When listening to others’ motivations and ambitions, it pushes me to work hard for my own as well. Kalia’s journey is a great example of that kind of story. It shows one of passion, kindness, and hard work as she faced life head on with a smile on her face, being able to spread those feelings to others. Like Kalia, I strived, and still do, for academic achievement in high school with the balance of a life in sports. Softball, marching band, lacrosse…sometimes it was a lot for me to handle on top of taking higher level classes. Yet, I always believed that the struggle made me stronger. Learning to balance everything, on top of getting a job my junior and senior year, while struggling mentally, helped me learn to fight. I recognized I had to work hard to keep doing the things I loved and to be truly successful I may have to give a little extra push towards my goals. Softball is a big part of my life, even now in college I am on the club team, and although I don’t travel with the girls, being able to practice with hardworking people encourages me. It makes me want to work hard, continue to polish my craft and get better in a sport that I hold so dear to me. I believe Kalia was that kind of person, one who could motivate me from her own strength and effort. In my first year of college, I have allowed that work ethic to stick with me. Although my parents warned me against it, I ended up getting a job after the first few weeks of school in order to have that extra experience as well as a source of income when I was away from home. It wasn’t too much, since I had the opportunity to make my own schedule that aligned with my classes, but it was an adjustment from doing the same in high school. It pushed me to be better and to find ways to continue to excel myself in a new community. Like Kalia, I’m also involved in black organizations on my campus, more specifically BAPS (Black Association of Psychology Students), which provides resources, support, and information for African American students who may struggle with mental health. I also get involved with my community by speaking out on social issues and pushing for change with another organization. I fight for our rights and privileges through words and demonstrations as Kalia hoped to fight for them in the military with her own strength and resilience. This scholarship is a noble one that allows for Kalia’s kindness and strength to be shared, a story of perseverance and fight. As someone who has been pushing past barriers most of my life, I hope to be able to show that same strength continuing on in my education as well as my personal life. As an out-of-state student, I hope to show my resilience to my family, and especially my parents who allowed me to go away and find myself. My passion to help others, more specifically children, with my clinical psychology course is one that carries me through every hard class and every urge to give up. So, as I work two jobs this summer to pay rent for my apartment next year, I will take Kalia’s spirit of hard work and determination with me. I will continue to push on and work hard with a smile on my face, and fight for people like Kalia who do the same everyday.

My family made the “cure” to depression sound easy. Take these pills, you'll be fine. Talk to people more, you need friends. You need to get out of your bed. Do this, do that, and you'll feel better. So I tried to do what they told me. I would pretend that I wouldn't hurt myself, and I took my pills everyday like I should. I would smile and go to work, join sports teams, and I would follow every direction that they gave me. I convinced myself that I was “happy” that I was getting better. When, in reality, I was feeling almost nothing. I drifted through my junior and senior years of high school in a lost haze, wondering around for someone or something to finally make me feel okay. I stopped really trying at school, but still felt the crushing weight of my failure with every lower grade from the “perfect” A-student that I’ve been since I was little. Everything was too much for me, but at the same time, I was feeling nothing. The summer before I went to college, I was terrified. I felt like I wouldn’t make it. I felt pressured to be one way, to be worthy of people’s attention and care that they put in for me to be able to go to school in the first place. I still struggle with this, even now in my second semester as these feelings, or lack thereof, still claw at me and make me feel like I’m sinking. I watch others go out, meet new people, have fun…and I wonder every day why can’t I be like that. Why can’t I just be normal? However, I know that there is no such thing as “normal.” There is only a thing that society deems as “acceptable”, or an idea that many conform to and twist it to be something with a sense of absolute rightness. Everytime these threatening and aching thoughts come to me, I try my best to reframe my thoughts. I remember learning about the technique in my psychology class and thinking it was quite silly, but now, it’s become a big anchor for me. I think to myself that I know I’m not the only one feeling that way, that I don’t have a reason to make baseless assumptions and make myself believe everything negative that echoes in my brain. I don’t have to have a big group of friends, go to parties, be like everyone else, to be happy. I still struggle with depression, and these empty listless feelings, but by looking inside myself and understanding why I may feel these things, and knowing that it’s okay to, well, not be okay. I exist very heavily in online spaces and I am an adamant listener. I reach out to others, making sure they are aware that they may not be alone in their feelings or thoughts, that it’s okay to feel everything and nothing at all. I promote mental health whenever I can, speak often of self harm/suicide rates especially as a result of bullying (especially online), and whenever I bring up my psychology major, I always tell people why. I am also a part of an Active Minds club on my campus that promotes awareness of mental health and support. I try to be an open person, and do my best to make people feel seen and heard. I don’t ever want others to feel alone or silenced as they suffer alone. Speak out, and speak to someone. And never be ashamed.

People are all around me. I watch their every move, my eyes transfixed as if hypnotized by a movie; I cannot tear my eyes away from them. Their voices ring in my ear and stay embedded there, until they're so full I can only hear the soft hum of my breathing. I watch those voices, those people, drift past me, laughing, and smiling, and sharing secrets that only they know. They're like waves, crashing against the shore. And I can do nothing but watch, listening to the waves crash around me as I float aimlessly in still water. There was no direction, no wind or shift in the water to move me. That is what depression is to me. I have been plagued by depression since I was in middle school. I didn't think it was something I had, though. I believed that I was a pretty happy person. I had friends all around me, I was able to laugh and have fun. I couldn't feel that way. But, that oh-so-devastating feeling enraptured me, consumed me until it was all I could feel. I continued to push it away. I didn't want to talk about it, I didn't want to be seen as...weak. Even when I would poke at myself until I would bleed, or bury my head into my pillow, hoping the inky black would turn to the blind light that I was promised. When I moved my junior year, though, my mantra became harder to live by. The details are many, but I went through a tough time. Because of this, my straight A's began to plummet, my motivation was nonexistent, and nothing was fun anymore. All I wanted to do was to go back home. Eventually, my parents took me to see a therapist as well as a physiatrist who put me on medication. Through all of this, I tried to navigate inside myself. I tried to find out why I was the way I was, why I couldn't be...better. One of the biggest things I've learned is that it's not healthy to fight alone. My sister was a big reason why I was, and still am, able to pull myself back from shrinking back into the heaviness, into the blurry faces and muffled voices. I've learned that overcoming myself is how I become greater. I began to get out of my comfort zone and try to view the world differently. I became obsessed with the ideas of psychology and my own experiences, as well as the experiences of those around me, helped me realize that helping people is what I want to do. I don't want people to feel that they're alone, and that they shouldn't seek help. I've learned that just being there can help someone beyond measure. My ultimate goal is to give people the help they need and deserve. From my own life, through my battles inside my mind, I've learned that it's okay to feel like that. I've also learned that I don't have to let it control me. I still have many moments where my depression takes hold, but, I know that it's not the end. It will never be the end because I will never let the wars that rage inside my head win. No one ever should. It's not ever your only choice.

It is okay not to be okay. As someone who struggles with depression and anxiety, which I am now on medication for, I know how it feels not to want to seek help. When I first started to experience signs of depression, I was in ninth grade. I thought of it as nothing more than just having a hard time adjusting to high school, especially after coming back from COVID. I started feeling alone despite having friends around me. I would get angry or irritated, and have periods of deep drag where I wouldn't want to do anything, and living seemed to be a heavy burden. Even through all this, I thought nothing of it. There were people in the world who had bigger issues than I did. I lived a good life with friends around me and a great support system from my parents and siblings, so why should I feel the way I do? I ignored how I felt, how sometimes I would harm myself or collapse into tears for no reason. I ignored the war in my head because I had no valid reason to bring light to it. I felt, if I told someone, they would call me "dramatic." So, I kept quiet. I kept smiling, and as I went through my freshman and sophomore year, I managed to keep it together. Then I moved, and I fell apart. I could feel myself starting to crack, but I believed my long-standing glue would hold me together. Finally, one night after a softball game, I collapsed on my knees and told my dad that I wanted to take my own life as I sobbed in his arms. Everything inside me felt like it was breaking. Then, at that moment, I could admit to myself that I needed help. And that it was okay. Worldwide, over 70% of young people and adults with mental illness do not seek help. Reasons may be because they don't feel safe or validated or even for a reason similar to mine. It is also true to note that teenagers may not feel prompted to get help because of those around them, and the idea that it's weak to get help or mental illnesses aren't real are commonly normalized. Psychology is so important to me for these reasons that persist, and why it's my passion to bring light to those who are suffering. No one should deal with these things alone or feel they cannot seek help when needed. Three of my family members have tried to take their own life, and every time I think of them, my passion for what I want to do grows stronger. I want to do this for them, for me, for Mattie, and for every child who feels that taking their life is the only escape. I plan to develop my studies in clinical psychology and focus on teenage mental health. As this world evolves with technology, human connection, and interaction are as important as ever. Teenagers are the future, and the mental health crisis is not something that is ever going to disappear. This is why I think the Mattie's Way Memorial Scholarship is so inspiring. To keep spreading awareness of mental health issues in teens and encouraging passion in the subject. And I hope, through my career, to do the same. To encourage everyone, whether interested in the field or not, to reach out to someone. A simple call, text, or presence can save someone's life. There's nothing quite so beautiful in the vastness of human kindness.