I’m a veteran currently working toward my degree in rehabilitation counseling, and my experience with disability has shaped almost every part of how I think, how I connect with people, and what I want to build moving forward. Living with PTSD and ADHD isn’t something that just shows up in one area of life, it affects how you learn, how you communicate, and how you move through everyday situations. After I got out of the Army, I had to adjust in ways I wasn’t prepared for. I remember being in class, trying to focus, but my attention was split between the lecture and everything happening around me. I would sit where I could see the door without even thinking about it. There were times I left class feeling frustrated, not because I didn’t understand the material, but because my mind wouldn’t stay in one place long enough. That experience changed how I see disability. It’s not always visible, and it doesn’t mean someone isn’t capable. It just means they may be working twice as hard to show it. That perspective has influenced my relationships a lot. I’m more patient and more aware of what people might be carrying. I don’t assume someone is lazy or not trying, because I know what it feels like to be misunderstood. I’ve also learned the importance of consistency. There were times I pulled back from people without explaining why, and the ones who stayed steady with me made a difference. Now I try to show up the same way for others, especially when things aren’t easy. My career goals come directly from these experiences. I’m pursuing rehabilitation counseling because I want to help people who are dealing with disabilities navigate both their personal challenges and the systems around them. I’ve been denied programs, had to figure things out on my own, and deal with the frustration that comes with that. I want to be someone who can break that process down and make it clearer for others so they don’t feel stuck. In terms of leadership, I’ve taken on roles where I’ve had to guide and support others, both during my time in the military and in group settings after. Leadership for me is not about being the loudest person in the room. It’s about being dependable and aware of the people around you. I’ve helped lead discussions, support peers who were struggling, and step in when structure or direction was missing. Even in school, I’ve found myself helping others stay on track, sharing resources, or just listening when someone needed it. My experience with disability didn’t lower my expectations for myself, it changed how I approach them. It made me more intentional, more disciplined in some ways, and more understanding overall. I’ve had to learn how to work with myself instead of against myself, and that’s something I carry into everything I do. Overall, these experiences shaped my beliefs, strengthened how I build relationships, and gave me a clear direction for my career. I’m not just working toward a degree, I’m working toward being someone who can make the process easier for others who are trying to find their way.

I’m a veteran working toward my degree in rehabilitation counseling, and most of what drives me comes from real experiences, not just what I’ve learned in class. After I got out of the Army, I had to figure out life while dealing with PTSD and ADHD at the same time. I wasn’t sleeping right, I stayed on edge, and even simple things like focusing in class or being around people felt harder than they should have. I remember sitting in class trying to pay attention, but my mind was focused on everything else going on in the room. It made me feel out of place, like I was there but not really there. At the same time, I had to figure out school, housing, and finances. I applied for programs that were supposed to help and got denied. No real explanation, no clear next step. I was left trying to piece things together on my own while still trying to move forward. That experience showed me how easy it is for people to fall through the cracks, especially veterans and people dealing with mental health challenges. A lot of systems are there, but they are not always easy to understand or access. That’s what shaped how I want to make an impact. I want to work directly with marginalized communities, especially veterans, people with disabilities, and individuals who feel overlooked or misunderstood. My goal is not just to provide counseling, but to help people navigate real life situations. That includes understanding benefits, staying in school, managing mental health, and building stability. I want to meet people where they are, not where the system expects them to be. My experience also influenced how I view advocacy and activism. For me, it’s not just about speaking up, it’s about making things easier for the next person. That could be helping someone understand how to appeal a denial, guiding them through school resources, or just being someone who listens without judgment. I’ve learned that small actions can have a real impact, especially when someone feels like they have no direction. Going into rehabilitation counseling, I want to combine my lived experience with professional training. I don’t just want to understand mental health from a textbook. I want to understand it from both sides, what it looks like to live it and what it takes to support someone through it. That balance is important to me. Long term, I want to build something bigger than just a job. I want to create a space or platform that gives people clear guidance and real support, especially those who feel like they have to figure everything out on their own. I’ve been in that position, and I know how much of a difference it makes when someone finally has direction. Overall, my experience with mental health didn’t stop me, it gave me purpose. It shaped what I believe, how I show up for others, and the kind of impact I want to make. I’m not just working toward a career, I’m building something that can actually help people move forward.

My experience with mental health has changed how I see everything, especially my goals, my relationships, and how I understand the world around me. Before the military, I had a different mindset. I was more straightforward, focused on getting things done, and not really thinking about how much mental weight people carry. After everything I’ve been through, that perspective is completely different. Coming back from service, dealing with PTSD was not something I fully understood at first. I just knew I felt off. I wasn’t sleeping right, I stayed on edge, and even simple things like being in crowded places or sitting with my back to a door didn’t feel normal anymore. I remember being in class one time and spending more time paying attention to who was walking in and out than the actual lecture. That’s when it started to hit me that this wasn’t something I could just ignore and push through. That experience forced me to slow down and really look at myself. It changed my goals because I stopped chasing things just because they looked good on paper. Now, everything I’m working toward has meaning behind it. That’s why I chose rehabilitation counseling. I’ve been in a place where I felt lost, where I didn’t fully understand what I was dealing with, and I know how much it would have helped to have someone who actually understood both the system and the personal side of it. My goal now is to be that person for others. It also changed how I build relationships. I used to think connection was just about being around people or having things in common. Now I know it’s deeper than that. It’s about trust, patience, and being able to sit with someone even when things aren’t easy. I’ve had moments where I pulled back from people without explaining why, and I’ve also had people who stayed consistent with me anyway. That showed me what real support looks like. Because of that, I try to be more intentional with how I show up for others. I listen more, I pay attention more, and I don’t judge people as quickly because I know everyone is dealing with something you can’t see. My understanding of the world has probably changed the most. I don’t look at things as simple anymore. I’ve seen how systems meant to help can still leave people confused or stuck. I’ve been denied support I thought I qualified for, had to figure things out on my own, and deal with the frustration that comes with that. It made me realize that a lot of people fall through the cracks, not because they don’t care, but because they don’t have the right guidance. At the same time, I’ve also seen how strong people can be when they do have support. Even small things, like someone taking the time to explain a process or just checking in, can change the direction someone is going in. That stuck with me. Overall, my mental health experience didn’t just challenge me, it redirected me. It made my goals more personal, my relationships more real, and my understanding of the world more honest. I don’t see things the same way I used to, and honestly, that’s what allows me to move forward with purpose now.

One of the most meaningful relationships in my life has been with my mom. After I got out of the Army, I went through a period where everything felt uncertain. I was dealing with PTSD, trying to figure out school, money, and what direction my life was going to take. There were nights I would sit in my car before going inside just to get myself together so I didn’t bring that weight into the house. She never pushed or judged me in those moments. She just made it clear I had a place to land. What stands out the most is how consistent she was. Even when I didn’t have everything figured out, she believed I would. I remember one conversation where I was frustrated about being denied a program I thought would help me move forward. I felt stuck and honestly questioned if I was making the right decisions. She didn’t try to fix everything or give some big speech. She just said, “You’ve already made it through harder things than this. Keep going.” That stuck with me because it reminded me that progress doesn’t always look perfect, but it still counts. That relationship changed how I connect with people. It showed me the value of being present instead of trying to have all the answers. Now, when I talk to other veterans or people dealing with their own challenges, I focus more on listening and understanding where they are coming from instead of jumping straight into solutions. I’ve learned that sometimes people don’t need you to fix anything, they just need to know someone sees them and respects what they’re going through. It also influenced the kind of work I want to do long term. Going into rehabilitation counseling, I want to be someone who creates that same sense of stability for others. Not just giving advice, but being consistent, patient, and real with people. I know what it feels like to be in a place where you’re trying to rebuild and don’t have everything figured out yet. Having someone who believes in you during that time can make a huge difference. I’ve also started applying that same approach in my everyday life, whether it’s with friends, classmates, or people I meet through school. Even small things like checking in on someone, following up, or just being someone they can count on has made a difference. It showed me that connection is built over time through actions, not just words, and that consistency matters more than being perfect. There were also times where I wasn’t easy to deal with. I was frustrated, quiet, and sometimes distant. Instead of pulling away, she stayed patient with me. That taught me that real relationships are not just about the good moments, but how you show up when things are hard. That lesson stuck with me more than anything. Overall, that relationship taught me that connection is not about being perfect or always knowing what to say. It’s about showing up, being steady, and giving people space to grow. That’s something I carry into every relationship I build now.

One of the biggest ways I’ve been impacted is through both my mental health and my experience as a gay service member. Those two things are connected for me in ways that are hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. While I was in the Army, I was focused on doing my job and getting through each day, especially being in environments where you have to stay alert and ready at all times. Over time, that took a toll. I came back dealing with PTSD, and it didn’t just turn off once I was out. It showed up in how I slept, how I reacted to stress, and how I moved through everyday life. Even now, I still have moments where I feel on edge or disconnected, and that can make things like school and relationships harder than they should be. At the same time, being gay added another layer to that experience. There were moments where I didn’t feel like I could fully be myself, and that creates a kind of pressure that builds over time. It’s not always something direct, sometimes it’s just the environment, the comments, or the feeling that you have to watch what you say or how you act. Carrying that while also dealing with everything else made it harder to open up or ask for help. After getting out, I thought things would get easier, but in some ways they just changed. I still had to work through my mental health, and I also had to figure out who I was outside of the military. There were times I felt isolated, even when I was around people. That combination of PTSD and trying to fully accept myself took time to work through. What helped me start moving forward was being honest with myself and actually seeking support. Whether that was through counseling, school resources, or just having real conversations with people I trust, I had to stop trying to handle everything on my own. I also started focusing on my education and my goals, which gave me something positive to build toward. These experiences have shaped what I want to do moving forward. I’m working toward a degree in rehabilitation counseling because I want to help people who are dealing with mental health challenges and identity struggles, especially veterans. I know what it feels like to carry things that other people don’t see, and I want to be someone who can meet people where they are without judgment. Overall, my experiences with mental health and being part of the LGBTQIA+ community have challenged me, but they have also given me perspective, resilience, and a clear sense of purpose.

Student loan debt is something I take seriously because I’m already carrying about 50k, and I know it can grow fast if I don’t stay on top of it. I’m not looking at it like something I’ll deal with later. I’m treating it like part of my plan now. First, I’m being intentional about how I finish school. I’m using programs like the STAR program to cover as much of my tuition as possible so I don’t take on unnecessary new loans. I’ve also been applying for scholarships and looking for any kind of aid that reduces what I have to borrow. Every dollar I don’t take out now is something I don’t have to fight later. I’m also learning how repayment actually works instead of ignoring it. I’ve been looking into income driven repayment plans so my payments match what I’m realistically making once I graduate. That gives me room to stay consistent without falling behind. At the same time, my goal is not just to make minimum payments forever. Once I’m stable, I want to pay extra whenever I can to bring the balance down faster. My career path plays a big role in my plan too. Going into rehabilitation counseling, I’m looking at opportunities that may qualify for Public Service Loan Forgiveness. Working in roles that support people with disabilities or veterans not only aligns with what I want to do, but it also creates a path where my loans can be forgiven after consistent payments over time. That’s a long term strategy, but it’s a real one. I’m also focused on building better financial habits now. Budgeting, tracking what I spend, and making sure I’m not putting myself in a worse position while I’m in school. I’ve had to rethink how I handle money, especially knowing I have this level of debt already. I’m also planning ahead by building an emergency cushion, even if it’s small at first, so unexpected expenses don’t force me to rely on more debt. I’ve learned that having even a little saved creates stability and keeps me from falling backwards financially when things come up. At the end of the day, I’m not ignoring the 50k or hoping it disappears. I’m building a plan around it. Reduce what I borrow, stay consistent with payments, use programs that are available, and align my career with opportunities that support long term forgiveness. It’s not something that will be fixed overnight, but I’m making sure it’s something I stay in control of instead of it controlling me.

For me, my “awkward” thing wasn’t something small or funny at first, it was how I carried myself after I got out of the Army. People don’t always see it right away, but I can tell when I’m different in a room. I sit where I can see everything, I pay attention to exits, and I don’t really relax the way other people do. Back in school, that stood out. People would joke like I was just being extra or too serious, but for me it wasn’t a joke, it was just how I was wired at that point. I also have ADHD, and that showed up in ways people didn’t always understand. I could be locked in and focused one minute, then completely distracted the next. I’ve had people think I wasn’t paying attention or didn’t care, when really my brain was just moving faster than I could keep up with. In group settings, I might interrupt without meaning to or jump ahead in conversations. It made me feel out of place sometimes, like I had to constantly adjust how I showed up. One moment that sticks with me was during a class discussion. I had done the reading, I understood the material, but when it came time to speak, I overthought everything and ended up not saying much at all. Later, someone said I seemed quiet or unsure, which wasn’t true at all. That disconnect between what I knew and how I came across used to bother me a lot. Over time, I started to understand that those “awkward” things are also strengths. Being aware of my surroundings makes me observant. I pick up on things other people miss. With ADHD, when I am focused, I can lock in and get a lot done in a short amount of time. I’ve learned how to structure things so I can work with it instead of against it. Now I don’t really see those differences as something to hide. They are part of how I think, how I move, and how I connect with people. Especially going into rehabilitation counseling, those experiences help me relate to others who feel out of place too. I know what it’s like to feel misunderstood, and that gives me patience and perspective. So yeah, my “awkward” thing might not be something like being left-handed or bad at a sport, but it’s real. And it’s something I’ve learned to turn into something that actually works in my favor.

Most of what I’ve learned hasn’t just come from class, it’s come from how I use online tools to actually understand and apply what I’m studying in real life. Being in an online program for rehabilitation counseling, I have to be intentional about how I learn. I use platforms like YouTube to break down topics in a way that makes sense when reading alone is not enough. There have been times where I watched multiple videos just to fully understand one concept, especially when it comes to counseling techniques or how different conditions affect behavior. Seeing it explained and sometimes acted out helps it stick. I also use Quizlet to reinforce what I’m learning. Instead of just reading notes, I turn them into flashcards and test myself. With ADHD, repetition and interaction help me stay focused, and this gives me a way to stay engaged instead of zoning out. It also helps me break things into smaller pieces so I don’t feel overwhelmed. Another tool I use a lot is Google Docs to organize everything. I keep running notes for each class, track assignments, and even write out step by step plans for bigger projects. Writing things out helps me process information better and keeps me accountable. I’ve learned that if I don’t stay organized, it affects everything else. I also rely on Zoom for class sessions and communication. Even though it’s online, being able to talk through topics and hear different perspectives helps me connect what I’m learning to real situations. Sometimes just hearing how someone else understands something gives me a new way to apply it. What has made the biggest difference is how I use these tools together. I don’t just consume information, I try to apply it. For example, if I learn about a counseling technique, I’ll watch videos, take notes, test myself, and then think about how I would actually use it with someone in a real situation. That process helps me move from just knowing something to understanding how to use it. As a veteran, adapting to this kind of learning took time. In the military, a lot of learning is hands on and structured. Online learning requires more self discipline and self awareness. These tools have helped me build that structure for myself. Overall, these platforms have helped me stay consistent, understand material at a deeper level, and actually apply what I’m learning. They are not just helping me get through school, they are helping me build skills that I will use when I start working and helping others.

I have not been diagnosed with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, but I do live with chronic conditions that have affected my education in similar ways, especially PTSD and ADHD. For me, the challenge has not just been mental on its own, it is how everything stacks at the same time while still trying to function like everything is normal. There were days I logged into class and could not focus at all. My mind would drift or I would feel overwhelmed out of nowhere. Other times, I would be behind on assignments not because I did not care, but because I was trying to manage my health, appointments, or just get through the day mentally. I remember one week in particular where I had multiple deadlines, but I also had appointments and was not sleeping well. I felt like I was constantly playing catch up, and that feeling can wear you down over time. One of the biggest things I had to learn was how to advocate for myself. I registered with disability services at my school so I could get the support I needed. That was not easy for me at first. I did not want to feel like I was asking for special treatment, but I realized it is not about that, it is about leveling the playing field so I can actually perform at my potential. I also started being more structured with my time, writing everything down, breaking assignments into smaller steps, and giving myself realistic goals instead of trying to do everything at once. Another way I have shown resilience is by not giving up when things did not go as planned. I have been denied programs, had to rethink my financial situation, and adjust my education path, but I am still here pushing forward. I am currently working toward my degree in rehabilitation counseling because I want to help others who are dealing with disabilities and challenges of their own. I understand what it feels like to struggle in silence, and I want to be someone who can help make that process easier for someone else. Receiving this scholarship would take a lot of pressure off of me financially, especially when it comes to housing and basic living expenses while I am in school. That would allow me to focus more on my education and less on how I am going to make ends meet. It would also give me stability, which is something that is extremely important when managing chronic conditions. More than anything, this scholarship would help me stay consistent and continue building toward my goal of helping others. I am not just trying to get through school, I am trying to build a future where my experiences can actually make a difference.

What I want to build comes from real things I’ve been through, not just an idea on paper. After I got out of the Army, I thought things would slow down and get easier. It didn’t. I was dealing with PTSD and ADHD at the same time I was trying to figure out school, money, and where I was even going to stay. I remember sitting in my car outside my mom’s house one night, just trying to get myself together before going inside because I didn’t want anyone to see how off I felt. That was a normal night for me back then. I tried to use programs that were supposed to help, like VR&E, and got denied. I didn’t really understand why at the time, and nobody walked me through it in a way that made sense. I was filling out forms, calling numbers, getting different answers every time. At the same time, I was trying to enroll in school and make sure I could afford to live. That pressure builds up fast when you feel like you are on your own. That is why I want to build something that actually helps people in a real way. I want to create a space where veterans and people with disabilities can go and get straight answers, not runaround. Not just motivation, but step by step help. How to apply for benefits the right way, how to appeal a denial, how to plan for housing while in school, and how to stay on track mentally when things start slipping. I want it to feel like talking to someone who has already been through it, not reading a checklist that doesn’t apply to real life. I am also working toward my degree in rehabilitation counseling because I don’t want to just speak from experience. I want to know the system and be able to guide people the right way. I have seen how easy it is to fall behind when you don’t have support, and how hard it is to catch back up. Building my future looks like taking everything I went through and turning it into something useful. Even now, when I talk to other veterans or people dealing with similar things, I can see how much just understanding the process helps them relax a little. That matters. If I can build something that makes one person feel less lost, helps them stay in school, or keeps them from giving up, that turns into a bigger impact over time. Stronger people build stronger communities. That is what I want to be part of.

My name is James Taylor, and I am a U.S. Army veteran. I served with 1BCT at Fort Drum and deployed to Afghanistan. I was promoted to Sergeant, where I was responsible for leading soldiers, maintaining accountability, and making sure my team was good both on and off duty. That included doing barracks checks, following up with soldiers after long days, and paying attention to changes in behavior. I took that seriously because I knew people don’t always say when something is wrong. Right now, I am pursuing a master’s degree in rehabilitation counseling at the University of Alabama. My goal is to work with veterans and individuals with disabilities, helping them navigate mental health, education, and employment. My military experience directly shaped that. After returning from deployment, I made it a habit to personally check on my soldiers, especially those living in the barracks. One of the hardest things I went through was losing a soldier to suicide after I had checked on him earlier that same day. That experience made me realize that surface-level check-ins are not enough and that mental health support needs to be consistent and intentional. After leaving the military, I went into HR and worked with payroll systems like UKG and AS400, handling reports, compliance, and employee processes. While I was doing well professionally, I realized I wanted to do more direct work that actually impacts people’s lives. That’s what pushed me to go back to school and change my path. As a veteran, I’ve faced challenges that affected my ability to move forward. I live with PTSD and ADHD, which impacted my sleep, focus, and stress levels. There were times where I couldn’t concentrate the way I needed to, or I would feel on edge for no clear reason. Transitioning out of the military was also difficult. I went from a structured environment to trying to figure everything out on my own. At one point, I had to move back in with my mom while I reset my situation. I remember sitting in my car outside the house thinking about how I went from leading soldiers to feeling stuck and unsure about my next steps. Instead of staying in that place, I started taking action. I got consistent with my mental health care instead of waiting until things got bad. I registered for disability support through my school so I could have the structure and accommodations I needed to succeed. I also built routines for myself, including staying organized with school, managing my time better, and focusing on long-term goals instead of just reacting to what was in front of me. In terms of giving back, I support my community in practical ways. I regularly help people with resumes, job applications, and interview preparation through my platform. I’ve worked with individuals one-on-one to improve their resumes, optimize their LinkedIn profiles, and apply for jobs. I also check in on other veterans and people in my network, not just once but consistently, because I know from experience that people don’t always open up right away. My long-term goal is to build programs that combine mental health support with career development, especially for veterans and individuals with disabilities. I want to help people not only talk about what they’re going through but also take real steps toward stability, whether that’s through school, employment, or access to the right resources. Everything I’ve been through has shaped how I approach my goals. I don’t just want to succeed for myself. I want to create something that helps other people move forward in a real way.

My PTSD didn’t just show up one day. It built over time after I got back from Afghanistan while I was with 1BCT at Fort Drum. At first, I thought I was fine. I had just been promoted to Sergeant, I was leading soldiers, and on the outside everything looked like I had it together. But things started to change. My sleep was off. I stayed on edge all the time. I would get irritated quickly or just shut down. My focus was all over the place, which didn’t help because I also deal with ADHD. I handled it the only way I knew how, just push through and keep going. Then I lost one of my soldiers. I had checked on him earlier that day like I normally did. Later that same day, he went back to his room and took his life. After that, I kept replaying everything in my head, thinking about what I missed and what I could have done differently. That stayed with me for a long time. What I learned about myself is that I can carry a lot, but that doesn’t mean I should carry it alone. I also learned that just because someone looks fine doesn’t mean they are. I lived that myself. I looked okay on the outside while I was struggling. I also learned that the mindset of pushing through everything only works for so long. It helped me get through the military, but it didn’t help me deal with what I was going through after. When I got out, things didn’t just reset. I went into HR and tried to move forward, but mentally I was still dealing with a lot. I hit a point where I had to reset my life. I moved back in with my mom, and that was hard for me. I remember sitting in my car one night feeling stuck and not knowing what direction I was going in. That was when I realized I needed to do something different. Since then, I’ve been working on my mental health in a real way. I stay consistent with care instead of waiting until things get bad. I registered for disability support, which was not easy for me, but it showed me that using support is not weakness. I’ve also learned to be more honest about what I need. What I’ve learned about the world is that a lot of veterans are dealing with the same things but don’t talk about it. There is still a stigma around mental health, and a lot of people feel like they have to handle everything on their own. Because of my experience, I want to help other veterans who are dealing with PTSD by being someone they can relate to. I plan to work in rehabilitation counseling and vocational support, helping veterans manage their mental health while also building stable lives. I also want to focus on early support. From what I’ve seen, people don’t always open up right away. It takes time and consistency. I want to be someone who checks in and creates a space where people feel comfortable being real. I can’t change what happened, but I can use it. If I can help another veteran feel understood or get support before things get worse, then it matters.

Mental health is important to me as a student because I’ve lived what happens when it’s not taken seriously. I’m not coming into school from a perfect place. I’m coming in as a U.S. Army veteran who served with 1BCT at Fort Drum, deployed to Afghanistan, and later had to face both my own mental health challenges and the loss of a soldier to suicide. That experience changed how I see everything. When I was promoted to Sergeant, I took pride in taking care of my soldiers. After deployment, I made it a point to check on them, especially the ones in the barracks. One day I checked on a soldier like I normally would. Later that same day, he went back to his room and took his life. That stayed with me. For a long time, I carried questions about what I missed and what I could have done differently. At the same time, I was dealing with my own PTSD and ADHD. There were periods where I struggled with sleep, focus, and anxiety, but I still felt like I had to keep everything together. That mindset followed me into my transition out of the military and into school and work. I went into HR and tried to build a career, but behind that I was still dealing with a lot mentally. When I became a student again, I realized quickly that mental health directly impacts how you show up. There were times I couldn’t focus the way I wanted to, times where I felt overwhelmed balancing school, finances, and personal life, and moments where my motivation dropped. On top of that, I was going through a reset in my life, including moving back in with family and figuring out my next steps while managing everything I was dealing with internally. Because of that, I had to change how I approached things. I started advocating for myself in ways I didn’t before. One of the biggest steps I took was registering for disability support. That was not easy for me. Coming from the military, I was used to pushing through and not asking for help. But I realized if I wanted to succeed in school and in life, I needed to use the resources available to me. I also became consistent with my mental health care instead of only addressing it when things got bad. In my community, I advocate for mental health in simple but intentional ways. I check in on people and actually mean it. I follow up, especially with people I know might be dealing with something. I also speak openly about my experiences when it can help someone else. Whether it’s with classmates, people I work with, or other veterans, I try to create an environment where people feel comfortable being real. I also connect this to the work I’m moving into. As someone going into rehabilitation counseling, I see how mental health, employment, and stability all connect. A lot of people, especially veterans and individuals with disabilities, are trying to figure out school, work, and life while also managing mental health challenges. I want to be someone who understands that from both a personal and professional level. Mental health matters to me because I’ve seen both sides. I’ve seen what happens when people stay silent, and I’ve experienced how much of a difference it makes when you start using support and being honest about what you need. As a student, that awareness shapes how I show up every day, and it’s something I will carry into my future career.

My name is James Taylor, and I’m a U.S. Army veteran currently pursuing a master’s degree in rehabilitation counseling at the University of Alabama. My path into this field didn’t come from just academics, it came from real life. I served with 1BCT at Fort Drum and deployed to Afghanistan. After coming back, I was promoted to Sergeant and took a lot of pride in taking care of my soldiers. During that time, I lost one of my soldiers to suicide. That experience stayed with me and changed how I see mental health, leadership, and support. Around the same time, I was dealing with my own challenges, including PTSD and ADHD. There were moments where I was trying to hold everything together on the outside while struggling internally. After leaving the military, I went into HR, but over time I realized I wanted to do more direct, meaningful work. I had to reset in my own life, including moving back in with family and focusing on my mental health. That period taught me a lot about self-advocacy, using support systems, and being honest about what I needed instead of just pushing through. What stands out to me now is how many people, especially veterans and individuals with disabilities, are trying to navigate life without the right support. A lot of people don’t just need motivation, they need guidance, structure, and someone who understands what they’re going through. In my career, I plan to make a positive social impact by working with veterans and individuals with special needs, particularly those dealing with mental health challenges like PTSD and ADHD. I want to help them not only manage their mental health, but also build stability in their lives. That includes helping them access vocational rehabilitation, education, and career opportunities that give them a sense of purpose. For example, I want to work with veterans who are transitioning out of the military and feel lost or disconnected, helping them translate their experience into meaningful careers. I also want to support individuals with disabilities in understanding their options, whether that is school, employment, or accommodations that allow them to succeed. Long term, I also plan to build programs and resources that focus on both mental health and career development, especially for underserved communities. I believe real impact comes from combining emotional support with practical outcomes. At the end of the day, I’m not coming into this field just to do a job. I understand what it feels like to struggle, to reset, and to figure things out again. That perspective is what I bring, and that is what I plan to use to help others move forward in their own lives.

One moment that really challenged me was after I got out of the Army and everything kind of hit at once. I had served with 1BCT at Fort Drum, deployed, made Sergeant, and I was used to being the one people looked to for answers. But when I got home, that structure was gone, and I was dealing with a lot I hadn’t processed yet. I was carrying PTSD from deployment and also the loss of one of my soldiers who took his life. That stayed with me heavy. At the same time, I was trying to move forward in a career in HR, manage my health, and keep things together financially. Eventually my situation changed and I had to move back in with my mom. That was hard for me. I went from leading soldiers to feeling like I was starting over in a place where I thought I should have been past. I remember one night sitting in my car outside the house before going in. I had been there for a while just thinking. I felt stuck and honestly disappointed in myself. I kept thinking I should be further along, that I should have it figured out by now. On top of that, my mental health was not in a good place. I wasn’t sleeping right, I was dealing with anxiety, and I was trying to ignore it instead of actually dealing with it. That moment forced me to be real with myself. I had been trying to handle everything the same way I did in the Army, just push through it, don’t talk about it, keep moving. But that wasn’t working anymore. Sitting there, I realized I needed to do something different if I wanted my life to change. After that, I started taking small steps. I got consistent with my mental health care instead of only going when things got bad. I started being honest about what I was dealing with instead of acting like I was fine. I also made the decision to go back to school and shift my focus toward rehabilitation counseling. That was a big change for me because it meant stepping away from a path I already knew and starting something new that actually aligned with what I had been through. Another step that mattered was registering for disability support. That was not easy for me. I didn’t want to feel like I needed help or be seen differently. But doing that showed me that using support is not weakness, it is a tool. It helped me start seeing things differently. That experience changed how I approach my future. I don’t look at setbacks the same way anymore. I understand that sometimes you have to rebuild, and that does not take away from who you are. It also made me more aware of what other people might be going through, especially veterans and people dealing with mental health while trying to figure life out. Going forward, I carry that with me. I approach things with more patience, more awareness, and more purpose. I know what it feels like to sit in that moment and not know what comes next, and that is exactly why I want to be in a position where I can help others find their way forward too.

I am pursuing a graduate degree in mental health because I’ve seen what happens when people don’t get the support they need—and I’ve lived through what it takes to fight your way back when you finally do. My perspective started in the Army. I served with 1BCT at Fort Drum and was promoted to Sergeant not long after returning from Afghanistan. I took leadership seriously and made it a priority to check on my soldiers, especially those living in the barracks. I understood that just because someone looks okay doesn’t mean they are. One day, after checking on one of my soldiers like I normally would, he later went back to his room and took his life. That experience stayed with me. For a long time, I questioned myself—what I missed, what signs I didn’t see, and whether I could have done something differently. It made me realize how complex mental health really is and how often people struggle in silence. At the same time, I was dealing with my own challenges. I live with PTSD and ADHD, and there were periods where I felt overwhelmed, disconnected, and unsure how to manage everything I was carrying. I tried to push through it at first, but eventually I had to make a choice to take my mental health seriously. That decision changed my direction. I started seeking consistent care, learning how to advocate for myself, and being honest about what I needed instead of ignoring it. Even something like registering for disability support and using available resources was a step forward for me. It helped me realize that support systems only work if people feel comfortable using them—and a lot of people don’t. That realization is a big part of why I’m pursuing this degree. I want to be someone who understands both sides—the professional side and the lived experience side. I’ve seen how easy it is for people, especially veterans and individuals with disabilities, to fall through the cracks when systems feel confusing, disconnected, or impersonal. Mental health support, to me, goes beyond just therapy. It includes helping people rebuild stability, find direction, and feel like they have a place again. That’s why I’m especially interested in working in areas like rehabilitation counseling and vocational support, where mental health and real-life outcomes connect. I also care deeply about prevention. From my experience, many people don’t reach out until they’re already overwhelmed. I want to be part of creating environments where checking in is normal, where people feel safe being honest, and where support comes before a crisis instead of after. Pursuing a graduate degree in mental health is not just a career decision for me—it’s a commitment. It’s about taking everything I’ve experienced, both personally and professionally, and using it to support others in a meaningful way. I know what it feels like to carry things alone, and I want to be someone who helps others realize they don’t have to.

My lived experience with mental health, trauma, and suicide loss has shaped how I show up for others and why this work matters to me on a personal level. While serving in the Army with 1BCT at Fort Drum, I had just been promoted to Sergeant. I took that role seriously. After returning from Afghanistan, I made it a point to check on my soldiers regularly—walking through the barracks, having real conversations, and paying attention to changes in behavior. I knew people don’t always say when they’re struggling. One day, I checked on one of my soldiers like I normally would. We talked briefly, and nothing stood out. Later that same day, he went back to his room and took his life. That moment stayed with me. For years, I replayed that day—thinking about what I might have missed or what I could have done differently. At the same time, I was dealing with my own PTSD and ADHD. There were nights I couldn’t sleep, times I felt on edge for no clear reason, and moments where I shut down emotionally. I still had responsibilities, so I pushed through, but that only worked for so long. Eventually, I had to face it. Self-advocacy became something I had to learn, not something that came naturally. For example, I made the decision to seek consistent mental health care instead of only going when things got bad. I learned to speak up about what I needed, whether that was asking for support, taking time to reset, or being honest about when I wasn’t okay. Even registering for disability support at school was a step for me—it meant acknowledging that I deserved support, not just pushing through everything. Because of these experiences, I approach suicide awareness and prevention through connection and consistency. I believe in small, intentional actions—checking in with someone more than once, asking direct questions instead of assuming, and creating space where people don’t feel judged for being honest. I’ve learned that people often give subtle signs, and it takes trust for them to open up fully. In my future work, I plan to support veterans, individuals with disabilities, and others who are often overlooked. For example, I want to help veterans navigate vocational rehabilitation so they can transition into stable careers, not just find jobs but build purpose. I also want to support individuals with mental health conditions in understanding their options—whether that’s education, workplace accommodations, or accessing the right services. I know what it feels like to carry things alone, and I know how much of a difference it makes when someone shows up consistently. I can’t change what happened, but I can make sure I show up differently for others moving forward.