As a teenager, my Mom lost her mother and found herself in a single-parent household. Later she watched her children face the same devastation when my dad died. Losing him at 15 is my life's great heartbreak. He passed in 2021 from a brain bleed caused by his lifelong battle with alcoholism. While my mom technically wasn’t a single parent until then, she carried our family's emotional, physical, and financial burdens long before he passed. His struggles left her raising three children and my grown father. As the oldest, I stepped up. My dad left debt, not assets, and my mom managed everything on a teacher’s salary while raising a 15-year-old, a 13-year-old, and an 8-year-old. Everybody relied on her but she had nobody to rely on, so I tried to be the “other adult”. I worked more to cover my expenses and car payments. Despite his struggles, Daddy was my best friend, but growing up close to someone so mentally unstable taught me invaluable life lessons. I didn’t want to end up like him and watching my mom’s sacrifices lit a fire under me. Fueled by the unfairness of it all I poured myself into every opportunity. Despite having dyslexia and dysgraphia, I took AP courses, struggled, but worked hard to earn A’s. I worked weekends and weekdays around theatre rehearsals and volunteered at theatres. Free time was devoted to building a future and honoring my mom's sacrifices so I could be a “normal kid”. During this time, I fell in love with theater. Acting became my solace and gave me purpose after my dad passed. Performing allowed me to rediscover joy and help others do so. I wanted to use my gift of storytelling to help others. Performing became my way of giving back—to bring laughter and connection to those who might not find it elsewhere. I found joy and love could be rediscovered and realized I wanted to dedicate my life to creating meaningful art that inspires and uplifts. I truly thought I could never be happy again. But I through human life and the tellings of life I did. To move an entire room of people and inspire change, teachings, and connection is the most incredible experience and it’s what I hope to dedicate my life to. I want most to give back to my mother. I feared telling my mom about my dream to pursue performing arts. I knew how expensive performing arts colleges were and how uncertain success in the field could be. But instead of hesitation, she supported me wholeheartedly. She helped me navigate the audition process we didn't know anything about. She took me to Los Angeles to explore schools. I fell in love with Loyola Marymount University (LMU), an all-inclusive theatre and film education in carpentry, design, management, directing, music, and acting. I got in; the excitement was bittersweet, knowing my mom couldn't afford tuition. Yet, she made it happen. Determined to honor her sacrifices, I've made the most of every opportunity. Worked in short films at top film schools, joined the National Theatre Honors Society, added a film and media studies double major, was one of only two freshman girls cast in a Mainstage show and cast in three others since, even built sets for artists like Travis Scott. These experiences have been incredible, but knowing my mom is digging herself deeper into debt weighs heavily on my heart. My greatest hope is to one day repay her for her sacrifices. She inspires me to work harder, dream bigger, and give back—to her and the world—through the gift of storytelling.

My mother has had to withstand circumstances I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. She lost her mother when she was just 19 and later had to watch her children face the same devastation of losing a parent when my dad died. My father, my mother's love, was my very best friend. Losing him when I was just 15 has been and is the greatest weight I've ever had to bear. My world revolved around my dad. I wanted to be just like him just as hardworking, funny, and loving—but it strained my relationship with my mom. We were so different, and she was often “on my case”; when Dad died, I began to understand her better. I was always the most responsible and driven of my siblings, the "Isabella doesn't need a curfew" kind of kid. As the oldest, I became the "other adult" in our family. Daddy left no assets, just debt, and we suddenly became a one-income household supported by a teacher and single mother of three. Everybody relied on my mom, but she had nobody to rely on, so I tried to be as independent as possible. I worked to make payments for my car so that I never had to ask my mom for personal expenses. I knew her financial strain and the strain to come. After my junior year of high school, I knew I wanted to pursue theater. Acting was the only solace I found after losing my dad, and I knew it was something I couldn't live without. I was fearful about asking my mom if I could pursue my dreams, knowing how expensive performing arts could be and how unstable my pay would be. When I finally discussed it with her, it wasn't about asking for permission, but rather, "What schools are you thinking?" There was no trying to convince me otherwise, just love and support and my mom helped me navigate the audition process, which we both knew nothing about. My mom continued to go above and beyond taking me to LA to see potential schools because I wanted to be near Los Angeles to start working while still in college, so my mom found someone to watch my siblings. My standout choice became LMU, with the perfect all-inclusive education in carpentry, lighting, sound design, stage management, directing, music, and acting. I knew I wouldn’t find that and the location right outside of LA anywhere else. However, it was a private school, and I initially hesitated to apply because of the costs. But my mom, seeing me at LMU, encouraged me to apply. To my surprise, I got in; it was a bittersweet feeling to be accepted into my dream school, known for its top theater program. Still, I knew tuition was ridiculously expensive, and my mother—a teacher and single parent—couldn't afford it. But my incredible mom bent backward to send me for just one year. I loved it. I participated in short films at top film schools and was one of just two freshman girls in a Mainstage show. I joined the National Theatre Honors Society and exceeded many of my expectations in my first year. My mom, seeing how happy LMU made me, sent me back for my sophomore year while digging herself deeper into debt. While I pursue my dreams and help others, I can't help but long to support the woman who has allowed me to reach the success and happiness I crave. My mother has given me everything, and I hope one day to repay her just a fraction of the debt I owe her.

I was fifteen when life's burdens crashed upon my shoulders. My daddy was dead, and a girl whose world revolved around him was utterly lost. My dad was my very best friend, and I wanted to be exactly like him, just as hardworking, just as funny, just as loving everything I did was for him, and I no longer felt like I had a purpose. I searched for the meaning in his death I had to justify his absence. I firmly believe that “everything happens for a reason,” and I conclude that this obstacle was put in my path to overcome and learn from. I had to learn from my dad's life to take all of his grit and implement it into my life. I found that I didn't want to be brudened by society's expectations I needed to do what made me happy and what made me the very best version of myself. So when I got back to school, I turned to theatre, which had always brought me joy. It was the only thing that brought me solace in my despair. I wanted to be the very best that I could be at it. I worked my ass off auditioning for productions, climbing the ranks. I started as a background character with a mere fourteen lines, then a supporting role with a song to which an audience member scouted me to be a part of their professional theatre company, Hillbarn Theatre. Their program made me work harder than I had ever worked in my whole life. I witnessed exponential growth in my craft, and in just that year, I went from nothing to the recipient of the junior year Excellence in Drama award. The following year, I was nominated for the most prestigious musical theatre award for high school students in California: the Rita Moreno Award for Best Supporting Performer. I was picked one of five women in a supporting role out of all high school theatre in the state. I was working so unbelievably hard while healing. With my dad’s loss came complex emotions I did not understand and had never felt; being able to act and be vulnerable onstage helped me express emotions too overwhelming for me to comprehend while separating them from myself. My dad has always been my motivator in life and continues to be afterlife. I never wanted to live in a world without my dad and I truly believed I never would. Now I live like I believe my dad wouldve wanted me to continually striving to improve and grow in my passions and as a person. I realized that there is only one guarantee you have in this world and it is the ability to control your actions to shape the person you want to become. I wanted to love myself and create a life I loved and admired. I knew that the person theatre was helping me become was the person I truly longed to be, so I auditioned for eight of the best theatre arts colleges in the country and was accepted into my first choice—Loyola Marymount University, where I am surrounded by the country's top five precent of theatre artists. Ive already exceeded so many of my goals there. I was already in a mainstage production and one of only two freshman girls cast. I got to dive into carpentry work, making me feel more connected to my dad than ever before. And I introduced myself to the film world, getting to be in seven short film productions, all just within my freshman year. Since my dad’s death, I have accomplished more than I ever dreamed, and I only expect to keep meeting my goals within my craft while making myself proud of the person I am becoming.

I was fifteen and amid COVID-19 when I unexpectedly lost my dad. It was and continues to be the greatest devastation ive ever faced; it left my mother suddenly a widow and single parent of three. Shortly after my dad died, I realized that I was gay; I never got the chance to tell him. My dad was my best friend, and it haunts me daily that he will never know me as my most authentic self. Similarly, he never got to watch me become serious about theater, another major contributing factor to the person I am. I’ve been acting in performing arts since I was six, and it’s always been a great love of mine, but it wasn’t until my dad died that I realized just how important it is to me and others. When I finally got to act again after COVID-19, I found it was the only thing that brought me solace in my rapidly changing world and grief-filled days. Actors are communicators. We study human behavior and life and tell stories that help us and others heal. Sharing an art that is raw and real helps individuals seek commonality in what can be a very isolating world. Theatre was the only thing that helped me work through my struggles. With my dad’s loss came complex emotions I did not understand and had never felt; being able to act and be vulnerable onstage helped me express emotions too overwhelming for me to comprehend while separating them from myself. But apart from the utter fulfillment it brings me, it sponsors connection and community. The human race longs for connection; we want to feel love, know we are not alone, share our stories, and learn life’s lessons; theater creates that space. The theater scene is so welcoming of the LGBTQ+ community that I grew up with it being so normal that I never had to deal with internalized homophobia, which I’ve witnessed in many friends. It’s something I’m so endlessly grateful for. So, I major in theater with the top five percent of theater artists at Loyola Marymount University. It is my burning dream that I can tell real stories on stage representing different cultures, age groups, belief systems, and communities so that just one person can leave the theater feeling inspired, and empowered, and, most importantly, recognize they are not alone. I want people to realize they aren’t alone by seeing themselves in the stories I tell. I want to make people feel the human experience, learn from it, relate to it, escape their own realities in it, laugh, cry, and feel. I want all to watch untold stories come to life for audiences to learn from the warnings within them, adjust, and change to become more progressive and compassionate individuals.

Though I am not a runner I have faced my fair share of challenges at just 17 years old. I grew up with an alcoholic father who ended up passing my sophomore year. The pandemic only accelerated his disease to the point where I moved out at 15. Witnessing the father I knew and loved waste away was the most gut-wrenching thing I have endured, and it took a physical and emotional toll on me. My dad's alcoholism brought its abuse and all-consuming anxiety attacks; my whole body would spasm. I feared the longer I stayed in this environment, the more permanent my symptoms would become. So I lived with my best friend for a week, my grandparent’s for two months, and finally, my aunt's for another two. I never called, texted, or saw my dad. To save myself, I had to let go. I loved him immensely but was scared of him and what he had become. Suddenly, he died. Goodbyes weren’t exchanged. He didn't hear, I love you so much. Instead, he received nothing from me, and a brain bleed took my dad quietly, quickly, and unexpectedly. I had so many unanswered questions, so many longings, and confusion. My emotions bombarded me, and I didn't know how I would overcome the death of my seemingly indestructible dad. Ultimately theatre was what helped me overcome my trauma and grief. Drama allowed me to take different characters that mirrored me and use the emotions I suppressed to bring them to life. So I immersed myself in the craft. The theatre had always been apart of my life but when my dad died I used it greatly as a crutch to help me find joy once again. I performed in high school productions and was recruited from them to perform in a regional theatre called Hillbarn. I received a visual and performing arts excellence department award. Little did I know the very thing that saved my life would bring me yet another life-altering change. During the Fall of my senior year I landed the leading role of a musical at a professional theatre company. The role required me to be on roller skates. I was so psyched for the challenge and I worked incredibly hard to learn how to skate for the show. Then just as we approached the week before my debut I lost my balance skating in rehearsal. I fell and looked down to see my ankle completely dislocated and hanging from my leg. I had no feeling in my foot I quickly grabbed my foot and relocated it to my leg then told my director "I think I just broke my ankle". I went to the hospital that night and was told I had a rare trimalleolar ankle break and clean break through my fibula which required a massive plate and screws implanted through surgery. It was crushing that the role was taken on by my understudy and I had to miss a month of school as I was completely bedridden. I missed four months of fun through my senior year and had to completely learn how to walk again with months of PT I was angry and depressed. What kept me going was the chance to perform again. I went straight back to theatre knowing id be able to walk for the performances. Upon my return to theatre I played Stepmother in Cinderella and was awarded my biggest honor yet and was a Rita Moreno award this for Best Supporting Actress as "Stepmother". Time and time again Theatre has helped me face my most traumatic of challenges.

Theatre has been a detrimental part of my life for the past nine years, and it helped me grow tremendously as an individual. My passion for it has only grown stronger. I have been in 22 productions and am currently a part of my 23rd and 24th which I am directing and managing completely on my own at 17. Choosing to take drama changed everything for me. Zoom began in 2019 and even through a screen, I found myself thoroughly engrossed in Drama class daily. This was during a time in my life when I struggled with my mental health, but I soon found myself excited for the upcoming days so that I could attend drama class. That year, I lost my Dad, who died suddenly of a brain bleed. He was an alcoholic, and the pandemic only accelerated his disease to the point where I moved out of the house. I was 15 when I moved out. Witnessing the father I knew and loved waste away was the most gut-wrenching thing I had ever endured, and it was taking a physical and emotional toll on me. My dad's alcoholism brought its abuse and I began to have all-consuming anxiety attacks; my whole body would spasm. I feared the longer I stayed in this abusive environment, the more permanent my symptoms would become. So I moved into my best friend’s house for a week, my grandparent’s for two months, and finally, my aunt's for another two. I never called, texted, or saw my dad. To save myself, I had to let him go. I loved him immensely but was scared of him and what he had become. Suddenly, he was dead. Goodbyes weren’t exchanged. He didn't hear, I love you so much, or I didn't leave because I hate you. Instead, he received nothing from me, and a brain bleed took my dad quietly, quickly, and unexpectedly. I was left with so many unanswered questions, so many longings, and so much confusion. My emotions bombarded me, and I had no idea how I would overcome the death of my seemingly indestructible dad. What ultimately saved me was the Woodside High School theatre program. Returning to school the following year, I learned all about character study and development. From those lessons, my teacher unknowingly gave me the outlet I desperately needed to process my grief. Drama class allowed me to take different characters that mirrored me and use the emotions I suppressed to bring the characters to life. I know that without that outlet my grief would've consumed me. I began to immerse myself in theatre again I performed in high school productions and was recruited from them to perform in a regional theatre called Hillbarn. I received a visual and performing arts excellence department award and was nominated for a Rita Moreno award this April for Best Supporting Actress as "Stepmother" in Cinderella. I want nothing more than to give back to the community that has revived my life. I perform to bring not just myself joy but to bring it to others. I want to create meaningful art that shows audiences they are not alone. To bring a person laughter and joy even if they can not feel such on their own in life is a gift and I want nothing more than to bring people joy and love for the rest of my life. The beauty of theatre saved me from all-consuming grief I feel as though it is my duty to help save others with my craft and passion for the art.

Theatre has been a detrimental part of my life for the past nine years, and it has helped me grow tremendously as an individual. My passion for it has only grown stronger. I have been in 22 productions and am currently a part of my 23rd at Hillbarn Theatre and 24th which I am directing and managing completely on my own at 17. Choosing to take drama changed everything for me. Zoom began in 2019 and even through a screen, I found myself thoroughly engrossed in Drama class daily. This was during a time in my life when I struggled with my mental health, but I soon found myself excited for the upcoming days so that I could attend drama class. At the end of that year, I lost my Dad, who died suddenly of a brain bleed. COVID was particularly difficult for him. He was an alcoholic, and the pandemic only accelerated his disease to the point where I moved out of the house. I was 15 when I moved out. Witnessing the father I knew and loved waste away was the most gut-wrenching thing I had ever endured, and it was taking a physical and emotional toll on me. My dad's alcoholism brought its abuse and I began to have all-consuming anxiety attacks; my whole body would spasm. I feared the longer I stayed in this abusive environment, the more permanent my symptoms would become. So I moved into my best friend’s house for a week, my grandparent’s for two months, and finally, my aunt's for another two. I never called, texted, or saw my dad. To save myself, I had to let him go. I loved him immensely but was scared of him and what he had become. Suddenly, he was dead. Goodbyes weren’t exchanged. He didn't hear, I love you so much, or I didn't leave because I hate you. Instead, he received nothing from me, and a brain bleed took my dad quietly, quickly, and unexpectedly. I was left with so many unanswered questions, so many longings, and so much confusion. My emotions bombarded me, and I had no idea how I would overcome the death of my seemingly indestructible dad. What ultimately saved me was the Woodside High School theatre program. Returning to school the following year, I learned all about character study and development. From those lessons, my teacher unknowingly gave me the outlet I desperately needed to process my grief. Drama class allowed me to take different characters that mirrored me and use the emotions I suppressed to bring the characters to life. I know that without that outlet my grief would've consumed me. I began to immerse myself in theatre again I performed in high school productions and was recruited from them to perform in a regional theatre called Hillbarn. I received a visual and performing arts excellence department award and was nominated for a Rita Moreno award this April for Best Supporting Actress as "Stepmother" in Cinderella. I want nothing more than to give back to the community that has revived my life. I perform to bring not just myself joy but to bring it to others. I want to create meaningful art that shows audiences they are not alone. To bring a person laughter and joy even if they can not feel such on their own in life is a gift and I want nothing more than to bring people joy and love for the rest of my life.

Ever since I could be on stage, I knew I wanted to perform; however, as I got older, I felt the pressures of society weighing on me. I thought I needed a job that society and my family would consider worthy. I would say I'd be a surgeon or anesthesiologist. I'd have money to support myself and my family. I believed my parents wanted this for me, so I should too. I never did. Theater always called to me and filled me with motivation and joy. It meant everything, but I felt my family should've trumped my desires. So I made theater less of a priority until my dad passed. I was fifteen when my dad died two years ago: it was sudden, crushing, and eye-opening. My dad was my world, my best friend, and he had the opinion that mattered to me most. My dad was an alcoholic, and it ultimately led to his death. For months I would watch him deteriorate in front of me until I decided to move out at just fifteen. I hoped to return home and have a sober dad. When he died, the world turned backward. Nothing was the same. I was robbed of a resolution with the person I cared for most: he knew nothing of my true dreams and desires. My life suddenly meant nothing. I no longer had a father to fill with pride, and I knew I could let this trauma destroy me or use it to make me stronger. I chose to be stronger. I didn't know what my dad wanted for me. I could only make educated guesses. The one thing I knew was that he wanted me to be stronger and happier. So I turned to the one thing that had made me happy my whole life. I used theater to help process my trauma. I was able to disconnect the truths I found so difficult to face from myself and turn them into other characters' experiences. It helped me process all I had experienced and made me even more passionate about theater. I was accepted into shows at my school and scouted to go and perform in a professional theater called "Hillbarn." That environment pushed me farther than ever before, and I was genuinely proud of what I had created. It solidified that I wanted to perform forever. I knew I didn't want to be so mentally tasked as my dad was when he died. I wanted to thrive. Suddenly I knew that even if my family disagreed with me going into theater, it was what I wanted. I decided I could have pride in myself even if my family wouldn't. I had come to this conclusion and told my family I'd major in theater arts. Opinions I had been so fearful of proved accepting. My grandparents agreed that happiness should come first. They were proud of my choice and proud of me. I'm sure my grandparents had fears about my decision, such as income troubles, but they did not express these concerns. My mom also supported my decision but vocalized her concerns. My mom told me she wanted me to pursue my dreams and passions. She said she sees me thrive and shine on stage, so she knows it's the right place for me. However, she worries because of the competitive field and rejection. All things had crossed my mind, but I'm ready to face the rejection the industry brings and will not let it stunt my dreams. Instead, I let my passion for theatre drive me each day.

My dad was my motivator, best friend, and closest confidant; everything I did was for him. He carried suffocating amounts of unresolved traumas, and alcoholism tore his most beautiful qualities from him. In 2020 when COVID hit, my dad was becoming less and less of the person I knew; he began to exhibit abusive behaviors toward my family and me. By 2021 it felt as though my dad had already died, and his body remained to remind me of his absence; it was almost as painful as his death. With each fist in my bedroom wall or screaming degradement spat on my face, I felt myself slipping into a dark state. I cared only for the wisdom of my dad and the words he would scream at me in blind rages cut like burning knives. My dad had been consumed by his alcoholism at fifteen I couldn’t handle his deterioration. The cops couldn't get my dad to leave, child protective services told me I was "mature for my age," and my mom wasn’t strong enough to move out. I took matters into my own hands. I moved out, hoping I could return once my dad got sober, I believed he’d get better. I lived with my best friend for a week, with my grandparents for two months, and with my aunt for another two; we planned to make my stay permanent by building an outdoor shed to convert into my bedroom. We put a downpayment in for that shed, but it would turn out that it wasn’t meant to be. On May 20th, 2021, my aunt returned from work abruptly and asked me to leave my zoom school. I shut my computer, she told me my dad had died that morning. He had a brain bleed from falling in the house while intoxicated. I had been struggling with severe panic attacks ever since my dad’s alcoholism had worsened, but as my aunt spoke to me, I shut down. I shook, yet my joints and body were so stiff I couldn't move all I said was what over and over, forcing my aunt to repeat the unthinkable. Over the four months I moved out, I never called, spoke to, saw, or texted my dad. My last memory was him telling me he loved me after yelling at me over an Advil bottle, to which I never responded. My dad’s death haunted me; I was struck with incredible grief and hopelessness, but I also felt guilty. I wished I had said I loved him; I wished I had helped him; I wished I hadn't protected myself by moving out. I wanted time that no longer existed. I was destroyed, in denial, and angry at myself. I stayed home for a month and a half before gaining the courage to try and live again. I didn't want to live without him and knew I had a hell of a fight ahead of me. I couldn't live for my dad anymore; I could do nothing to fill him with pride; he was gone. It was time to make myself proud. I realized there’s only one guarantee, one person in this world that you have, and it happens to be yourself. I wanted to love myself and create a life I loved and admired. I went back to the one thing that had constantly made me happy and used it as a tool to process my trauma. Theatre. I worked hard and put in extra hours of work on my technique. Junior year approached the first school year without my dad. I focused on keeping my 4.0 as I had before and took my first AP class. I emphasised on theatre and became among the best students in the program. Later in the year, I was found by a professional theatre company after performing in the school musical; they asked me to come and perform in their next show. Their program made me work harder than I had ever worked in my whole life. I witnessed exponential growth in my craft, and by the end of my junior year, I received the drama award at my high school. My family was so proud of me, but more importantly, I was proud of myself; it validated that theatre arts were where I belonged. I auditioned for eight of the best theatre arts colleges in the country and already got into my first choice. Since my dad’s death, I have accomplished more than I ever dreamed, and I only expect to keep meeting my goals within my craft while making myself proud of the person I am becoming.

May 20th, 2021, will never escape me. The expression on my aunt’s face, the cop’s staring at our family photos, and my dad’s lifeless hand vividly remain with me. My aunt stood before me saying, “Can you get off your computer and leave Zoom?” I replied, “Why?” “Your dad died this morning.” The words fell from her mouth quickly, destructively, concisely. I regressed to five. “What?” I said, “What?” over and over and over. I’m not sure how I stopped. My “whats” were questions, pleadings, and acknowledgments. My cries were endless. My daddy who had always caught my tears with his shoulders was abruptly gone. I had novels of unsaid words, regrets, longings, and hopelessness. My father held the multitude of my love, and suddenly it had all been displaced, the tangibility of that love conflicting me. My love turned to heartbreak, despair, and paralyzing longing. Four months before he died, I moved out. I was 15 and a half. My dad was an alcoholic; witnessing the father I knew and loved waste away, was the most gut-wrenching thing I ever endured. My father’s struggles and addictions turned to anger. He would scream at me for hours; the more he yelled, the more I withdrew. I began to have all-consuming anxiety attacks; my whole body would spasm. My head bobbed up and down senselessly until the back of my neck hurt from the repeated contact. My anxiety and the physical effects his anger had on me were worsening. I feared the longer I stayed in this abusive environment; the more permanent my symptoms would become. So I moved into my best friend’s house for a week, my grandparents for two months, and finally, my aunt's for another two. I never called, texted, or saw my dad. To save myself, I had to let him go. I loved him immensely but was scared of him and what he had become. Suddenly, he was dead. Goodbyes weren’t exchanged. He didn't hear, I love you so much, or I didn't leave because I hate you. I left because I love you and couldn’t bear to see you this way. Instead, he received nothing from me, and a brain bleed took my dad quietly, quickly, and unexpectedly. My dad worked harder than anyone I know, but his regrets and unresolve issues plagued him. I chose to learn from my dad’s life and the grief his absence brought me. I found life no longer held guarantees, especially not how I once expected it to. Instead, life brought waves with changing tides, lulls, and highs that would forever challenge me. One thing I knew for certain was that I wanted to be happy no matter where these challenges took me. I began questioning why I would ever pursue a career in anesthesiology. I no longer had a father to fill with pride and decided my own pride could be enough for me. Performing never failed to help me find accomplishment within myself. Acting always brought me passion, joy, and self-love. Theater made me want to work harder than I already did. I knew it was for me that it would provide the fulfillments I longed for. My major would be theater arts. My dad’s passing allowed me to put myself first, to live the way he wanted and deserved to live, yet never did. My life became my barge to control, to steer, to pursue. My father allowed me to have the bravery and courage to become the person I so badly wanted to be and live a life worth living.

May 20th 2021 will never escape me. Steam from my shower, the expression of my aunt, the cop’s faces as they stare at our family photos, his hand remain pungent memmories. My aunt stood before me and said, “Can you get off your computer and leave Zoom?” I replied, “Why?” She had already left for work. I was surprised to see her before me. She looked frightened yet serious and calm. She usually had a playfulness and sassiness to her spirit and speech. I knew something was appallingly wrong. I closed my computer. “Your dad died this morning.” The words fell from her mouth quickly, destructively, and concisely. I regressed to five. “What?” I said, “What?” over and over and over. I’m not sure how I stopped. My “whats” were questions, pleadings, and acknowledgments. My cries never ceased. Daddy was gone. He left abruptly, leaving me with novels of unsaid words, regrets, longings, and hopelessness. My father held the multitude of my love. It would weigh upon his shoulders and ultimately sink with him. My love turned to heartbreak, despair, and paralyzing anguish. I lost my dad a year and a half ago when I was 15 I had decided to move out of my house at that same age four months prior to his death. My dad was an alcoholic; witnessing the father I knew and loved sink away, was the most gut-wrenching thing I ever endured. My father’s struggles and addictions turned to anger. He would scream at me for hours on end; the more he yelled, the more I changed. I had nasty anxiety attacks. My whole body would spasm uncontrollably. My head would bob up and down senselessly until the back of my head hurt from the repeated contact. I was so frightened by what my body was doing and was terrified that if I stayed in this abusive environment the more permanent my symptoms would become. I moved out. I lived with my best friend for a week, my grandparents for two months, and my aunt's house for another two. I never called, texted, or saw my dad. I loved him. I loved him beyond words but I was scared of what he had become. Suddenly, he was dead. No goodbyes were exchanged. He didn't get to hear, I love you so much, or I didn't leave because I hate you. I left because I love you because I couldn’t bear to see you in this light. Instead, he received nothing from me, and a brain bleed took my dad quietly, quickly, and unexpectedly. I knew I couldnt live a life that mirrored my dad’s. Life became less of a guarantee and more of a wave with changing paths, tides, lulls, and highs. I started questioning why I would ever pursue a career in anesthesiology if it didn’t bring me passion, joy, or love when acting gave me all the fufillments I longed for. I knew that I had to be there for myself and value my dreams: my aspirations. My dad was an accomplished man but had many regrets. I didn’t want regrets. I wanted to live for work and passion, so I decided to change my career path and pursue a career in theater. My dad’s passing allowed me to put myself first, to live the way he wanted and deserved to live, yet never did. My life became my barge to control, to steer, to pursue. My father allowed me to have the bravery and courage to become the person I so badly wanted to be and live a life worth living.