I was oblivious to the fact I was a gifted child until I was well past middle school. I knew it was normal for adults to ask my parents if I was gifted, and I knew it was normal for everyone to have high expectations of me from a young age. I didn't mind, because I knew I could meet them. In fact, I prided myself on it. I knew I was different because my parents often warned me to be patient with my peers for not understanding the same concepts as me. I didn't understand why, though. If you've ever met a child, you know how important it is for them to know why. They only came into the world a few years ago, and they're desperate to learn all the secrets of the universe. Not being able to understand is frustrating for a child. As I got older and more social, I got easily irritated with my peers for not knowing what I knew. Despite this, they all seemed to have one skill I didn't - the ability to craft long-lasting, quality relationships with people who understood them on what seemed to be an atomic level. I was jealous because I couldn't connect with anyone on a deep level like that, and I wanted it so bad. I wanted to be invited to another family's house for thanksgiving. I wanted to have a best friend who was like my sister. I wanted someone who had a stable shoulder for me to lean on through all the future hardships of life. I wanted someone I could talk to about anything and never feel embarrassed in front of. Instead, I had a small friend group that always made me feel a little self conscious, and left out. A lot of people liked me, but nobody ever understood me like I wanted them to. I excelled in a lot of ways that other kids didn't, so I accidentally expected too much from them. It hurt my feelings at first, but then it caused me to turn inward and I became extremely insecure. I eventually became heavily dependent on external validation, whether from friends, teachers, or strangers. I thrived off strangers telling my parents how well behaved I was, or a teacher telling me how well thought out my essay was. I only ever managed to find peace in being friends with mature teenagers and adults, but that wasn't perfect either, because I knew they didn't want to be truly close friends with someone who was just a kid. My self esteem got low, because I felt like I had something to offer to the conversations of older people, but I would get dismissed because of my age. Everyone just treated me like a kid. I was so lonely. I graduated high school at 15 years old, with many academic achievements. Summa cum laude, honor roll, perfect GPA, you name it. Additionally, I graduated high school with a lot of real and close friends, because I became a well adjusted teenager. Literally! I started seeing a neurologically focused chiropractor who specializes in nervous system function. We discovered my Vagus nerve was completely dormant, and the Vagus nerve regulates behavior, as well as social skills! I began getting adjusted regularly, and we saw incredible progress in all areas of my life. It changed my health issues for good, and it also enabled me to be emotionally regulated and have a healthy social life. After learning so many valuable lessons as a gifted kid and then transitioning into a much more well adjusted gifted adult, I've met a lot of gifted children dealing with the same things that I did. Giftedness is a complex neurobiological study but I've decided to become a neurological chiropractor because of what it did for me. I know that I can help so many children. Through adjustments, you relieve the tension beneath the dura mater of the spinal column, and you optimize brain function. You can wake up the Vagus nerve! What people don't realize about being gifted is that it's not just stellar academic performance. It's an undying need for fairness in all things. It's crying about adult problems when you're just a kid, because you see all those problems from an early age but you don't have the emotional maturity of an adult to deal with it. A gifted child is wondering about death while their peers are wondering what's for lunch that day. Being gifted is hard. I would be honored to help the kid that I once was. I'm getting my undergraduate degree right now, and then I'm going on to get my doctorate in Chiropractic Medicine and Neurology. I can't do this by myself. I would be so honored to receive this scholarship.

Nobody else's story makes me cry more than mine. I hate telling it. Have you ever become estranged from a friend, who later attempts to return to your life? It usually elicits the feeling of "you don't deserve to know me." That's how I feel. Nobody deserves to know me. At least, that's how I used to feel. My name is Hannah, and when I was eleven, I experienced the greatest loss of my life - the loss of normalcy. I have always led a quiet, suburban life. I went to church, I was homeschooled for my whole life, and I was going to go to summer camp that year. I loved my parents and my brother. All of that changed when I got diagnosed with a severe chronic illness that overwhelmed my life. The pain started gradually, so subtle I didn't realize it had always been there, only now had it reached an all-time high. I was bedridden for weeks. I hated my lack of independence. Then I made one of the worst uninformed decisions I have ever made. I started chemotherapy. It caused me such intense physical pain that I use it as a barometer for acute pain now, and so far, I have never experienced anything comparable to it, and I don't think I will. It was absolute hell. It was the worst at night. I would start to get nauseous, and dizzy. Rather than feeling sensations, my body would perceive everything, even a feather touch, as pain. I have multiple broken chains from necklaces I ripped off because the pain was unbearable. Most of my nights involved multiple panic attacks, and falling asleep with my cheek resting on the toilet seat in the bathroom because I felt like I was going to throw up, if I fell asleep at all. My family's schedule revolved around how I felt. I think my experience turned me into a hardened shell of a person. I had a hard time opening up because my story had become so burdensome, I couldn't share it, and it was so intimately personal I didn't feel like anyone deserved to hear it. I hated telling my story. The underlying reason that I couldn't talk about it is I wasn't done being hurt by it. I wasn't done grieving the life I had. Yes, my pain was intense and it nearly killed me. But my healing was so profound that I am grateful for everything I experienced and everything that brought me to where I am today. Eventually, I found a community of doctors that not only healed me physically but healed my heart. I built such a strong bond with them that I became the one thing I never thought I could achieve again: happy. Fast forward, I began college at 15 years old. I'm able to help other people find that same type of community that can heal both their bodies and their hearts, and I'm in school to become a doctor as well. I've already saved over twenty lives doing this. If we're looking at school in terms of finances alone, I don't have a shot. But I've lived through having the cards stacked against me before, and it gave me grit. I'm applying for scholarships like it's my job, and I'm going to find a way to make this work. I'm working hard for the lives I know I can save because someone once saved mine. I love telling my story because it fundamentally shifted from pain to purpose. I believe that I can be someone else's hope in the darkness.

As a little girl, I always thought about what I wanted to do when I got big and strong. I considered a lot of options, but one in particular that I fixated on for a few months was becoming a therapist. When I was older, I took a course in positive psychology. I spent many hours writing about and meditating on the concepts of psychology, and how they might apply to sitting in front of a person who is breaking down and needs my help. This is primarily why I decided against pursuing therapy as a career. There is absolutely a time and place for therapy, and it is incredible for so many people. I fully support that. Personally, I knew that if I spent the majority of my days listening to trauma and being surrounded by it, it would seep into my own life. I wanted to save as much energy as I could to be there for my family and friends who needed me. I didn't want to structure it, I just wanted the people that I care about to be able to call me and cry at any hour they needed to, and they still do, because they know I'm a safe place for them. Now my career path looks astronomically different. God has led me to become a neurologically focused pediatric, perinatal, and family chiropractor. A few months after applying for chiropractic school, I also discovered I wanted to get certified as a midwife in addition to caring for my patients. You're probably wondering what on earth those two very different professions have to do with each other. Because perinatal patients are one of my primary focuses as a chiropractic student, it means I'm working with pregnant women and infants. Many of the reasons that newborns would come to see me involve birth trauma and injury: so why not bypass that altogether by being able to properly deliver them myself? But one of the things I love about that idea is that it has no schedule. If a mom calls me at 3 am, I'm there. I have to be because life depends on it. I love that it sets that precedent: call me anytime, and I will be there. I want all my patients to feel like they can count on me at any hour, because they can. You need me? I'm there.

How familiar are you with the sound of your heart? How quickly would you notice it if something wasn't right? Would you be able to hear it if the beat was a little off? I could. My heart, constantly racing, was like a canary in a coal mine. It was the first thing I noticed every morning as if it was an alarm signaling another grueling day of uphill battles. I became best friends with my heart rate monitor, and I was proficient in understanding the ups and downs of the readings I would get. Since I was a little girl, I have been facing multiple severe chronic illnesses that fostered a tendency for anxiety and depression. Waking up every morning was a burden - going to bed at night was worse. Sleep was elusive and often nonexistent. Nausea and dizziness were pervasive. Anxiety was all-consuming. Depression was aggravating. I've never felt a more overwhelming feeling than wanting to give up. I didn't want to die, I just didn't want to live like this. I wasn't living anyway, I was only surviving, and it was the most exhausting thing I have ever done. When a routine like that becomes your new normal, you eventually become an unusually negative person. I believed I would never get better, that there was no hope for me. Fortunately for me, I was dead wrong. My pivotal moment was community. Through a series of miracles that began my profound physical healing journey, my heart healed along with my body. God brought me into the middle of an incredible team of people who are warm, loving, and golden-hearted. The support and love I was shown fundamentally shifted my understanding of the meaning of gratitude. Too many people view gratitude as a cliche, but I view it as my mission statement for life. This motivated me. My experience with depression made the feeling of motivation so much more extreme as if I had gone to the complete opposite side of a spectrum. Since then, I have had the immensely rewarding privilege of facilitating the same type of community for other people and helping them get the support and love that they need. I firmly believe that your body cannot physically heal until your heart has been healing, by the love and understanding that other people give you. It just needs to be the right people. So I'm in the business of healing people's hearts, and that's why I want to go into healthcare so that I can facilitate physical healing, but so that I can also show people the compassion and empathy they need to heal emotionally. That is why I need this scholarship because the education I need isn't something I can easily afford. But I know that whatever financial hardship or other trials I face on my journey to being able to help people is so worth it. No one deserves to feel the way I did, and no one should be alone if they do experience it. Many of the people I've been able to help find a community have reached out to tell me that I have forever changed their life, and they will never forget me. It makes me think of the little girl I used to be, who was so scared. I believe everyone ultimately becomes the person they once needed in their lowest moments. We are most equipped to help the people we once were. I'm very familiar with the sound of my own heart, which has now become calm and steady. Now, I want to heal other people's hearts.

There's a very intricate relationship between a girl and her first panic attack. For years, I've prided myself on my illustrative, descriptive writing skills. I've been told more times than I can count that I can paint a picture like no one else can, but if there is anything I have no words to explain, it's feeling like you're going to die. Panic attacks are like dangerous dominos. If you have one, you've accidentally gotten onto a path of negative momentum that cascades into another, and another, and another, until they begin governing your life. It's like you are clay, and a wicked potter has grabbed hold of you and won't let go. My mother hates mental illness. She grew up surrounded by it and swore to do different with me. She's been a wonderful mother, but one of her shortcomings was mentioning her hatred for mental health so often. As a young kid, I internalized that, and I began to take a twisted pride in my "perfect" mental health. Do you know how it feels to be terrified you'll turn out to be the very thing your mother hates? What if I have a panic attack and she hates me? Do you understand what it feels like to place your worth as a human being in the state of your mental health? My self respect was purely tied to whether or not I could please my mom by remaining mentally healthy. My internal self-esteem would plummet if I made a mistake and accidentally got too stressed out. It was too much. It was suffocating, actually. I started having panic attacks every day, and they were usually late at night, near dawn, when no one was awake to see me. My mental health, which I was so terrified of, began to wreck my physical health. I developed severe autoimmune issues and neurological conditions that changed my life. It was the worst experience I've ever had, and I cannot begin to make sense of it, so here's some random words that will hopefully convey it to you. Hell. Death. Agonizing. Excruciating. Curious. Terrifying. Horrible. Destructive. Anxiety. Confusing. All consuming. Fear. Tense. Depressing. It eventually reached a point where my family's schedule revolved around me and how I felt physically. I stayed in bed most days, in the worst pain I've ever felt. It was singlehandedly the most terrifying experience of my life, and to this day, it terrifies me to think about it. I think my struggles with physical and mental health have shaped me into the empathetic and compassionate person I am today. Because yes, I experienced the worst health. But yes, I also experienced the most profound healing. It's gotten me closer to my mother, who's now my best friend, and it's given me unbreakable bonds with incredible people I'm honored to know, who I otherwise never would've met. I'm so beyond happy in my life now. I'm doing great in school, I'm an honors student with a 4.0 GPA, I graduated high school at 15 years old, and I love cooking, and spending time with my cats and my lovely, lovely friends. That's the best word I can use for life right now: lovely.

Purpose is the single most important thing in life. Everybody needs their “why.” Without purpose, you will fail. When you decide to pursue a career in the medical field, someone will inevitably ask you why you’re choosing to go down this path. Nine times out of ten, the answer that comes to mind first is, “I want to help people.” There is so much beauty in that phrase but it’s lost in repetition. We’ve all heard it a thousand times over. If you want to simplify it, that’s what it comes down to for nearly all aspiring doctors. It isn’t a cop out or a non answer. We really do want to help. But when it comes down to it, it is so much deeper than that. My goal is to give people hope. I want to see life come back into their eyes when they realize they’re getting better, that their world has been turned upside down in the best way. There’s very few things that are more rewarding than reintroducing peace into a person’s life and helping them achieve what they thought would be impossible - a full restoration of hope, health, and happiness. I didn't have hope that things would change, until they did. Life sucked - and I knew I needed to make a change. So I started going to a chiropractor and taking care of myself. I’ve dealt with some tough hardships with my health. Yet I still have so much to be grateful for - food, a home, a family, love, friends, coffee, books, music, rom-coms, poetry. Despite my problems, other people had it much worse than I did, so I was grateful for the health I did have. Even with all of the blessings that God has given me, I have never been more grateful for anything than this. It was completely normal for me to be awake until 4 or 5am every night, feeling sick out of my mind. I’d be so nauseous I couldn’t move, and my head would be pounding so hard that I couldn’t think straight. My thoughts were loud and my mind would not shut off. Anything that touched me I wanted gone. Even something grazing my arm made me want to throw up and rip my skin off. I decided the night of my first adjustment I was going to be a chiropractor. I didn’t care how hard it was going to be for me because I know that every life I can change by doing it is worth all the trouble and stress and inconvenience and whatever else may come along my way as I pursue this path. Every day, I will keep showing up. No one deserves to be hopeless. Hope actually exists and I was shown that. I want to do that for other people. I aspire to bring that same hope to people’s lives and alleviate the pain they’ve been in for so long. I want my patients to know that I empathize and understand so deeply. I want to be the first person to hear them after they’ve spent years not being heard. I want to be the first one to really listen to them. I want to put my hand on theirs, look in their eyes, and be the first person that really means it when I say, “I understand.” This scholarship is going to help me do that. I want to change what they thought was unchangeable and God has called me to do that. So yes, I want to help people. But it is so much more than that.

I vividly remember my first volleyball game, and it was an experience that left an impression on me to this day. The energy in the gym, the rush of adrenaline, and the excitement of finally playing the game I had worked so hard to perfect were all exhilarating. I wasn't new to volleyball at that point, because I'd spent weeks training, drilling, and perfecting my technique with isolation and compound movements. But nothing prepared me for the feeling of stepping onto the court for my first game. It was intense. Looking back on those memories, the nerves were overwhelming. I wasn't prioritizing winning by any means, I just didn't want to embarrass myself in front of the girls on my team. I remember just thinking, "Please don't mess up." I usually thrive under pressure, but this time was different because I had to prove all the practice would pay off in a real game scenario. The environment added to the pressure. This game was in a brightly lit gym with polished floors and loud echoes. Personally, I think gym sports lend themselves to a more competitive atmosphere with much higher stakes. I felt like my every move was being scrutinized. That's why I fell in love with beach volleyball! While the indoor game is completely thrilling and sharpens my skills, beach volleyball embodies everything I love about this sport so much, but it's much more relaxed. The beach puts everyone at ease and there's a much friendlier nature to it. I still have the same excitement and thrill, but it's more balanced by the casual energy. I can enjoy the sport and the people I'm playing with, without feeling like my every mistake is completely monumental. I love how playful beach volleyball is. After I graduate from college, my career goals will look different, but volleyball will always be part of my life. I'm going to become a neurologically focused pediatric and perinatal chiropractor, specializing in finding and treating dysautonomia in the nervous system. It's not a field that many people are familiar with, and that included me for a while, but a neurologically focused chiropractor changed my own life. My health was improved significantly, and I was able to perform better in my games. My passion for this work drives me, and I am fully committed to my educational journey. Attending college comes with financial challenges, which is why I'm applying for this scholarship. Earning this scholarship would allow me to focus on my studies and pursue my dream of becoming a student doctor without the overwhelming burden of financial stress. I want to dedicate myself to both my education and the game I love, continuing to grow in both areas. Volleyball and chiropractic care may seem like two very different passions, but they both require focus, dedication, and a desire to improve. I am excited about the opportunity to further my education, continue playing the sport I love, and ultimately serve the community with the skills and knowledge I gain.