“This too shall pass.” Those four words were my dad’s answer to nearly every challenge I faced growing up. At the time, I never thought much about them, but when life handed me an obstacle I felt I’d never survive, those words became the foundation that carried me through the darkest period of my life. When I was eleven years old, someone I considered family took something from me that I could never get back. On March 5, 2019, the way I viewed trust, safety, and myself was permanently altered. That night, it was just my younger sister, me, and someone we believed we could trust completely. When everything fell apart, my first instinct was not to process my own pain, but to protect her. I remember lying awake, counting the minutes until my dad came home, holding onto the only thing I believed I could control—her safety. Although I told my mom the next day, the aftermath lasted far longer than I ever imagined. Months passed, and instead of healing, my mental health declined. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder, PTSD, and severe anxiety. I struggled with suicidal thoughts, academic failure, and a complete loss of confidence. My life revolved around doctor visits, medications, and therapy sessions where I was expected to relive the most traumatic moment of my life. I began to believe that this pain would never pass and that this version of myself was permanent. Eventually, my family and counselors faced an impossible decision: I could return to school and repeat a year due to my absences, or I could attend a long-term residential treatment facility in Utah. I chose treatment. What was described as a “thirty-to-ninety-day stay” became sixty-eight days of intense therapy, accountability, and personal growth. When I returned home, I had completed my schoolwork early, reached the highest leadership level in my program, and—most importantly—learned that healing is possible when you are given the right support. My family’s willingness to fight for my well-being, even when it meant making difficult decisions, showed me the power of advocacy, education, and compassion. Their strength—and the guidance of counselors who truly listened—saved my life. That is why I am majoring in psychology with the goal of working with troubled teens. I want to be the person I once needed: someone who understands trauma, sees beyond behaviors, and reminds teens that they are not broken. By using my education to advocate for accessible mental health care, trauma-informed counseling, and early intervention, I hope to help young people believe that their pain does not define their future. My story is proof that even the deepest wounds can heal—and I plan to dedicate my life to helping others believe that this too shall pass.

“This too shall pass.” Those four words became my anchor during one of the hardest seasons of my life. Although I didn’t fully understand them at first, they eventually shaped how I learned to cope with trauma and work toward healing. When I was eleven years old, I experienced a traumatic event that forever changed my sense of safety and trust. In the months that followed, I struggled deeply with my mental health and was later diagnosed with major depressive disorder, PTSD, and severe anxiety. I felt overwhelmed by emotions I didn’t understand and often believed the pain would never end. I struggled with school, lost motivation, and battled suicidal thoughts, convinced that this was the reality I would have to live with forever. Overcoming these challenges has not been a single moment of victory, but an ongoing process. Therapy taught me how to recognize unhealthy coping mechanisms and replace them with healthier ones. Medication, while difficult to accept at first, helped stabilize my emotions enough for me to begin healing. Most importantly, I learned to be honest—both with myself and with others—about what I was feeling. Asking for help was one of the hardest steps, but it became the most important one. At one point, my struggles led me to attend a long-term mental health treatment facility in Oakley, Utah. What initially felt like a setback became a turning point. During my time there, I learned accountability, emotional regulation, and self-worth. I set goals, rebuilt my academic confidence, and discovered strength I didn’t know I had. While I continue to work through challenges today, I now have tools, support systems, and resilience that allow me to keep moving forward. Because of my experiences, supporting others and raising awareness for mental health challenges is deeply personal to me. I strive to be open about my journey, so others know they are not alone or broken for struggling. I listen without judgment, speak up when I notice someone withdrawing, and encourage conversations about mental health rather than silence. In the future, I hope to advocate for accessible mental health resources, reduce stigma, and create safe spaces where people feel seen and supported. My journey taught me that healing is not linear, and progress does not mean the absence of struggle. It means choosing to keep going, even on difficult days. By continuing to prioritize my mental health and standing beside others in their struggles, I hope to be part of a generation that treats mental health with the care, understanding, and urgency it deserves.

“This too shall pass.” Those four words were my dad’s response to nearly every challenge I faced growing up. At the time, I didn’t fully understand them, but when life handed me an obstacle I felt I would never overcome, those words became the foundation that carried me through the darkest period of my life. That experience is what shaped my commitment to the healthcare profession I have chosen: counseling. When I was eleven, someone I trusted deeply took something from me that I could never get back. On March 5, 2019, my world changed forever. That night, it was just my younger sister, me, and someone we believed we could trust completely. When everything fell apart, my instinct was not to think about myself, but to protect her. I remember lying awake, waiting for my dad to come home, counting the minutes, and holding onto the one thing I believed I could still control — her safety. The next day, I told my mom what had happened, believing the worst was over. I was wrong. In the months that followed, my mental health declined rapidly. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder, PTSD, and severe anxiety. I struggled with suicidal thoughts, academic failure, and emotional numbness. My life became a cycle of doctor’s visits, medications, and therapy sessions that felt overwhelming and uncomfortable. Opening up to someone I barely knew about the most painful experience of my life felt impossible. I questioned whether healing was even real, or if this pain was something I would carry forever. Despite my resistance, counseling became the turning point in my life. Though progress was slow, I began to understand the importance of mental healthcare and the impact compassionate professionals can have. When my parents and counselors recommended long-term care in Oakley, Utah, I agreed — not because I felt strong, but because I had nothing left to lose. Over sixty-eight days, I exceeded expectations, completed my schooling early, and reached the highest level of leadership in my program. More importantly, I learned that healing takes time, patience, and support. My commitment to becoming a counselor comes from lived experience. I know what it feels like to sit on the other side of the room, unsure if the person across from you can truly understand. I want to be the counselor I once needed — someone who listens without judgment, offers hope without pressure, and reminds others that pain does not define their future. Mental healthcare saved my life. Choosing this profession is not just a career decision for me; it is a promise to use my experience, resilience, and compassion to help others believe that healing is possible — and that no matter how dark life feels, this too shall pass.

“This too shall pass.” Those four words were my dad’s response to nearly every challenge I faced growing up. At the time, I didn’t fully understand them, but when life handed me an obstacle I felt I would never overcome, those words became the foundation that carried me through the darkest period of my life. That experience is what shaped my commitment to the healthcare profession I have chosen: counseling. When I was eleven, someone I trusted deeply took something from me that I could never get back. On March 5, 2019, my world changed forever. That night, it was just my younger sister, me, and someone we believed we could trust completely. When everything fell apart, my instinct was not to think about myself, but to protect her. I remember lying awake, waiting for my dad to come home, counting the minutes, and holding onto the one thing I believed I could still control — her safety. The next day, I told my mom what had happened, believing the worst was over. I was wrong. In the months that followed, my mental health declined rapidly. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder, PTSD, and severe anxiety. I struggled with suicidal thoughts, academic failure, and emotional numbness. My life became a cycle of doctor’s visits, medications, and therapy sessions that felt overwhelming and uncomfortable. Opening up to someone I barely knew about the most painful experience of my life felt impossible. I questioned whether healing was even real, or if this pain was something I would carry forever. Despite my resistance, counseling became the turning point in my life. Though progress was slow, I began to understand the importance of mental healthcare and the impact compassionate professionals can have. When my parents and counselors recommended long-term care in Oakley, Utah, I agreed — not because I felt strong, but because I had nothing left to lose. Over sixty-eight days, I exceeded expectations, completed my schooling early, and reached the highest level of leadership in my program. More importantly, I learned that healing takes time, patience, and support. My commitment to becoming a counselor comes from lived experience. I know what it feels like to sit on the other side of the room, unsure if the person across from you can truly understand. I want to be the counselor I once needed — someone who listens without judgment, offers hope without pressure, and reminds others that pain does not define their future. Mental healthcare saved my life. Choosing this profession is not just a career decision for me; it is a promise to use my experience, resilience, and compassion to help others believe that healing is possible — and that no matter how dark life feels, this too shall pass.

“This too shall pass.” Those four words were my dad’s response to nearly every challenge I faced growing up. At the time, I didn’t fully understand them, but when life handed me an obstacle I felt I would never overcome, those words became the foundation that carried me through the darkest period of my life. That experience is what shaped my commitment to the healthcare profession I have chosen: counseling. When I was eleven, someone I trusted deeply took something from me that I could never get back. On March 5, 2019, my world changed forever. That night, it was just my younger sister, me, and someone we believed we could trust completely. When everything fell apart, my instinct was not to think about myself, but to protect her. I remember lying awake, waiting for my dad to come home, counting the minutes, and holding onto the one thing I believed I could still control — her safety. The next day, I told my mom what had happened, believing the worst was over. I was wrong. In the months that followed, my mental health declined rapidly. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder, PTSD, and severe anxiety. I struggled with suicidal thoughts, academic failure, and emotional numbness. My life became a cycle of doctor’s visits, medications, and therapy sessions that felt overwhelming and uncomfortable. Opening up to someone I barely knew about the most painful experience of my life felt impossible. I questioned whether healing was even real, or if this pain was something I would carry forever. Despite my resistance, counseling became the turning point in my life. Though progress was slow, I began to understand the importance of mental healthcare and the impact compassionate professionals can have. When my parents and counselors recommended long-term care in Oakley, Utah, I agreed — not because I felt strong, but because I had nothing left to lose. Over sixty-eight days, I exceeded expectations, completed my schooling early, and reached the highest level of leadership in my program. More importantly, I learned that healing takes time, patience, and support. My commitment to becoming a counselor comes from lived experience. I know what it feels like to sit on the other side of the room, unsure if the person across from you can truly understand. I want to be the counselor I once needed — someone who listens without judgment, offers hope without pressure, and reminds others that pain does not define their future. Mental healthcare saved my life. Choosing this profession is not just a career decision for me; it is a promise to use my experience, resilience, and compassion to help others believe that healing is possible — and that no matter how dark life feels, this too shall pass.

“This too shall pass.” Those four words were my dad’s response to nearly every challenge I faced growing up. At the time, I didn’t fully understand them, but when life handed me an obstacle I felt I would never overcome, those words became the foundation that carried me through the darkest period of my life. That experience is what shaped my commitment to the healthcare profession I have chosen: counseling. When I was eleven, someone I trusted deeply took something from me that I could never get back. On March 5, 2019, my world changed forever. That night, it was just my younger sister, me, and someone we believed we could trust completely. When everything fell apart, my instinct was not to think about myself, but to protect her. I remember lying awake, waiting for my dad to come home, counting the minutes, and holding onto the one thing I believed I could still control — her safety. The next day, I told my mom what had happened, believing the worst was over. I was wrong. In the months that followed, my mental health declined rapidly. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder, PTSD, and severe anxiety. I struggled with suicidal thoughts, academic failure, and emotional numbness. My life became a cycle of doctor’s visits, medications, and therapy sessions that felt overwhelming and uncomfortable. Opening up to someone I barely knew about the most painful experience of my life felt impossible. I questioned whether healing was even real, or if this pain was something I would carry forever. Despite my resistance, counseling became the turning point in my life. Though progress was slow, I began to understand the importance of mental healthcare and the impact compassionate professionals can have. When my parents and counselors recommended long-term care in Oakley, Utah, I agreed — not because I felt strong, but because I had nothing left to lose. Over sixty-eight days, I exceeded expectations, completed my schooling early, and reached the highest level of leadership in my program. More importantly, I learned that healing takes time, patience, and support. My commitment to becoming a counselor comes from lived experience. I know what it feels like to sit on the other side of the room, unsure if the person across from you can truly understand. I want to be the counselor I once needed — someone who listens without judgment, offers hope without pressure, and reminds others that pain does not define their future. Mental healthcare saved my life. Choosing this profession is not just a career decision for me; it is a promise to use my experience, resilience, and compassion to help others believe that healing is possible — and that no matter how dark life feels, this too shall pass.

“This too shall pass.” Those four words were my dad’s response to nearly every challenge I faced growing up. For a long time, I didn’t understand their weight. They felt like something adults said when they didn’t know what else to say. It wasn’t until my life fell apart that those words became more than comfort — they became my direction. When I was eleven, someone I trusted took something from me that I could never get back. On March 5, 2019, my world changed in ways I didn’t yet have the words to explain. That night, my instinct wasn’t to process what had happened, but to protect my younger sister. I remember lying awake, waiting for my dad to come home, counting minutes, and holding onto the only thing I believed I could control — her safety. I thought telling my mom the next day meant the worst was over. Instead, it was the beginning of a long, painful journey. Over the following months, I lost pieces of myself. I was diagnosed with major depressive disorder, PTSD, and severe anxiety. School became overwhelming. My emotions disappeared, replaced with numbness and anger. I struggled with suicidal thoughts and began to believe that this broken version of myself was permanent. Therapy felt impossible at first — opening my deepest wounds to a stranger seemed unfair and exhausting. I wondered if maybe this wouldn’t pass. But slowly, and not without resistance, things began to change. When my parents and counselors gave me the option to attend a long-term care facility in Oakley, Utah, I didn’t feel brave — I felt desperate. Yet those sixty-eight days changed my life. I completed my schooling early, earned a leadership role, and learned how to sit with pain instead of running from it. For the first time, I saw proof that healing was real. That realization planted the seed for my “pie in the sky” dream: becoming a counselor. My dream feels inspiring because I know firsthand how powerful it is to be heard, believed, and supported. It also feels just out of reach because I know the responsibility that comes with guiding others through their darkest moments. I don’t want to be someone who speaks in clichés — I want to be the person who sits in the silence, understands the fear, and reminds others that their pain does not define them. To reach this dream, I know I’ll need commitment, education, and continued growth. I plan to pursue a degree in psychology or counseling, followed by graduate school and licensure. Just as importantly, I will continue working on myself — because a good counselor never stops learning, healing, or listening. My past does not disqualify me from this career; it prepares me for it. “This too shall pass” is no longer just something I survived by. It is the promise I hope to one day give to others — not as empty reassurance, but as truth born from experience.

“This too shall pass.” Those four words were my dad’s response to nearly every challenge I faced growing up. At the time, I never fully understood their meaning, but when life handed me an obstacle I felt I would never survive, those words became the foundation that carried me through the darkest period of my life. My experiences with trauma and mental health reshaped my beliefs, deepened my relationships, and ultimately influenced the direction I want my future career to take. One of those dark moments came when I was eleven years old, when someone I considered family took something from me that I could never get back. March 5, 2019, is the day that forever changed how I viewed others and more importantly, how I viewed myself. That night, it was my younger sister, me, and someone we trusted completely. When everything fell apart, my instinct was not to process my own pain, but to protect her. I remember lying awake, waiting for my dad to come home from his Tuesday night Bible study, counting the minutes and holding onto the only thing I believed I could control: her safety. When I told my mom the next day, I believed the worst was over. Instead, it was only the beginning. In the months that followed, my confidence, happiness, and motivation steadily disappeared. I was eventually diagnosed with major depressive disorder, PTSD, and severe anxiety. I struggled with suicidal thoughts and believed this pain was permanent. Doctor visits, medications, and therapy became my new routine, and I felt pressure to relive the most traumatic day of my life to strangers who were supposed to help me heal. During that time, my belief system was shaken. I questioned my worth, my strength, and whether things would ever truly improve. Despite feeling hopeless, my dad’s words echoed in my mind: “This too shall pass.” For a long time, I didn’t believe them. I was failing school, emotionally numb, and angry at a world that felt unfair. My memory faded, my emotions shut down, and I began acting recklessly just to feel something. However, even when I doubted myself, my family never stopped believing in me. Their support changed the way I view relationships. I learned that healing is not meant to be done alone and that love sometimes looks like hard decisions. Eventually, my parents and counselors gave me an ultimatum: return to school and likely repeat the year, or attend long-term care in Oakley, Utah. I agreed to go on the “thirty-to-ninety-day vacation.” After sixty-eight challenging days, I came home having surpassed every goal set for me. I completed my schooling early, reached the highest leadership, and gained something even more valuable. I learned that healing takes time. These experiences transformed my beliefs about mental health. I no longer see it as a weakness, but a part of life that deserves compassion, patience, and understanding. My relationships became stronger learning the importance of vulnerability, communication, and trust. My journey influenced my career aspirations. Having firsthand experience with trauma and recovery has inspired me to want to help others who feel lost, unheard, or hopeless. I want to be the person I once needed-someone who listens, understands, and reminds others that healing is possible. What once felt like an endless storm became my greatest life lesson. My dad’s words are no longer just a saying; they are a promise I carry with me. No matter how deep the pain feels, it is temporary. Growth is real. Healing is achievable. And in the darkest moments, there is a way forward.