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.