost two years ago. Since that day, I have had math equations going through my head 24/7. What people don't realize is that diabetics are constantly calculating carbohydrate counts, blood sugar corrections, insulin doses, and basal rates - we have formulas going through our heads all the time. I have learned to look at math in a different light, not just because of my illness but because I now realize how math truly is a part of so much of what we do every day. From getting a job to earn money, to calculating scholarships to make sure I have enough money to attend college, to understanding finance costs as I get ready to buy my first car. Math is everywhere, and it's kind of fun! As I look forward to my future, my goal is to become an Emergency Department Nurse with a minor in Clinical Nutrition. Without a strong math background, I wouldn't be excelling in my Honors Chemistry Class doing Stoichiochemistry equations. Math will be a big part of being a nurse and nutritionist. Math saves lives, and it has saved mine. It would be hard not to love it.

“But you don’t look sick.” An invisible wall. A wall that will be with me for the rest of my life, a wall that I will have to sit with. A wall that many can’t see but is always visible to me. A wall that muffles the reoccurring sounds of the Intensive Care Unit, hides the concerned looks from teams of doctors and parents. A wall that lets the instinctive memory of what could have been my last slide through the cracks. I wasn’t myself for months. Friends, family, and even teachers were apprehensive about my well-being. I felt like I was disassociated from everything and everyone around me, making it hard to communicate with others when I forced myself through the pain of being undiagnosed for way too long. Saying “I’m fine” to mask the exhaustion and denying my emotions only made things worse. Doctors couldn’t figure out the mystery of the sick girl and no one knew what to do or say except for, “Are you okay?” Then, I was taken to the hospital and immediately transported to the ICU. I was in diabetic ketoacidosis and my body was eating itself. Blood draws in my wrist, tubes placed through my arms, machines encompassing me into a spiral of blurry vision with flashing lights – I felt all the energy and life I had left started to fade away. Type One Diabetes. A disease that cannot be caused, nor cured. The wall was built from the ground up when I was handed a life full of daily injections, blood sugar checks, devices with needles and tubes in me all day every day – the wall was taking over my identity. I didn’t speak, I didn’t check my phone, I lay in my hospital bed watching the clock tick, tock as the world spun and continued around me. I knew life would never be ‘normal’ again living with an illness that is not understood or commonly known. I became the sick girl, and I will forever be her. The process of getting diagnosed, grieving, and trying to ‘fit in’ as I had once before was undeniably challenging, but I began to wonder if I would ever find myself again: the girl who's always smiling and taking selfies. Life brought many obstacles being the sick girl. “What’s that on your arm?” “Why do you have to leave class?” “What’s that beeping noise?” “Why did you disappear?” The swarming of questions never stopped, buzzing around me everywhere I went. I kept wondering to myself, “Why me?” I was ready to soar through my teenage years, but the invisible wall was built. I was determined to find a way to fit in with teenagers who know what it’s like to fear losing to this disease every single day. Putting myself out there to not only my friends and classmates, but the whole world on Instagram skyrocketed my comfort with my disease when others began to reach out to me saying how much I have helped them learn to accept the invisible wall. I was welcomed into a life of blood and pain, but also a community of understanding and compassion. ‘But you don’t look sick.’ – what is sick supposed to look like? Acceptance of my disease, being a part of a community of those like me, learning to sit with the wall even on the scariest days, and having peace with the idea of emerging into my identity along with being sick. An indescribable amount of passion and advocacy has emerged to represent all juvenile diabetics who have gone through a painful diagnosis and the terrifying moments our disease brings each day. A passion for Nursing has emerged, driving me toward the career I want to pursue. Type One Diabetes has brought a lot of pain, but it has given me purpose in finding my calling. Fear is not something that goes away when diagnosed, but rather something I have learned to accept and explore while leaning on the invisible wall. I have learned the importance of deconstructing my feelings and understanding that mental health is health. As the years go and I grow, the flowers of hope will continue to bloom and illuminate the wall. The wall may be invisible, but I am not.

Growing up, I wondered what it would be like to lose a family member - never thinking it would happen to me. I certainly didn't want to lose anyone in my life, but I didn't know what true grief felt like. Grief is different than getting a bad grade on a test or losing contact with a friend. Grief changes your perspective on life. And my perspective was changed on February 10th, 2022, when I lost my Grandpa Paul. My grandpa was such a significant person in my life and I didn't even realize how much his passing would affect me until he was gone. The day of his memorial was the worst day of my life. I was in and out of the bathroom crying, texting my friend to try and understand this new wave of grief I was feeling. I couldn't make eye contact with anyone without making them cry because of my rosy cheeks and watery eyes. My grandpa suffered from Alzheimer's, and I watched him slowly slip away. I fought to keep his memories of happiness near as his health began to decline - showing him funny cat and dog videos to make him smile. He never failed to say that everything in life was "Beautiful!" and "Terrific!". Life was his oyster, and he never failed to show love to everyone around him. He loved coney dogs, Detroit Tigers Baseball, and Detroit Lions Football. Now these things remind me of him. He was famous in our family for making trumpet noises with his mouth and having the ability to mimic sounds with his lips perfectly. But it wasn't until his final days that we learned his true love for music. "And now the end is near, And so I face the final curtain, My friend, I'll say it clear, I'll state my case of which I'm certain, I've lived a life that's full, I travelled each and every highway, And more, much more than this, I did it my way," Frank Sinatra. My Way. This was the song played at my Grandpa's memorial shortly after my Uncle said his final words about his father. I have never seen him cry more. I cannot listen to this song without seeing my Grandpa Paul standing in front of me: Big crewneck on with white tennis shoes and a baseball hat. Him walking up to me and grabbing my cheeks to kiss my head, asking for one back. I told myself I wouldn't cry while typing this essay - but here I am. I haven't been able to uncover my emotions from the grief I faced until now. My Grandpa - Paul Asped Aramian, the man from whom I received my Armenian culture, brown hair, and his view on life. I think about my Grandpa every day. I see him in sunsets and I hear him through music. I know he is in heaven watching over me - proud of my accomplishments that I worked so hard to achieve for not just me, but him. The grief has given me a fight, sparking my motivation and drive to become the best version of myself that I can be. I am just a Sophomore in High School, but I will become a Nurse to give my love, compassion, and understanding to my patients and families because of the experiences I have gone through. This scholarship would allow me to make my Grandpa Paul proud, although he already is and always will be. Thank you, for the opportunity to write this essay, to share my story and to learn more about myself through writing this.

“But you don’t look sick.” An invisible wall. A wall that will be with me for the rest of my life, a wall that I will have to sit with. A wall that many can’t see but is always visible to me. A wall that muffles the reoccurring sounds of the Intensive Care Unit, hides the concerned looks from teams of doctors and parents. A wall that lets the instinctive memory of what could have been my last slide through the cracks. I wasn’t myself for months. Friends, family, and even teachers were apprehensive about my well-being. I forced myself through the pain of being undiagnosed for way too long, saying “I’m fine” to mask the exhaustion and pain I was in. Doctors couldn’t figure out the mystery of the sick girl and no one knew what to do or say except for, “Are you okay?” Then, I was taken to the hospital and immediately transported to the ICU. I was in diabetic ketoacidosis and my body was eating itself. Blood draws in my wrist, tubes placed through my arms, machines encompassing me into a spiral of blurry vision with flashing lights – I felt all the energy and life I had left fade away. Type One Diabetes. A disease that cannot be caused, nor cured. The wall was built from the ground up when I was handed a life full of daily injections, blood sugar checks, devices with needles and tubes in me all day every day – the wall was taking over my identity. I didn’t speak, I didn’t check my phone, I lay in my hospital bed watching the clock tick, tock as the world spun and continued around me. I knew life would never be ‘normal’ again living with an illness that is not understood or commonly known. I became the sick girl, and I will forever be her. The process of getting diagnosed, grieving, and trying to ‘fit in’ like I had once before was undeniably challenging, but I began to wonder how I could find myself again. Life brought many obstacles being the sick girl. “What’s that on your arm?” “Why do you have to leave class?” “What’s that beeping noise?” “Why did you disappear?” The swarming of questions never stopped, buzzing around me everywhere I went. I kept wondering to myself, “Why me?” I didn't want to lose myself to this disease. Putting myself out there to the whole world on Instagram skyrocketed my comfort with my body when others began to reach out to me saying how much I have helped them learn to accept the invisible wall. I was welcomed into a life of blood and pain, but also a community of understanding and compassion. What is sick supposed to look like? Acceptance of my disease, being a part of a community of those like me and learning to sit with the wall even on the scariest days. An indescribable amount of passion and advocacy has emerged to represent all juvenile diabetics who have gone through a painful diagnosis and the terrifying moments our disease brings each day. This disease has become my strength, and my story has become a moving message to those around me. Fear is not something that goes away when diagnosed, but rather something I have learned to accept and explore while leaning on the invisible wall, and this peace has given me strength. As the years go and I grow, the flowers of hope will continue to bloom and illuminate the wall. The wall may be invisible, but I am not.

What does success look like? Success has many layers and definitions by society. But, what does success mean to me, and how will this opportunity help me to achieve it? My name is Ella Boger. I may seem like any other teenage girl, but I'm not. I have needles and tubes intertwined in me to keep me alive. I fight every day to stay alive, and while I inject Insulin other girls are curling their hair. On February 1st, 2022, my life changed forever. I went undiagnosed for months, losing the ability to walk or function. I could feel the life I had left in me start to fade. I went from my bedroom to the Emergency Room, to the Intensive Care Unit in the flash of an eye. I was diagnosed with Type One Diabetes. A lifelong, chronic illness, was handed to me. A life full of pain, blood, tears, and trying to find joy in the periods of burnout and stress. But, what does success mean to me, and what does it look like? Success means love. Love others around me, but also love myself. It's hard to love a body that attacks itself and is forever unpredictable. It's hard to love a body that doesn't feel like my own anymore. What happened to the body that was free of tubes and "Control IQ" "Basal Rates" "Boluses" "Lost Signal" and "Urgent Low Glucose - ACT NOW"? There are burnout periods where nothing works and success seems hard to define. How am I successful with managing my illness if I'm not perfect 100% of the time or my glucose is not in range 100% of the time? Ever since getting diagnosed with Type One Diabetes, I have learned that success doesn't come from perfection, but rather perseverance, determination, grit, and self-compassion. I am not like every other teenage girl, but that makes me unique. Sharing my story with the world and being able to make an impact on other lives has given me the greatest feeling of success that no school grade could ever compare. "You are one of the first people I followed when I was diagnosed, end of January, you just made me feel so much less alone and so in community with you, so thank you for everything, whether you knew you were supporting me or not, and just so great to see you accessorizing and smiling despite your diabetes and it encourages me to do the same." The quote above is from one of my followers, and now an online friend who we connected through Instagram. Seeing this message moved me to tears, giving me the greatest feeling of success in the world knowing that my advocacy has made an impact. Success looks like sharing the mental wealth of mental health. But, how would this opportunity help me to achieve this definition of success? This opportunity would allow me to continue my advocacy work in a new way in addition to my current work. This scholarship would allow me to become a medical assistant. This opportunity would allow me to share my mental wealth in a new way with each of my patients. This opportunity would help towards my journey to becoming a nurse - to share the mental wealth just like my nurses did when I was in the Intensive Care Unit. This scholarship would allow me to help others define what success is. Thank you, so much, for your time.