Essay: Ethel Hayes Destigmatization of Mental Health Scholarship I come from a family where mental illness was not hidden—it was lived out daily, without understanding, intervention, or support. From a healed place, I can now say this with clarity: untreated mental illness does not exist in isolation. It influences behavior, distorts relationships, and, when ignored, can give rise to cycles of abuse that harm everyone involved. My mother and my brother both struggled with severe mental illness. As a child, I watched my brother retreat inward, often curled into the fetal position, immobilized by depression. Even then, I recognized that what he was experiencing was not a phase. When I tried to speak up, his suffering was dismissed—reflecting a broader cultural silence around mental health, particularly within Black families where these conversations were often avoided rather than addressed. My mother’s untreated illness manifested in volatility, disappearance, manipulation, and extreme physical and verbal abuse. I was beaten with extension cords, wooden boards, and thick switches. My head was slammed into walls. I nearly drowned in a bathtub of scalding water. These were not isolated moments, but recurring patterns shaped by unresolved trauma and a lack of mental health care. Healing has taught me that understanding the roots of abuse does not excuse it—but it is essential if we are ever going to prevent it. Mental illness also eroded boundaries and safety within my home. I was forced into adult roles far too young—caretaker, mediator, emotional stabilizer—often calming others during violent arguments. I learned to read emotional shifts before I learned how to be a child. When my mother disappeared for days or weeks at a time, instability became normal. When she later attempted to place responsibility for her suicidality on me, I understood—even as a teenager—how untreated mental illness can warp accountability and perception. My brother’s struggles followed him into adulthood. He survived multiple suicide attempts, each rooted in hopelessness and the belief that there was no future for him. One attempt came shortly after high school graduation, when he ingested bleach stored in the kitchen. Another involved a firearm during a moment of desperation. These experiences reinforced a truth I now carry into my academic and professional work: when mental illness goes unaddressed, desperation can feel like the only option. Despite this, I refused to let silence define my future. In high school, my final English essay was titled “Mental Illness: Is It Hereditary or Acquired?” I earned a B+ without realizing that the question itself was preparing me for a lifelong path. That essay marked the beginning of my journey into psychology—a field that feels less like a discipline and more like a language I have always spoken. As a Psychology major, my lived experience allows me to grasp concepts such as trauma, attachment, mood disorders, and intergenerational transmission with depth and nuance. From healing came purpose. I am the Founder of The C.A.P.E.A.B.L.E. Foundation, an organization rooted in self-awareness-based healing, empowerment, and the belief that people are capable of growth when given understanding and support. C.A.P.E.A.B.L.E. stands for Courageous, Attainable, Purpose, Enlightening, Awareness, Believing, Learning, and Empowerment—values shaped directly by my lived experience. The Foundation exists to support individuals, particularly those impacted by disability and adversity, in overcoming barriers and pursuing meaningful goals through education, sponsorship, and intentional support. My work as a founder is inseparable from my academic path. Psychology has given me the framework; lived experience has given me the urgency. Together, they guide my mission to destigmatize mental health, promote trauma-informed understanding, and create spaces where people are supported before crisis becomes the outcome. My vision is a future where children are not forced to interpret mental illness alone, where families are equipped with education and resources, and where seeking help is seen as strength rather than weakness. I believe healing begins with awareness, grows through accountability, and flourishes through community. This scholarship honors the truth that bringing darkness into the light is not exposure—it is liberation. From a place of healing, I stand committed to transforming lived experience into advocacy, silence into dialogue, and pain into purpose.

Survival is not just part of my story—it is the foundation of who I am. Time and again, sepsis has brought me to the edge of death. Yet each time, I returned stronger, with a deeper purpose to transform my suffering into service, and my survival into a legacy of resilience. My journey began in 1994, when a membrane rupture during pregnancy at twenty-eight weeks placed me in premature labor. The hospital could not provide a suitable antibiotic, leaving me in critical condition until infectious disease specialists intervened with IV therapy. In 1999, after a motor vehicle accident left me with a C5C6 spinal cord injury, I faced another battle: hospital-acquired infections of VRE, MRSA, and pneumonia. My left lung collapsed, my skin broke down, and I coded blue—passing beyond the threshold of life until, moments before being pronounced, I came back. The years that followed carried more trials. In 2004–2005, I endured osteomyelitis requiring thirty days of IV antibiotics. In 2018–2019, an untreated thigh wound nearly cost me my leg and my life, again requiring long-term infectious disease care. Most recently, in 2022–2023, a severe skin infection landed me in the hospital on Christmas Day. Even today, I continue IV antibiotic treatments for a resistant strain of E. coli. Each encounter with sepsis tried to close the door on my future. Instead, it opened one. I learned that resilience is not only surviving—it is choosing to build something meaningful in the aftermath. In the summer of 2025, I proudly earned my Associate Degree in Psychology. That accomplishment was more than an academic milestone; it was proof that even through medical setbacks, I could thrive in my education. Fueled by this achievement, I am preparing to continue my studies at San Francisco State University, where I plan to pursue a bachelor’s degree in Psychology in the Spring of 2026. Beyond education, my survival sparked a vision for leadership and service. I founded The C.A.P.E.A.B.L.E. Foundation, a nonprofit rooted in courage, awareness, and empowerment for people facing adversity. During my residency in a nursing home, I also found inspiration to create Jez Nubbin, a business born out of crafting badge reels and creative items that bring individuality and joy into healthcare spaces. What began as a spark of creativity grew into a vision of ownership, independence, and dignity. Sepsis shaped me, but it did not define me. Instead, it inspired me to define my life by courage, education, and service. This scholarship would not only recognize the many times I fought for my life—it would help me carry that fight forward, turning survival into purpose and resilience into impact. My mission is simple yet profound: to use what I have endured to uplift others, showing that even after life’s deepest struggles, greatness can still rise—in kindness, in courage, and in legacy.