My decision to major in Public Health with a minor in Psychology was less of a neat, calculated career choice and more of a trial-by-fire epiphany. As a second-year college student, I’ve realized my true calling lies at the exact intersection of human behavior, systemic healthcare, and figuring out why our brains occasionally act like chaotic group chats. My ultimate goal is to build accessible, empathetic support systems so people can navigate mental health struggles without feeling like they need an advanced degree just to find a life raft. My passion for this work isn't just theoretical; it’s deeply personal. I’ve survived four suicide attempts—a heavy reality, but one that completely recalibrated my perspective on life. Bouncing back from rock bottom takes serious resilience, along with a healthy dose of dark humor and pure grit. Surviving those crises didn't just give me a second chance; it handed me a sharp, unvarnished sense of purpose. I’m no longer just trying to get through the week; I’m actively equipping myself to advocate for anyone silently fighting their own internal battles. Pairing public health with psychology lets me zoom in on individual therapeutic needs while also zooming out to fix the broken, population-level machinery that lets people fall through the cracks in the first place. That brings us to the present, where my biggest hurdle isn't dense reading assignments—it’s the terrifying cost of staying enrolled in school. Between tuition, eye-watering textbook prices, and living on a budget that makes instant ramen fine dining for a lifetime, the financial strain of higher education is a constant background headache. Trying to rewrite the playbook on community mental health while nervously checking your bank balance every time you buy a basic cup of coffee is a unique kind of multitasking I’d love to retire. This scholarship would instantly lift that financial weight off my shoulders. Instead of stressing over how to cover basic living costs, I could throw 100% of my energy into my coursework, campus advocacy, and real-world mental health initiatives. Investing in my education directly supports my mission to graduate and hit the ground running. With your support, I can turn my darkest past moments into actionable tools, ensuring that when others hit their lowest points, they never have to navigate the darkness alone. After all, who doesn't like a good underdog comeback story? Am I right? Thank you for taking the time to read my scholarship entry.

If you had asked my high school self what my five-year plan was, I probably would have laughed—or changed the subject entirely. Back then, planning for the future felt like trying to book a flight to Mars. After surviving four suicide attempts, my focus wasn't on "where do I see myself after graduation?" It was simply making it through to next Tuesday. When you're in that dark of a headspace, standard student goals feel completely out of reach. Survival is the only syllabus you're following. Fast forward to today: I am a second-year college student majoring in Public Health with a minor in Psychology. (Yes, the plot twist of the century—the person who couldn't imagine a future is now actively studying how to protect the future of entire communities.) To me, mental health isn't just an abstract topic or a trendy slogan on a campus flyer; it is my reality. And let’s be entirely real for a moment: as an African American student, carrying mental health struggles comes with a heavy, specific weight. In too many Black families and communities, psychological pain is still treated as a taboo topic—something to sweep under the rug, a perceived weakness, or something you’re expected to just "pray away" or "tough out." But let me be clear: toughness doesn't cure depression, and silence doesn't save lives. Countless Black students are walking around every day carrying the exact same heavy burdens I carried, feeling completely invisible and convinced that nobody who looks like them understands what they're going through. That reality is precisely why mental health advocacy in my community isn't optional for me—it's my mission. Advocacy, for me, starts with relentless honesty. In my school community and everyday life, I use my voice to normalize talking about mental health with the same casual validity we give to physical health. If someone breaks their leg, we don't tell them to "walk it off" and run a marathon; yet when a student is drowning mentally, society often expects them to smile, tough it out, and turn their homework in on time. Through my Public Health major and Psychology minor, I am bridging the gap between real-world lived experience and structural change. I advocate by educating my peers, creating real spaces where Black students feel safe enough to take off their armor, and standing firm against the stigma that tells us our pain doesn't matter. I survived my past for a reason. I am living proof that having a history marked by crisis doesn't disqualify you from building a meaningful, impactful future—in fact, it gives you the empathy and grit required to help others find theirs. Through my degree and my advocacy, I am dedicated to ensuring that no student, especially those who feel overlooked, ever has to fight their battles alone in the dark.

Growing up, my brain liked to make everyday life a lot harder than it needed to be. While most kids my age were worrying about passing algebra, navigating high school drama, or learning how to drive, I was quietly battling a persistent, suffocating depression. It wasn’t just a bad phase or a streak of rough days; it was an overwhelming weight that eventually led to four suicide attempts. Saying that out loud—or putting it down on paper for a scholarship committee—feels jarring, but it is an undeniable part of my foundation. When you hit rock bottom multiple times, you learn a lot about the people in your orbit. My friends were my primary support system, but we were all essentially swimming in the exact same pool of teenage mental health struggles. Because they were fighting their own internal battles, their reaction to my deepest crises wasn't cinematic or dramatic—it was mostly numb. It was rarely an "Oh no, what do we do?!" moment and much more of a tired, knowing, "Ah, man, you too? Alright, pass the chips." There was a strange, grim comfort in that shared exhausted acceptance, but it also highlighted a troubling reality: how easily severe emotional distress gets normalized when everyone around you is just trying to stay afloat. When it comes to my family, most of them are still completely in the dark about my attempts. The sole exception is my mom. Telling her was an experience in itself. Her reaction wasn't immediate anger, nor was it a dramatic breakdown; it was entirely unreadable. It felt like watching an operating system freeze and crash in real-time, but in the same breath a sad smile and small laugh escaped her mouth. You see, my first two attempts were me trying to overdose . I chugged a good amount of cold medicine, but surprisingly I was left unscathed. So instead of a moment where she stood there looking like she simply had no idea how to process or react properly to what she was hearing, she just had an almost remembering moment from when she was younger, and she too attempted to end her life the exact same way. The only difference was she almost didn't make it. Honestly, I can’t blame her for her reaction. Instead of a "There isn't exactly a chapter in the standard parenting manual titled 'What to Do When Your Kid Drops a Heavy Revelation Over Dinner '" reaction, it was unfortunately the same numbness that plagued my friends and me. Navigating those moments, along with the awkward silences and the light dark humor required to survive them, fundamentally reshaped how I view the world. Emerging from the darkest parts of my youth gave me a deep, firsthand understanding of how desperately people need accessible support—and how rarely society teaches us how to actually handle mental illness. I survived my own mind, and now I am determined to use that lived experience to advocate for real, compassionate mental health awareness so no one has to navigate their darkest days in numbed isolation. Oh, and by the way, I'm a second-year college student majoring in public Health while minoring in psychology. Isn't that ironic?

My decision to pursue a degree in public health alongside a minor in psychology is rooted in a fundamental belief: health is not merely the absence of disease, but a state of complete physical, mental, and social well-being. As a second-year college student, I have chosen this academic path because I want to understand both the broad, systemic structures that shape community health and the individual psychological factors that influence human behavior. My long-term goal is to work at the intersection of these two fields, designing community-level mental health initiatives and advocating for accessible care. I want to help others navigate the complex, often isolating struggles of mental health—a purpose driven directly by my own personal journey. My commitment to this field is not purely theoretical; it is forged through lived experience. I have survived four suicide attempts—a painful reality that completely altered how I view life, vulnerability, and recovery. Navigating through those severe crises forced me to confront the profound gaps that exist in mental health support systems, from emergency interventions to long-term community care. Rebuilding my life after reaching such dark moments required immense personal resilience, continuous self-reflection, and a willingness to accept help. Today, I am not simply working to regain my life; I am actively channeling those experiences into a meaningful path forward. I want to use what I have survived to ensure that others do not have to carry their struggles alone. By combining public health with psychology, I am acquiring the practical and theoretical framework necessary to create real change. Public health provides me with the methodology to analyze health disparities, evaluate policy, and implement large-scale prevention programs. Psychology offers me insight into cognitive processes, human empathy, and clinical perspectives. Together, these disciplines allow me to address mental health holistically—understanding both the individual psyche and the environmental or socioeconomic factors that impact a person's well-being. My ultimate aspiration is to build mental health support networks that are equitable, compassionate, and intervention-focused before a crisis occurs. However, the path to earning this degree comes with significant obstacles, most notably the financial burden of higher education. The cost of tuition, academic materials, and basic living expenses creates a continuous source of stress that can easily divert focus away from learning and community involvement. Balancing rigorous coursework with the anxiety of funding my education places a heavy strain on my day-to-day life. Receiving this scholarship would provide vital financial relief, easing the weight of educational costs and allowing me to dedicate my full energy to my studies and academic growth. Financial stability is an essential component of my ability to remain enrolled, maintain strong academic standing, and participate in practical learning opportunities outside the classroom. Ultimately, this scholarship represents more than just financial assistance; it is an investment in my ability to turn personal adversity into public impact. With your support, I will be able to complete my degree, continue my personal and professional recovery, and dedicate my life to helping others find hope and healing through compassionate, effective mental health support.

Growing up, I never had a grand master plan for my life. To be entirely honest, I still don't have every step mapped out—and I’ve come to learn that it is okay. For a long time, planning for a future felt impossible because I didn't believe I would have one. Having survived four suicide attempts, I spent years in spaces dominated by overwhelming pain, isolation, and a deep sense of directionlessness. Yet, I am still here. Surviving those moments taught me a fundamental truth: my life was spared for a reason. I was kept on this earth to stand beside others as they navigate their darkest hours, ensuring they never have to carry their pain alone. Throughout my journey, I have drawn profound strength from female actors who bravely used their platforms to break the silence surrounding mental illness and suicide. Hearing icons like Halle Berry open up about surviving a dark period of suicidal ideation, or Drew Barrymore speak about her childhood psychiatric stays and suicide attempts, shattered my isolation. Learning about figures like Cara Delevingne, who struggled with severe depression and suicidal thoughts at a young age, showed me that immense success and deep pain can exist in the same person. Seeing these women step forward, confront the pervasive stigma surrounding mental health, and prove that survival and purpose can coexist inspired me to hold on. Their transparency showed me that reaching rock bottom is not the end of a story—it can be the foundation upon which healing is built. This core realization led me to my current path as a second-year college student majoring in Public Health with a minor in Psychology. Through public health, I study the systemic gaps in healthcare, community support, and prevention; through psychology, I learn to understand the human mind and the nuance of emotional distress. Together, these fields are equipping me with the tools to translate my lived experience into systemic change. I may not have every detail of my career trajectory figured out, but my overarching mission is clear: I am dedicated to building community health frameworks and suicide prevention initiatives that meet people in their pain with empathy rather than judgment. I want to make an impact by being that same voice of hope and practical support in my community. By combining my academic background in public health and psychology with the raw, unfiltered empathy born from my own survival, I am determined to help shape a future where mental health support is accessible, compassionate, and proactive. This scholarship will support my education, but more importantly, it will empower me to continue turning my survival into a lifeline for others.

If you had asked my high school self what my five-year plan was, I probably would have laughed—or changed the subject entirely. Back then, planning for the future felt like trying to book a flight to Mars. After surviving four suicide attempts, my focus wasn't on "where do I see myself after graduation?" It was simply making it through to next Tuesday. When you're in that dark of a headspace, standard student goals feel completely out of reach. Survival is the only syllabus you're following. Fast forward to today: I am a second-year college student majoring in Public Health with a minor in Psychology. (Yes, the plot twist of the century—the person who couldn't imagine a future is now actively studying how to protect the future of entire communities.) To me, mental health isn't just an abstract topic or a trendy slogan on a campus flyer; it is my reality. And let’s be entirely real for a moment: as an African American student, carrying mental health struggles comes with a heavy, specific weight. In too many Black families and communities, psychological pain is still treated as a taboo topic—something to sweep under the rug, a perceived weakness, or something you’re expected to just "pray away" or "tough out." But let me be clear: toughness doesn't cure depression, and silence doesn't save lives. Countless Black students are walking around every day carrying the exact same heavy burdens I carried, feeling completely invisible and convinced that nobody who looks like them understands what they're going through. That reality is precisely why mental health advocacy in my community isn't optional for me—it's my mission. Advocacy, for me, starts with relentless honesty. In my school community and everyday life, I use my voice to normalize talking about mental health with the same casual validity we give to physical health. If someone breaks their leg, we don't tell them to "walk it off" and run a marathon; yet when a student is drowning mentally, society often expects them to smile, tough it out, and turn their homework in on time. Through my Public Health major and Psychology minor, I am bridging the gap between real-world lived experience and structural change. I advocate by educating my peers, creating real spaces where Black students feel safe enough to take off their armor, and standing firm against the stigma that tells us our pain doesn't matter. I survived my past for a reason. I am living proof that having a history marked by crisis doesn't disqualify you from building a meaningful, impactful future—in fact, it gives you the empathy and grit required to help others find theirs. Through my degree and my advocacy, I am dedicated to ensuring that no student, especially those who feel overlooked, ever has to fight their battles alone in the dark.

It's ok to not be ok... but don't let it stay there for too long.. If my life were a statistical study, my survival rate would baffle most public health researchers. I am a second-year college student majoring in public health and minoring in psychology, which means I spend half my day studying system-level crisis interventions and the other half studying human brain mechanics. It also means I am effectively analyzing my own life on a daily basis. Having survived four suicide attempts, my track record for giving up is officially 0-for-4—a terrible success rate for quitting, but a pretty solid testament to resilience. Living through severe mental health crises alongside constant financial instability doesn't just change your perspective; it completely rewires how you interact with the world. Financially, growing up in a world where every medical bill, textbook price tag, and unexpected expense feels like a looming catastrophe teaches you a very specific kind of hyper-vigilance. Money—or the lack of it—acts as an amplifier for mental health struggles. In my relationships, financial stress and psychological burnout meant learning early on who would stick around when things weren't polished or easy. It stripped away superficial connections and left me with a small, fiercely loyal support system. It also taught me the uncomfortable art of accepting help, whether that was a shared meal, a rideshare to class, or just a friend holding space for me when things got dark. My goals have been entirely reshaped by this intersection of financial burden and mental health. I didn't choose public health and psychology out of a passive interest; I chose them out of necessity. I’ve seen firsthand how access to mental health care is far too often a luxury good rather than a basic human right. My goal is to work within public health policy to dismantle the structural and financial barriers that prevent people in crisis from getting real, accessible care. I want to build systems where someone’s ability to stay alive doesn't depend on whether they can afford a copay. Ultimately, my past hasn't made me cynical—it's made me practical. I understand the world as a place that is often absurdly tough, wildly expensive, and deeply flawed, but also entirely worth fighting to fix. Surviving my own worst days gave me a clear purpose: using my education to make sure fewer people have to navigate the dark alone.

It's ok to not be ok, but do not let it consume you... Grief has a way of quietly shifting a family's trajectory. When my great-grandmother and grandfather passed away back-to-back, the loss shattered our foundation. To cope with the overwhelming pain, my mother and I began misusing alcohol. What started as an escape revealed how easily substance abuse takes root when grief goes unaddressed and mental health support is out of reach. Experiencing this struggle changed how I view media portrayals of substance abuse among African American women. On shows like Baddies or films like Girls Trip, heavy drinking is packaged as entertainment—glamourized as "turning up" or resilience. The media rarely shows the emotional toll or deep-seated trauma driving these behaviors. Normalizing unhealthy coping mechanisms masks real cries for help as reality TV tropes instead of recognizing them as public health crises. Seeing this gap between media myth and reality fueled my passion for change. Today, I am a second-year college student pursuing a Bachelor’s in Public Health with a minor in Psychology. My public health studies help me understand systemic barriers and healthcare disparities affecting Black women, while my psychology courses dive into trauma and emotional healing. My goal is to use my education to build culturally sensitive support systems for African American women facing substance abuse and domestic violence. I want to dismantle glamourized myths, address underlying trauma, and create judgment-free spaces where Black women can heal, rebuild, and thrive.

It is normal to look at the world around us and feel overwhelmed by the unknown. Thousands of years ago, Roman poet and philosopher Lucretius felt the same way. In his famous book-length poem, The Nature of Things ( De Rerum Natura), Lucretius sets out to explain how the universe works. While the text spends a lot of time talking about physical science, like how everything is made of tiny, invisible blocks called atoms - his ultimate goal is not actually to turn his readers into scientists. Instead, Lucretius's underlying meaning is deeply psychological. Lucretius argues that understanding the physical, atomic reality of nature is the ultimate cure for human fear and anxiety. To unlock the deeper meaning of the text, we have to look past the dense scientific descriptions and focus on why Lucretius is sharing them. During his time, most people believed that capricious gods controlled everything from lightning strikes to diseases, and that humans were doomed to suffer eternal punishment after death. Lucretius saw that these beliefs filled people with constant terror. His core mission is to show that nature operates entirely on its own, according to mechanical laws, without any divine interference. By proving that the universe is a single system of moving matter, Lucretius seeks to lift the heavy burden of superstition from humanity's shoulders. The most powerful examples of this underlying message are how Lucretius treats the fear of death. He uses his atomic theory to prove a comforting point: because our souls are made of physical atoms just like our bodies, the soul dissolves completely when we die. To a modern reader, the idea that nothing survives after death might sound depressing. But for Lucretius, this is the ultimate relief. If your consciousness completely disappears when you die, you cannot feel pain, you cannot miss your life, and most importantly, you cannot be tortured in an afterlife. He wants his readers to realize that death is literally nothing to us. By removing the fear of hell and angry gods, he frees people actually to enjoy the life they have right now. Lucretius perfectly captures this connection between ignorance and terror in Book 3 of his poem, writing: " For just as children tremble and fear all in viewless dark, so even we at times Dread in the light so many things that be No whit more fearsome than what children feign.... This terror then, this darkness of the mind, Not sunrise with its flaring spokes of light... can disperse, But only Nature's aspect and her law." With this vivid comparison, Lucretius bridges the gap between our internal existential dread and our external anxieties about the world around us. He argues that adults are essentially like children, afraid of the dark; our "darkness of the mind" is simply a lack of scientific understanding. Just as learning that there are no monsters under the bed comforts a child, learning the mechanical laws of nature is the only thing that can scatter our adults' superstitions. Furthermore, Lucretius applies this atomic view to everyday anxieties, like the fear of wild weather and natural disasters. When people do not understand why a volcano erupts or why a storm destroys their crops, they assume a god is angry with them. Lucretius steps in to explain that a thunderstorm is just a random collision of clouds and heat, not divine punishment. Understanding the cause of a scary event instantly takes away its power to terrorize us. The underlying lesson here is that knowledge is a shield. When we replace blind fear with clear, rational explanations, the universe stops looking like a haunted house and starts looking like a beautiful, predictable machine. Ultimately, On the Nature of Things is a manual for mental peace disguised as a science book. Lucretius does not want us to just memorize facts about atoms and the void; he wants us to use those facts to change how we live. By showing that the universe is natural, neutral, and free from cruel supernatural rulers, he gives his readers the tools to live without anxiety. Lucretius's final, simple truth is that the truth itself will set us free, allowing us to look at the vast, chaotic world and find tranquility instead of terror.

Rising above the darkest moments of my life has not just defined who I am; it has defined who I want to become. Throughout my life, I battled severe depression - a weight so heavy that it led to four suicide attempts where I abused medication in an effort to end my pain. For a long time, substance abuse was tied to my despair, even painted in it. However, surviving those moments forced a profound shift within me. I realized that my survival was not a coincidence but a second chance to find purpose in my pain and use my experiences to guide others. Today, as a college sophomore, 20 years old which by the way my name is Emaria, and I am actively turning my history into a blueprint for advocacy. Choosing to major in Public Health with a minor in Psychology was an intentional decision rooted in my recovery. My academic path allows me to understand the systemic, biological, and psychological facets of mental health and substance abuse. It has transformed my perspective from one of personal suffering to one of professional determination. I no longer view my past as a limitation, but as a deep well of empathy that allows me to connect with others who feel entirely invisible or those who have deemed themselves "dead" to the world. Moving forward, my goals are focused on building the structural support systems I desperately needed during my darkest times. I plan to leverage my degree to work within community health initiatives, specifically focusing on early intervention, mental health awareness, and substance abuse prevention. By combining the data - driven strategies of public health with the human - centric focus of psychology, I want to help reform how communities respond to mental health crises. Ultimately, the impact I hope to have is simply: I want to help others find their light in the dark. I want to be the support system that proves recovery is possible, even when it feels like it's out of reach. My past abuse of medication was an attempt to silence my pain, but today, my voice is my greatest tool. This scholarship will ease the financial burden of my education, allowing me to focus entirely on my studies and my mission to ensure that no one else has to navigate the darkness alone and that they, too, are heard and seen, especially by someone who went through the same pain as them.

1.) When did you find TXT? - I discovered TXT maybe 2 years ago. I was doing my usual scrolling on TikTok and came across you guys, and thought, hey, this group seems kinda cool, so I started listening and dabbling with TXT. 2.) What do you think is one of the most important characteristics of a MOA? - I think the most important characteristic of a fellow MOA would be resilience. With everything happening in today's world, it's easy to feel sad or like there's no future ahead, but with a supportive community of kind people, it makes it a little bit easier to find that little bit of hope. Especially with the help of the TXT members like Heuning Kai and his infectious laugh that's very contagious, and you can't help but smile. 3.) Do you have a TXT bias, and if so, why did you choose them? - Hands down, Heuning Kai, he's such a positive and bubbly person. I especially love his laugh, and his vocals are incredible. 4.) Who is your ult bias, if any, of any group? - To be completely honest, I don't think I have ult bias just yet. When it comes to K-pop of any genre, I'm still pretty new and exploring. 5.) What's your favorite TXT song, and why? - Lo$er = Lo<3er, The story behind the song stands out to me, and I can relate to it. The perspective of love and money hits home to me, especially coming from a middle-class, almost close to low - income family; I still have my fair share of financial struggles me attending school only intensifies that outcome. I'm grateful that my parents are doing everything they can to pay for my education, but it comes at the cost of scraping money together to support me while also raising my brother. 6.) Have you had a chance to see TXT live in concert before? - To be upfront, I have not. When it comes down to any artist or group that I like, I haven't been to any concerts before. Again, due to financial struggles, I do plan to start going to concerts in the future. 7.) What's your favorite album concept, and why? - The Chaos Chapter, I like how the album explores themes like fighting or escaping reality. To me, it helps the members not feel out of touch with the fans, along with the realistic feeling of wanting to escape reality for just a mere second. 8.) How are you currently paying for school? - With the help of FASA and, of course, my family is how I was able to pay for my first year of college. Though with everything going on and the cuts that have been made by the education department, it can still be challenging to pay for school. 9.) How will the scholarship help you? What gaps can it fill? - Not only will this scholarship ease the financial strain on me and my family, but it will also encourage me to push that much harder for my future. The gaps that it would fill are as small as buying books for my classes or being able to finally feel comfortable with everything and not living in survival mode. 10.) How has TXT influenced you for good? - TXT has helped me face my day one step at a time. The energy of the group is so contagious, you can not help but feel so inspired and hopeful. 11.) How will you use your education to do good in the world? - I am a Public Health major and psychology minor. I plan to use my skills to become a spokesperson, a support system, and a friend to others. I had my share of mental health battles, so intense that I had four suicide attempts. I know what it's like to be at rock bottom, to feel so tired and disconnected from the world. If I can help even if it's just one person feel good and better about themselves and better about life as a whole, that is enough for me. Thank you, TXT, for taking the time to read this entry.

In an episode of the classic Black sitcom Girlfriends, Maya Wilkes takes on a high-pressure career course, determined to fast-track her success. Within days, the crushing weight of expectation, perfectionism, and stress catches up to her, leading to a frantic, comedic meltdown that perfectly captures the absurdity of trying to balance a heavy workload while pretending everything is fine. While television wraps these moments up in a neat, twenty-two-minute laugh track, the reality for my generation is far less humorous. My name is Emaria Owens, and as a 20-year-old student at Elmhurst University majoring in Public Health with a psychology minor, I see firsthand why mental health and suicide prevention are the defining issues of Gen Z. Our generation navigates an era of intense academic pressure, economic uncertainty, and digital isolation, causing anxiety and depression to skyrocket. For us, mental health advocacy is not just a trending topic - it is a matter of literal survival. My commitment to this cause is forged in my own survival. I fought a severe war with my mental health that resulted in four suicide attempts: twice by medication overdose, and twice by narrowly escaping being hit by a car. Surviving the darkness of those moments profoundly reshaped my beliefs, my relationships, and my career aspirations. First, it altered my core beliefs about human suffering. I learned that hitting rock bottom does not mean your story is over; it means your purpose is being refined. I realized my survival was not an accident. giving me an unshakeable belief in resilience and the necessity of accessible support. Second, my experiences transformed how I approach relationships. Going through deep trauma taught me the invaluable power of radical empathy and active listening. I no longer look at people on the surface; I actively seek to understand the silent battles they might be fighting, allowing me to build deeper, safer, and more compassionate connections with my peers. Finally, my past entirely dictates my career goals. I am leveraging my Public Health major and Psychology minor to understand mental health from both a systemic and an individual perspective. Public Health equips me to design community-level interventions and dismantle healthcare stigmas, while Psychology helps me understand emotional trauma and healing. My ultimate aspiration is to become a Spokesperson for mental health. I want to use my voice, academic training, and lived experiences to bridge the gap between clinical care and community awareness for Gen Z. This scholarship will support my education at Elmhurst University, allowing me to transform my personal survival into professional advocacy, ensuring no one else has to feel entirely alone in the dark.

Hello world, my name is Emaria Owens, and I am a second-year student at Elmhurst University, where I am pursuing a major in Public Health and a minor in Psychology. My academic path is not just a career choice; it is a direct extension of my personal survival, designed to transform my deepest private battles into a public lifeline for others. In fact, I didn't plan to go this route with my life in the slightest. Let me share my story with you.. For years, I fought a severe, exhausting war with my mental health. That battle led me to four distinct suicide attempts - twice surviving critical medication overdoses, and twice narrowly escaping being struck by a car. Standing on the edge of those moments, it felt like the world had gone entirely dark. You see, depression is more than just a battle; it reprograms you to already be in a state where you're not living. In your mind your already gone, and you've disconnected yourself from the world. However, in what I thought to be my last moments, I didn't die. I was angry at first, angry at my parents for bringing me into this world. I was angry at God for letting me live. I didn't understand why I was still here. It took a lot of recovering, which was almost silent because no one knew that I almost committed four times. But surviving those attempts shifted my anger and pain when I found out there were others just like me. I found something profound within me. I realized that continued presence here is not an accident. I was spared for a reason, and that reason is to ensure that others fighting the same silent wars know they are not alone. By blending my studies in Public Health and Psychology. I am gaining the structural and behavioral tools necessary to tackle mental health crises from both systemic and individual angles. Public Health teaches me how to design effective community interventions, analyze healthcare disparities, and dismantle deep - rooted stigmas that keep vulnerable people from seeking help. Simultaneously, my Psychology minor gives me insight into the human mind, emotional trauma, and the specific mechanics of healing. My ultimate goal is to become a dedicated spokesperson for mental health, especially for the black community. I plan to use my voice, my academic training, and my lived experience to bridge the massive gap between clinical care and community awareness. I want to assist in policy advocacy and build visible, accessible support networks for people trapped in the same darkness I once lived in. This scholarship will provide the vital financial stability I need to complete my degree at Elmhurst University and step fully into this advocacy work. Your investment in my education is an investment in a future leader who knows exactly what it takes to survive, heal, and guide others back to the living world. Thank you for considering my story and supporting my mission to make a lasting, compassionate impact on the world.

It is normal to look at the world around us and feel overwhelmed by the unknown. Thousands of years ago, Roman poet and philosopher Lucretius felt the exact same way. In his famous book-length poem, The Nature of Things ( De Rerum Natura), Lucretius sets out to explain how the universe works. While the text spends a lot of time talking about physical science, like how everything is made of tiny, invisible blocks called atoms - his ultimate goal is not actually to turn his readers into scientists. Instead, Lucretius's underlying meaning is deeply psychological. Lucretius argues that understanding the physical, atomic reality of nature is the ultimate cure for human fear and anxiety. To unlock the deeper meaning of the text, we have to look past the dense scientific descriptions and focus on why Lucretius is sharing them. During his time, most people believed that capricious gods controlled everything from lightning strikes to diseases, and that humans were doomed to suffer eternal punishment after death. Lucretius saw that these beliefs filled people with constant terror. His core mission is to show that nature operates entirely on its own, according to mechanical laws, without any divine interference. By proving that the universe is a single system of moving matter, Lucretius seeks to lift the heavy burden of superstition from humanity's shoulders. The most powerful examples of this underlying message are how Lucretius treats the fear of death. He uses his atomic theory to prove a comforting point: because our souls are made of physical atoms just like our bodies, the soul dissolves completely when we die. To a modern reader, the idea that nothing survives after death might sound depressing. But for Lucretius, this is the ultimate relief. If your consciousness completely disappears when you die, you cannot feel pain, you cannot miss your life, and most importantly, you cannot be tortured in an afterlife. He wants his readers to realize that death is literally nothing to us. By removing the fear of hell and angry gods, he frees people actually to enjoy the life they have right now. Lucretius perfectly captures this connection between ignorance and terror in Book 3 of his poem, writing: " For just as children tremble and fear all in viewless dark, so even we at times Dread in the light so many things that be No whit more fearsome than what children feign.... This terror then, this darkness of the mind, Not sunrise with its flaring spokes of light... can disperse, But only Nature's aspect and her law." With this vivid comparison, Lucretius bridges the gap between our internal existential dread and our external anxieties about the world around us. He argues that adults are essentially like children, afraid of the dark; our "darkness of the mind" is simply a lack of scientific understanding. Just as learning that there are no monsters under the bed comforts a child, learning the mechanical laws of nature is the only thing that can scatter our adults' superstitions. Furthermore, Lucretius applies this atomic view to everyday anxieties, like the fear of wild weather and natural disasters. When people do not understand why a volcano erupts or why a storm destroys their crops, they assume a god is angry with them. Lucretius steps in to explain that a thunderstorm is just a random collision of clouds and heat, not divine punishment. Understanding the cause of a scary event instantly takes away its power to terrorize us. The underlying lesson here is that knowledge is a shield. When we replace blind fear with clear, rational explanations, the universe stops looking like a haunted house and starts looking like a beautiful, predictable machine. Ultimately, On the Nature of Things is a manual for mental peace disguised as a science book. Lucretius does not want us to just memorize facts about atoms and the void; he wants us to use those facts to change how we live. By showing that the universe is natural, neutral, and free from cruel supernatural rulers, he gives his readers the tools to live without anxiety. Lucretius's final, simple truth is that the truth itself will set us free, allowing us to look at the vast, chaotic world and find tranquility instead of terror.

I give up on this lifetime, I told myself, standing at just 14 years old. I want nothing to do with living as these thoughts consumed me. So imagine my shock 7 years later, now 20 years old and attending college. Hi, my name is Emaria, and this is the mind of a 20-year-old trying to redeem myself at living. It's no secret that mental health is a serious topic; in fact, I've had my fair share of suicide attempts. I understand that the world we live in today isn't all that glamorous, and many people like m are struggling with life, which is why I've decided to be a Public health major along with a psychology minor. Gen Z shares a common problem: we frequently find ourselves completely overwhelmed by today's fast-paced, high-pressure world. Because of this, mental health has become a major talking point for our generation and is much more vocalized than it was in the past. However, despite it being a more open conversation, there are still so many people who don't know how to speak up, or who feel entirely isolated, as if they don't have anyone standing on their side. Seeing this struggle firsthand is what prompted me to pursue a degree in Public Health. I want to take a deep dive into how our modern environment and societal structures affect us daily. Alongside that, studying psychology will allow me to help individuals identify exactly what they are feeling and give them the tools to navigate their next steps. I truly discovered this passion for service when I was hired at my current job. Working there, I realized how much genuine fulfillment I get from helping and serving others on a daily basis. It completely checks out, given what I am going to school to study for, and it solidified my ultimate career goals. I want to bridge the gap between community - level public health initiatives and personal, individual mental health support. However, balancing work, a heavy course load, and the rising costs of higher education comes with its own set of immense challenges. If I were awarded this scholarship, it would make a massive difference in my academic journey. Not only would it relieve a significant financial burden, but it would encourage me to push myself even harder in my classes. Right now, there is a constant, heavy pressure of thinking, " Oh, you have to do perfectly because you can't afford to fail," or worrying, "I can't let my parants hard earn money go to waste". That kind of anxiety is paralyzing. By easing that financial strain, this scholarship would completely transform my mindset. It would allow me to manage the "bad stress" - the constant anxiety of wondering how to pay for tuition - and turn it into " good stress" - the healthy, motivating drive to excel in my coursework, participate in my community, and prepare myself to be the best professional I can be.