I will never forget the day I rushed home after my last final, praying I would make it in time. My grandmother, my rock, the woman who helped raise me, was dying from cancer. She had lived with us from the moment she was diagnosed until she took her last breath. Her love was woven into every moment of my childhood. But now, I was racing against time, hoping to see her one last time. Three days later, she was gone. Losing her shattered me. My first year of college became a blur of grief and isolation. I had already felt lost, drowning in a major I hated, struggling in a calculus class no matter how hard I tried. But after she passed, everything felt even heavier. I stopped eating, lost weight, and distanced myself from everyone. I didn’t have the energy to explain my feelings, so I didn’t. I kept it to myself, telling myself that I just needed to push through. But that silence became my downfall. Looking back, I realize that if I had gone to my mother, my friends, or anyone in my corner, I might have avoided slipping into depression. I had a village, but I didn’t use it. That is why mental health awareness is so important, especially for my generation. Too many suffer in silence, believing we must handle everything alone. We bottle up our pain until it overflows, sometimes with devastating consequences. I’ve learned that mental health isn’t just about personal strength. It’s about community. We are not meant to carry our burdens alone. In Black communities, especially, there is a stigma around mental health. We are told to be strong as if acknowledging our struggles is a sign of weakness. But strength is not suffering in silence. Strength is knowing when to reach out and when to let our village carry us when we are too weak to carry ourselves. For me, healing came when I leaned on my faith. I turned to God in ways I never had before, realizing I was never truly alone. My pain did not disappear overnight, but I learned that grief and struggle do not have to isolate me. They can connect me to others who have walked similar paths. This is why suicide prevention and mental health awareness matter. We need to change the narrative that asking for help is shameful. We need more conversations, resources, and spaces where people feel safe to say, “I’m not okay.” As a student leader at Cornell, I work to create those spaces. Whether through Black Students United or Women of Color Athletics, I encourage conversations about mental well-being, reminding my peers that they are not alone. No one should suffer alone when a village is waiting to carry them. When you get through hard times, whether through faith or the support of your village, there is always joy in the morning. Sometimes, we need a push to see that. My experiences with mental health have fueled my determination to pursue a career in law. As a pre-law student, I know that no matter how difficult life gets, I will not let anything stop me. I am committed to using my legal career to advocate for those who feel unseen, unheard, or left behind.

“Stage 4 lung cancer.” The words echoed in the hospital room, shattering the world I knew. My mother, my best friend, my confidant had just been handed a death sentence. Her diagnosis was the moment my life split in two. We had been a middle-class family with nice cars, a big house, and no thought of tomorrow. In an instant, all of that disappeared. My mother, the foundation of our family, could no longer work. Everything she had built slipped through our fingers, the life we thought was untouchable. But the material loss wasn’t what broke me. It was watching my mother, the strongest person I knew, fight for her life. It was realizing how fragile everything indeed was. More than that, it was realizing that I had been leading a life taking me further from God. Growing up, my father was a devout believer who taught me the importance of faith, but I never took it seriously. I would rather spend my Sundays at the mall than in church. My life revolved around temporary pleasures, designer bags, expensive clothes, and a lifestyle I thought would make me happy. But when my mother got sick, all of that was stripped away, and I was left with nothing but my brokenness. At first, my prayers were desperate and angry, and I questioned why this was happening. Why would He take away the woman who had sacrificed everything for her family? Why would He allow my grandmother, my mother’s mother, to die of cancer just a year before, only to let my mom face the same fate? In my deepest pain, I found my purpose. God used my mother’s illness to humble me, bring me to my knees, and save my soul. “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” Matthew 23:12. That summer, I leaned on Him like never before. I read the Bible daily, clinging to His Word for comfort. For the first time, I felt peace, not because my circumstances were perfect but because I knew God was in control. As my faith grew, so did my resilience. I no longer saw hardship as punishment but as a process. God was refining me, stripping away everything I thought I needed so I could see that He was all I needed. My mother’s health has stabilized, and though the cancer remains, it’s not getting worse. Every day with her is a gift. With my faith as my foundation, I have accomplished more than I ever thought possible. I have my dream internship at one of the top law firms in the country, found the love of my life, and a renewed sense of purpose. More importantly, I have a relationship with God that has transformed my life. I no longer chase after material success; I chase after Him. Faith has given me the strength to overcome challenges I never thought I could bear. It has shaped my character, ambitions, and my mission in life. I now strive to be a light in every space I enter, planting seeds of faith and sharing my testimony so that others may see the power of God’s grace. I will continue using my faith as my guiding force. I will be a lawyer who advocates for the voiceless, working to dismantle systemic injustices and uplift marginalized communities. I know that “those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength.” (Isaiah 40:31). God’s plan is always greater than our understanding. He humbled me so He could exalt me not for my glory but for His.

“Stage 4 lung cancer.” The words echoed in the sterile hospital room, shattering the world I knew. My mother, my best friend, my confidant, my everything had just been handed a death sentence. Her diagnosis was the moment my life split in two. We had been an upper-middle-class family with beautiful cars, a big house, and no thought of tomorrow. In an instant, all of that disappeared. My mother, who had always been the foundation of our family, could no longer work. Everything she had built slipped through our fingers. The house, the cars, the life we thought was untouchable. But the material loss wasn’t what broke me. It was watching my mother, the strongest person I knew, fight for her life and realize that I had been leading a life that was taking me further from God. Growing up, my father was a devout believer who taught me the importance of faith, but I never took it seriously. I would rather spend my Sundays at the mall than in church. My life revolved around temporary pleasures, designer bags, expensive clothes, and everything I thought made me happy. But when my mother got sick, all of that was stripped away, and I was left with nothing but my brokenness. At first, my prayers were desperate and angry. I yelled at God, questioning why this was happening. Why would He take away the woman who had sacrificed everything for her family? Why would He allow my grandmother, my mother’s mother and favorite person, to die of cancer just a year before, only to let my mom face the same fate? I was broken, humbled, and forced to face the truth: the life I was living was empty. I was chasing after the world and neglecting the One who created it. Matthew 23:12 says, “Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.” God used my mother’s illness to humble me, bring me to my knees, and save my soul. That summer, I leaned on Him like never before. I read the Bible daily, clinging to His Word for comfort and strength. For the first time in my life, I felt peace, not because my circumstances were perfect, but because I knew God was in control. My mother’s health has stabilized, and the cancer isn’t getting worse. She’s still here, and every day with her is a gift. God has been faithful, not only in sustaining her but in shaping me. I now have my dream internship, the love of my life, and a renewed sense of purpose. But more importantly, I have a relationship with God that has transformed my entire life. I try to plant seeds of faith wherever I go, sharing the Truth of the Gospel and letting my story be a testament to His grace. Unfortunately, it took losing everything for me to understand the depth of His love truly, but I am grateful He saved me. My hardships have become blessings because they brought me closer to Him. I am no longer defined by the things I’ve lost but by the God who I have gained. Through this journey, I’ve learned that “those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint” (Isaiah 40:31). God’s plan is always greater than our understanding. He humbled me so He could exalt me not for my glory but for His.