I remember the cold silence of the night when I realized I was trapped in a nightmare I could not escape. For two years, I lived under the control of a human trafficker who stole my freedom, my dignity, and my sense of safety. The pain I endured left deep scars, but it was not the end of my suffering. Years later, I faced another six months of abuse from a roommate I once trusted. These experiences shaped the foundation of my resilience and ignited my commitment to healing—not just for myself, but for others who face similar battles. Seeking refuge from the weight of trauma, I turned to counseling and support groups. In those spaces, I found understanding and compassion instead of judgment. The empathy I experienced became a beacon of hope and sparked a passion that now drives my academic and professional goals. And through the calm and loving support of a victim's advocate I learned to break through my fears and rise above the pain that used to define my life. I am pursuing a degree in mental health to become a counselor specializing in trauma and addiction recovery, so I can offer the same support and hope that once saved me. My academic journey has deepened my understanding of trauma-informed care, addiction, and the social barriers that many marginalized communities face in accessing mental health services. I have learned that healing requires not only professional expertise but also cultural competence and a commitment to inclusion. As someone who has navigated systemic obstacles firsthand, I am determined to dismantle the stigma and disparities that prevent many from receiving the care they deserve. Beyond clinical work, my dream includes victim advocacy and criminal justice reform. Having experienced abuse and systemic failure, I understand the critical need for advocates who amplify survivors’ voices and push for changes within the justice system. I want to be that advocate—bridging the gap between trauma survivors and a system that often overlooks them. By addressing these intersecting issues, I hope to create safe spaces where healing and justice coexist. This scholarship represents more than financial assistance; it is a lifeline that will enable me to focus fully on my education and professional development. With this support, I will be able to deepen my knowledge, expand my skills, and dedicate myself to making a meaningful impact in mental health and advocacy. My journey has been marked by pain, loss, and struggle, but also by hope, resilience, and purpose. I am not defined by what happened to me but by how I choose to rise from it. By awarding me this scholarship, you are investing in a future mental health professional committed to empathy, equity, and transformative change. I am ready to walk alongside others in their darkest moments and to help them find the light that once guided me. Together, we can break the silence, tear down stigma, and build a future where every voice is heard and every person is valued.

For two years, I lived in a nightmare—trapped in the hands of a human trafficker who robbed me of my freedom, my dignity, and my sense of safety. That was only the beginning. Eight years later, I endured another six months of abuse at the hands of someone I thought I could trust—a roommate who became yet another source of pain and fear in my life. The trauma I survived is difficult to put into words, but it has shaped every part of who I am. To cope with the unbearable weight of what I experienced, I turned to painkillers and alcohol. They became my escape, my fragile shield against the memories that haunted me day and night. Substance abuse wasn’t a choice—it was a desperate attempt to survive a reality that felt impossible to bear. For a long time, I felt broken beyond repair, isolated by shame and fear, and unsure if healing was even possible. But deep inside, I held onto a flicker of hope—a small voice telling me I was more than my pain. Slowly, painfully, I began to seek help. I stepped into counseling, joined support groups, and started to face the darkness I had buried for so long. It was one of the hardest journeys of my life, but through it, I found something powerful: the possibility of healing, of reclaiming my life. Now, I am pursuing a degree in the mental health field because I want to be the person I once desperately needed—a source of compassion, understanding, and hope for those who feel trapped by trauma and addiction. My experiences have given me insight that no textbook can teach. I know firsthand what it means to struggle and to fight for recovery. I want to break the silence and the stigma that often surrounds abuse and substance use. I want to create spaces where survivors feel safe, seen, and valued—not judged or ignored. I want to use my education and my story to help others find their own strength and healing, just as I am still finding mine. Winning this scholarship is more than financial aid. It’s a lifeline that will allow me to dedicate myself fully to my education and training. It will bring me closer to becoming a mental health professional who makes a real difference—someone who listens with empathy, understands deeply, and never gives up on the people they serve. My journey hasn’t been easy. It’s been filled with pain, loss, and struggle. But it’s also a story of resilience, hope, and purpose. I am not defined by what happened to me—I am defined by how I choose to rise from it and help others rise too. This scholarship will help me turn my survival into a mission. A mission to heal, to serve, and to inspire. I am ready to walk alongside others in their darkest moments, because I know the way out is possible—and I want to be a guide on that path.

The consequences of early childhood trauma are deep, lasting, and often invisible. Abuse, neglect, and exposure to violence during a child’s formative years can permanently alter brain development, emotional regulation, and self-perception. These children frequently struggle with anxiety, depression, attachment issues, difficulty in school, and the inability to form healthy relationships. Sadly, many go unheard or unnoticed, especially when their abusers are the very people entrusted with their care. Instead of growing up with security and support, they learn how to survive in silence. I know this firsthand. For two years, I endured heinous rape, torture, and emotional abuse at the hands of someone my parents trusted. As a child, I didn’t have the words to explain what was happening. I didn’t understand why the people who were supposed to protect me didn’t see the pain I was in. That kind of betrayal leaves deep wounds—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I was forced to grow up in fear, learning to suppress my emotions just to make it through each day. The trauma didn’t end when the abuse stopped. It followed me for years in the form of shame, isolation, PTSD, and self-doubt. But I survived. And now, I am healing. What changed my life was having someone finally believe me—someone who listened without judgment, who affirmed my pain, and who guided me toward healing through trauma-informed therapy. That kind of care and support should not be rare. Every child who suffers trauma deserves to be seen, heard, and protected. That’s why I’m pursuing a degree in psychology, with the goal of becoming a child trauma therapist. My mission is to stand in the gap for children who feel invisible and unheard. I want to provide trauma-informed, compassionate care to the most vulnerable among us. I plan to specialize in child development and complex trauma, working in clinical or community settings where early intervention can make a lifelong difference. In the long term, I hope to help create and advocate for systems that prioritize prevention, education, and justice for abused children. More than anything, I want to be the adult I needed when I was younger. I want to be a safe place. I want to believe children who are afraid to speak. I want to help them rebuild their lives, step by step, with dignity and hope. This scholarship would not only help support my academic journey—it would also represent a step forward in transforming my past pain into purpose. I am determined to use my life and career to break cycles of abuse and bring healing to others, just as it was brought to me. Thank you for considering my application and for supporting students committed to making a difference in the lives of children who need us.

Choosing Myself: A Turning Point in Healing and Purpose There was a time in my life when survival was my only priority. I had been living in a home marked by manipulation, emotional abuse, and instability. I was subjected to ongoing gaslighting that made me question my worth, my instincts, and even my memories. That emotional chaos ultimately led to a traumatic assault by someone connected to that environment. The physical violation was horrifying, but the emotional aftermath was equally devastating. I lived in the same space where it happened. I kept going through daily motions while internally, I was breaking down. For a long time, I believed I had to endure it all quietly. I minimized my pain, convinced myself it wasn’t that bad, and buried the trauma so I could keep functioning. But my mind and body refused to stay silent. I began to experience intense symptoms of dissociation, anxiety, and deep emotional fatigue. I was no longer surviving—I was unraveling. That’s when I made a different choice. For the first time in my life, I made my mental and emotional health the priority. I chose to leave the toxic environment, moving myself across a desert city at 3 AM with my world in in an SUV. And even though it meant instability, even though I didn’t have all the answers yet, I knew I would be ok. I sought professional counseling and began trauma-informed therapy. I started naming what had happened to me, not to relive it, but to reclaim power over my story. I allowed myself to feel everything I had been suppressing—grief, anger, shame, confusion—and I learned that healing doesn’t come from pretending, but from honoring those emotions and working through them. In that season, I also rediscovered parts of myself I had lost. I reconnected with my faith, leaned on supportive relationships, and gave myself permission to rest. It wasn’t easy. Prioritizing your health rarely is. It meant setting boundaries, saying no to people who had once controlled me, and trusting myself again. But through that process, I learned one of the most important lessons of my life: I am not what happened to me—I am what I choose to become next. That choice—putting my health and healing first—has shaped how I approach everything now. In school, I allow myself the grace to ask for help when I need it. In life, I no longer minimize my needs or downplay my boundaries. In my future career, this experience has become the foundation for my purpose. I am pursuing a degree in Criminal Justice with the intention of earning a master’s degree and becoming a victims advocate or restorative justice specialist. I want to serve minority women—especially those who, like me, have been overlooked, unheard, or forced to endure alone. Prioritizing my mental and emotional health helped me become whole again. It helped me find clarity, stability, and most importantly, direction. I’m preparing for my future not just with academic goals, but with emotional resilience and a sense of calling. This scholarship would support more than my education—it would support my mission to walk alongside others in their healing, just as I once had to learn to walk on my own.

Turning Survival Into Advocacy: A Personal Mission My understanding of domestic violence and sexual assault is not theoretical—it’s personal. I experienced it firsthand in a house I once called home, shared with people I believed I could trust. Over time, the environment grew increasingly unstable. What started as minor tensions escalated into emotional abuse, gaslighting, and constant manipulation. I was slowly broken down—made to feel that my boundaries were unreasonable, my feelings invalid, and my sense of reality unreliable. The psychological damage from this kind of sustained emotional abuse left me anxious, disoriented, and deeply alone. But the most traumatic moment came when I was sexually assaulted by someone who had been brought into the home by one of my roommates. The assault itself was horrifying, but what followed was just as damaging: silence. No accountability. No justice. I was left to process the trauma in isolation while still living in the same space where it occurred. The emotional aftermath was overwhelming. I struggled with fear, shame, depression, and dissociation. I pushed away my closed friends even my own fiancé and traded formerly welcome interactions for silent nights of crying and self-harm. The gaslighting I had endured before the assault made me question whether anyone would believe me—or whether I could even believe myself. As a woman of color, I faced the added burden of societal expectations and racialized assumptions. I was expected to be strong, quiet, and resilient. But inside, I was breaking. I realized then just how many other women, particularly African American women, must be suffering in silence too. Survivors like me often go unheard, unseen, or unhelped by systems that were never built with us in mind. That realization is what shifted my pain into purpose. I am currently pursuing a degree in Criminal Justice: Criminal Psychology. My ultimate goal is to earn a master’s degree in this field and work either as a victims advocate or in restorative justice. I want to serve minority women who have experienced the same violence, erasure, and abandonment I did. I want to be the voice I didn’t have, and to help create systems that center survivors—especially those at the intersections of race, gender, and trauma. African American women are disproportionately impacted by domestic violence and sexual assault, yet are underrepresented in care and advocacy spaces. Many avoid seeking help due to fear of judgment or mistrust in law enforcement and judicial systems. I want to help change that. Through trauma-informed, culturally responsive care, I aim to improve how survivors are treated—from the moment they report their abuse to the resources available throughout their healing. With advanced education and training, I plan to work directly with survivors, advocate for policy change, and build community programs that provide safety, healing, and justice. Whether in nonprofit work, the court system, or restorative justice circles, my mission is the same: to ensure that no woman is left to face her trauma alone—and that her story is honored, not hidden. This scholarship will allow me to continue my education and prepare to serve those who need it most. I didn’t choose the trauma I experienced—but I am choosing to transform it into hope, healing, and advocacy for others

My mental health struggles have been extreme but have also been the reason for my current strength. The day I met my now fiance, I was suicidal and right before I attempted I talked to him for the first time. Since then I've been a strong advocate for mental health. I've struggled with extreme depression, severe social anxiety, and a bipolar disorder diagnosis for two years. My social anxiety has been so severe that I've locked myself in my room for a week refusing to step foot in my house and be around my roommates. I've lost extreme amounts of weight, had to force myself outside of bed in the morning to go to work only to cry during my whole 45 minute commute because my mental health hits rock bottom. I've worked 16 hour days running of 2 hours of sleep. My nights have seen me crying laying on my bedroom floor while I try to figure out how I can possible go on. I've lost friends, family, and jobs. I've been blocked, sworn at, despised, and forced into the most painful of situations. I've failed classes, sat there reading whole textbook chapters and not remembering a word. I've scrolled through slides, watched college assigned videos, and typed out reports all while being in a blank void of nothingness. I've gone through phases of letting myself suffer physically because emotionally and mentally I can't keep going. I've lost my home, almost everyone who's mattered, and been jobless with no money to my name at all wondering when I'd be homeless. I've worked jobs I hate all the while pushing myself until I snapped and had bouts of paranoia and delusion. I recently submitted a request for higher pay at my job because my bills weren't being covered and ultimately lost my job over that and an increasingly abusive boss. I'm now without a job, car, or money putting myself through college through student loans. And through that all I've chosen to keep going because I know that somewhere out there, in a luxury high rise loft in Los Angeles or a tiny one bedroom apartment in Memphis, another student, an aspiring doctor or graphic designer is going through the same struggle. They're fighting for a brighter future for themselves, their family, their friends, and their community. I want to be one of those people that can help. I'm currently enrolled in a teaching certificate program but my biggest dream is to get my associate's degree in psychology and from there work as a victim's advocate or a counselor. I dream of helping youth that struggle with their mental health follow their dreams and receive the help and support I wanted and needed so much. I'm putting myself through school financially because one day I want to help others fight for their dreams too. That is why I've chosen to pursue a career in mental health as well ad education so I can use my skills, talents, and accreditations with others and help fight for the next generations.

Hi, my name is Faustina, I am an upcoming education major and a young person in today's America. Accountability is something I have been working on for the past while. I've been through some big life changes in the past year+ which has greatly affected how I see myself and respond to different situations and life circumstances. The first way I hold myself accountable is with the help of my boyfriend. He is the number one person who knows me, my ups and downs, my specific behaviors, and my biggest faults. I've had to learn some hard lessons about accountability, honesty, and being communicative even when I don't want to. And he's been right there teaching me what accountability truly means and how to be strong even through that. Accountability is hard. Having to admit to oneself that you have mistakes, failures, problems, and faults is one of the biggest growth areas a human can have. For me accountability means holding myself to a certain standard of life and growth. It means that I have to daily tell myself that I will fail but that I have a personal norm I should adhere to in order to grow as a human. And most especially it means that I have the humility to allow others, especially my partner in, and be communicative, honest, and patient as I navigate all the areas I'm working on. Accountability isn't fun. When I'm accountable it means I allow the weakest most vulnerable parts of myself to open up and put my utmost trust in the people I encounter so I can work on the biggest flaws I have as a human. Those flaws are the ones that hold me back from living and working to my fullest potential. Sometimes I can do it by myself. Those days are amazing, I rejoice, and I feel so accomplished. On other days I need to say the hard words "I need help" and "Can you please be there for me?". It's hard to say that. It's hard to allow another human into the deepest parts of your being and allow them the huge job of holding you accountable to those things that can greatly affect who you are as a human. Accountability isn't fun. Some days it feels like a personal rehab. Other days it makes me feel like such a weak human and I want to quit. But my biggest motivation to move on and hold myself to that personal standard is the reminder that I have people who love me. I have people who see the value and worth in me. And because of that, because of the love I have for those close and special people in my life, accountability is something I continue to work on so I can be the best version of myself.

My childhood was a somewhat turbulent and influential part of my life. During this formative time in my growing journey a question I wish I had been asked more often is "What do you truly want to do with your life and how can we help you get there?". This question would've been a huge difference had someone asked it. I have always had one steady dream in my life but have never gotten much support in pursuing it. I have always dreamed of being a wife as well as working in either childcare/teaching or social work/victim advocacy. I am currently pursuing this dream and have come farther than I ever thought possible. The absence of this question in my life has forced me to ask myself that and has given me the determination and will to pursue my goal and not allow the challenges I've gone through to stop me. The presence of this question in my life has been a daily reminder that I DO have a dream and the only one stopping me from pursuing that dream is myself. No matter where I've been in my life, especially during my early teens and the past few years of my life, I've always reminded myself that one day my dream will be a reality. Through a forced cross-country move, miserable jobs, long nights, depression, mental health battles, telling myself I couldn't keep going, and feeling like I was alone I've always reminded myself that my dream is still there and that I can answer that question and make it a part of my life. And it is now becoming a reality. I am in a relationship with my best friend and the man who daily reminds me to not let other people or the world define who I am, that I am who I am, not who the world says I am, and to not let my intrusive thoughts or the anxiety of the world project onto the woman I am. I work as a full-time babysitter, a job I truly never thought I'd have but one I go to choose. And I will be starting my education certification next month, something I thought wasn't possible for my life. It's been a journey. "What do you truly want to do with your life and how can we help you get there?" A question the world never really asked me became a question I asked myself daily and then, one day a person came into my life who helped me answer that question and also made it become a reality day by day. Your question can truly become your life, the most important lesson I learned was to not let the world or others get in the way of that or define who I was.