My earliest bedtime memories were of my mom, not reading me bedtime stories, but watching surgical videos as she patted me to sleep. As the stitches were placed at the end of the procedure, I saw it not just as restoring homeostasis but as fostering a better future through confidence and health, a future I hoped for my mom. “Scleroderma: an incurable autoimmune disease that affects approximately 300,000 people in the US.” I parroted this phrase my whole life when asked what disease my mom had. Every word in that sentence was familiar except for one, autoimmune. It was when this term rendered her defenseless and hospitalized that it became not just a vocabulary word, but a question I needed to understand. I searched for these answers within my independent studies of AP Biology. In awe, I traced the diagram illustrating a single self-antigen falsely activating a T cell and inducing autoantibodies that target the body itself. The process causing my mom and other patients such pain, a small event enacting a large response, is a parallel to the community that supports them. I saw this interconnectedness, not just scientifically, but socially. My weakened mom in her hospital bed sparked the care of her team of specialists. At the Scleroderma Foundation’s “Walk for a Cure,” I saw that while only a dozen scleroderma patients were there, hundreds had come to empathize and lend their support. The more I engage with the community, the more eager I am to help from the other side of the doctor’s office. As the volunteer shift leader at USC Keck Hospital, I learned about hospital units that collaborate to provide patient care, and I want to be part of that network, not just as a volunteer but as a medical practitioner. My role includes transferring and discharging patients. I accompany them before and after their treatments, providing comfort while navigating the cold halls. As a physician, I could comfort them from inside the treatment room. Through my studies of cellular biology in pursuit of a medical doctorate, I want to serve the scleroderma community as well as others struggling with autoimmune illnesses by researching treatments and cures. Due to my mother’s illness, medical expenses from doctor’s visits, medication, and even moving to accommodate her mobility and respiratory needs have increased our cost of living. My dad is our household’s only source of income, he is self employed, and much of his income is returned to the business. My brother’s arrest has caused more financial stress, requiring court-mandated classes, lawyer, and court fees. The depletion of emergency funds has left no financial bandwidth for my educational future. Learning to be proactive in my pursuit of higher education and wellbeing for my family, I’ve worked four jobs including starting my own business. I’ve been able to pay for school supplies and tests, and even lend money to my dad to pay for rent. However, tuition is out of reach. I hope this scholarship can help bridge the gap between where I am now and where I’m meant to be.

My earliest bedtime memories were of my mom, not reading me bedtime stories, but watching surgical videos as she patted me to sleep. As the stitches were placed at the end of the procedure, I saw it not just as restoring homeostasis but as fostering a better future through confidence and health, a future I hoped for my mom. “Scleroderma: an incurable autoimmune disease that affects approximately 300,000 people in the US.” I parroted this phrase my whole life when asked what disease my mom had. Every word in that sentence was familiar except for one, autoimmune. It was when this term rendered her defenseless and hospitalized that it became not just a vocabulary word, but a question I needed to understand. I searched for these answers within my independent studies of AP Biology. In awe, I traced the diagram illustrating a single self-antigen falsely activating a T cell and inducing autoantibodies that target the body itself. The process causing my mom and other patients such pain, a small event enacting a large response, is a parallel to the community that supports them. I saw this interconnectedness, not just scientifically, but socially. My weakened mom in her hospital bed sparked the care of her team of specialists. At the Scleroderma Foundation’s “Walk for a Cure,” I saw that while only a dozen scleroderma patients were there, hundreds had come to empathize and lend their support. The more I engage with the community, the more eager I am to help from the other side of the doctor’s office. As the volunteer shift leader at USC Keck Hospital, I learned about hospital units that collaborate to provide patient care, and I want to be part of that network, not just as a volunteer but as a medical practitioner. My role includes transferring and discharging patients. I accompany them before and after their treatments, providing comfort while navigating the cold halls. As a physician, I could comfort them from inside the treatment room. Through my studies of cellular biology in pursuit of a medical doctorate, I want to serve the scleroderma community as well as others struggling with autoimmune illnesses by researching treatments and cures. Due to my mother’s illness, medical expenses from doctor’s visits, medication, and even moving to accommodate her mobility and respiratory needs have increased our cost of living. My dad is our household’s only source of income, he is self employed, and much of his income is returned to the business. My brother’s arrest has caused more financial stress, requiring court-mandated classes, lawyer, and court fees. The depletion of emergency funds has left no financial bandwidth for my educational future. Learning to be proactive in my pursuit of higher education and wellbeing for my family, I’ve worked four jobs including starting my own business. I’ve been able to pay for school supplies and tests, and even lend money to my dad to pay for rent. However, tuition is out of reach. I hope this scholarship can help bridge the gap between where I am now and where I’m meant to be.

My earliest bedtime memories were of my mom, not reading me bedtime stories, but watching surgical videos as she patted me to sleep. As the stitches were placed at the end of the procedure, I saw it not just as restoring homeostasis but as fostering a better future through confidence and health, a future I hoped for my mom. “Scleroderma: an incurable autoimmune disease that affects approximately 300,000 people in the US.” I parroted this phrase my whole life when asked what disease my mom had. Every word in that sentence was familiar except for one, autoimmune. It was when this term rendered her defenseless and hospitalized that it became not just a vocabulary word, but a question I needed to understand. I searched for these answers within my independent studies of AP Biology. In awe, I traced the diagram illustrating a single self-antigen falsely activating a T cell and inducing autoantibodies that target the body itself. The process causing my mom and other patients such pain, a small event enacting a large response, is a parallel to the community that supports them. I saw this interconnectedness, not just scientifically, but socially. My weakened mom in her hospital bed sparked the care of her team of specialists. At the Scleroderma Foundation’s “Walk for a Cure,” I saw that while only a dozen scleroderma patients were there, hundreds had come to empathize and lend their support. The more I engage with the community, the more eager I am to help from the other side of the doctor’s office. As the volunteer shift leader at USC Keck Hospital, I learned about hospital units that collaborate to provide patient care, and I want to be part of that network, not just as a volunteer but as a medical practitioner. My role includes transferring and discharging patients. I accompany them before and after their treatments, providing comfort while navigating the cold halls. As a physician, I could comfort them from inside the treatment room. Through my studies of cellular biology in pursuit of a medical doctorate, I want to serve the scleroderma community as well as others struggling with autoimmune illnesses by researching treatments and cures. Due to my mother’s illness, medical expenses from doctor’s visits, medication, and even moving to accommodate her mobility and respiratory needs have increased our cost of living. My dad is our household’s only source of income, he is self employed, and much of his income is returned to the business. My brother’s arrest has caused more financial stress, requiring court-mandated classes, lawyer, and court fees. The depletion of emergency funds has left no financial bandwidth for my educational future. Learning to be proactive in my pursuit of higher education and wellbeing for my family, I’ve worked four jobs including starting my own business. I’ve been able to pay for school supplies and tests, and even lend money to my dad to pay for rent. However, tuition is out of reach. I hope this scholarship can help bridge the gap between where I am now and where I’m meant to be.

My earliest bedtime memories were of my mom, not reading me bedtime stories, but watching surgical videos as she patted me to sleep. As the stitches were placed at the end of the procedure, I saw it not just as restoring homeostasis but as fostering a better future through confidence and health, a future I hoped for my mom. “Scleroderma: an incurable autoimmune disease that affects approximately 300,000 people in the US.” I parroted this phrase my whole life when asked what disease my mom had. Every word in that sentence was familiar except for one, autoimmune. It was when this term rendered her defenseless and hospitalized that it became not just a vocabulary word, but a question I needed to understand. I searched for these answers within my independent studies of AP Biology. In awe, I traced the diagram illustrating a single self-antigen falsely activating a T cell and inducing autoantibodies that target the body itself. The process causing my mom and other patients such pain, a small event enacting a large response, is a parallel to the community that supports them. I saw this interconnectedness, not just scientifically, but socially. My weakened mom in her hospital bed sparked the care of her team of specialists. At the Scleroderma Foundation’s “Walk for a Cure,” I saw that while only a dozen scleroderma patients were there, hundreds had come to empathize and lend their support. The more I engage with the community, the more eager I am to help from the other side of the doctor’s office. As the volunteer shift leader at USC Keck Hospital, I learned about hospital units that collaborate to provide patient care, and I want to be part of that network, not just as a volunteer but as a medical practitioner. My role includes transferring and discharging patients. I accompany them before and after their treatments, providing comfort while navigating the cold halls. As a physician, I could comfort them from inside the treatment room. Through my studies of cellular biology in pursuit of a medical doctorate, I want to serve the scleroderma community as well as others struggling with autoimmune illnesses by researching treatments and cures. Due to my mother’s illness, medical expenses from doctor’s visits, medication, and even moving to accommodate her mobility and respiratory needs have increased our cost of living. My dad is our household’s only source of income, he is self employed, and much of his income is returned to the business. My brother’s arrest has caused more financial stress, requiring court-mandated classes, lawyer, and court fees. The depletion of emergency funds has left no financial bandwidth for my educational future. Learning to be proactive in my pursuit of higher education and wellbeing for my family, I’ve worked four jobs including starting my own business. I’ve been able to pay for school supplies and tests, and even lend money to my dad to pay for rent. However, tuition is out of reach. I hope this scholarship can help bridge the gap between where I am now and where I’m meant to be.

My earliest bedtime memories were of my mom, not reading me bedtime stories, but watching surgical videos as she patted me to sleep. As the stitches were placed at the end of the procedure, I saw it not just as restoring homeostasis but as fostering a better future through confidence and health, a future I hoped for my mom. “Scleroderma: an incurable autoimmune disease that affects approximately 300,000 people in the US.” I parroted this phrase my whole life when asked what disease my mom had. Every word in that sentence was familiar except for one, autoimmune. It was when this term rendered her defenseless and hospitalized that it became not just a vocabulary word, but a question I needed to understand. I searched for these answers within my independent studies of AP Biology. In awe, I traced the diagram illustrating a single self-antigen falsely activating a T cell and inducing autoantibodies that target the body itself. The process causing my mom and other patients such pain, a small event enacting a large response, is a parallel to the community that supports them. I saw this interconnectedness, not just scientifically, but socially. My weakened mom in her hospital bed sparked the care of her team of specialists. At the Scleroderma Foundation’s “Walk for a Cure,” I saw that while only a dozen scleroderma patients were there, hundreds had come to empathize and lend their support. The more I engage with the community, the more eager I am to help from the other side of the doctor’s office. As the volunteer shift leader at USC Keck Hospital, I learned about hospital units that collaborate to provide patient care, and I want to be part of that network, not just as a volunteer but as a medical practitioner. My role includes transferring and discharging patients. I accompany them before and after their treatments, providing comfort while navigating the cold halls. As a physician, I could comfort them from inside the treatment room. Through my studies of Human biology at UCSD in pursuit of a medical doctorate, I want to serve the scleroderma community as well as others struggling with autoimmune illnesses by researching treatments and cures. Due to my mother’s illness, medical expenses from doctor’s visits, medication, and even moving to accommodate her mobility and respiratory needs have increased our cost of living. My dad is our household’s only source of income, he is self employed, and much of his income is returned to the business. My brother’s arrest has caused more financial stress, requiring court-mandated classes, lawyer, and court fees. The depletion of emergency funds has left no financial bandwidth for my educational future. Learning to be proactive in my pursuit of higher education and wellbeing for my family, I’ve worked four jobs including starting my own business. I’ve been able to pay for school supplies and tests, and even lend money to my dad to pay for rent. However, tuition is out of reach. I hope this scholarship can help bridge the gap between where I am now and where I’m meant to be.

My earliest bedtime memories were of my mom, not reading me bedtime stories, but watching surgical videos as she patted me to sleep. As the stitches were placed at the end of the procedure, I saw it not just as restoring homeostasis but as fostering a better future through confidence and health, a future I hoped for my mom. “Scleroderma: an incurable autoimmune disease that affects approximately 300,000 people in the US.” I parroted this phrase my whole life when asked what disease my mom had. Every word in that sentence was familiar except for one, autoimmune. It was when this term rendered her defenseless and hospitalized that it became not just a vocabulary word, but a question I needed to understand. I searched for these answers within my independent studies of AP Biology. In awe, I traced the diagram illustrating a single self-antigen falsely activating a T cell and inducing autoantibodies that target the body itself. The process causing my mom and other patients such pain, a small event enacting a large response, is a parallel to the community that supports them. I saw this interconnectedness, not just scientifically, but socially. My weakened mom in her hospital bed sparked the care of her team of specialists. At the Scleroderma Foundation’s “Walk for a Cure,” I saw that while only a dozen scleroderma patients were there, hundreds had come to empathize and lend their support. The more I engage with the community, the more eager I am to help from the other side of the doctor’s office. As the volunteer shift leader at USC Keck Hospital, I learned about hospital units that collaborate to provide patient care, and I want to be part of that network, not just as a volunteer but as a medical practitioner. My role includes transferring and discharging patients. I accompany them before and after their treatments, providing comfort while navigating the cold halls. As a physician, I could comfort them from inside the treatment room. Through my studies of cellular biology in pursuit of a medical doctorate, I want to serve the scleroderma community as well as others struggling with autoimmune illnesses by researching treatments and cures. Due to my mother’s illness, medical expenses from doctor’s visits, medication, and even moving to accommodate her mobility and respiratory needs have increased our cost of living. My dad is our household’s only source of income; he is self-employed, and much of his income is returned to the business. My brother’s arrest has caused more financial stress, requiring court-mandated classes, a lawyer, and court fees. The depletion of emergency funds has left no financial bandwidth for my educational future. Learning to be proactive in my pursuit of higher education and well-being for my family, I’ve worked four jobs, including starting my own business. I’ve been able to pay for school supplies and tests, and even lend money to my dad to pay for rent. However, tuition is out of reach. I hope this scholarship can help bridge the gap between where I am now and where I’m meant to be. Attached is my headshot and an abstract biology piece I made inspired by my fascination with the human body. Each element is inspired by a different part of the body, and in the upper left hand corner I even used samples of my friend's hair!

I am Erin Munda, a senior at the Los Angeles County High School for the Arts. I want to pursue a degree in healthcare in order to improve patients’ lives by treating their conditions while ensuring their comfort during an extremely nerve racking time. As a woman in the healthcare field, I aspire to be an inspiration to other young girls, and motivate them to pursue their dreams regardless of what other people say. My fascination with the medical field started at a young age, beginning with the diagnosis of my mom with an incurable autoimmune disease called scleroderma. My mom was frequently in and out of the hospital, leaving me familiar with the cold halls and harsh lights that flooded such a daunting place. I sought to make patients and caretakers feel more welcome in that harsh environment. When I began volunteering at a hospital, I finally got this opportunity. A large part of my role as a volunteer is transferring and discharging patients. As I push the wheelchair of a stranger, I can see the back of my mom’s head, and when I look at the patient’s caretaker, I’m reminded of my dad. The nervousness as I transport them, makes me remember why I want to be a part of the medical field in the first place, to make people feel more comfortable. When it comes to my experience of becoming a caretaker at a young age, the pressure to be perfect has contributed to my struggles with mental health. I have battled anxiety for the past 6 years. My condition has improved thanks to the doctors and specialists who diagnosed me and taught me how to manage it. I want to be a medical practitioner because of how they have positively impacted me and my loved ones. This dream of mine didn’t always have the most positive reactions. A frequent response to expressing my goals of pursuing a doctorate is disbelief due to the years of school I would have to dedicate, and the cost of tuition. Coming from a family who doesn’t have much money to spare after the cost of my mom’s medicine, the apprehension and guilt of chasing this goal due to the prospect of debt has always been in the back of my mind, but I still pursue my dream to help others. By entering the medical field I’ll have the opportunity to make a difference in people’s lives, making them feel reassured in their health despite the inevitable anxieties that come with being in a stressful environment such as a hospital. I would be able to help others, just as those who have positively impacted my life have done for me. To overcome my struggles with being a young caregiver, having anxiety, and financial strain would let other girls know that if you really want something, perseverance will allow you to achieve it.

Hello, I am Erin Munda, a Filipina artist and caregiver who attends Los Angeles County High School for the Arts and I have struggled with anxiety for the past 6 years. Triggered by stress from school, overstimulation, and home situations, I’ve had to endure countless miserable nights of hyperventilation and crying; the effects of my anxiety have expanded to rashes, blisters on my hands, and facial swelling. I started therapy three years ago, not making much progress, and my anxiety worsened. It was only until I had a terrible panic attack where I was banging on the wall, screaming for help, and felt as if I was being suffocated when I was given a prescription for anxiety medication. After I was told that I had anxiety and taught how to manage it, my anxiety decreased. I’d like to help others realize sometimes negative feelings are a result of an invisible illness and encourage them to seek help in times of need. My anxiety is rooted in the expectations I have for myself and the expectations others have for me. I have always had to uphold my parents' expectations, as the perfect daughter and caretaker of my mom. She has an incurable auto-immune disease called scleroderma which affects her lungs, ability to breathe, and more recently, her vision, making her partially blind, ridden with coughing attacks, and unable to be active for long periods. Her symptoms first started while she was pregnant with me. In some ways, I felt responsible for her sickness. While I was in fourth grade, she was admitted to the hospital for two weeks because of a virus her immune system could not fight off because she’d been taking immunosuppressants to lessen the effects of the scleroderma. It was during this time when I almost lost my mom that I realized I had to be perfect, to lessen any stress on her, so her condition wouldn’t get worse. For as long as I remember it has been my responsibility to be her caretaker, tend to her and work to uphold household chores that she can’t do. I am inspired by doctors who perform life-saving and life-changing surgeries, and I aspire to be like them and give back to my community. I have found community and understanding in others who have struggled/are struggling with anxiety. Both my parents have had chemical imbalances that incite extreme anxiety. I also have friends who battle against invisible illnesses. This community of people has provided me with a certain comfort that they know how to help me, as they have had similar experiences before. People who share the hardship that comes with having an invisible illness have made me less alone in my mental health journey. These experiences have given me the goal of shattering the stigma surrounding mental health and assisting people with invisible illnesses to find community in others. I have created the brand “Damaged Bears” to achieve understanding, empathy, and unity for those who struggle with invisible illnesses. I’ve designed teddy bears representing different invisible illnesses, taking inspiration from universal symptoms and personal experiences. The brand’s tagline is “We’re all a little damaged” to emphasize that we all have different struggles and these different experiences are what make us unique. It lets people pride themselves on their struggles and see them as strengths rather than weaknesses. Focusing my anxious energy on projects such as Damaged Bears and studying to pursue becoming a dermatologist have been the best ways to manage my recovery. My college journey and becoming a dermatologist will allow me to make a difference in people’s lives, making them feel more confident and comfortable with their insecurities that go further than skin deep. While I also strive to do this through my entrepreneurial endeavors, being able to help others directly and to a greater extent will allow for the recovery of more people than just myself.

I am Erin Munda, a junior at the Los Angeles County High School for the Arts. I want to pursue a career in healthcare so I can make people feel more confident in themselves, both inside and out. I will be able to do this through my future career as a dermatologist, helping improve patients’ lives by treating their skin conditions. Additionally, I want to help break mental health stigmas by providing greater access to mental support. In doing this, I will contribute to a happy and healthy world. My fascination with the medical field started at a young age; it began with the diagnosis of my mom with an incurable autoimmune disease called scleroderma. This disease affects her lungs and has made her partially blind. She’s ridden with coughing attacks, and unable to be active for long periods. However, thanks to doctors who administered lifesaving treatments such as chemotherapy and numerous medications, her health has steadily improved. Since my mom was frequently in and out of the hospital, I became familiar with the cold halls and harsh lights that flooded such a daunting place. I sought a way to make patients and caretakers feel more welcome in that harsh environment. When I began volunteering at a hospital, I finally got this opportunity. A large part of my role as a volunteer is transferring and discharging patients; guiding them through the hospital. As I push the wheelchair of a stranger, I can see the back of my mom’s head, and when I look at the patient’s caretaker, I’m reminded of my dad. The nervousness as I transport them to a new place, makes me remember why I want to be a part of the medical field in the first place, to make people feel more comfortable. When it comes to my personal experience of becoming a caretaker at a young age, the pressure to be perfect, so I can care for my mom, has contributed to my struggles with mental health. I have battled anxiety for the past 6 years. Triggered by stress from school, overstimulation, and home situations, I’ve had to endure countless miserable nights of hyperventilation and crying. I started therapy two years ago, not making much progress, and my anxiety worsened. It was only until I had a panic attack that I was banging on the wall, screaming for help, and felt as if I was being suffocated when I was given a prescription for anxiety medication. My anxiety decreased thanks to the doctors and specialists who diagnosed me and taught me how to manage it. I want to be a medical practitioner because of how doctors and specialists have positively impacted me and the people around me. I have already begun with my effort to benefit my community through my business, “Damaged Bears.” It is a brand aimed at achieving understanding, empathy, and unity for those who struggle with invisible illnesses. I’ve designed teddy bears representing different invisible illnesses, taking inspiration from universal symptoms and personal experiences. The brand’s tagline is “We’re all a little damaged” to emphasize that we all have different struggles and these different experiences are what make us unique. It lets people pride themselves on their struggles and see them as strengths rather than weaknesses. My college journey and becoming a dermatologist will allow me to make a difference in people’s lives, making them feel more confident and comfortable with their insecurities that go further than skin deep.

Hello, I am Erin Munda, a Filipina artist and caregiver who attends Los Angeles County High School for the Arts and I have anxiety. My first panic attack occurred when I was just in 5th grade and I have struggled with it for the past 6 years. Triggered by stress from school, overstimulation, and home situations, I’ve had to endure countless nights of hyperventilation, silent crying, and a looming miserable feeling. I started therapy two years ago, not making much progress, and my anxiety worsened. It was only until I had a terrible panic attack where I was banging on the wall, screaming for help, and felt as if I was being suffocated when I was given a prescription for anxiety medication. After I was told that I had anxiety and taught how to manage it, my anxiety decreased. I’d like to help others realize sometimes negative feelings are a result of an invisible illness and encourage them to seek help in times of need. My anxiety is rooted in the expectations I have for myself and the expectations others have for me. I have always had to uphold my parents' expectations, as the perfect daughter and caretaker of my mom. She has an incurable auto-immune disease called scleroderma which affects her lungs, ability to breathe, and more recently, her vision, making her partially blind, ridden with coughing attacks, and unable to be active for long periods. Her symptoms first started while she was pregnant with me. In some ways, I felt responsible for her sickness. While I was in fourth grade, she was admitted to the hospital for two weeks because of a virus her immune system could not fight off because she’d been taking immunosuppressants to lessen the effects of the scleroderma. It was during this time when I almost lost my mom that I realized I had to be perfect, to lessen any stress on her, so her condition wouldn’t get worse. For as long as I remember it has been my responsibility to be her caretaker, tend to her and work uphold household chores that she can’t do. I am inspired by doctors who perform life-saving and life-changing surgeries, and I aspire to be like them and give back to my community. I have found community and understanding in others who have struggled/are struggling with anxiety. Both my parents have had chemical imbalances that incite extreme anxiety. I also have friends who battle against invisible illnesses. This community of people has provided me with a certain comfort that they know how to help me, as they have had similar experiences before. People who share the hardship that comes with having an invisible illness have made me less alone in my mental health journey. These experiences have given me the goal of shattering the stigma surrounding mental health and assisting people with invisible illnesses to find community in others. I have created “Damaged Bears,” a brand aimed at achieving understanding, empathy, and unity for those who struggle with invisible illnesses. I’ve designed teddy bears representing different invisible illnesses, taking inspiration from universal symptoms and personal experiences. I’ve chosen the tagline “We’re all a little damaged” to emphasize that we all have different struggles and these different experiences are what make us unique. It lets people pride themselves on their struggles, and see them as a strength rather than a weakness.

Hello, I am Erin Munda, a Filipina artist who attends Los Angeles County High School for the Arts and I have anxiety. My first panic attack occurred when I was just in 5th grade and I have struggled with it for the past 6 years. Triggered by stress from school, overstimulation, and home situations, I’ve had to endure countless nights of hyperventilation, silent crying, and a looming miserable feeling. I started therapy two years ago, not making much progress, and my anxiety worsened. It was only until I had a terrible panic attack where I was banging on the wall, screaming for help, and felt as if I was being suffocated when I was given a prescription for anxiety medication. After I was told that I had anxiety and taught how to manage it, my anxiety decreased. I’d like to help others realize sometimes negative feelings are a result of an invisible illness and encourage them to seek help in times of need. My anxiety is rooted in the expectations I have for myself and the expectations others have for me. I have always had to uphold my parents' expectations, as the perfect daughter and caretaker of my mom. She has an incurable auto-immune disease called scleroderma which affects her lungs, ability to breathe, and more recently, her vision, making her partially blind, ridden with coughing attacks, and unable to be active for long periods. Her symptoms first started while she was pregnant with me. In some ways, I felt responsible for her sickness. While I was in fourth grade, she was admitted to the hospital for two weeks because of a virus her immune system could not fight off because she’d been taking immunosuppressants to lessen the effects of the scleroderma. It was during this time when I almost lost my mom that I realized I had to be perfect, to lessen any stress on her, so her condition wouldn’t get worse. Mental health, especially in the Filipino community is considered taboo. Generational trauma enforces the idea that we should be perfect for the sake of our family who have sacrificed so much for us. A combination of generational trauma, and academic, and societal pressure have squished me into the ball of worry I am today. But instead of holding me back, I am using it to drive myself forward. I have found community and understanding in others who have struggled/are struggling with anxiety. Both my parents have had chemical imbalances that incite extreme anxiety. I also have friends who battle against invisible illnesses. This community of people has provided me with a certain comfort that they know how to help me, as they have had similar experiences before. People who share the hardship that comes with having an invisible illness have made me less alone in my mental health journey. These experiences have given me the goal of shattering the stigma surrounding mental health and assisting people with invisible illnesses to find community in others. I have created “Damaged Bears,” a brand aimed at achieving understanding, empathy, and unity for those who struggle with invisible illnesses. I’ve designed teddy bears representing different invisible illnesses, taking inspiration from universal symptoms and personal experiences. I’ve chosen the tagline “We’re all a little damaged” to emphasize that we all have different struggles and these different experiences are what make us unique. It lets people pride themselves on their struggles, and see them as a strength rather than a weakness. My brand’s social media posts motivational messages and mental health management strategies. I also take care to support certain awareness events that pertain to invisible illnesses. For example, I posted messages promoting unity and kindness during Yellow Ribbon Week. I’ve posted stress management exercises and tips on how to respect people with invisible illnesses. I’ve also been able to showcase my brand at shops and markets, allowing me to connect with people who can relate to the issue depicted in my designs. When people notice and wear my designs, they feel seen. I’ve created a community of people who support one another, as my family and friends have supported me. These designs make the invisible, visible. They destroy the stigma surrounding invisible illnesses and open the conversation to discussing hidden mental health struggles. I want to enforce the fact that no one is perfect and that everyone struggles. We need to normalize talking about and taking care of our mental health.

Hello, I am Erin Munda, a Filipina artist who attends Los Angeles County High School for the Arts and I have anxiety. My first panic attack occurred when I was just in 5th grade and I have struggled with it for the past 6 years. Triggered by stress from school, overstimulation, and home situations, I’ve had to endure countless nights of hyperventilation, silent crying, and a looming miserable feeling. I started therapy two years ago, not making much progress, and my anxiety worsened. It was only until I had a terrible panic attack where I was banging on the wall, screaming for help, and felt as if I was being suffocated when I was given a prescription for anxiety medication. After I was told that I had anxiety and taught how to manage it, my anxiety decreased. I’d like to help others realize sometimes negative feelings are a result of an invisible illness and encourage them to seek help in times of need. My anxiety is rooted in the expectations I have for myself and the expectations others have for me. I have always had to uphold my parents' expectations, as the perfect daughter and caretaker of my mom. She has an incurable auto-immune disease called scleroderma which affects her lungs, ability to breathe, and more recently, her vision, making her partially blind, ridden with coughing attacks, and unable to be active for long periods. Her symptoms first started while she was pregnant with me. In some ways, I felt responsible for her sickness. While I was in fourth grade, she was admitted to the hospital for two weeks because of a virus her immune system could not fight off because she’d been taking immunosuppressants to lessen the effects of the scleroderma. It was during this time when I almost lost my mom that I realized I had to be perfect, to lessen any stress on her, so her condition wouldn’t get worse. Mental health, especially in the Filipino community is considered taboo. Generational trauma enforces the idea that we should be perfect for the sake of our family who have sacrificed so much for us. A combination of generational trauma, and academic, and societal pressure have squished me into the ball of worry I am today. But instead of holding me back, I am using it to drive myself forward. I have found community and understanding in others who have struggled/are struggling with anxiety. Both my parents have had chemical imbalances that incite extreme anxiety. I also have friends who battle against invisible illnesses. This community of people has provided me with a certain comfort that they know how to help me, as they have had similar experiences before. People who share the hardship that comes with having an invisible illness have made me less alone in my mental health journey. These experiences have given me the goal of shattering the stigma surrounding mental health and assisting people with invisible illnesses to find community in others. I have created “Damaged Bears,” a brand aimed at achieving understanding, empathy, and unity for those who struggle with invisible illnesses. I’ve designed teddy bears representing different invisible illnesses, taking inspiration from universal symptoms and personal experiences. I’ve chosen the tagline “We’re all a little damaged” to emphasize that we all have different struggles and these different experiences are what make us unique. It lets people pride themselves on their struggles, and see them as a strength rather than a weakness. My brand’s social media posts motivational messages and mental health management strategies. I also take care to support certain awareness events that pertain to invisible illnesses. For example, I posted messages promoting unity and kindness during Yellow Ribbon Week. I’ve posted stress management exercises and tips on how to respect people with invisible illnesses. I’ve also been able to showcase my brand at shops and markets, allowing me to connect with people who can relate to the issue depicted in my designs. When people notice and wear my designs, they feel seen. I’ve created a community of people who support one another, as my family and friends have supported me. These designs make the invisible, visible. They destroy the stigma surrounding invisible illnesses and open the conversation to discussing hidden mental health struggles. I want to enforce the fact that no one is perfect and that everyone struggles. We need to normalize talking about and taking care of our mental health.