I was thirteen when I was diagnosed with a brain tumor. One day I was worried about school, and the next I was sitting in a hospital room hearing words that didn’t feel real: “You have a brain tumor.” In that moment, everything changed. My life quickly became filled with chemotherapy, radiation, and constant medical appointments. Hospital rooms replaced classrooms. I watched my hair fall out and felt my sense of normalcy disappear just as quickly. Even after treatment ended, cancer didn’t simply leave. I still live with its long-term effects: chronic medical conditions, frequent doctor visits, and “chemobrain,” which makes memory and concentration more difficult. One of the moments that defines me as a survivor didn’t happen during treatment, but afterward, while volunteering at 6T, the oncology/hematology unit at the hospital where I had previosuly recived treatment. I met a little girl who refused to take her medication. No matter what the staff or child life specialists tried, she wouldn’t do it. I saw myself in her, the fear, the resistance, the exhaustion of being a patient. So I sat with her and told her that I understood what it felt like. I wasn’t just another adult telling her what to do, I had been in her place. I made her a simple promise: if she took her medication, I would give her a cookie. She looked at me, made me promise, and then finally took it. It was a small moment, but it stayed with me. That was the first time I realized that my experience wasn’t just something I had survived, it was something I could use to help someone else. In that moment, I wasn’t just a former patient. I was someone she trusted. Returning to school after treatment had been one of my biggest challenges. I struggled with fatigue, memory, and trying to keep up in a world that hadn’t slowed down for me. But I pushed myself to adapt. I asked for help, worked harder, and refused to let cancer take away my future. Over time, I excelled academically, earned membership in Phi Beta Kappa and Psi Chi, and became a mentor in the McNair Scholars and Student Support Services programs. That experience in the hospital, combined with my passion for psychology, shaped the path I am on today. I am pursuing a doctorate in Clinical Psychology, with a focus in Health Psychology, so I can work with children and families coping with chronic and terminal illnesses. I want to be the kind of psychologist who creates a space where patients feel truly seen and understood, because sometimes healing doesn’t come from fixing everything, but from simply being there. Receiving the Jessica’s Journey Brain Tumor Survivor Scholarship would help ease the financial burden my medical journey placed on my family and allow me to continue my education with greater focus. More importantly, it would affirm that my journey as a survivor has meaning and impact. Cancer changed my life, but it also gave me purpose. I am not just a survivor, I am someone committed to turning my experience into something that helps others heal.

I remember one night sitting alone in a hospital room, long after the nurses had finished their rounds. The room was quiet except for the steady rhythm of machines beside my bed. I was exhausted, scared, and overwhelmed by a future that suddenly felt uncertain. In that moment, I closed my eyes and prayed, not for answers, but simply for strength. I asked God to help me make it through whatever came next. That was the night I realized that faith is not just something you talk about on Sundays. Faith is what you hold on to when everything else feels like it is slipping away. When I was diagnosed with cancer, my life changed almost overnight. I had been focused on my education and the future I had always envisioned for myself. Suddenly, my days revolved around hospital visits, treatments, and the emotional weight of not knowing what the future would look like. There were moments when fear felt overwhelming. I questioned why this was happening and how I would find the strength to keep going. During that time, my faith became my anchor. I turned to prayer constantly, sometimes with words and sometimes with nothing more than quiet tears. One verse that stayed with me during some of my hardest moments was Isaiah 41:10: “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you.” I repeated those words to myself during treatments, during long nights of uncertainty, and during the moments when I felt physically and emotionally drained. Surviving cancer did not mean that life simply returned to normal. My treatment left me with long-term health conditions that I continue to navigate today, including hypopituitarism, central diabetes insipidus, and hypothalamic obesity. These conditions bring daily challenges, from frequent medical care to cognitive difficulties that many survivors refer to as “chemobrain.” There are days when concentrating on my studies requires more energy than most people realize. Yet through it all, my faith has continued to sustain me. Instead of allowing my illness to define me by what it took away, I began to see how God could use my experience to shape my purpose. Living through cancer showed me how deeply people need emotional and spiritual support when facing serious illness. It also showed me how powerful compassion and understanding can be during someone’s most vulnerable moments. Because of this, I chose to pursue a doctoral degree in clinical psychology with the goal of specializing in health psychology. I hope to dedicate my career to helping individuals who are living with chronic or life-threatening illnesses find emotional support, resilience, and hope during difficult seasons of their lives. Faith did not remove my suffering, but it transformed how I carry it. Romans 8:28 reminds us that “in all things God works for the good of those who love Him.” I have seen that truth unfold in my own life. What once felt like the darkest chapter of my story has become the very thing that gave my life deeper purpose. Cancer tested my faith in ways I never expected, but it also strengthened it. Through prayer, perseverance, and trust in God, I learned that even in life’s hardest moments, we are never walking alone. And because of that faith, I continue to move forward with hope, determined to turn the pain I once carried into healing for others.

I became part of the disabled community after surviving cancer. Treatment placed me into remission — a word I carry with gratitude and realism. Remission is not cure. The long-term effects of treatment left me with hypopituitarism, central diabetes insipidus, hypothalamic obesity, and cognitive challenges often called “chemo brain.” Cancer may no longer require chemotherapy, but it requires lifelong medical management. My body functions differently now, and that difference reshaped how I move through the world. Before my diagnosis, I viewed disability primarily through a physical lens — ramps, wheelchairs, visible conditions. Living with chronic illness expanded that understanding. I learned that disability can be invisible, fluctuating, and deeply intertwined with identity. I learned what it feels like to miss class for endocrinology appointments and worry about being perceived as less dedicated. I learned how cognitive fatigue can slow processing while expectations remain the same. I began to see that many barriers are not rooted in individual limitation but in systems designed without flexibility. Being part of the disabled community has made me more observant and more empathetic. I notice policies that unintentionally exclude. I recognize how easily people with chronic conditions can internalize structural barriers as personal failure. I also recognize the power of advocacy. I have had to advocate for accommodations, for understanding, and at times simply for patience. That experience strengthened my confidence and clarified my voice. Education became deeply personal after cancer. When my health felt unpredictable, pursuing higher education became an act of reclaiming stability and independence. I am now earning my doctoral degree in clinical psychology with a focus on health psychology. My goal is to work with adolescents and young adults facing chronic and life-altering medical diagnoses. I understand that remission does not erase fear, identity shifts, or long-term adaptation. I understand the emotional weight of rebuilding your life while managing a body that operates differently. In my future career, I plan to integrate my clinical training with my lived experience to improve how healthcare systems support individuals with chronic illnesses. I want to advocate for integrated care models that address both physical and psychological needs. I want to help patients feel seen as whole people, not reduced to diagnoses. And I want to mentor young survivors who may not yet realize that disability does not diminish ambition. Being part of the disabled community has changed how I define strength. It is not the absence of limitation; it is the ability to adapt, advocate, and persist. My experiences have shaped my worldview, sharpened my purpose, and strengthened my drive. Through my education and career, I intend to ensure that others living beyond remission are not merely accommodated — but empowered.

Choosing a career in mental health did not arise from a single defining moment, but from experiences that gradually shaped how I understand people, resilience, and the importance of feeling supported during life’s most challenging periods. My earliest exposure to this understanding came through tutoring and mentorship. While tutoring is often framed as academic assistance, my work quickly revealed something much deeper. Many of the students I supported were not simply struggling with coursework. They were navigating frustration, anxiety, low confidence, and self-doubt. Academic difficulties were often inseparable from emotional challenges. I learned that meaningful progress required patience, encouragement, and the creation of a space where students felt safe enough to struggle and grow. Watching students slowly gain confidence and begin to see themselves differently demonstrated how profoundly support and understanding can influence a person’s trajectory. My personal journey with cancer further deepened this perspective. Navigating serious illness and long-term medical care reshaped how I understood vulnerability, uncertainty, and resilience. Illness extends far beyond physical symptoms; it touches every aspect of a person’s emotional and psychological world. Experiencing this firsthand allowed me to recognize the often unseen mental health challenges that accompany medical conditions. I have seen firsthand why this work matters. It was during this time that my interest in psychology evolved into a clear sense of purpose. I became increasingly aware of the need for care that recognizes the inseparable connection between mental and physical well-being. As a doctoral student in clinical psychology, I now have the privilege of working directly with individuals facing anxiety, grief, trauma, adjustment difficulties, and the psychological challenges associated with chronic conditions. Through intakes, therapy, and psychoeducation, I strive to create environments where individuals feel heard, understood, and respected. Being bilingual in English and Spanish has been particularly meaningful, as it allows me to connect with individuals who may otherwise encounter barriers to care. Within many underserved and Hispanic communities, mental health struggles are often minimized or stigmatized, reinforcing the need for accessible, culturally responsive psychological services. Looking forward, my goal is to work within health psychology, supporting individuals coping with chronic and life-altering medical conditions. I aspire to contribute to a model of care that treats the whole person rather than isolated symptoms. Emotional well-being is not secondary to physical health; it is fundamental to it. I hope to advocate for approaches that integrate psychological support into healthcare settings, particularly for underserved populations where comprehensive care is often limited. Pursuing graduate education while managing the long-term effects of serious illness has required resilience, adaptability, and determination. As a first-generation student from a low-income background, financial barriers remain a persistent challenge. Scholarships such as this one are instrumental in allowing students like myself to continue pursuing careers dedicated to supporting others. Ultimately, my decision to pursue this path is grounded in a belief that continues to guide my work: feeling understood can be transformative. Through my training and future career, I hope to contribute to a world where mental health care is more accessible, more compassionate, and where individuals facing psychological challenges feel supported rather than unseen.

Service has never been something I consciously decided to pursue. It has unfolded naturally through the roles I have stepped into, the people I have worked with, and the experiences that have shaped my life. Over time, giving back became less about what I was doing and more about how I was showing up for others. My earliest experiences with service began through tutoring and mentorship. While tutoring is often viewed as academic support, my work quickly revealed something much deeper. Many of the students I worked with were not simply struggling with schoolwork. They were navigating frustration, insecurity, anxiety, and self-doubt. I learned that meaningful progress often required patience, encouragement, and emotional support long before any academic improvement occurred. Sometimes the most important part of a session was helping a student feel capable again. Watching students gradually gain confidence, develop resilience, and begin to believe in their own abilities showed me how powerful consistent support can be. As I continued my education in psychology, my commitment to service evolved into direct clinical work. Through my doctoral training, I now work closely with individuals facing anxiety, grief, trauma, adjustment challenges, and the psychological impact of chronic health conditions. This work allows me to sit with people during some of the most vulnerable periods of their lives. Whether conducting intakes, providing therapy, or offering psychoeducation, my focus remains on creating an environment where individuals feel heard, understood, and respected. Being bilingual in English and Spanish has been particularly meaningful, as it allows me to connect with individuals who may otherwise encounter barriers to care. Within many Hispanic communities, mental health struggles are often minimized or misunderstood, and I strive to be someone who helps reduce that distance. My personal journey with cancer has profoundly influenced how I give back. Living through serious illness and long-term medical care reshaped my understanding of vulnerability, resilience, and empathy. Illness does not affect only the body; it touches every aspect of a person’s emotional, social, and psychological world. Experiencing that reality firsthand strengthened my desire to support others navigating similar challenges. It also reinforced my belief that healthcare must treat the whole person, not just symptoms or diagnoses. Looking forward, I hope to continue integrating service into my career as a clinical psychologist, particularly within health psychology. My goal is to work with individuals coping with chronic and life-altering medical conditions, helping bridge the gap between mental and physical healthcare. I aspire to contribute to a model of care that recognizes emotional well-being as essential, not secondary. Beyond clinical work, I hope to remain involved in mentorship and education, supporting students who may feel overwhelmed, uncertain, or discouraged, just as many of the individuals I have worked with once did. Ultimately, my approach to service is grounded in a simple belief: feeling understood can be transformative. I have seen how support can restore confidence, how compassion can soften fear, and how being truly heard can change the way someone sees themselves and their future. I hope to continue creating those moments of connection and reassurance, because sometimes the most meaningful form of service is simply helping someone feel less alone. The contribution I aspire to make is not defined solely by professional success, but by the individuals who feel seen, supported, and empowered through the work I dedicate my life to.

Supporting others’ mental health has never felt like a role I step into; it’s something I live every day, shaped by my education, my community, and my own experiences with serious illness and long-term medical care. Mental health became real to me not through textbooks, but through moments when people needed to feel understood, believed, and supported when life felt overwhelming. For years, I have supported children, adolescents, and families through tutoring and mentorship, often meeting students who were discouraged, anxious, or struggling with far more than academics. Many sessions began with frustration or self-doubt. Before progress could happen, I learned to slow down, listen, and create a space where they felt safe enough to try again. Sometimes the most important support I provided wasn’t academic; it was reminding them that they were capable, worthy, and not alone. As a doctoral student in clinical psychology, I now support clients directly through intakes, therapy, and psychoeducation. I have worked with individuals navigating anxiety, grief, adjustment difficulties, and the emotional impact of trauma and chronic illness. I’ve seen how stigma, limited access to care, and the lack of culturally responsive services leave people feeling unseen and unsupported. Being bilingual in English and Spanish has allowed me to connect with clients and families who might otherwise hesitate to seek help, reinforcing how access can transform outcomes. My future career is rooted in health psychology, where I plan to work with individuals managing chronic and life-altering medical conditions. I aim to provide care that recognizes how deeply mental and physical health are intertwined. Having lived within the healthcare system myself, I understand how easily emotional needs are overlooked, and how powerful it is when they are not. I have seen how deeply that absence can affect someone who is already carrying pain. Because of that, I am committed to becoming a clinician who leads with presence, empathy, and access, especially for those who feel unseen or unheard. Mental healthcare does not always begin with a diagnosis; sometimes it begins with someone choosing to listen and stay.

When my dad suffered a stroke, life changed in ways I never expected. In an instant, everything that felt stable and predictable suddenly became uncertain. Watching someone I love go through something so serious was frightening, but what I didn’t realize at the time was how much it would impact me as well. His stroke not only challenged him, but it also reshaped my responsibilities, my outlook, and my journey as a student. One of the biggest obstacles I faced was learning how to balance school with the new reality at home. After his stroke, my dad needed constant care, therapy, and support. Simple things like remembering to take medications or completing everyday tasks were no longer simple for him. As a family, we all had to step in to help, and I often found myself taking on responsibilities that most people my age don’t have to think about. While my friends were worried about homework or weekend plans, I was juggling schoolwork with hospital visits and helping out at home. At times, it was overwhelming. The emotional toll was just as heavy as the physical responsibilities. Seeing my dad struggle with things he once did with ease was heartbreaking. I often carried that weight with me into the classroom, where it was hard to focus knowing what was happening at home. I worried about his health, about how my family would manage, and about what the future would look like. There were days when I questioned if I could keep up with school while dealing with everything else. But I kept pushing myself, because giving up was never an option. Another major obstacle was the financial strain. Strokes, like many heart-related conditions, come with expensive medical bills, rehabilitation costs, and long-term care needs. My family had to make difficult sacrifices to cover these expenses. At times, I felt guilty about the cost of my education when I knew money was tight. Still, I also understood that pursuing my degree was not just for me, but for my family. Continuing my education became a way to honor my dad’s strength and show him that his fight wasn’t in vain. Through all of this, I’ve learned lessons that go far beyond academics. I’ve learned the importance of resilience, compassion, and perseverance. My dad’s stroke taught me not to take anything for granted and to appreciate the strength it takes to overcome challenges. It also gave me a new perspective: I understand more deeply now what it means for families to live with the effects of heart disease, and it has motivated me to keep moving forward no matter what obstacles I face. Receiving the John Nathan Lee Heart Scholarship would ease some of the financial stress that comes with being a student while supporting a family dealing with heart disease. It would allow me to focus more on my education, knowing that some of the burden is lifted. More than that, it would be a reminder that our struggles matter and that something positive can come out of a very difficult experience. My journey hasn’t been easy, but it has shaped me into a stronger, more determined person. The challenges I’ve faced because of my dad’s stroke continue to motivate me as I pursue my degree and my future goals. This scholarship would not only support my education, but it would also honor my dad’s resilience and everything our family has overcome together.

My name is Helia, and as a first-generation Hispanic college student, education has been both my biggest challenge and my proudest achievement. Growing up, I saw how hard my family worked just to make ends meet, and I understood early on that pursuing higher education would not only change my future but also create opportunities for those who come after me. That vision is what continues to drive me as I work toward a doctorate in clinical psychology with a concentration in health psychology. My decision to pursue this field is deeply personal. I am a cancer survivor and live with several chronic medical conditions. These experiences opened my eyes to how often mental health care is overlooked for individuals with chronic or terminal illnesses. I know firsthand how overwhelming it can be to manage medical treatments, financial stress, and the emotional toll of illness. These challenges inspired me to dedicate my career to bridging the gap between mental and physical health, ensuring that patients like me receive comprehensive care that acknowledges both body and mind. My ultimate goal is to open an outpatient center that provides therapy, psychiatric support, and community resources for individuals and families facing chronic illnesses. Alongside my education, I have been committed to giving back to my community. As a McNair Scholar and mentor in FIU’s Student Support Services and McNair programs, I support students from underrepresented backgrounds in pursuing higher education. I also volunteer through campus clubs focused on trauma psychology and health psychology, and I tutor students from grade school through high school in English and Spanish. Service has always been a central part of my life because I believe that education and support should be accessible to everyone, not just those with privilege. These accomplishments mean a great deal to me, but they have come with significant financial sacrifice. As a first-generation student, I did not have the financial safety net that many of my peers relied on. Like so many others, I have had to take on student loans to pursue my education. The weight of this debt is heavy, and it often feels like it stands in the way of the very future I am working so hard to build. If awarded this scholarship, the money saved by reducing my student loan debt would make a real and immediate difference. It would allow me to focus more fully on my studies, my practicum training, and my community involvement, without the constant stress of wondering how I will repay my loans. In the long term, it would also help me invest in the vision I have for my outpatient center, where I plan to provide affordable mental health services to underserved communities. Education has given me hope, purpose, and direction. With your support, I will not only be able to relieve the burden of student debt but also continue to use my education to create spaces of healing and empowerment for others.

Living with chronic and rare illnesses has shaped every part of my life, but it has also given me a perspective and purpose that I would never trade. My journey has been filled with countless medical appointments, treatments, and moments of uncertainty, but it has also been defined by resilience, faith, and determination. Instead of allowing my conditions to limit me, I have chosen to see them as part of what fuels me to keep pushing forward and to use my education and voice to create change. One of the hardest parts of living with chronic illness is that it touches every corner of life. It is not just the physical symptoms, but the emotional, financial, and mental weight that comes along with them. There were times when I struggled to keep up academically, when I questioned if I could handle the demands of higher education while managing my health. But each challenge has made me more determined to succeed. My experiences have taught me patience, adaptability, and a strength I didn’t know I had. They have also given me deep empathy for others who face obstacles that are invisible to the outside world. What inspires me most to keep going is the belief that my story can help others. I have seen firsthand how isolating it can feel to live with a chronic condition, and I want to change that. Throughout my academic journey, I have sought ways to advocate for mental health, disability awareness, and equity in care. I believe that no one should feel alone in their struggle, and no one should have to sacrifice their dreams because of their health. My illnesses may create obstacles, but they have also given me a clear mission: to bridge the gap between physical and mental health and to build spaces where people living with chronic conditions feel understood, supported, and empowered. Pursuing a higher education is not just about achieving my personal goals, but about creating opportunities to serve others. My goal is to become a clinical health psychologist and eventually open an outpatient center for individuals with chronic and terminal illnesses. This center would provide therapy, psychiatric care, and community resources under one roof, recognizing that true health means caring for both the body and mind. I want to dedicate my career to helping people discover strength in their struggles, just as I have had to do. Johnna’s story resonates deeply with me because, like her, I have learned to find joy and purpose in the midst of hardship. Her legacy reflects everything I strive to embody — perseverance, passion for education, and a commitment to helping others. Receiving this scholarship would not only ease the financial burdens of pursuing graduate school but would also honor the resilience it has taken to get here. My chronic conditions may be part of my life, but they do not define my limits. Instead, they have defined my purpose. With every step forward, I carry the lessons of resilience, empathy, and hope — and I plan to use them to impact lives far beyond my own.

I chose to pursue a career in psychology, specifically within the STEAM field, because I know firsthand how deeply science and innovation can transform lives. After surviving cancer and continuing to live with chronic medical conditions caused by my treatment, I understand the importance of combining scientific research, compassionate care, and community support. My journey has shown me how powerful it is when health, science, and advocacy come together, and it has inspired me to dedicate my life to ensuring that others facing similar struggles are not left without the support they need. Psychology became my calling because it bridges science and humanity. It is a discipline grounded in evidence-based research while also offering real, practical solutions for people who are suffering. As a Latina and first-generation student, I am also aware of how often communities of color are excluded from these conversations, whether in research studies or in access to mental health care. My experiences with illness have fueled my determination to use my education in psychology to not only understand the science of the mind but to create spaces where individuals from underserved communities can feel seen, supported, and understood. Community service has always been central to my life. I started tutoring as a teenager and have continued mentoring, teaching, and volunteering ever since. My most meaningful work has been mentoring students from minority and first-generation backgrounds, helping them build confidence in their education while also encouraging them to care for their mental health. Through these experiences, I have seen how education and compassion can ripple outward, not only helping individuals succeed but also creating stronger communities. This is the kind of impact I want to expand on as I continue my career in psychology. This scholarship will help me in two important ways. First, it will ease the financial strain of graduate school, allowing me to focus more fully on my research and clinical training without constantly worrying about expenses. Second, it will empower me to continue giving back through mentorship, advocacy, and service. By supporting my education, you are also supporting the students I tutor, the patients I will one day counsel, and the communities I will work to uplift. What inspires me most about Kayla Nicole Monk’s legacy is that she lived with passion and vision, despite facing immense challenges. Her story reminds me of my own journey of resilience and strengthens my belief that every challenge can be turned into a reason to make a difference. Like Kayla, I want to leave behind a legacy of compassion, leadership, and impact. With this scholarship, I will continue on my path to becoming a psychologist who not only contributes to science but also brings hope, representation, and healing to the communities who need it most.

I believe I deserve this scholarship because my journey through higher education has been shaped by resilience, determination, and an unwavering commitment to turning challenges into opportunities. As a first-generation college student pursuing a doctoral degree in clinical psychology with a focus on health psychology, my path has not been easy. Navigating academics while managing chronic medical conditions, including the lasting effects of cancer treatment, has required discipline, perseverance, and the ability to adapt in ways that most students may never encounter. Despite these obstacles, I have maintained a strong academic record while continuing to grow personally and professionally. What sets me apart is not only my GPA but also my lived experiences and the perspective they give me. Having faced serious illness and the emotional and financial challenges that accompany it, I understand firsthand the gaps in healthcare and mental health services, particularly in underserved and minority communities. These experiences fuel my ambition to make mental health support accessible, compassionate, and culturally informed for all individuals, especially those who feel overlooked by the system. My goal is to not only excel academically but to translate my education into meaningful action that improves the lives of others. Beyond academics, I have consistently sought opportunities to lead, give back, and expand my skills. I mentor first-generation students, volunteer in mental health advocacy initiatives, and participate in research addressing trauma, health disparities, and culturally competent care. These experiences have strengthened my leadership, empathy, and problem-solving abilities, allowing me to approach challenges creatively and effectively. I have learned to balance rigorous academic work, personal growth, and service to others—all while remaining focused on my long-term goal of becoming a clinician and advocate for underserved populations. My journey has also shaped qualities that cannot be measured by grades alone. Facing cancer and its aftermath taught me resilience, empathy, and the importance of advocating for myself and others. These lessons inform the way I engage with the world: I approach every challenge with determination, view setbacks as opportunities to learn, and remain committed to helping others navigate their own obstacles. I am driven not only to succeed for myself but to open doors for others, particularly those from marginalized backgrounds who may face systemic barriers to education, healthcare, and mental wellness. Receiving the Champions Of A New Path Scholarship would allow me to focus more fully on my education, research, and advocacy work. It would provide critical financial support to continue pursuing my doctoral degree without compromise, and it would enable me to dedicate more time to mentoring, community service, and initiatives that make a tangible difference in the lives of others. I bring a combination of academic excellence, lived experience, and a passion for service that distinguishes me from other applicants, and I am committed to using this opportunity to create meaningful impact. I am determined to continue forging a path that advances my personal and professional goals while uplifting others who face systemic and personal obstacles. This scholarship would empower me to continue being a champion of change—someone who not only succeeds despite challenges but uses her education, experiences, and voice to support and inspire others. I want to help build a future where access to education, health, and mental wellness is equitable for all, and I am ready to dedicate myself fully to making that vision a reality.

My name is Helia Baez, and I am a first-generation doctoral student in clinical psychology, focusing on health psychology. My journey toward this path has been deeply personal, shaped by experiences with illness, the challenges of navigating healthcare as a young patient, and my faith, which has guided me through life’s most difficult moments. I have seen firsthand how mental health struggles are often overlooked, particularly for those with chronic illness or from underserved communities. These experiences have shaped my beliefs, relationships, and career aspirations, fueling a deep passion for helping others who face similar struggles. I remember one afternoon during treatment, sitting alone in a hospital waiting room. The fluorescent lights were harsh, the walls a sterile white, and the hum of machines filled the room. Nurses and doctors moved quickly, focused on lab results, and no one asked how I felt emotionally. I felt small, unseen, and exhausted—not just from treatment, but from the anxiety and fear that had become constant companions. That moment crystallized something for me: the healthcare system often treats patients as diagnoses rather than as whole people. I vowed that if I ever had the opportunity, I would create spaces where mental and emotional health mattered as much as physical health. Faith became my anchor. Prayer, scripture, and quiet reflection helped me face fear with resilience. My relationship with God and my church community provided comfort, guidance, and stability when everything else felt uncertain. I remember a volunteer at the hospital praying with me after a difficult treatment; her kindness brought unexpected relief. That support helped me see that my journey could be used to serve others who might feel unseen, isolated, or overwhelmed. These experiences reshaped my relationships. I became more empathetic, patient, and aware of how unique each person’s struggles are. I learned the importance of listening deeply, offering support without judgment, and building trust. I have carried this into my work as a mentor for first-generation students, a tutor for youth, and a volunteer in mental health advocacy initiatives. One meaningful experience was mentoring a first-generation undergraduate student struggling with anxiety. Watching her gradually gain confidence, seek therapy, and engage in research reminded me that small gestures of guidance can have lasting impacts. In all of these roles, my goal is to create safe spaces where individuals feel heard, understood, and empowered—especially those from underrepresented backgrounds. Academically, my experiences inspired me to engage in research that addresses health disparities and trauma. As a McNair Scholar, I conducted research on PTSD, cognitive psychology, and cross-cultural psychology, focusing on how trauma and chronic illness intersect with mental health outcomes. One project examined how cultural perspectives shape grief responses, highlighting the importance of culturally competent care. I have also contributed to projects in my university’s Trauma and Health Psychology clubs, helping develop resources and interventions accessible to diverse populations. These experiences reinforced that representation matters—not just in who provides care, but in how care is designed and delivered. My career goals are deeply connected to these experiences. I hope to create an outpatient health center where therapy, psychiatric care, and medical treatment are integrated, particularly for underserved and minority communities. The center would prioritize culturally competent care, ensuring families feel understood and supported. I envision programming that combines therapy, medical guidance, spiritual support, and community resources—because healing is holistic and no one path works for every individual. I also hope to advocate for systemic changes that reduce stigma and improve access to mental health services. My goal is to combine clinical work, research, and advocacy to build a mental health system where no one is left behind. Faith continues to guide my vision. I am committed to approaching mental health with compassion, hope, and service, recognizing the ways spirituality can support healing. Just as Matthew 4:19 says, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men,” I see my role as guiding and advocating for those navigating mental health struggles. My journey has taught me that recovery and growth are possible, and offering hope and support can transform lives. Winning the Fishers of Men-tal Health Scholarship would not only provide vital financial support but would also affirm the path I have chosen—a path of service, advocacy, and dedication to mental health. It would enable me to continue my education, advance my research, and expand the impact I can have on individuals and communities who are often overlooked. The support from this scholarship would allow me to develop programs, participate in research opportunities, and mentor students from minority and low-income backgrounds—ensuring they too have the guidance, encouragement, and resources they need to succeed. Through my experiences, I have learned that mental health struggles are not a mark of weakness but an opportunity to cultivate resilience, empathy, and purpose. I aim to dedicate my life to serving others, creating systems of care that are inclusive, accessible, and compassionate. I’ve learned to celebrate small victories, like a patient opening up in therapy, a mentee finding their voice, or a family discovering the support they needed. Those moments remind me that even in the darkest times, hope is possible. My journey has also taught me the importance of building communities of support. During treatment, the encouragement of mentors, family, and peers made an enormous difference in my recovery. Today, I work to provide that same network for others. I organize workshops, provide mentorship, and collaborate with researchers and clinicians to improve mental health resources. I know that my own experiences with illness and adversity uniquely equip me to advocate for patients who may feel unseen. Faith, community, and perseverance have shown me that healing is possible and that even one person’s guidance can have a ripple effect. By supporting my education, the Fishers of Men-tal Health Scholarship would help me turn my experiences into meaningful action, ensuring that others receive the care, understanding, and support they deserve. I want to be a source of hope, guidance, and compassion for those who feel invisible, just as I was supported when I needed it most. I am committed to dedicating my life to this calling. I hope to create a lasting impact on mental health care, particularly for adolescents and adults from underserved communities, while demonstrating that faith, resilience, and advocacy can transform lives. With this scholarship, I will continue to grow, learn, and serve, fully embracing the mission of following Christ’s example and becoming a fisher of men in the field of mental health.

My name is Helia Baez, and I am a first-generation doctoral student in clinical psychology with a concentration in health psychology. My passion for mental health comes from both my studies and my lived experiences as a cancer survivor and as someone who grew up in a Hispanic community where mental health was rarely talked about. Those experiences shaped the way I see the world and gave me the determination to help create a mental health system that is more inclusive, representative, and compassionate. Going through cancer changed everything for me. I spent countless hours in hospitals and doctors’ offices, and while my medical care was thorough, my emotional health was often overlooked. I remember leaving appointments feeling like my fears and anxiety were invisible. On top of that, I struggled with “chemobrain,” which made school harder and made me feel isolated. That experience opened my eyes to a bigger problem: in our healthcare system, the mind and body are often treated as separate, when in reality they are deeply connected. That realization is what inspired me to pursue health psychology. I want to make sure patients receive care that sees them as whole people, not just as diagnoses. Growing up in a Hispanic household also shaped my goals. In my family and community, mental health struggles were often brushed aside. People were told to keep pushing through, and seeking help was sometimes seen as weakness. I know how harmful that silence can be, and I want to change it. My career goal is to build an outpatient center for people with chronic and terminal illnesses where therapy, psychiatric care, and medical treatment work together. At the same time, I want that center to provide culturally competent services that speak directly to the needs of diverse families. My vision is to make mental health care not only accessible, but also something people feel safe and proud to use. Academically, I have worked to prepare myself for this path. As a McNair Scholar, I conducted research on PTSD, cognitive psychology, and cross-cultural psychology, which deepened my commitment to addressing mental health disparities. I am also active in my university’s Trauma and Health Psychology clubs, where I help with projects focused on spreading awareness and reducing stigma. Through these experiences, I have seen how much representation and inclusivity matter in research and practice. People are more willing to seek help when they feel seen and understood. Outside of research, I’ve dedicated myself to mentorship and tutoring. I mentor first-generation students in the McNair and Student Support Services programs, helping them find their confidence in higher education. I also tutor younger students, where I try to encourage not only their academic growth but also their belief in themselves. For me, mentorship is about opening doors that were once closed to people like me. The Joybridge Mental Health & Inclusion Scholarship represents exactly the kind of work I want to dedicate my life to—making mental health care equitable, inclusive, and representative of all communities. Winning this scholarship would not only ease the financial burden of graduate school, but also remind me that I am part of a larger movement to transform mental health. My goal is to turn my survival story into something bigger: a career that gives others the care, hope, and dignity they deserve.

My name is Helia Baez, and I am a first-generation student pursuing a doctorate in clinical psychology with a focus on health psychology. My journey into this field is personal. As a cancer survivor, I know what it feels like to sit in a doctor’s office and have every medical detail covered, yet leave with my emotional pain untouched. That gap—between physical and mental health—is what I am determined to close. Growing up in a Hispanic household, mental health was rarely discussed. Struggles were minimized, or we were told to keep pushing forward. During my cancer journey, I realized how damaging that silence can be. My doctors worked tirelessly to treat my body, but my emotional needs were often invisible. I do not want other patients to feel the same isolation. My goal is to open an outpatient center where people living with chronic and terminal illnesses receive holistic care—therapy, psychiatric support, and resources for their families. Healing should never be limited to the body alone. My passion is also rooted in the communities I come from. In many Hispanic families, mental health care carries stigma, often viewed as weakness. I want to change that narrative. Through research, clinical work, and advocacy, I plan to normalize mental health treatment and make it accessible to underserved communities where stigma and lack of resources hold people back. Beyond academics, I have dedicated myself to supporting others in ways I once needed. I mentor students in the McNair and Student Support Services programs, helping first-generation students find confidence in higher education. I also stay active in psychology clubs focused on trauma and health, contributing to projects that raise awareness and reduce stigma. Tutoring has been another way I give back—I’ve worked with students from elementary school through high school, not just teaching academics but encouraging them to believe in themselves. Catrina Celestine Aquilino’s story resonates with me deeply. She believed that where a person comes from should never determine the care or compassion they receive. That belief mirrors the foundation of my own career goals. Her work across communities in Ghana, Guatemala, and France is a reminder that the impact of service should reach beyond one’s immediate surroundings. I want my career in health psychology to extend beyond clinical walls, touching families, communities, and systems that need transformation. This scholarship would mean more than financial support—it would be a symbol of resilience and encouragement to keep climbing despite obstacles. Like Catrina’s legacy, it would remind me that our struggles can be turned into purpose. My own story of survival is not just my own; it is the reason I am committed to building a future where patients feel seen, supported, and empowered to dream bigger.

My name is Helia Baez Armas, and I’m a childhood brain tumor survivor. At the age of 13, I was diagnosed with an aggressive tumor that flipped my world upside down. What followed was nearly a year of grueling treatment: chemotherapy, radiation, transfusions, and countless hours in and out of hospitals. I lost my hair, my energy, and for a while, my sense of normalcy. The physical toll was immense, but the emotional weight was even greater. Cancer took more than my health; it took my childhood. But through that pain, I found purpose. Once I completed treatment, I made a promise to myself: if I survived, I would give back. And so, I returned, not as a patient, but as a volunteer in the same oncology unit at Nicklaus Children’s Hospital. For five years, I offered support to young patients walking a path I knew all too well. I witnessed milestones—first chemos, last chemos—and sat beside kids during their hardest moments, like when the hair loss began or when treatment felt unbearable. It was hard to stop volunteering when health complications returned, but I never lost sight of my “why.” That experience sparked a deeper calling. I realized I didn’t just want to comfort patients, I wanted to help heal them. I fell in love with psychology and saw how vital mental health care is for people facing chronic illness. Cancer survivors often carry invisible wounds, and I knew I could be the kind of clinician who truly gets it. My past wouldn’t be a limitation, it would be my superpower. So, I channeled all of my energy into that dream. Despite “chemo brain” and lingering health challenges, I maintained a 3.97 GPA, joined the Honors College, became a McNair Scholar, and conducted research in trauma psychology. I was inducted into Phi Beta Kappa and Psi Chi for my academic excellence, and volunteered at a clinic for patients with anxiety. I also mentored underrepresented students, many of whom, like me, are navigating both education and adversity. And it all paid off—last year, I was accepted into my dream program: a Psy.D. in Clinical Psychology. I am now being trained to become the kind of psychologist I once needed. Someone who can sit beside a young patient, not just as a professional, but as a survivor, a mentor, and a living reminder that healing is possible. Everything I’ve done, from volunteering to academic research, has been driven by my desire to turn pain into purpose. I’ve fought through illness, first-gen challenges, financial barriers, and doubt. But I’ve never stopped moving forward. I’m not defined by what happened to me, I’m defined by what I’ve chosen to do with it. This scholarship helped make that possible once already. Receiving the Hicks Scholarship last year wasn’t just financial support, it was a reminder that my story matters, and that others believe in my ability to make a difference. Now, as I continue this journey through grad school, that support is still just as crucial. The road ahead is long and expensive, but I’m more committed than ever to seeing it through. I carry my experience with me every day, not as a burden, but as fuel. I’m here to change lives, just like mine was changed. I want every patient to know: we are not victims to be pitied. We are survivors. We are warriors. And we are capable of creating something beautiful from our pain.

I was thirteen when everything changed. One day I was worried about homework, and the next I was sitting in a hospital room being told the words that would change everything: “You have a brain tumor.” It didn’t feel real at first. I had a brain tumor. What followed was a year of chemotherapy, radiation, and fear. I watched my world shrink to hospital rooms, my reflection disappear as my hair fell out, and the rhythm of childhood slip away. Even when treatment ended, the emotional and physical aftereffects stayed with me. Cancer never truly left. Surviving a pediatric brain tumor shaped every part of who I am. The physical pain was intense, but the emotional burden left a lasting mark. Cancer disrupted my education, strained my family, and introduced me to a level of fear no child should have to understand. Coming from a low-income background with immigrant parents, I was already familiar with hard work and sacrifice. But after my diagnosis, that effort doubled. I saw my parents carry worry behind their smiles, and I felt a quiet responsibility to turn all this pain into something meaningful. Returning to school wasn’t easy. I dealt with “chemobrain,” lingering fatigue, and chronic medical issues that made learning more difficult. I was constantly trying to catch up, to keep pace in a world that hadn’t paused for me. But I never gave up. I pushed harder. I wasn’t content with just surviving, I wanted to thrive. That determination helped me excel academically, even as I managed the long-term effects of treatment. I went on to earn membership in Phi Beta Kappa and Psi Chi and became a mentor in both the McNair Scholars and Student Support Services programs. I proved to myself, and others, that resilience and excellence can coexist. Outside of academics, giving back became part of my healing. I began volunteering with cancer support organizations and offered free tutoring to young patients who were missing school like I once did. I wanted them to know they weren’t alone. I also became involved in raising mental health awareness in marginalized communities, where stigma often keeps people from getting help. These experiences deepened my sense of purpose and showed me the kind of impact I wanted to have in the world. That purpose led me to pursue a degree in Clinical Psychology, with a focus in Health Psychology. My goal is to work with children and families coping with chronic or terminal illness. I know what it’s like to feel helpless, scared, and isolated during medical treatment. I want to be the kind of psychologist who not only treats the symptoms but sees the whole person—the fears, the strength, and the story behind the diagnosis. One day, I hope to open an outpatient center that offers psychological services for chronic illness patients and their families. What motivates me now is the belief that my experiences weren’t in vain. Every class I take, every research paper I write, every late-night study session is rooted in that belief. This isn’t just about a career. It’s about building a life that reflects the lessons I’ve learned: empathy, strength, and purpose. Receiving the Jessica’s Journey Scholarship would ease the financial weight that cancer placed on my family and allow me to continue my education with greater focus. More than anything, it would honor the journey I’ve walked and the person I’ve become. Cancer changed my life, but it didn’t define it. I’m not just a survivor—I’m a , a passionate advocate, and living proof that it’s possible to turn pain into purpose.

Cancer changes everything. When I was diagnosed, I thought the hardest part would be the treatment. And in many ways, it was—the chemotherapy, the radiation, the fatigue, the pain. But what I hadn’t anticipated was how deeply cancer would impact every corner of my life: my family, my academics, my mental health, and our financial stability. As a young student, I was forced to put my life on hold while I focused on staying alive. My family—already working hard to make ends meet—poured every ounce of time, money, and energy into my treatment. We quickly found ourselves buried under a mountain of medical bills, copays, and prescription costs. Doctor appointments took priority over school. Survival took priority over savings. The dream of higher education, once so close, began to feel farther and farther away—not because I lacked the will, but because cancer had tied up every resource we had. Even after treatment, I faced lingering effects. “Chemobrain” made focusing difficult. My immune system was weak. But I returned to school, determined to continue. Cancer didn’t break me—it reshaped me. It gave me a new mission. Now, I’m pursuing a doctorate in Clinical Psychology with a concentration in Health Psychology. My goal is to open an outpatient mental health center that serves individuals battling chronic and terminal illnesses, especially those from Hispanic and underserved communities. Mental health is often overlooked in the medical world, and it’s even more stigmatized in communities like mine. I want to break those barriers. I want to be the therapist I wish I’d had—someone who understands the emotional weight of a diagnosis, the trauma of hospitals, and the silence of suffering in two languages. My family’s strength carried me through the worst. They sacrificed in ways I may never fully understand—missing work, losing sleep, driving me to appointments, and never once complaining. I owe everything to them. I’ve seen up close what it’s like for a family to give everything to fight cancer. I’ve seen how the financial aftermath can linger long after remission. That’s why this scholarship means so much to me. It’s not just support—it’s recognition of the invisible weight we’ve carried, and the future I’m working so hard to build. Despite everything, I’ve continued to succeed. I’ve mentored other students facing illness, volunteered with cancer patients, and shared my story to raise awareness about the long-term impact of cancer. I want to use my education to create lasting change—to make sure no one has to face illness alone, and that care is accessible, affordable, and compassionate. The Shred Cancer Association understands that the financial costs of cancer don’t stop when treatment does. You understand what it’s like to fight for both your health and your future at the same time. Receiving this scholarship would lift a financial burden that cancer placed on my family—and allow me to focus fully on giving back, healing others, and continuing to move forward. I may have faced cancer, but it did not define my ending. It sparked my purpose. And now, I’m shredding every barrier in my way.

Growing up, I was always the quiet one. Not just shy, but paralyzed by the idea of speaking in front of others, afraid of being judged for saying the wrong thing or simply for existing too loudly. It wasn’t just nerves—it was something deeper. I couldn’t explain why I physically couldn’t speak at times, why my throat would tighten or why my body would freeze even when I wanted so badly to join the conversation. For a long time, I blamed myself. I thought something was wrong with me. It wasn’t until high school that I finally had a name for what I was experiencing: social anxiety, and more specifically, selective mutism. The diagnosis came as a huge relief because it meant that I wasn’t alone—and that what I was going through had a name, a cause, and more importantly, a path forward. Therapy helped me understand the roots of my anxiety and gave me tools to begin slowly reclaiming my voice. It was not, and still isn’t, a linear process. But every small step forward has mattered. Pursuing higher education is important to me because, despite the moments I’ve been silent, I’ve always had so much to say. I want to use my experiences not as something that holds me back, but as something that drives me to help others. I’m currently working toward my doctorate in Clinical Psychology, with a focus on Health Psychology. My long-term goal is to open an outpatient mental health center that supports people with chronic and terminal illnesses—especially in underserved and Hispanic communities, where mental health issues like social anxiety are often misunderstood or ignored entirely. I want to create a space where people can speak freely, in any language or no words at all, and still be heard. Living with social anxiety has been one of the most isolating and humbling experiences of my life. It’s made school presentations feel like marathons, and group settings feel like battlegrounds. But it’s also taught me the importance of listening, of empathy, and of noticing the quiet strength in others. I've come a long way from the girl who couldn’t speak up in class without trembling. Now, I mentor other first-generation students, conduct research, and advocate for mental health access in my community. I’ve learned that having social anxiety doesn’t mean I’m weak—it means I’ve fought hard to find my voice, and I’m still fighting. Receiving this scholarship would mean more than financial support—it would be a validation of every step I’ve taken to show up despite my anxiety. It would help me continue my education and make the impact I know I’m capable of. I may have started my journey quietly, but I’m determined to build a life—and a career—where no one has to feel silenced by their fears.

My first language is Spanish, and growing up bilingual has shaped almost every part of who I am—how I think, how I connect with others, and how I’ve come to understand the world around me. But being bilingual isn’t just about speaking two languages. It’s about moving between two cultures, navigating between worlds, and often carrying responsibilities that most people my age didn’t have to carry. As a child, I was the go-to translator in my family. I’ve translated medical terms at doctor’s appointments, complex forms at government offices, and emotional conversations that held a lot more weight than I sometimes realized at the time. I learned to advocate for my parents, even when I didn’t fully understand the systems we were trying to navigate. That pressure wasn’t easy, especially while trying to keep up in school, where everything was in English. There were times I felt like I had to work twice as hard just to keep up. But those experiences also taught me resilience, adaptability, and how to show up for the people I love. Today, I’m a doctoral student in Clinical Psychology with a concentration in Health Psychology. I’m working toward becoming a clinician who understands not just the science of psychology, but the cultural and linguistic barriers that keep so many people from getting the help they need. After graduation, I plan to open an outpatient mental health center that specializes in serving individuals with chronic and terminal illnesses, particularly those from Hispanic and underserved communities. For many people in these communities, language and stigma are two of the biggest obstacles to mental health care. My goal is to create a space where people can feel safe, understood, and supported—without needing to explain or defend their cultural background. Being bilingual is one of my greatest strengths. It’s allowed me to build bridges, support others, and create connection in spaces that can often feel isolating. I’ve mentored first-generation students, conducted research on trauma and resilience in diverse populations, and volunteered as a tutor for Spanish-speaking cancer patients—all while continuing my own healing journey as a cancer survivor. I know what it feels like to be vulnerable, to feel invisible, and to want someone who just “gets it.” That’s why I’m committed to being that person for others, both in therapy and in my community. Of course, there are still challenges. Even now, I sometimes question if I’m saying things the “right” way in either language. But I’ve learned that communication is about so much more than grammar—it’s about empathy, intention, and connection. My bilingualism has given me the ability to understand people in ways that go beyond words. This scholarship would not only support my education, it would honor the journey I’ve taken to get here. It would help me continue building a future where people can access mental health care in their own language and on their own terms. A future where no one has to feel lost in translation.

Music has always been my safe space, but Billie Eilish’s music became my anchor during the most turbulent time of my life. As a cancer survivor, I’ve faced challenges that forced me to grow up faster than most people my age. During treatment, when I felt like I was losing control of everything—my health, my energy, my future—Billie's voice gave me comfort, strength, and most importantly, hope. My top three Billie Eilish songs are “Everything I Wanted,” “My Future,” and “Getting Older.” “Everything I Wanted” was the song that mirrored the dark thoughts I couldn’t say out loud. It put words to the isolating feeling of being surrounded by people yet feeling unseen. But it also reminded me that I wasn't alone—that even someone as successful as Billie could feel lost sometimes, and still choose to keep going. That song helped me hold on when I needed it most. “My Future” gave me something to look forward to. While battling illness, it was easy to fall into hopelessness. But Billie’s lyrics made me believe in the idea of a future where I could grow, thrive, and love myself. I started picturing the day I would be strong enough to go back to school, finish my degree, and help others going through their own battles. “Getting Older” resonates with me deeply as I continue to process what I went through. As someone who has been through more than most people my age, I relate to the pain, maturity, and quiet resilience woven into that song. It reminds me that healing isn’t linear and that it’s okay to not have all the answers yet. Billie Eilish’s music didn’t just get me through hard times—it shaped the person I’m becoming. Her honesty, vulnerability, and fearless self-expression inspire me to live authentically and use my own story to uplift others. Winning this scholarship would be a tribute to how far I’ve come and a step toward the future I once thought I’d never reach.

I am pursuing a degree in health psychology because I believe that mental health is a crucial component of physical health, particularly for individuals battling chronic and terminal illnesses. My own experience with cancer has shown me firsthand how essential it is to offer care that addresses both the body and the mind. This journey has been transformative, not only in terms of physical recovery but also in the emotional and psychological toll it has taken. It has become clear to me that healthcare is most effective when it integrates mental well-being with physical recovery. Through my personal experience, I have come to recognize the critical role of healthcare professionals who support individuals as they navigate both the physical and emotional aspects of illness. This is why I’m drawn to occupational therapy as a complementary field to health psychology. Occupational therapy is unique in its approach—it emphasizes helping individuals regain independence and engage in meaningful activities, regardless of their physical limitations. This is something I deeply resonate with, especially considering the challenges I’ve faced and witnessed others experience during their recovery processes. I see occupational therapy as a field that aligns with my desire to help individuals live their lives with purpose and dignity, regardless of the obstacles they may encounter. Much like Christina Taylese Singh, who aspired to become an occupational therapist, I am driven to pursue a career that can make a significant difference in the lives of individuals. Christina’s story resonates with me deeply, as I, too, am pursuing a career in healthcare with the aim of improving the lives of those affected by chronic illness. I want to honor her legacy by continuing the work she was passionate about, creating a future where holistic care—encompassing both mental and physical health—is the norm. Throughout my journey, I have been involved in volunteering and community service, specifically working with individuals who face physical and mental health challenges. These experiences have shown me how important it is to provide comprehensive support for people dealing with illness. I’ve seen how psychological distress, isolation, and a lack of mental health resources can impact a person’s recovery and overall well-being. As I continue my studies, I am committed to fostering an integrated approach that ensures individuals not only receive medical treatment but also the emotional and psychological support they need to thrive. This scholarship would allow me to continue my education and work toward my ultimate goal: to help bridge the gap between mental health and physical health care. I aim to collaborate with professionals in fields such as occupational therapy to provide comprehensive, compassionate care for individuals struggling with chronic illnesses. By pursuing this goal, I hope to create a more inclusive and supportive healthcare system that recognizes the importance of mental and emotional health in the recovery process. Christina Taylese Singh’s memory is a powerful motivator for me as I pursue my education and career. I am inspired by her dedication to making a difference in the lives of others, and I hope to follow in her footsteps by becoming a healthcare professional who is equally committed to helping others live their lives to the fullest. This scholarship will help me get closer to fulfilling that dream, and in doing so, honor Christina’s legacy.

I am committed to building a future where mental health support is integrated with physical health care, especially for individuals with chronic or terminal illnesses. My personal experience with cancer has shown me how essential it is to address both the physical and emotional toll of illness. I’ve witnessed how the lack of mental health care exacerbates health challenges, leaving patients feeling isolated and overwhelmed. My goal is to open an outpatient center that offers not only medical care but also psychiatric support and therapy. Through my studies in health psychology, I am working to bridge the gap between mental and physical health care. Many communities, especially underserved ones, lack the resources to address both aspects of health, and it’s crucial to provide this holistic approach to care. My vision is to create a space where people with chronic or terminal conditions receive comprehensive support, ensuring their mental and emotional well-being is prioritized alongside their physical health. As a member of a Hispanic community, I’ve also seen the stigma surrounding mental health, which often prevents individuals from seeking help. I’ve been actively involved in community service to advocate for mental health awareness, working to reduce stigma and promote access to mental health resources. This scholarship will bring me closer to my goal of opening a nonprofit center where mental health and physical health care are integrated, providing culturally sensitive services to those who need it most. This work is personal to me, as I know firsthand the difference that compassionate care can make. Education is the foundation for achieving my vision, and with this scholarship, I will be one step closer to creating a future where mental health support is as accessible as physical health care. I am passionate about making a lasting impact on individuals’ lives, improving their overall health, and changing the narrative around mental health in underserved communities.

Living with a disability has shaped every part of my life, from my personal beliefs to the relationships I’ve built and the career goals I’ve set. My journey has been filled with challenges, but it has also fueled my ambition to break down barriers and advocate for those who, like me, have often been marginalized in society. After battling cancer, I came to realize that my health challenges were not just physical, but emotional and mental as well. Navigating the world of higher education with this disability has taught me the importance of resilience and advocacy. At times, I’ve faced challenges in accessing the resources I needed to thrive academically, but these experiences have strengthened my resolve to ensure that future students with disabilities have the support they deserve. I’ve come to believe that everyone, regardless of their physical condition, deserves equal access to opportunities and resources. This belief has guided me in my academic and professional aspirations. I am pursuing a degree in health psychology because I want to focus on addressing the intersection of physical and mental health, particularly for individuals with chronic conditions or disabilities. I’ve seen how important it is to address both aspects of well-being, as neglecting one can lead to the deterioration of the other. My goal is to advocate for more integrated healthcare approaches that take into account the unique needs of individuals with chronic illnesses, ensuring they receive both physical and mental health support. Living with a disability has also taught me the value of leadership. I’ve had the opportunity to mentor others in my community, particularly younger students who face their own health challenges. By sharing my experiences, I hope to show them that it’s possible to thrive despite the limitations we might face. I’ve also been involved in leadership roles within student organizations, where I’ve worked to create a more inclusive environment for students with disabilities. These experiences have not only strengthened my leadership skills but have also reinforced my desire to continue advocating for accessibility and equity in education. The relationships I’ve built along the way have further fueled my drive. I’ve found that people who truly understand my struggles are those who see me as a person, not just someone defined by my disability. This perspective has allowed me to form deep connections with peers, mentors, and professors who have supported me and helped me grow. Their encouragement has been invaluable in my journey, and it is this same sense of community that I aim to foster in the future as I work to create a world where everyone, regardless of their abilities, has the support they need to succeed. Receiving the Candi L. Oree Leadership Scholarship would mean so much to me. It would help me continue to pursue my goals of advocating for those affected by chronic conditions and disabilities. It would also enable me to be a part of the change I want to see in higher education—one where barriers are removed, and every student has the opportunity to thrive. This scholarship would not only support my education but also encourage me to keep pushing for a more inclusive, compassionate future.

As a first-generation student pursuing a career in health psychology, I’ve always believed that education is not just about personal growth but about serving others and making a meaningful impact. Growing up in a Hispanic community where mental health struggles were often ignored, I saw how stigma and lack of access to resources could leave people isolated and unsupported. This is why I’m passionate about using my education in STEM to address mental health challenges, particularly in underserved communities. The issues that matter most to me are those related to mental health, especially within marginalized populations. In my community, mental health is often a taboo subject, and fear of judgment discourages many from seeking help. I’ve witnessed how these barriers prevent access to care, which affects well-being. This is both a global and local issue, and it’s one I’m determined to address. I’ve been directly affected by the intersection of physical illness and mental health. After my cancer diagnosis, I experienced the toll it took not just on my body, but also on my mental health. The cognitive fog from chemotherapy, anxiety, and stress were overwhelming. I realized that we need more professionals who understand how mental health impacts physical health and can help individuals navigate both without shame or fear of judgment. As I pursue my degree in health psychology, my goal is to help bridge the gap between physical and mental health care, especially in underserved communities like mine. I envision a future where mental health is treated with the same urgency as physical health, where people can access both without stigma or financial strain. I want to be part of a generation of professionals who make mental health care accessible, particularly for those who have historically been left behind. In addition to my studies, I’ve been committed to service throughout my life. I’ve tutored children with chronic health conditions, including cancer, and emphasized that their emotional well-being is just as important as their physical health. As a mentor, I encourage students to seek help if they’re struggling, creating a supportive environment where they feel safe to talk about their feelings. Through my involvement in the Trauma Psychology Club and the Health Psychology Club, I’ve raised awareness and created spaces where students feel heard. These clubs have fueled my commitment to making a difference by reducing stigma and educating others about the importance of mental health. The Women in STEM and Community Service Scholarship aligns with my values and vision for the future. With this scholarship, I’ll be able to continue my education and expand my ability to serve others. I believe that women in STEM have the unique opportunity to create lasting change in ways that are both innovative and compassionate. This scholarship will help me take a step closer to my goal of providing the mental health support that is so desperately needed in underserved communities. I’m committed to being part of the change that makes mental health a priority in all communities. With the tools STEM provides, I plan to ensure that everyone has access to the care they need to live healthier, more fulfilling lives.

Mental health is important to me as a student because I know firsthand how easily it can be overlooked, even when it’s the thing holding us together. My journey with mental health has been shaped by personal experience, cultural challenges, and a deep desire to see others thrive despite the weight of mental illness. As a first-generation student pursuing clinical psychology, I’ve learned that mental health isn’t just about surviving; it’s about living fully, even in the face of difficulty. When I was diagnosed with cancer, I quickly realized how much mental health affects our ability to function. The emotional burden, anxiety, and depression all came with the diagnosis and treatment. The cognitive fog from chemotherapy made focusing in class and remembering things nearly impossible. On top of this, I was navigating college as a first-gen student—already a challenge. The emotional toll wasn’t something anyone talked about. I wasn’t alone in this. Many students, especially from marginalized communities like mine, carry mental health struggles in silence, afraid of being judged or seen as weak. As a graduate student studying clinical psychology, I’ve made it my mission to help others understand that mental health is just as critical as physical health—especially in marginalized communities where stigma around seeking help is strong. In many Hispanic families, mental health struggles are often dismissed, and there’s fear of being seen as “weak” or “crazy” if you seek help. I’ve seen this firsthand in my family, where mental health was pushed aside because asking for help was seen as shameful. I want to change that narrative and help break the stigma. That’s why I advocate for mental health awareness wherever I can. At school, I’m involved in the Trauma Psychology Club and the Health Psychology Club, both of which raise awareness about emotional well-being. We host workshops, support groups, and events focused on building resilience and reducing stigma. As a mentor with McNair Scholars, I emphasize the importance of checking in emotionally, especially for first-gen students who often feel like they need to carry everything on their own. Beyond school, I’m committed to my community. I tutor children and teens with chronic health conditions, including cancer, and I make sure mental health is part of our conversations. It’s not just about homework—it’s about letting them know their mental health matters, that seeking help is a sign of strength, and that they’re not alone in their struggles. Mental health awareness is especially important in Hispanic communities, where seeking therapy is often seen as taboo. I’m determined to be part of the change that makes it easier for people to seek support without fear of judgment. I’ve shared my struggles with mental health on social media to normalize these conversations and show others that seeking help is okay. The Learner Mental Health Empowerment Scholarship aligns with everything I’m working toward: supporting students who face mental health challenges and advocating for an open, understanding dialogue about mental health. Mental health doesn’t just affect academic performance—it impacts one’s ability to live a life of purpose, resilience, and hope. Receiving this scholarship would help me continue my work in advocating for mental health awareness and supporting those who need it most.

When I was a child, I wanted to be a doctor. I didn’t know much about what kind or how I’d get there—I just knew I wanted to help people feel better. I carried around a toy stethoscope, pretended to check on my dolls, and imagined myself saving lives. For a long time, that dream felt big and bright and possible. As I got older, life gave me new experiences that slowly shifted what that dream looked like. I was diagnosed with cancer, and suddenly, I wasn’t imagining what it would be like to be in a hospital—I was there, for real. I experienced the long days, the emotional toll, the appointments that stretched endlessly, and the side effects that didn’t stop when treatment ended. I also experienced "chemo brain," which made my memory and focus foggy and made school feel even harder. But through all of that, something else became clear: I still wanted to help people—but in a different way. Now, I’m pursuing a doctoral degree in clinical psychology, focusing on health psychology. I want to be there for people who are going through what I’ve lived—whether that’s a serious illness, trauma, or the mental and emotional weight that often gets overlooked in medical settings. I may not have become the type of doctor I imagined as a kid, but I’m still following that original dream—just in a way that feels more aligned with who I am now. Being a first-generation college student, I had to learn how to navigate higher education on my own. There were no roadmaps, no one to explain how financial aid worked or what a graduate program entailed. I’ve balanced school, medical care, and financial strain while trying to build a future that felt nearly impossible at times. But I’ve always held on to my purpose. I’ve stayed active in my school community—mentoring other first-gen students, joining psychology clubs, and helping organize events focused on trauma and healing. I’ve also tutored young cancer patients for free because I know what it’s like to fall behind and feel like no one understands what you're going through. I want them to know they’re not alone. When I read about Charles B. Brazelton and the purpose behind this scholarship, it deeply resonated with me. I know what it’s like to lose someone too soon and to live with grief that doesn’t always make sense. Gun violence and chronic illness may look different on the outside, but both leave lasting scars on individuals, families, and entire communities. That’s why my long-term goal is to open a mental health center that offers therapy and support for people living with chronic or terminal conditions—especially those from low-income and underserved backgrounds. I want to be the person I needed when I was going through it. I want to help others not just survive—but feel empowered to keep going. So yes, I’m still following that childhood dream. It might look different than I imagined, but the heart of it is still the same: helping people heal, feel seen, and know they matter.

When I think of what it means to live with excellence, I don’t think of perfection. I think of the quiet strength it takes to show up fully every day, to lead with heart, and to give back even when life is challenging. That’s how I try to live my life—through service, through compassion, and through a deep commitment to making my community better. As a first-generation college student and a cancer survivor, my path has been anything but simple. I’ve had to learn how to navigate higher education without a roadmap, while also balancing health issues and the long-term effects of chemotherapy. But through it all, I never lost sight of my purpose. My journey helped me find my calling in the field of clinical psychology—specifically health psychology—because I know firsthand how deeply our physical and mental health are connected. I want to be the kind of support for others that I once needed myself. Excellence shows up in the way I approach every part of my life. In school, I give everything my best—whether that means late nights studying, participating in research, or showing up for the students I mentor. As a member of the Trauma Psychology Club and Health Psychology Club at my university, I help organize events and conversations around healing, advocacy, and emotional wellness. I also serve as a mentor to students in the McNair Scholars and Student Support Services programs, many of whom are also first-generation or low-income. I know what it feels like to be overwhelmed and unsure, and it means a lot to be able to guide others who are just starting out. But service for me goes beyond school. One of the most meaningful things I’ve done is offer free tutoring to young cancer patients. That work is very personal—I understand how hard it can be to keep up with school while dealing with treatments and the emotional toll of illness. Helping these students feel confident again and reminding them they’re more than their diagnosis is something I’ll always hold close. Giving back has always been part of who I am. Whether it’s volunteering in my community, mentoring students, or simply being a source of encouragement to someone going through a hard time, I try to show up with care and consistency. I don’t need recognition for it—just knowing I made someone’s day a little easier is enough. Harriett Russell Carr’s legacy is incredibly inspiring. Her life reminds me that service doesn’t have to be loud or grand to be powerful—it just has to come from a place of love and dedication. That’s the kind of life I want to lead, and the kind of impact I hope to make. My long-term goal is to open an outpatient mental health center for people living with chronic and terminal illnesses. I want it to be a space that offers therapy, support, and resources—especially for those from underserved backgrounds. I want people to feel seen, heard, and supported—not just as patients, but as whole human beings. This scholarship would help lighten the financial load as I continue my graduate studies, but more than that, it would be a reminder that people believe in the work I’m doing. I’m grateful for the chance to carry forward Harriett’s legacy in my own way—by serving with purpose and living with excellence, one day at a time.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, I had no idea how much that experience would change the course of my life—not only medically, but personally, emotionally, and professionally. I didn’t just fight through illness; I found my purpose. It was through moments of fear, vulnerability, and uncertainty that I discovered what healing truly meant. And it’s exactly why I chose to pursue a degree in clinical psychology, with a focus on health psychology. As a patient, I encountered brilliant doctors and kind nurses, but I also saw the gaps in our healthcare system—especially when it came to mental health support. There were moments when the physical side of my illness was treated, but the emotional toll was ignored. Navigating a life-threatening diagnosis while also being a full-time student and a first-generation college-goer was overwhelming. I often felt isolated, unsure of how to ask for help, or even if I was allowed to. But even in the hardest moments, I felt something spark in me: the need to change things for others. I realized that the intersection of mental and physical health is where I’m meant to be. I want to walk alongside patients facing chronic and terminal illnesses—not just as a therapist, but as someone who truly understands what they’re going through. Health psychology allows me to combine clinical skill with deep empathy, and that’s a combination I believe can be transformative. I am currently pursuing my doctoral degree in clinical psychology with this exact mission in mind. My dream is to open an outpatient center that provides therapy, psychiatric care, and community-based support specifically for patients with chronic and terminal illnesses. This would include those from marginalized and underserved communities—people who, like me, may not have had access to the tools, information, or resources they deserved. I want to create a space that honors the whole person: their mind, body, and story. As a first-generation student from a low-income background, this path has not been easy. I’ve had to navigate college applications, academic systems, and financial barriers without a safety net. I’ve balanced doctor appointments with classes, managed the cognitive effects of chemotherapy, and still made it my mission to help others along the way—tutoring fellow students, mentoring in McNair and Student Support Services, and volunteering to support other cancer patients. It’s what drives me every single day. Dr. Michael Paglia’s legacy as a compassionate physician and generous human being resonates with me deeply. His life represents exactly what I strive for: to lead with kindness, to serve with integrity, and to always lift others up. Like Dr. Paglia, I believe that healing extends far beyond medicine—it lives in the connection between people, in their stories, and in the ways we show up for each other. I want my life’s work to reflect that belief. This scholarship would mean more than financial relief—it would be a symbol of hope and validation. It would allow me to keep pushing forward without sacrificing my own care or support, and it would bring me one step closer to creating the kind of change I want to see in the world. I’m not pursuing healthcare because it’s a career. I’m pursuing it because it’s my calling—one that was born in pain but continues to grow through purpose. I’m ready to give back, to honor those who helped me survive, and to be that kind of presence for someone else. Just like Dr. Paglia was for so many.

Growing up, college always felt like a distant dream. My parents worked tirelessly to keep our family afloat, and while they instilled in me the value of education, they couldn’t show me how to navigate a system they never had access to themselves. As a first-generation college student, I had to figure out the steps alone—college applications, financial aid, and balancing work and school. But even more challenging than navigating the logistics was learning how to believe I deserved to be here in the first place. Then came my cancer diagnosis. Suddenly, I wasn’t just balancing school and family responsibilities—I was fighting for my life. Between chemotherapy appointments, hospital stays, and managing the long-term effects of treatment, including chronic health conditions and cognitive challenges, college felt even further out of reach. But it was during this season of pain and uncertainty that I realized just how powerful higher education could be—not just for career advancement, but for healing, for empowerment, and for change. I chose to pursue a degree in clinical psychology with a focus on health psychology because I want to serve people like me—those battling chronic or terminal illness who often feel overlooked by traditional mental health systems. Through my own experience, I learned how deeply physical health and emotional well-being are intertwined. Yet so many patients don’t receive the comprehensive, compassionate care they need. I want to change that. My goal is to open an outpatient center that offers holistic support to individuals with chronic conditions—therapy, psychiatric care, community resources, and peer-led groups that make people feel seen and supported. This vision aligns closely with the mission of Thrive. Like Thrive, I believe in a personalized, sustainable path to healing that addresses the full picture: mindset, lifestyle, emotional health, and physical wellness. Healing isn’t about fixing one thing—it’s about rebuilding your whole life in a way that works for you. Preparing for college as a first-gen student has required grit, creativity, and heart. I’ve leaned on every resource available to me—joining the McNair Scholars and Student Support Services programs, getting involved in research on PTSD and cross-cultural psychology, and seeking mentorship wherever I could. I’ve also become a mentor myself, guiding other first-gen students and tutoring children with cancer in both English and Spanish. Giving back keeps me grounded—it reminds me that this journey isn’t just about me. The drive that brought me through treatment is the same drive that fuels my academic journey. I’ve learned to manage the cognitive effects of chemotherapy by developing new study systems and advocating for accommodations when needed. I’ve learned how to balance multiple roles—student, patient, caregiver, mentor—and still show up with purpose. I’ve learned that success isn’t about perfection; it’s about persistence. Winning the First-Gen Futures Scholarship would ease the financial burden that continues to follow me, especially as I manage ongoing medical expenses. But more than that, it would be a reminder that this path I’ve fought so hard to stay on is leading somewhere meaningful. It would be a celebration of the resilience it took to get here—and a vote of confidence in where I’m going next. I’m not just working toward a degree. I’m working toward a future where people like me—people who’ve suffered, who’ve survived—can find the support they need to thrive.

At thirteen, I was diagnosed with cancer. I faced a year of grueling treatment, enduring chemotherapy, and radiation. I battled with physical and emotional challenges. This was a very difficult time for me; however, this was to be expected. Given the countless side effects of treatment, I knew that this wouldn’t be easy. What I wasn’t prepared for was life after cancer. After treatment, you go into remission. Not cured, there is no cure, but in remission. Defined by the Oxford Dictionary as “a diminution of the seriousness or intensity of disease or pain; a temporary recovery.” Being in remission brought its own set of challenges. For one, because of the tumor, I acquired multiple chronic medical conditions. Remission also brought on a barrage of emotions. I was grateful to be alive, but also frustrated and angry at what my new life had become. I was no longer the same girl I was before, now I had more doctor's appointments than I could count, took numerous medications, and had to deal with chronic conditions. I fell into severe depression during my first year of remission. As all these changes were going on in my life, it was tough because after experiencing something like cancer, you’re expected to be happy and inspirational all the time; after all, you’re given a second opportunity to live. Yet, I didn’t always feel so inspirational. These expectations weighed on my shoulders and made it difficult for me to reach out for help, even to the people closest to me. I felt like a burden to my family. I also lived in constant angst because there are always the “what-ifs.” What if the cancer comes back? What if the migraine is not just a migraine? I also dealt with survivor’s guilt. Throughout my time in treatment, I made a lot of friends also battling cancer. Not all of them survived, and that’s something I carry with me. I also carry the painful memories of my time in treatment, some of which, to this day still bring me to tears. With all the turmoil and overwhelmingness of emotions, at one point I even contemplated giving up. What was the point of fighting a battle that would never end? After all, I couldn’t change my past and my medical conditions are all chronic. I struggled with all this for a long time, and it’s scary to think that my mind would fathom the thought of suicide. But it did. However, I decided that if I was able to beat cancer, I could overcome this too. With the help of a psychologist, I learned coping strategies, and gradually embraced my reality, finding comfort in small victories. Now, five years post-treatment, I continue to cope with these emotions, understanding they're part of my journey. Slowly, I’ve learned to embrace my new normal and all that comes with it. My goal in life is to become a clinical psychologist and work with people from all walks of life who are suffering from mental health issues, especially those with chronic conditions. I can understand these patients better than anyone else because I’ve been in their place. Starting my doctorate in clinical psychology this fall, I aim to enhance my skills to provide effective care, including bilingual services to bridge language barriers. Rather than let cancer and all that it brings be the end of me, I decided to use it as motivation to help others suffering from mental illness.

It’s funny to think how one simple word, “cancer,” can turn your life upside down. After my diagnosis, I spent a year receiving chemotherapy and radiation. And I will spend a lifetime taking pills, getting scans, visiting numerous doctors, and with a lifelong memory of that excruciating year. This wasn’t easy, sometimes I felt like giving up. An experience like this can take a toll both physically and psychologically on anyone, especially a child. I was fortunate enough to have the support of my family who stood beside me throughout all of treatment, and still does. My diagnosis had a huge impact on their lives as well. While in treatment, my parents put their lives on hold to stand by me. My mom had to leave her job in order to stay with me during the extended hospital stays, causing financial strain. Although she couldn’t work, the medical bills still piled up. My parents also carried the burden of having to stay strong to help me stay strong, even though they were shattered by my circumstances and lived with the uncertainty of whether their little girl would make it through the night. Luckily, I’m now in remission! Looking back, I can truly say that having the support of my family made all the difference. Even though my odds were slim, together we fought against cancer and won the battle. Although I’m in remission, I still suffer from multiple chronic conditions caused by the tumor such as hypopituitarism, severe damage to the optic nerve, and memory issues. I’ve struggled with these daily, especially in college. I wasn’t able to memorize the material as quickly as my peers, it was defeating, putting in almost twice the effort to achieve the same outcome. I also had to be hospitalized multiple times. Yet I wasn’t willing to give up, I’ve survived too many storms to be bothered by raindrops. So rather than give up, I used my illness as motivation to succeed, graduating top of my class and accomplishing much more than I ever imagined. I will be starting a clinical psychology doctoral program at just nineteen years old this September. A few years ago, it was uncertain that I would survive to reach this age. My cancer journey has taught me many valuable lessons most importantly, that you can’t take life for granted. We aren’t promised a tomorrow therefore we have to make the most of every day. I learned to appreciate the little things and celebrate small victories. I also learned that even after you are in remission, cancer doesn’t just end. To this day, I still carry the memories of my time in treatment, fear a relapse, and live with the effects of the tumor. You can’t just “get over” cancer, surviving it becomes a part of who you are. However, I also learned that cancer patients aren’t to be pitied; they are warriors fighting for their lives. Because although we didn’t choose this war, we refuse to go down without a fight. Lastly, I learned the value of support. Having my family and medical team by my side supporting me made a huge difference while I was in treatment. That is why my goal is to become a psychologist and work with patients with cancer and other disabilities. I can understand these patients better than anyone because I’ve been in their shoes, and they can connect with me on a deeper level for that same reason. I hope to one day look back and say that I was able to make a difference in the lives of these patients.

My goal is to advance mental health care and to make it more accessible, and my future career as a clinical psychologist will help me do just that. At thirteen years old, I was diagnosed with cancer and spent a year in treatment, during which I received both radiation and chemotherapy. This was a very difficult time that took a toll on me not only physically but also emotionally. However, I was fortunate enough to have an amazing team of people by my side supporting me. Luckily, I’m now in remission, but I still remember how difficult this was and the positive impact that having support had on me. Through this experience, I realized that I wouldn’t want anyone going through a difficult situation to have to experience it alone. My cancer journey and passion for psychology have led me to pursue a career as a psychologist. As a psychologist, I will be able to provide individuals with a unique kind of support. Not only will I be able to provide a listening ear so that individuals feel heard and understood, but I will also provide techniques for coping and self-betterment. Teaching them these skills will help individuals overcome their mental health difficulties in a healthy way. While I plan to work with diverse patients, I am particularly passionate about helping those with disabilities and chronic illnesses. These individuals often face unique mental health challenges, and through therapy, I can help them manage both the physical and psychological components of chronic illness associated with their condition. I can empathize with these patients because I have been in their shoes, and they can relate to me on a deeper level for that same reason. One of my goals is to share the story of how I beat the odds by surviving cancer and inspire them to keep fighting. Another goal of mine is to be able to provide treatment for patients in both English and Spanish. Mental health illnesses are still highly stigmatized in Hispanic cultures leaving Hispanics suffering from mental health conditions with little to no support. To make matters worse, according to the American Psychological Association, only 5.5% of psychologists said they could provide services in Spanish. By taking bilingual assessment and treatment classes during my doctoral program, I aim to tear down language barriers and offer patients the comfort of receiving care in their preferred language. To achieve my goals, I will start a clinical psychology doctoral program this fall. Acceptance into such a competitive program is one of my proudest accomplishments. However, reaching this point was not easy. At the young age of 17, I graduated from high school with my Associate’s Degree through an accelerated dual enrollment program. Although it was an amazing opportunity that put me ahead of the game and lessen the financial strain caused by attending college, it also meant I had less time to make myself a competitive candidate. As the first in my family to attend college, let alone graduate school, I lacked guidance on making myself a better applicant and navigating the application process. My parents have been extremely supportive, but their knowledge and financial resources are limited. Additionally, despite being in remission, I suffer from chronic illnesses caused by the tumor and memory difficulties due to chemotherapy. However, rather than let these challenges bring me down, I decided to use them as motivation to accomplish my goal of standing by others through their darkest moments. I hope to one day look back and be able to say that I made a difference in the lives of others.

It’s funny to think that one simple word, “cancer,” can drastically change the trajectory of your life in a matter of seconds. After my diagnosis, I spent eight months in treatment, receiving both chemotherapy and radiation. I'll spend a lifetime taking pills, visiting oncologists, getting scans, and living with an aching memory of those eight months. This wasn’t easy. Sometimes I felt like giving up. Going through an experience like this can take a toll physically and psychologically, especially on a child. I was fortunate enough to have a supportive team of people by my side, including a psychologist. My psychologist helped my family and me cope with the stress and uncertainty of illness. She provided emotional support and guided me through every step of the way. Luckily, I am now cancer-free, but I still remember the hard times I went through. I wouldn’t want anyone to go through that alone; for this reason, I’ve decided to become a psychologist. My goal is to work with those suffering from serious or chronic illnesses, as well as those with disabilities because I can understand them better than anyone else, having experienced firsthand what they’re going through. These individuals often face unique mental health challenges. Through therapy and counseling, I can help them manage these issues, build resilience, and improve their overall well-being. By addressing not only the emotional and psychological challenges but also the physical symptoms and strategies for chronic illness management associated with their condition, I can help patients cope with their situation, ensure their treatment adherence, and improve their overall quality of life. I plan to tailor my therapeutic approach to the specific needs of each person; in doing so, I can ensure that they receive care that acknowledges their experiences and challenges. Overall, I want to make mental health care more accessible and better suited for a community that is often overlooked. In addition to working directly with the patient, my goal is to collaborate with the rest of the healthcare team to ensure the patient's psychological well-being is considered in order to provide the best holistic and comprehensive care. I am certain that through my doctoral program, I will learn the skills that will make me an amazing psychologist. The program offers unique opportunities to treat and diagnose patients in both English and Spanish. This will help make mental health care even more accessible, as not many psychology clinicians can provide treatment in Spanish. I truly believe that this program will afford me opportunities that will not only change my life but also help me change the lives of others. Rather than let cancer bring me down, I decided to let surviving cancer and my passion for psychology and mental health be my motivation to push forward, strive to be the best, and give back to those who are facing the same unexplainable pain I went through. One day I hope to look back and be able to say that I made a difference in their lives.

My name is Helia Baez, I’m 19 years old. And I am a cancer survivor. At the age of 13, I was diagnosed with an aggressive tumor which required me to be in treatment for almost a year. During this time, I received both chemotherapy and radiation, as well as numerous transfusions. This was a very difficult time for both my family and me. I was constantly in pain, feeling ill, or nauseous. I was fortunate enough to have an amazing team of people supporting me, but I wouldn’t want any child to go through this alone. That is why after finishing treatment, I decided to volunteer on the oncology unit at Nicklaus Children’s Hospital. I volunteered for 5 years during which I met many patients and survivors. I truly feel like I was able to make an impact on these kids; however, I had to stop volunteering because of complications with my health. Getting the opportunity to meet patients and become part of their journey is an experience I have no words for. I was able to be part of some of their milestones, such as the first and last chemo. I also served as the shoulder to cry on in the more difficult moments, like when hair loss began. Being part of experiences like this led me to want to pursue a career that allowed me to work with patients. Later this passion, combined with my love for psychology, led me to decide to become a clinical psychologist. I would like to focus my work specifically on young patients with chronic and severe illnesses, especially cancer. I know firsthand that this diagnosis can take a toll on a person, both physically and emotionally, so who better to help other patients, than myself? They can relate to me on a much deeper level than with other psychologists. Achieving this dream would not be easy, doctoral programs in clinical psychology are extremely competitive, and I knew that given everything, I would have to work twice as hard as anyone else, but I was going to let that stop me. I put my everything into my work allowing me to achieve a 3.97 GPA, partake in the honors college, conduct and present research as a McNair scholar, volunteer at a clinic for patients with anxiety, and participate in Relay for Life, among many other things. My hard work paid off, and I was accepted into my dream program, a Psy.D in Clinical Psychology! I’ve beat the odds more than once: first by surviving cancer and now by getting into this program. I am a fighter and resilient. I have overcome every obstacle from being first-generation to struggling with my health, to chemo brain. I am determined and ambitious, and I refuse to be seen as just a victim of cancer. That is why I would be a great candidate for this scholarship. I sit here today representing every cancer patient and survivor alike when I say that we aren’t victims who should be pitied; we are warriors who are fighting a battle that we didn’t choose but are determined to win. I hope that in the future I will be able to make a difference in the lives of hundreds of cancer patients, as well as pass along that message. I also hope to tell them my story and how I decided not to give up, instead, I’ve used it as motivation to give back to those facing the same inexplicable pain I faced. I hope that the Hicks Scholarship Award committee will stand alongside me as I do just that.

When I was a young girl, my parents decided to leave our home country and move to the United States. Leaving behind their entire lives with nothing but aspirations, they left searching for a better future for their child. They were correct, this country was filled with bright opportunities for me; however, that wasn’t necessarily the case for them. They both came later in their lives not speaking the language. They were forced to work whatever jobs they could find to feed their families and make ends meet. I’ve seen them as they worked day and night and got home nearly exhausted. I’ve also seen them struggle with the language barrier. As a child, I often served as their translator, navigating complex documents with limited understanding. When I tried to explain that I didn’t understand, I was met with a “Como que tu no entiendes, tu hablas inglés.” “What do you mean you don’t understand, you speak English.” This is the reality I grew up with, though I can’t complain. Although we struggled to make ends meet, my parents made sure I never lacked anything. They always did their best to hide their struggles from me, so that I wouldn’t worry, yet I always have. My parents wanted a life for me that was better than the one they had, so they encouraged me to go to college to better my future. Watching them as I grew up made me also want to have a better future, and to be able to give them a better life than the one they could afford. Witnessing their sacrifices fueled my determination to excel academically and pursue higher education. However, this was not an easy feat, I struggled a lot more than my classmates because I didn’t have anyone who could help me with assignments. My parents didn’t speak the language and the education system in Cuba is very different from the one here, and expensive tutoring sessions were out of the question. Things only complicated themselves when it came time to apply to college, I am the first person in my family to enter college. I had to teach myself how to apply to college, financial aid, and everything else. I went to college and graduated with my bachelor’s degree in psychology. I will now start my doctoral program in the fall in clinical psychology! My goal is to become a clinical psychologist, and as someone who understands the struggles of an immigrant family, I hope to provide treatment in both English and Spanish. This is extremely important because it would help reduce the language barrier and make mental health care more accessible. Not many psychologists can provide treatment in Spanish. In fact, according to the American Psychological Association, only 5.5% of psychologists said they could provide services in Spanish. That is a big problem, especially given that such a large part of the South Florida community is Hispanic. I hope to fill this gap and provide treatment in which of the two patients feel more comfortable. Rather than allowing adversity to deter me, I've used it as motivation to pursue a career that addresses the needs of immigrant families like my own. I am committed to making mental health care more accessible by offering treatment in both English and Spanish. I believe this endeavor aligns with the mission of the New Beginnings Immigrant Scholarship, and I hope to receive your support as I work toward this important goal.

It’s funny to think that one simple word, “cancer,” can drastically change your life. After my diagnosis, I spent a year in treatment during which I received both chemotherapy and radiation. This wasn’t easy, sometimes I felt like giving up. Going through an experience like this can take a large toll not only physically, but also psychologically on a person. Luckily, I’m now cancer-free, but I still carry these difficult memories with me. This is why I decided to become a psychologist. My goal is to work with those with disabilities or severe illnesses because I can understand them better than anyone else since I’ve been in their shoes. As a psychologist, I can help cope with the stress of illness, as well as provide emotional support and guidance every step of the way. Obtaining my Psy.D in clinical psychology will help me do exactly that. I knew this wouldn’t be an easy task, because of my tumor, I now suffer from multiple chronic conditions along with what is known as “chemo brain.” This is when patients begin to struggle with their memory and thinking as a permanent side effect of treatment. I sometimes struggle to retain information which means I must work twice as hard as my peers to complete my work. I knew that my dream of getting into a graduate program in clinical psychology would require a lot of work and effort on my part; however, I’m no stranger to hard work, and I am most certainly not scared of it. I’ve worked diligently and have been able to achieve a 3.96 GPA. As well as conduct my own research project as a McNair Scholar, partake in the Honors College, volunteer with multiple organizations, and participate in extracurriculars around campus. I have managed to do all this in my two years at FIU as I graduated from high school with my Associate’s Degree. I was able to accomplish more than what most students manage to do in all four years! My goal is to make mental health care something inclusive and accessible to all. By becoming a psychologist, I hope to increase awareness of the need for more treatment options for those who need it most and provide services for these communities. Despite facing adversity, I was able to overcome this and achieve excellence, and I am determined to continue to achieve greatness and give back to the community. I have everything it takes to succeed in the program and become a great psychologist. However now an obstacle stands in my way, my parents came to this country when I was very young in search of a better future for me. To this day, my family struggles to make ends meet. This makes it very difficult for me to be able to pay for graduate school, and as much as my parents would love to help me pay, as I mentioned, it’s not an option. My options are very limited, which is why I must rely on the help of scholarships to achieve my goals. This scholarship would provide me with the help I need to pay for my graduate program. This same graduate program will allow me to help communities that need it the most. I’ve shown determination and passion for a cause and a career that I know can help me make an impact in the lives of many. I know that I have the potential to change the future of mental health accessibility, and I hope that the committee for the Christina Taylese Singh Memorial Scholarship will stand by me as I do.

At thirteen, I was diagnosed with cancer. I faced a year of grueling treatment, enduring chemotherapy, and radiation. I battled with physical and emotional challenges. This was a very difficult time for me; however, this was to be expected. Given the countless side effects of treatment, I knew that this wouldn’t be easy. What I wasn’t prepared for was life after cancer. After treatment, you go into remission. Not cured, there is no cure, but in remission. Defined by the Oxford Dictionary as “a diminution of the seriousness or intensity of disease or pain; a temporary recovery.” Being in remission brought its own set of challenges. For one, because of the tumor, I acquired multiple chronic medical conditions. Remission also brought on a barrage of emotions. I was grateful to be alive, but also frustrated and angry at what my new life had become. I was no longer the same girl I was before, now I had more doctor's appointments than I could count, took numerous medications, and had to deal with chronic conditions. I fell into severe depression during my first year of remission. As all these changes were going on in my life, it was tough because after experiencing something like cancer, you’re expected to be happy and inspirational all the time; after all, you’re given a second opportunity to live. Yet, I didn’t always feel so inspirational. These expectations weighed on my shoulders and made it difficult for me to reach out for help, even to the people closest to me. I felt like a burden to my family. I also lived in constant angst because there are always the “what-ifs.” What if the cancer comes back? What if the migraine is not just a migraine? I also dealt with survivor’s guilt. Throughout my time in treatment, I made a lot of friends also battling cancer. Not all of them survived, and that’s something I carry with me. I also carry the painful memories of my time in treatment, some of which, to this day still bring me to tears. With all the turmoil and overwhelmingness of emotions, at one point I even contemplated giving up. What was the point of fighting a battle that would never end? After all, I couldn’t change my past and my medical conditions are all chronic. I struggled with all this for a long time, and it’s scary to think that my mind would fathom the thought of suicide. But it did. However, I decided that if I was able to beat cancer, I could overcome this too. With the help of a psychologist, I learned coping strategies, and gradually embraced my reality, finding comfort in small victories. Now, five years post-treatment, I continue to cope with these emotions, understanding they're part of my journey. Slowly, I’ve learned to embrace my new normal and all that comes with it. My goal in life is to become a clinical psychologist and work with people from all walks of life who are suffering from mental health issues, especially those with chronic conditions. I can understand these patients better than anyone else because I’ve been in their place. Starting my doctorate in clinical psychology this fall, I aim to enhance my skills to provide effective care, including bilingual services to bridge language barriers. Rather than let cancer and all that it brings be the end of me, I decided to use it as motivation to help others suffering from mental illness, and I hope that the Autumn Davis Memorial Scholarship will support me as I make a difference for those who need It most!

At the young age of 19, I’ve just graduated with a bachelor’s degree in Psychology! My next step in life is to begin a doctoral program in clinical psychology this coming Fall. My goal in life is to become a clinical psychologist and work with patients from diverse backgrounds and all walks of life, especially those with chronic illnesses. At thirteen, I was diagnosed with an intracranial germinoma, which is a type of tumor located on the pituitary gland. This experience was extremely challenging for me. Going through an experience like this can take a large toll not only physically, but also psychologically on anyone, especially a child. I was fortunate enough to have an amazing and supportive team of people by my side including a psychologist. My psychologist helped me and my family cope with the stress and uncertainty of illness. She also helped me through treatment by providing emotional support and guidance through every step of the way. Luckily, I am now in remission, but I still remember those difficult times. We all face our own challenges; for me, it has been overcoming my disability. Sometimes we just need someone to talk to or to help us cope and overcome these difficulties. That’s why I want to become a clinical psychologist: to help individuals with their mental health struggles and provide the support they need to help them overcome their struggles. Graduating with my Psy.D in clinical psychology will prepare me to do just that! While in the program, I plan to partake in bilingual assessment courses, which teach future clinicians how to treat and diagnose patients in English and Spanish. This is extremely valuable as not many psychologists can provide treatment in Spanish. In fact, according to the American Psychological Association, only 5.5% of psychologists said they could provide services in Spanish. That is a big issue, especially given the many Hispanic families out there who need services. By learning how to treat and diagnose patients in both languages I can tear down the language barrier that prevents so many families from reaching out for help. Being bilingual has many benefits, but I think that to me, being able to cultivate inclusivity has been such a key thing in my life. As someone who is bilingual and values service, I have been able to help countless individuals throughout my lifetime by translating for them. As simple as this might seem, it’s really difficult to need or want something but to be unable to communicate it. Being bilingual has also allowed me to both maintain my native Cuban heritage, but also immerse myself in American culture here in the U.S. Bilingualism is also something that according to research has multiple cognitive benefits. However, there is also a downside to it. One of these is that it feels like I’ll never fully master both languages. I know both and speak them fluently; yet, I still find myself confusing words in English and Spanish. Another downside to being bilingual is that it has led me to face prejudice. I will never be American enough, but I will also never be Cuban enough which makes it so that I receive hate and commentary from both ends. Although being bilingual has both benefits and challenges, I believe that the value of the good outweighs the bad. I will become a great psychologist in the future, and I know that being bilingual will allow me to make mental health treatment more accessible. I hope that the Julie Holloway Bryant Memorial Scholarship will stand with me as I make an impact in this world.

In my eyes, success is being able to give back to the community of patients with chronic and severe illnesses. At the age of thirteen, I was diagnosed with an intracranial germinoma, which is a type of tumor located on the pituitary gland. This diagnosis was something that altered my life completely, after it, I spent almost a year in treatment during which I received chemotherapy and radiation. I will also spend a lifetime with chronic conditions caused by the tumor and taking numerous medications. Although I am now in remission, I still remember how difficult my time in treatment was for my family and me. I was constantly fatigued, in pain, or simply feeling ill. Even to this day I still struggle to manage my physical and mental health, along with living a “regular” life. That is why I hope to become a clinical psychologist and specialize in working with patients who suffer from chronic and severe illnesses. My goal is to help patients and their families cope with the stress and uncertainty of illness. I plan to provide them with emotional support and guidance throughout treatment, and during remission as learning to adapt back to a normal life can be a challenge for a lot of cancer patients like myself. Success to me is being able to make a difference in the lives of kids going through the same period of turmoil that I experienced. Sometimes success isn’t just about how much money you make, or how much you own; sometimes, it’s about the mark that you can leave on the lives of others, which is what I hope to do. I hope to tell kids the story of how I too was in their shoes, and how rather than let cancer bring me down, I decided to use it as my motivation to succeed and help others going through similar struggles. My hope is that my story will inspire them to keep fighting and not give up. In order to achieve success and become a clinical psychologist, I must first attend a doctoral program in clinical psychology. These programs are extremely competitive, and I knew that it would not be easy to accomplish this task. Because of my health struggles, I found myself a lot of times having to work twice as hard as some of my peers. However, I am no stranger to hard work, and I am certainly not afraid of it. Throughout my time as an undergraduate, I worked diligently and tirelessly to make myself a worthy candidate for a doctoral program. I conducted my own research project as a McNair Scholar, worked as a tutor and mentor for students, and participated in numerous clubs and activities while maintaining a 3.96 GPA! Even while doing all this, I never forgot my “why,” and continued to advocate and contribute to the cancer community as a child life volunteer at Nicklaus Children's Hospital as well as by working closely with Roarthon and Relay for Life. Finally, as I approach the end of my undergraduate career, all my hard work paid off. I was accepted into a doctoral program in clinical psychology! I have everything it takes to succeed in a doctoral program: passion, perseverance, grit, drive, resilience and so much more. However, one final obstacle stands in my way to success: paying for the program. Unfortunately, Psy.D programs are very expensive and my financial situation makes it nearly impossible for me to pay for this program without help from scholarships like this one. I live with my single mother, and we live paycheck to paycheck, barely making ends meet. The medical expenses brought on by my medical conditions. The Redefining Victory Scholarship will help me mitigate the financial burden that accompanies a Psy.D in Clinical Psychology. In doing this, they will also be helping me accomplish my definition of success, which is being able to help those with chronic and severe medical conditions. In the words of Michelle Obama, “Success isn’t about how much money you make, it’s about the difference you make in people’s lives.” I resonate with this quote, and it matches my not-so-typical definition of success. I hope that the scholarship committee of the Redefining Victory Scholarship will help me achieve success by making a difference in the lives of those who need it most.