One of my favorite extracurriculars I’ve done is be a part of the student leadership team at my church. It has been filled with valuable experiences–from helping organize youth group events to training new members on how to make lattes in the church cafe. However, one of the most valuable was mentoring a new sixth grader. When I first met Emma she was sitting alone before service started. During our student leader meeting that day, our youth pastor had encouraged us to be more welcoming to new students. I had never been great with people, but I felt the Holy Spirit's encouragement as I walked over to her. After introducing myself, I discovered she was autistic just like me. Once I found that out, I was transported to the loneliness I felt in middle school. I remembered the high schoolers who helped me and was determined to help this girl. When Emma nervously told me that worship was too loud for her, I explained that I often felt the same way. I showed her the space I sat in when it was too much and introduced her to the small group leader that often helped me through sensory overloads. During services, I invited her to sit next to me and reminded her that she was allowed to leave when I could tell she has beginning to have a meltdown. I explained that God made us unique so that we could all worship and serve Him in our own special ways. Maybe she had trouble worshiping in a traditional sense, but she could worship through her art or even in private. While Emma and I grew close, I knew she’d enjoy church much more with friends her own age. I introduced her to other sixth graders and encouraged her to go to events that were more segregated by grade. At first she was hesitant, but she slowly began to open up to others. Now in seventh grade, Emma is constantly surrounded by friends and actively participates in small group. She attends every event and I’m grateful to have been a part of her journey. I hope to continue to lead and mentor others as I enter college. My plan is too major in English and become a writer. I want to write stories that point people to God. Stories about girls like Emma and I; the girls who may need to step outside during worship or have trouble speaking up in small group, but have a deep desire to grow closer to God and lead others to Him. Instagram: @thegretchenrose

When I was younger, I hated math. I was okay at it, but it bored me to tears. Every question was just a variation of the same few problems and equations. A matching game of numbers. English was my favorite subject; it was always different and interesting. You were allowed to dance between the shades of grey our world is full of. But math is black and white. You are either right or you're wrong. But then my world began to change. As I grew older, those shades of grey that I was once drawn to became increasingly complicated. News reports of injustice and inequality blared in my ears. Every time I went on social media, people would fight and scream at each other in the comments section. The world is a vexing place. In my personal life, something always seemed to be changing: my physical health, my mental health, the drama in my extended family, and my relationship with my peers. So I began to take comfort in math. Even as everything changed around me, numbers were always the same. They didn't lie. Politics could try to convince you they meant something else, but at the end of the day, the statistics told the truth. Once you learn how to interpret numbers, you can navigate an ever changing world from a place of stability. You can begin to separate the shades of grey into something easier to understand. In today's political climate, we need math more than ever before. We need people who can interpret data and facts. We need to begin to sort out right and wrong. We can't merely rely on gut instincts to separate the grey, we need truth. Math can get us one step closer to finding that truth.

English has always been my favorite subject. I love how language can be used to share ideas and stories across time and cultures. Reading, writing, and grammar have all been a massive part of my life since I was young. It's also helped that I'm good at those things. Sophomore year, I tested out of English II so that I could take AP Lang a year early. Therefore, the next year, I was the only Junior in AP English Literature. The class was taught by Mr. Medina, who had unusual but highly effective methods. Mr. Medina told our class of mostly seniors that he understood that we were all stressed. He knew most seniors grew burnt out by second semester and didn't want to add to the pressure. Therefore he would except any work no matter how late it was for no penalty. I was deeply relieved. Because I'm autistic, deadlines have always been extremely difficult for me. I was excited to have a class with a teacher who understood. But I would be in for another surprise. In addition to 12th grade English, Mr. Medina also taught AP Research. AP Research quickly became my favorite class. For an entire school year, we got to conduct research on any topic that interested us. The class only had ten students so Mr. Medina took the time to go over every aspect of our projects. He would even take the time to look into our topics on his own. But what I loved most about being in Mr. Medina's class was the way he talked about the books we read. He used a combination of pirated movie clips, real life examples, and analogies to help us understand the complex themes the authors were trying to convey. He also asked us philosophical questions and encouraged us to formulate opinions independent of his or our friends'. He challenged us to think about the world deeply and boldly. I hope to apply those lessons to every aspect of my life. Free thinking is our most powerful weapon and one that is available to anyone. You don't have to pay or be born the best to think freely, all you have to do is be willing to take that step into the unknown. Mr. Medina brought me and my classmates right to the edge before setting us free. Because of Mr. Medina, I had a much less stressful year than my peers. Because of Mr. Medina, I will graduate with two years of college English credits. Because of Mr. Medina, I earned an AP Capstone diploma. Because of Mr. Medina, I feel confident in expressing my opinion.

I was fifteen when I first stopped eating. The transition for high school is hard for everyone, but for me, it was especially difficult. I had trouble making and keeping friends, my grades slipped from A’s to B’s, and I failed to make the dance team. To me, the only way to be valued was to be “better”. To be better I had to be skinnier. I wanted a 100 in the gradebook and a 100 on the scale. Calories and pounds were the only things I could control. It became an obsession. I was destroying myself, but didn’t care. No one cared enough to notice, so why should I stop? However, after my family’s dog almost died, I realized how much my family cared about me. Slowly, I managed to heal. For the next few years, that was my story. I’d write about it in scholarship essays and share my testimony in church. It’s a nice story, but the truth is much more complicated. I am writing this from inside of a residential treatment facility for eating disorders in Dallas. At the beginning of senior year, I relapsed. I lost five pounds in a week. For a while I hid the disorder and my unhealthy habits from everyone, but my best friend realized something was wrong. She encouraged me to tell my mom, and a few weeks later I did. She talked to my therapist who referred me to a local clinic. After two weeks of treatment there, they referred me to the residential facility. Being here is one of the hardest things I have ever done. I’m separated from my friends and family. I’m surrounded by other teens who are constantly breaking down. I feel so lonely, although I get no privacy. Most of the time, I want nothing more than to go home. Yet, I’m still here. Several girls have asked me why I stay. I’m eighteen. No one can stop me from signing myself out. I could be in my own bed by the end of the week. But as much as I complain, I know that this is for the better. I don’t want to panic about the number of calories in the cake on my wedding day. Treatment might suck, but it’s better than dying. My friend once told me that if I wasn’t so mentally ill, I’d be unstoppable. And she’s right. When I look at all I’ve been able to accomplish so far (dance team, 12th in my class, student council, church student leadership, AP scholar), I feel a sense of pride. I want to get better so that I can continue to succeed. I want to get better so that I can see what I’ll accomplish without hunger. I want to get better. Mental health is complicated: the real story isn’t always pretty. I will always struggle, but I know that the disordered version of me isn’t the real me. No matter what happens, I will fight to get her back.

Being autistic is a curious thing. On one hand, it gives me some advantages over my peers. I have a better memory than most people and an intense focus on the small details. On the other hand, it sets me back in several ways. The sound of typing combined with the scratching of pencils and the humming of the air conditioner makes it hard for me to focus. Oftentimes, I can't hear the teacher over the buzzing of the projector. The chatter and voracious laughter of my classmates will occasionally even bring tears to my eyes. A symptom of autism that nearly all autistic people have but is rarely talked about is executive dysfunction. It's also the hardest to describe to a neurotypical person. Executive dysfunction has prevented me from reaching the heights in my life that I desire too. I need to study, but I can't bring myself to do so. I need to do my homework but I can't keep track of deadlines. I need to eat but my body doesn't tell me when I should. Over time, I've found tools which minimize the effect of my executive dysfunction. Rather than waiting for my body to tell me that I should eat, I eat lunch everyday at noon, no matter what. Timers are also useful for me. Instead of forcing myself to focus until a task is done, I only make myself work in ten minute increments. For most people, that would slow them down, but for me it has made homework go by ten times faster. If my brain tells me a task is too hard, I won't do it. So I break things down into smaller chunks—essentially gaslighting my brain into thinking tasks are easier than they are. Despite my sensory differences, despite my executive dysfunction, I have managed to succeed in my educational journey. I maintain a 4.35 GPA, am ranked 16th in my class of 496, and was one of only two juniors to receive the AP Scholar with Distinction award for the AP exams taken sophomore year. I'm on the dance team, student council, and national honor society. Currently, I am planning an event to have John Green speak at my school in honor of tuberculosis awareness month (TB is one of my special interests). I'm also on my church's student leadership team—a position that has led to me mentoring a younger autistic girl at the church who reminds me so much of myself. She started attending the church a year ago and my youth pastor encouraged me to approach her since she was new and sitting alone. Now, she has several close friends and attends youth group every week. In several ways being autistic has made my life harder, but it also has given me a drive to succeed. People tend to underestimate me. Rather than letting that discourage me, it has pushed me to work harder to prove myself. As I finish out my senior year of high school, I find myself looking forward to what comes next. College will be a challenge, but it's one I look forward to conquering.

One of my favorite extracurriculars I’ve done is being a part of the student leadership team at my church. It has been filled with valuable experiences–from helping organize youth group events to training new members on how to make lattes in the church cafe. However, one of the most valuable was mentoring a new sixth grader. When I first met Emma she was sitting alone before service started. During our student leader meeting that day, our youth pastor had encouraged us to be more welcoming to new students. I had never been great with people, but I felt the Holy Spirit's encouragement as I walked over to her. After introducing myself, I discovered she was autistic just like me. Once I found that out, I was transported to the loneliness I felt in middle school. I remembered the high schoolers who helped me and was determined to help this girl. When Emma nervously told me that worship was too loud for her, I explained that I often felt the same way. I showed her the space I sat in when it was too much and introduced her to the small group leader that often helped me through sensory overloads. During services, I invited her to sit next to me and reminded her that she was allowed to leave when I could tell she has beginning to have a meltdown. I explained that God made us unique so that we could all worship and serve Him in our own special ways. Maybe she had trouble worshiping in a traditional sense, but she could worship through her art or even in private. While Emma and I grew close, I knew she’d enjoy church much more with friends her own age. I introduced her to other sixth graders and encouraged her to go to events that were more segregated by grade. At first she was hesitant, but she slowly began to open up to others. Now in seventh grade, Emma is constantly surrounded by friends and actively participates in small group. She attends every event and I’m grateful to have been a part of her journey. I hope to continue to lead and mentor others as I enter college. My plan is too major in English and become a writer. I want to write stories that point people to God. Stories about girls like Emma and I; the girls who may need to step outside during worship or have trouble speaking up in small group, but have a deep desire to grow closer to God and lead others to Him.

I've struggled with my mental health for my entire life. I'm autistic and a common side effect of that is mental illness. A few months after turning 13, I was diagnosed with anxiety. For the longest time, I tried to handle it myself. Despite having a relationship with Christ, I didn't bring my mental health to Him. I took my medication, practiced breathing, and did my best not to cry. It didn't work, but I deluded myself into pretending it did. I was proud of how well I was handling everything. But the thing about pride is that it only takes a gust of wind to make everything tumble down. During the second semester of ninth grade, it crashed. Failing to make the dance team, falling out with a friend, and struggling to handle the transition to high school made me spiral. I felt out of control and unlovable. At some point, I realized that maybe everything would be better if I was better--if I was skinnier. I placed my value in the pounds and calories instead of in God. I knew what I was doing was dangerous, but I didn't care because I was better and smarter than those "other girls." Even if I did die, no one would care. I was out of control and no one saw it. But God did. In late May, my 8-month-old puppy was rushed into emergency surgery. My family was a mess. The emotion grew too much for me to handle, so I excused myself. As I cried on the bathroom floor I realized that if my family cared so much about a dog we hadn't even had for a year, they would care so much more about me. I finally asked God for His guidance. For a while, everything was perfect and my faith was the strongest it had ever been. But it didn't last forever. At the end of my junior year, I should've felt on top of the world. Everything in my life was going exactly to plan. But something was missing. I was chasing after worldly approval and not relying on God yet again. My mind began to think dark thoughts, this time encouraging me to harm myself. I didn't want to die, but I also didn't want to feel pain. I tried to suppress it alone, but I remembered ninth grade. The Holy Spirit encouraged me to bring my pain to Him. He also led me to confess my thoughts to a close friend. We weren't made to walk alone, but with Christ and fellow believers. I was able to get help and slowly my mind began to heal. My mental health hasn't been cured, but God has equipped me to handle it--not on my own but through Him. One of the reasons I want to study English is so that I can become a Christian author. I want to write books that let girls know they aren't alone in their struggles and encourage them to give their pain to Christ. I hope that through my writing, other girls won't have to go through all the pain I went through to see God's love for them.

Being autistic is a curious thing. On one hand, it gives me some advantages over my peers. I have a better memory than most people and an intense focus on the small details. On the other hand, it sets me back in several ways. The sound of typing combined with the scratching of pencils and the humming of the air conditioner makes it hard for me to focus. Oftentimes, I can't hear the teacher over the buzzing of the projector. The chatter and voracious laughter of my classmates will occasionally even bring tears to my eyes. A symptom of autism that nearly all autistic people have but is rarely talked about is executive dysfunction. It's also the hardest to describe to a neurotypical person. Executive dysfunction has prevented me from reaching the heights in my life that I desire too. I need to study, but I can't bring myself to do so. I need to do my homework but I can't keep track of deadlines. I need to eat but my body doesn't tell me when I should. Over time, I've found tools which minimize the effect of my executive dysfunction. Rather than waiting for my body to tell me that I should eat, I eat lunch everyday at noon, no matter what. Timers are also useful for me. Instead of forcing myself to focus until a task is done, I only make myself work in ten minute increments. For most people, that would slow them down, but for me it has made homework go by ten times faster. If my brain tells me a task is too hard, I won't do it. So I break things down into smaller chunks—essentially gaslighting my brain into thinking tasks are easier than they are. Despite my sensory differences, despite my executive dysfunction, I have managed to succeed in my educational journey. I maintain a 4.35 GPA, am ranked 16th in my class of 496, and was one of only two juniors in my school to receive the AP Scholar with Distinction award for the AP exams taken sophomore year. I'm on the dance team, student council, and national honor society. Currently, I am planning an event to have John Green speak at my school in honor of tuberculosis awareness month (TB is one of my special interests). I'm also on my church's student leadership team—a position that has led to me mentoring a younger autistic girl at the church who reminds me so much of myself. Now, a year after I first saw her sitting alone, she has several close friends and attends youth group every week. In several ways being autistic has made my life harder, but it also has given me a drive to succeed. People tend to underestimate me. Rather than letting that discourage me, it has pushed me to work harder to prove myself. As I finish out my senior year of high school, I find myself looking forward to what comes next. College will be a challenge, but it's one I look forward to conquering.

I was fifteen when GUTS came out. On facetime with my best friends, I listened to the ending lyrics of the album for the first time: "They all say that it gets better, it gets better the more you grow/Yeah, they all say that it gets better, it gets better, but what if I don't?" Hearing Olivia sing those words made me want to cry. Ever since I was younger, I had always been told that I was advanced for my age. In elementary school I was identified as "gifted." In middle school I was top of my class and even got an one hundred on the state exam. But when I had got to high school, things got hard. I had always been a straight A student, but ninth grade biology was when I got my first B. Those lyrics spoke to a deep seated fear that I had always had: one day doing my best wouldn't be good enough. As I continued through high school, this fear would only grow. In algebra two and chemistry I would continue to get B's. It didn't make sense. I was a year ahead in English. I was taking the most AP classes of any sophomore and had A's in all four. Yet those two B's kept bothering me. I pretended not be bothered in front of my friends. I knew from experience it would only bring eyerolls. However, I cried with every test I received back. I went from never doing test corrections to going to tutorials once a week. By the end of the first semester of sophomore, I was convinced I was a failure. I was in ensemble yet again in the school musical--not even the select dance ensemble, just the regular one with all the freshman. I was in the JV musical theatre class and those B's kept bugging me. It seemed no matter how much work I put it, everyone around me grew better and I stayed behind. Second semester wasn't much better. Suddenly I became lightheaded all the time. I even passed out in class. My mom dragged me to doctor after doctor, but we left with more questions than answers. The more sick I felt, the worse my grades seem to grow. I went from a B+ to a B-. Not the end of the world in the grand scheme of things, but the end of the world to me. In April, I decided to try out for my schools dance team for the third time. Both times previously I had failed to make it. But this time, there would be a JV team, so I had a little hope. JV musical theatre wasn't the end of the world, so maybe JV dance wouldn't be either. At least I'd be on the team. I almost passed out during tryouts (multiple times) and had to choose between being late on the timing of the dance or not doing my double pirouette, but I miraculously made the JV team. For the first time that year, I was actually proud of myself for being mediocre. I've always worried about not being good enough. I've always been terrified of mediocrity. Yet after going through junior year, I've realized that mediocrity wasn't the end of the world. Others might be growing around me, but I would grow to. At my own pace. At the end of my junior year, I still have a B in math and science, but I had the varsity dance team. Just because the world moved fast around me didn't mean I wasn't moving too.

I've always considered myself a Christian. Out of all the things in my life, that was the one thing I was completely positive of: Jesus loved me and I loved Jesus. In middle school, I was the girl with the W.W.J.D. bracelets inviting you to youth group. It wasn't until the end of my first year of high school, however, that I truly began to listen to God. Like most teenage girls, I had never loved the way I looked. Sure, I liked the length of my hair and the way my eyes looked in the sun, but I mostly despised the way I looked in the mirror. The thing that prompted this disgust: my stomach. People had always told me I was skinny, but whenever I saw my bloated stomach in the mirror, I knew that they were lying to me. Luckily, I had always been good at setting and accomplishing goals. My goal: get a flat stomach. My plan: eat less and workout everyday. The workouts would be easy. The hard part would be eating less. But I had a plan for that too, drink a full glass of water before meals, eat carrots at lunch so my friends wouldn't notice anything was off, skip breakfast, get smaller portions at dinner so my parents wouldn't notice anything, and drink a glass of my mom's green juice cleanse everyday. I knew what eating disorders were and I knew that they were dangerous, but I thought that's because those girls weren't safe. I would be safe. Even if I wasn't, I didn't think it mattered anyway. No one would care if I faded away. But the thing was, I did have people who cared about me. God proved that to me when my dog almost died. When my family found out that our seven month old puppy would need risky surgery, all of us broke down crying. After excusing myself to be alone, I had an epiphany. If my family cared so much about a dog we had only had for a few months, they must care so much more about me: their sister and daughter who had been in their lives for fifteen years. God showed me how much people cared for me. I started leaning on God so much more after that day. Instead of going through the motions of praying and reading my bible, I held on it my faith like a life line. Because it was for me. My relationship with Jesus saved my life beyond getting me to Heaven. After that day, I began to listen to God more. My parents have always wanted me to become a lawyer. Recently though, I've realized that law is not what I want to study. On a recent mission trip, God revealed to me that I was meant to work with kids. Instead of majoring in pre-law and going to law school, my new dream is to major in child development and become a child life specialist. Throughout my struggles with my body image, God had tried to show me my value. He tried to show me that I am beautifully and wonderfully made. While it took my dog nearly dying for me to listen back then, I'm not going to make that mistake again. On my trip, God reveal to me my true path, and I am going to follow it.