I have always wanted to grow up. Since I was little, I have yearned for independence, confidence, and a sense of personal accountability. I spent my high school years daydreaming about college and my future of being responsible for my own education and learning about what filled me with passion. However, my first semester of college left me reeling. At the age of eleven, I spent nine months in a treatment center for anorexia in Durham, just minutes away from Duke. It wasn’t my first or last hospital, but it was traumatic and left wounds that, while invisible to the naked eye, ached and throbbed. When I returned to Durham and was surrounded by reminders of that time in my life, I spiraled into the depths of what my doctors eventually call PTSD. Coupled with imposter syndrome and the stress of navigating a social life while dealing with mental illness, the burden felt too big to bear. I went home for winter break a shell of myself, and I spent those weeks filling out applications to transfer as well as considering taking at least a semester off. After long conversations with my family and much self reflection, I decided that I needed to give myself a chance to succeed for the rest of the year. I established a strong support system of mental health care professionals, turned my focus to taking care of myself, filled my schedule with classes that were different from my typical STEM interests, but seemed intriguing, and pushed myself into environments that scared me where I found new friends. I know that I will experience many obstacles as I navigate the rest of my education, but I will always be proud of myself for refusing to let my eating disorder take anything else away from me.

Before this year, I could tell you exactly what I wanted from my future. I could tell you how I wanted to spend my college years, how I wanted to take a gap year between college and medical school to act with an organization that provided medical care to areas in need internationally, where I wanted to go to medical school, where I hoped to match for residency, my desired fellowship speciality, what area I wanted to conduct clinical research in, where I eventually wanted to settle with my future family. After my first year of college, I have been consumed by a profound feeling of uncertainty. Academic rigor and a competitive environment among pre-med students caused my confidence in myself and my potential to buckle. My ambition dwindled and I began to question myself. Do I really want to go to medical school? Can I handle it? What if I am locking myself into a path that won’t serve me? What if there are other things out there that will interest me or motivate me more? The truth is, I don’t need the answers to my questions right now. The world is wide open and full of opportunities that I can take advantage of. I know that I want to make a difference in the world, I know I want to study the brain and use what I learn to develop more effective treatments for eating disorders, I know that I want to potentially open my own eating disorder treatment center and publicize the brain-based nature of anorexia. Beyond that, my goals are to pursue whatever sparks passion within me, to stay curious, to develop strong relationships with people who lift me up, to lift myself up and give myself grace as I navigate my path to my future.

Earlier this year, I was struggling with a sense of identity, because I felt like I had lost myself. I think now I know: I am a warrior. Through every season, I have fought against that which has threatened to destroy me. There is a quote by Rupi Kaur that I love, “And here you are living, despite it all.” These words are always in my heart and mind because they summarize my journey of battling severe anorexia nervosa, associated health issues, and other mental illnesses that made me question my purpose in life. I experienced years of sadness and heaviness washing over me, incapacitating me, holding me down, and nearly snuffing out the light that lives within me… and here I am, standing. Here I am, living. Here I am trying to find meaning. The struggles have not left me entirely, they still come in waves, but I have begun to cherish the lessons I have learned through my journey (no matter how rocky the journey) to health, wellness, and self-acceptance, as well as to recognize the power of my own internal strength. This quote has inspired me to pay attention to the small successes and be proud of myself for utilizing the strength it took to accomplish them. It reminds me that, even after a hard day, I am here, so I have a chance to wake up the next morning and try again to succeed in my pursuit of contentment. I am motivated by my past and my future. There was a time when we weren’t sure if I would make it to my twelfth birthday, but I now believe that I have a bright future ahead of me and I deserve to take advantage of it. I deserve to accomplish my dreams of becoming a doctor, doing research into the physiological basis of eating disorders, and revolutionizing eating disorder treatment. I deserve to fill my own cup by reaching out and helping others in need of medical care in the way my past self would have needed. Kaur’s words remind me that, no matter the events of the past, recovery has opened doors for me, and all I need to do is set my gaze on the horizon and walk through them with confidence, because here I am living, despite it all.

It is said that you can’t love someone else until you fully and unconditionally love yourself. Looking back on how my relationships and goals for the future have vibrantly flourished through my journey to self acceptance, I am struck by the truth of this statement. As someone who has dealt with severe anxiety since early childhood, I have always had a deep desire for control in order to protect myself from uncomfortable emotions that may arise during the unpredictable circumstances that life presents. Combined with extreme perfectionism, these mannerisms created a perfect storm of self destruction. When I felt overwhelmed or if a situation didn’t turn out exactly as I had pictured in my mind (a 98 on a test rather than a 100 or a gold award in a dance competition rather than platinum), I would turn my anxiety inward and tear myself down. I never established the habit of treating myself with kindness and gentleness, so my self-destructive tendencies turned into a nearly-fatal eating disorder by the time I was ten years old. Hurting people hurt other people, and during the worst of my eating disorder, I was hurting more than ever. I retreated into myself and lashed out at those I love, including my parents, my best friend, and even my little sister. This was partially because my eating disorder wanted to keep me isolated so it could have more power over me, but it was more so because self-hatred had taken such a toll on me that I refused to believe I was worthy of love. Recovery is one of the hardest challenges I have ever faced, but it has allowed me to slowly begin to heal my relationships - including my relationship with myself. I have learned to search for relief from anxiety in places other than self-harm and restriction. I have also developed the ability to identify things that I like about myself - my freckles, my unfaltering empathy, my passion for learning, my aptitude for math and science - and hold on to them when I began to struggle with my self image. I grasp tightly to the belief that emotions never last forever, and I need to love myself through the process of overcoming difficult feelings. I have come to believe that your relationship with yourself is the most important because it teaches you how to love others and accept love, as well as how to find contentment in life. By identifying what I like about myself, I have realized my true aspirations and have been able to fully commit myself to my dream of helping others with mental illness. I have grown as a person more than ever throughout this journey, but I also recognize that I will continue to grow and change, so this journey may not be a journey, but an evolution where the destination is not nearly as important as what I learn throughout the process.

I used to think that a legacy was tied to fame: being a household name or recognized on the street for something admirable. I used to think I had to achieve perfection in order to be worthy of remembrance. However, as I have grown, evolved, and learned what I want from my life, my definition of legacy has evolved in tandem. Now, I think of a legacy as what I hope to feel proud of when I’m old and gray and looking back on my many years. I don’t need external validation for an accomplishment to be considered a legacy, my legacy can be defined as anything that is meaningful to me, even a mere moment that made me feel grateful to be alive. To leave a legacy means to leave an impact, and that has many valuable interpretations, from winning a Nobel Peace prize, to inventing and patenting a useful tool, to being a parent and raising kids with good character, to making a stranger’s day by smiling at them in public and becoming known as someone who treats others with kindness. I believe one can also have an internal legacy, which can be a moment of personal growth that left a mark on the way one sees the world and shapes the way they move forward. A legacy can be as big or small as one makes it, and, regardless of perceived significance, neither one is less meaningful. I am a planner, an ambitious forward-thinker, and, I’ll admit it, a bit of a control freak. I have been carefully crafting tangible goals to leave my mark on the world since I was in elementary school. First, I wanted to be a teacher, then a pilot, then an artist, a writer, a professional ballerina, a dance-studio owner, a physical therapist, and, finally, after nearly dying as a result of severe anorexia nervosa, a doctor. This dream has stuck for nearly seven years now. Similar to my understanding of the idea of a legacy, my hopes for the future have evolved and become more complex, detailed, and true to who I am as I have grown. Now, I hope to spend my college years immersed in the study of neuroscience, continue on to medical school, and become a neurosurgeon while also doing research into the physiological basis of mental illness, specifically eating disorders. Using the information I find in my research, I hope to develop more effective, evidence-based treatment strategies to help people with eating disorders. From a professional standpoint, I want to be remembered as someone who was a skilled doctor while also being kind and empathetic when interacting with patients, as well as a powerful mental health advocate who created lasting change in the way the world treats those with mental illness. However, I also want my legacy to extend far past the boundaries of my career. I want to be known for my passion, wit, curiosity, and genuine zest for discovering the world. I want to be known for my leadership and friendship. I want to look back and feel satisfied, for fulfilling my goals of revolutionizing eating disorder treatment and living my life to the fullest. That will be my legacy: satisfaction, hope, and contentment.

At the age of eleven, my world was turned upside down. I went from a bright, passionate, outgoing kid with a genuine zest for life to a mere shell of myself who was slowly fading away under the influence of severe anorexia nervosa. Despite barely being able to grasp what was happening within my own body and mind, I soon found myself in an intensive care hospital in organ failure, and then in a long-term treatment center specifically for eating disorders miles away from home. I was the youngest patient and uncomfortable being forced to eat, sleep, live, and attempt to start my journey to recovery surrounded by strangers. Feeling vulnerable and sad, I began to retreat into myself, but one individual’s display of kindness came at exactly the right time and made a world of difference in my experience. Her name was Charday and she was one of my nurses. She started working at the treatment center about two months after my arrival. For reasons I can’t explain, she decided to take me under her wing and cared for me in my darkest time. Since I was the youngest patient in the center, my parents were allowed to visit every night and they did their best to be there for me when I needed it, but it was Charday who supported me during the day. For the first six months of my stay, I was nourished through a nasal-gastric tube because my body was not getting enough nutrition through food. Charday was the nurse who administered my tube feed and sat with me while I waited for it to finish. While we sat there, she would talk to me about anything and everything. She would tell me about her weekend plans, her trip to visit her sister, her new dog: anything to get my mind away from my anxiety around food. Occasionally she would bring me a book or a magazine that I could read to pass the time. Once, she brought nail polish into the residential wing and painted my nails a dark blue, my favorite color. One of the most stand out moments of Charday’s kindness occurred on my twelfth birthday. In the afternoon, a nurse brought me an unmarked package. I opened it to find a stuffed dog, my favorite animal at the time, and a journal I had only told Charday I wanted. She poked her head into my room and winked at me, and I felt my heart fill with overwhelming gratitude and disbelief at what a kind and genuine person she was. Charday treated me like a younger sister, not a sick person. She would tell me how much potential she saw in me, and encouraged me to eat so that I could live up to the person she knew I could be. She was one of the people who began to make me feel like I was worth fighting for and that the future ahead of me was full of possibilities. I will always be thankful for her presence in my life and she will continue to hold a special place in my heart for years to come. I don’t know where Charday is not, but wherever it is, I hope the world has shown her the same kindness she showed me: the exact kindness she deserves.

I have been destined to love the Harry Potter films since I was a year old, when I took a fall that landed me in the hospital with several stitches in my forehead and a popsicle in my mouth. From that day forward, my parents would laugh and call the new mark that marred my skin my very own “Harry Potter scar,” and I became fundamentally connected to the magic of Hogwarts through an injury I was too young to remember. As I got older, the Harry Potter films represented an escape into an alternate reality where bravery prevailed over evil and the possibilities were endless, the idea of which was comforting to my anxious adolescent brain. These films present the opportunity for several lessons about friendship, facing your own internal darkness, and chasing the light at the end of the tunnel, which became increasingly relevant in my life as I began my journey to recovery from severe anorexia nervosa and depression. Hermione Granger, who I have come to consider my kindred spirit and fictional counterpart, taught me that intellectual curiosity and knowledge is strength, as is my ability to accept and love my nerdiness. She taught me that women can be outspoken, courageous, opinionated and we can create change. The Harry Potter films and books will always have a special place in my heart because they have shown me that life doesn’t have to be full of wizards and witches to be magical, there is magic everywhere: in a kind word, a smile from a stranger, love for another person, a dream coming true.

I have always felt distinctly other. I felt set apart from those around me, as if there was a fundamentally damaged part of me that shone from within like a beacon so everyone knew how broken I was. I convinced myself I was too dumb to fit in with the kids in the gifted program at my school, too untalented to fit in with the competition team at my dance studio, too uncoordinated and weak to fit in on a sports team, and too annoying, anxious, awkward, and downright unlikeable to keep any friends. I tried to change myself. I tried to spend hours studying, work myself to the point of exhaustion in the studio, wear what everyone else wore, do only what made others comfortable, reduce my personality to what I felt was expected of me: perfection. But I soon came across a situation that really did make me stick out like a sore thumb. My obsession with comparison and fixing my perceived flaws led me into the clutches of severe anorexia nervosa before I started sixth grade. Suddenly I became the sick girl, the girl who never spoke, the girl who was slowly fading away, the girl who was a mystery because she kept leaving school for reasons no one could figure out. Eating disorders aren’t talked about. The stigma around mental illness is overwhelming and eating disorders specifically are misunderstood due to society-founded myths that are widely accepted as fact. I kept my illness a secret because I was led to believe it was something to be ashamed of. I was afraid of being judged and afraid of an inability to fit in. Through my journey of illness, recovery, shame, and finally, acceptance, I have come to believe that our differences are a crucial part of making our world a better place. Society progresses and improves when unique perspectives and thinkers come together to find a creative solution to our problems. Without almost dying from an eating disorder, I would not have developed a passion for human health and gone on to become a certified EMT and found my blog, community, and mental health awareness initiative, Balance by Elle. Without battling mental illness, I would not have become inspired to pursue neuroscience, go to medical school, help others with brain-based illnesses, and eventually research the physiological basis for mental illnesses in order to develop more effective, evidence based treatment. Differences do not equate to brokenness, they signify humanity. There is space in our world for everyone to be who they are, it’s just a matter of finding it, and that starts from within. The fear of not fitting in disappears when inner peace is achieved and when one understands that they have to be okay with their individuality before being able to utilize it to connect with others. I am on an ever-evolving journey of self-acceptance, but so far I have come to understand that it doesn’t matter if I live up to society’s standards of perfection and normalcy, because I can make my own way in the world and I am proud of the person I am becoming.

From a young age, I wanted to know WHY. Why is the phenomenon of death such a mystery? Why can dreams feel like reality? Why is it so difficult to hold in a sneeze? I am driven by curiosity and a desire to make sense of my surroundings. So, when I was diagnosed with anorexia, anxiety, and depression, I wanted nothing more than to understand what was happening in my body. Struggling to comprehend the complexity of mental illness inspired me to pursue the biological sciences, specifically neuroscience or cognitive science, in hopes of revealing the secrets of the mind. Through my initial exploration of the human body and medical field, both in the classroom and experiences such as volunteering at my local hospital and providing hands-on care as an EMT, I have fallen in love with the neuron, from its spindly web of dendrites to the complexity of its electric conversation with the body. This basic unit of life holds the key to my most pressing questions and the mystery I aspire to unravel: mental illness. I hope that majoring in neuroscience will be the first step on a long but rewarding journey to become a neurosurgeon and perform research into the physiological basis for mental illness, specifically eating disorders, in order to develop more effective, evidence-based treatment.

STEM is innovation, STEM is creativity, STEM is global collaboration, problem-solving, open-mindedness, and societal advancement. In the midst of the pandemic, when facing overwhelming uncertainty and fear, what the world needs most are these characteristics of STEM that have the potential to both bring us together and propel us forward. Presently, we don’t know what a post-pandemic world will look like. Will it be like before, where we had the freedom to explore every area of our lives, unbounded? Or will it be another new-normal, where we must keep our distance and see masks dispersed among the crowd? Either way, we must prepare ourselves to have our perspectives expanded and our comfort zones challenged as we learn to adapt and thrive in the next phase of life, which will be supported by the work of STEM occupations. Post-pandemic, people will crave a sense of safety, normalcy, and interconnectedness. Scientists and medical professionals working toward the further development and distribution of the vaccine will help us adapt to the initial discomfort that comes with approaching the outside world. Streamlining and improving the online classroom experience as well as available resources through technology development will help students of all learning styles continue to adapt to a virtual school environment. Increasing the capability of video conferencing and communication can promote the benefits of international cooperation as everyone attempts to adapt to the new state of the world. We will thrive by learning to view the rising importance of technology as an abundant resource, integrating it into our everyday lives, and using it wisely to fulfill the most prevalent human needs. As STEM is not just built on the tangible acts of tech development or medical care but also fundamental skills like critical thinking, the involvement of STEM careers in a post-pandemic world will help the general population understand the importance of science and use these skills to discern fact from fiction regarding circulating information. Even though STEM is often considered a “math and science” field, it is applicable to so many areas of life after a pandemic. In the coming months, we may see economists analyzing the trends of the economy and develop strategies to restore it to its former state, engineers working to increase the capacity of hospitals or help with building new facilities, or bioengineers producing new equipment in the case of another pandemic-induced shortage. Most importantly, professionals across STEM fields will be able to research and draw conclusions from the past and present to improve the efficiency of other emergency medical responses and overall work toward a brighter future.