Grains of rice pollinated the tables, flying from all directions and landing anywhere but in the balloon. Violent fits of laughter emerged from the tables around me, conjoining to form a unanimous superposition. I filled another bowl of rice with a smile on my face. This stress ball-making activity was our first, yet it still remains one of my favorites of the Mental Health Club. Two years prior, I started to observe my High School: a perfectly presented masquerade. Its hyper-competitive nature forces students to dance the dance from day to day, with no sign of compassion for what goes on under the mask. There were no counselors to talk to or sympathy to receive when we felt unable to keep outputting work. When I started the club, with the help of my friend, my main goal was to encourage peers to prioritize themselves and their mental health. No one should dance alone. In order to facilitate change, I had to be innovative, turning personal growth into fun activities. I concocted engaging programs such as self-confidence improving pokemon cards, a reflexive dream dissection scavenger hunt, and my favorite, stage fright repellent silly slideshows. Similarly, a people-oriented approach transfers into the business world. Since businesses do not consist of battery-powered AI-operated robots (yet), employees shouldn’t be treated as such. There are long-lasting benefits to providing adequate mental health care to employees in both humane and financially motivated ways. When someone is passionate and happy with the environment and community they work in, their deliverables reflect it. Personally, I have seen this many times in my life. Whenever I’m passionate about what I am working toward and feel like my presence is desired and valued, I’m motivated to produce my best work. Ensuring employees feel like they belong and are viewed as a person and not Chat-GPT bots can reassure them that they are cared for. I believe that exhibiting values of empathy and compassion even in cutthroat business atmospheres can change the world for the better. Even in a cost-motivated perspective, employee retention is important because turnover costs are so high. During my time at the Boys and Girls Club, the HR director, Yolanda, shared an anecdote. They were experiencing a massive problem with employees quitting within weeks of getting hired. Yolanda is an inspiration to me because of her employee-oriented mindset. The work she puts into planning events such as barbecues and obtaining birthday cakes for every employee shows her compassion for people. On the other side of the window, concern for customers is also valuable. When the customers feel like a company cares about them, they see the company in a positive light. Also, when I interned at The Boys and Girls Club, I was graced with the opportunity to shadow the Behavioral Health Department. I was enthralled by both the social and scientific aspects. I found myself lost in the pages of the DSM, intellectually curious about the array of realities people face. The print and definitions in the book however completely contrast the variable uncertainty of providing emotional support. One of my tasks was to listen in to a call with the aunt of two young girls who were members. I may not be legally able to share the details, but the story broke my heart. The voices and facial expressions of the BH department member’s made it obvious that this was a service they were proud to offer. The compassion exemplified by the remarkable people I met reinforced my outlook on business. People run a business, and the business needs to care of the people.

Grains of rice pollinated the tables, flying from all directions and landing anywhere but in the balloon. Violent fits of laughter emerged from the tables around me, conjoining to form a unanimous superposition. I filled another bowl of rice with a smile on my face. This stress ball-making activity was our first, yet it still remains one of my favorites of the Mental Health Club. Two years prior, I started to observe the environment of my High School: a perfectly presented masquerade. Its hyper-competitive nature forces students to dance the dance from day to day, with no sign of compassion for what goes on under the mask. There were no counselors to talk to or sympathy to receive when we felt unable to keep outputting work. When I started the club, with the help of my friend, my main goal was to encourage peers to prioritize themselves and their mental health. No one should dance alone. In order to facilitate change, I had to be innovative, turning personal growth into fun activities. I concocted engaging programs such as self-confidence improving pokemon cards, a reflexive dream dissection scavenger hunt, and my favorite, stage fright repellent silly slideshows. Similarly, a people-oriented approach transfers into the business world. Since businesses do not consist of battery-powered AI-operated robots (yet), employees shouldn’t be treated as such. There are incredibly long-lasting benefits to providing adequate mental health care to employees in both humane and financially motivated ways. When someone is passionate and happy with the environment and community they work in, their deliverables reflect it. Personally, I have seen this many times in my life. Whenever I’m passionate about what I am working toward and feel like my presence is desired and valued, I’m motivated to produce my best work. Ensuring employees feel like they belong and are viewed as a person and not Chat-GPT bots can reassure them that they are cared for. I believe that exhibiting values of empathy and compassion even in cutthroat business atmospheres can change the world for the better. Even in a cost-motivated perspective, employee retention is important because turnover costs are so high. During my time at the Boys and Girls Club, the HR director, Yolanda, shared an anecdote. They were experiencing a massive problem with employees quitting within weeks of getting hired. Yolanda is an inspiration to me because of her employee-oriented mindset. The work she puts into planning events such as barbecues and obtaining birthday cakes for every employee shows her compassion for people. When I conversed with those who have been at the Boys and Girls Club for decades, they said similar things: even though non-profit work hardly pays, it is fulfilling and has provided meaningful connections with many remarkable individuals. On the other side of the window, concern for customers is also valuable. When the customers feel like a company cares about them, they see the company in a positive light. Also, when I interned at The Boys and Girls Club, I was graced with the opportunity to shadow the Behavioral Health Department. I was enthralled by both the social and scientific aspects. I found myself lost in the pages of the DSM, intellectually curious about the array of realities people face. The hard print and definitions in the book however completely contrast the variable uncertainty posed with providing emotional support. One of my tasks was to listen in to a call with the aunt of two young girls who were members. I may not be legally able to share the details, but the story broke my heart. The voices and facial expressions of the BH department member’s made it obvious that this was a service they were proud to offer. The compassion exemplified by the remarkable people I met reinforced my outlook on business. People run a business, and the business needs to care of the people.

Sloth—a state of laziness and neglect— finds its home within a collection of other negatively connotated words titled the seven deadly sins. Throughout my life, I was always self-conscious about my memory, my ability to complete assignments, and my meandering focus: my sloth. I knew I was smart but felt undeserving of it. I became buried in missing assignments, only begging to dig my way out when the quarter was closing. My greatest opponent was trying to complete an essay. Instead of the words landing on the paper, their absence would chip at my soul; words like lazy, slow, and unworthy. They stayed ingrained in my head. I felt like an imposter whom success was bestowed without being earned. One day, I was sitting in the car when my Mom casually dropped a bomb on my worldview. Tears streamed down my face, I looked at the lines and numbers on a packet of paper– the results of my ADHD diagnosis test. Somehow, that moment, finding out my problems were chemically ingrained into me, made me determined to counteract them. I started to analyze. I looked at what I wasn’t proud of with myself and took preventative measures. I researched methods to counteract the inevitable return of the unproductive to overworked cycle. If I tended to forget about pending assignments, I would complete them immediately, fresh on my mind. While Susie down the block could wake up to one alarm, I need to set five. Besides academic feats, I also decided to work on my mental blocks. Constantly tearing myself apart had severely damaged my self-confidence. I needed to learn how to love myself. Having ADHD has revealed to me so much about myself and led to a plethora of self discoveries. When I find myself prancing around the mall with untied shoelaces or losing my train of thought midway through a sentence I can pin the reason why, and even let out a laugh. Not many people can say that there are research papers and studies on how they behave. My pride (ironically, another deadly sin) lies in my constant improvement. From my transcript to my self-confidence, every year in High School, I have been working towards a better version of myself. Although I still struggle, I’m lucky that a four-letter label put on me has allowed me to acknowledge so much about how I function and work with it instead of against it. I realized that the peaks and valleys were my superpowers– intense moments of productivity owe their existence to the tranquil moments of lull. Sloth is a blessing, not a sin. This revelation has changed the way I view others as well. You truly never know the circumstances someone else struggles through. Empathy and kindness is a virtue that we should show everyone, regardless of how they present outwardly. Personally, I have been working hard to care for others and spread love. In my school I am the founding Vice-President of Mental Heath Club. I do everything I can to keep the club running. I plan fundraisers, advertise, and selected, ordered, and sold phone charms to earn funds. I made countless tri-folds for club fairs, putting my heart and soul into hand-painting our signature butterflies and lavender flowers. I planned every meeting activity, finding unique ways to apply our lessons, such as Pokémon cards with the members' strengths for self-confidence day. I do all these things because I genuinely believe that our sole purpose on earth is to help others, because one kind remark, or one encouraging comment, can spark a butterfly effect, and change someone’s life.

We all sat on a couch, encased by roaring winds and clapping thunder. My nuclear family and I sat in the dark at my aunt's house. Two silver flashlights blinked on and off, providing our only source of illuminance in Hurricane Sandy's encompassing shadow. My mom sat on that couch with a 6-year-old me resting in her arms. The hurricane left, but not before taking a souvenir: our house. My mother and I were left homeless. Correction, my mother, her unborn child, and I were left homeless. A couple of weeks after the hurricane said its parts, my sister was born. We spent the next few months separated. Scattered like sand on the beach blown by the heavy winds. My sister and I stayed at my aunt's house while my mom resided with her friend in New York City continuing to earn a living and saving to buy shelter. Two years later, in 2014, my mother was offered a job opportunity in Las Vegas. She wagered a bet and lugged her 2-year-old and 8-year-old to an extremely untypical place to raise children. Having such an inspiring woman in my life has given me a role model to look up to when the hurricane of life leaves me with little light. Halfway through my junior year, that darkness reappeared in my life. Throughout my life, I had always known that I was not capable of functioning like other people were. I knew there was something wrong with me, but being told that my flaws are chemically engrained into my brain sucked all the light from inside me and left me with no hope. Being diagnosed with ADHD made me feel like I could never work, like I could never get up in the morning, like my fate was sealed by a diagnosis. In the 5 seconds I was given to process the positive diagnosis, all these thoughts were raging through my head, a disastrous flurry. It took a while to realize that my diagnosis does not define me, but all it took was looking at my mother. Just like me, she never should have been successful. Her parents never went to college, she is a single mother of two children, and she never had anyone to help her. Looking at her reminded me that hard work can accomplish anything. She passed all sections of her CPA exam on the first try, was voted woman of the year in her accounting company, and worked late nights and early mornings to support her two children single handily. All of that took hard work. All her accomplishments proved to me that it is possible to be successful even when you are not dealt the best hand. Since then I have taken advantage of the opportunities that she has given me and have never stopped trying. I founded the Mental Health Club at my school to aid others who are struggling like I had, I joined the board of Student Congress and K-POP club, I got certifications in Microsoft Office, and I participated in the Bank of America Student Leaders program in which I worked with children in the Boys and Girls Club. Despite everything I have learned in school and my extracurriculars, the most important takeaway I have ever carried with me is one given to me by my own mother: Even when you are dealt a bad hand, with some hard work and perseverance, you can turn it into a royal flush.