Human connection. I want to be a therapist, so my whole job will be talking to people all day. Connecting with others, listening to them, relating to them, empathizing with them. My job will be understanding who they are deep down inside. The reason I want this as a career is that there were seasons of my life when I witnessed people lacking someone who truly understood them the way they needed. I always had my family behind me. Even in seasons when every decision I made confused them, they still listened to me. They might not have understood, but they never stopped caring for me. My family’s love for me is what has given me the strength to pursue my passions. It has also made me recognize the grave evil in the world and how some mistake it for love. I have seen one too many people wish they were dead because all they wanted was a connection. ​In junior high, a close friend of mine broke down crying at lunch. He sobbed, “I just want to be with Jesus,” he sobbed. “I just want to go to heaven.” Those words marked a pivot point in my young life. How could someone be so capable, but feel so hopeless? After that, I started researching. I learned about anxiety and depression. I became obsessed. Any mental health topic, you name it, I studied it. If I couldn’t fix my friend, surely I could help someone else someday. I decided then that I was going to study psychology. About a year later, I made a new friend. She was bubbly and kind. Soon after getting to know her, I recognized some similar patterns to my friend from 7th grade. She spoke with despairing words often. Whenever things got hard she would say “Well I’ll just shoot myself” as if that were normal. She is still one of the prettiest people I have ever seen. At the time I thought her freckles were very pretty. It’s not often you see freckles on someone with olive skin. When I complimented her, she said, “Oh, they are scars from picking at my skin because I am anxious.” I soon started seeing cuts on her arms. After seeing them I always check my friends arms, never aloud but I look to make sure that there are no cat like scratches on them. She always seemed to gravitate towards people who were insecure, struggling, and grieving. She often went after guys who were sad. She wanted to make them feel better, I think maybe because she couldn’t understand why she was hurting so bad herself. At the same time, I had another friend whose parents went through an ugly divorce. They had 5 kids together, and each kid dealt with it differently. The older ones turn to parties, alcohol, and sex. The younger ones suffered quietly while their siblings drowned out their pain. That wasn’t the last time I met someone who suffered from a lack of connection. I have witnessed aggression sprout in young men because they never had a father to look after them. I have seen young women subject themselves to horrible treatment because they never had a mother. The lack of foundational relationships in these young lives has changed the trajectory of their futures. Unfortunately, I cannot be their father or their mother. I cannot heal their parents' divorce or take away their grief. With this scholarship I would use the money to fund my education to study psychology. I truly believe that connection can make or break someone's path, and I am determined to make paths right.

“What do you want to be when you grow up?” my neurologist asks warmly. “Oh, I don’t really know,” I reply, feeling uncomfortable. “You could study the brain like me,” he smiles encouragingly. ​I hold back an eye roll because I do not want to be a doctor. The rest of that neurology appointment was very routine. He checked my eyes, my walking, and my response to stimuli. All the regular things I had experienced since I was two years old. But a seed was planted. When people ask me how I feel about my epilepsy, I always say, “I have never known anything different.” That’s the truth. My seizures don’t scare me. When I have one it feels like my body is glitching. My eyelids flutter, my body goes still, and my brain feels staticky. I know they are dangerous, but when I was a kid I didn’t understand why. I figured the worst thing that could happen was a seizure while climbing the monkey bars. I wasn’t strong enough to climb them anyway, so this wasn’t a problem for me. I thought it was normal to have to wear a neon swimsuit in the pool, or to not be allowed to ride your bike around the block. I cared, of course, but because I thought my parents were overprotective and never wanted me to have fun like every other 12-year-old. ​In junior high, a close friend of mine broke down at lunch. He exclaimed, “I just want to be with Jesus!” and through many tears he sniffled, “I just want to go to heaven.” Those words marked a pivot point in my young life. How could someone be so capable, but feel so hopeless? I mean, I have epilepsy, and I always felt like I could conquer the world! After that, I started researching. I learned about anxiety and depression. I became obsessed. Any mental health topic, you name it, I studied it. If I couldn’t fix my friend, surely, I could help someone else someday. I decided that I was going to make the most of my life. If I had the capability to live normally, I was going to use it to help others. I decided then I was going to study the brain, just like my neurologist suggested. A few years later, I got my learner’s permit. My medication was working and my neurologist cleared me to drive! It took a while for me to warm up to it. The first time I drove, the seat and steering wheel were soaked with sweat. I think my dad might be the only parent who has advised his kid to “relax” while driving. This was the first time in my life that I understood what it meant to be “disabled”. I felt stuck, afraid, and incapable. I kept replaying the phrase “What if I have a seizure?” over and over again in my head. My fears about hurting myself, or even worse, someone else, made it really difficult to drive. My anxiety confused my peers. According to them, I had “no motivation to get my license”. I tried to explain why this was hurtful, but they didn’t understand. I felt alone and misunderstood, just like my friend in junior high. With this scholarship, I would invest in my bachelor’s degree in psychology. From there I plan to earn my master’s in counseling so I can work with people who are struggling with their mental health, just like my friend. I want to study the brain, maybe not as a neurologist, but as someone who can work with people who are battling their minds. I hope to eventually say to someone, “You can study the mind like me!” and watch them roll their eyes–while I smile knowing a seed has been planted. ​