Mental health is one of the biggest problems in our society today. Over one million people commit suicide every year. That number is terrifying, but an even worse statistic is the fact that attempted suicides are around twenty times more frequent than completed ones. For myself, mental health is a topic that hits close to home. I grew up in a happy household, and never struggled with my mental health until my freshman year of college. It was an exciting time. I moved away, lived on my own, and got to have my own say on what I did. However, it came with consequences. I felt exceedingly lonely, unseen, forgotten, and unimportant. Without the support of my family and close friends, I fell into a dark depression. The feeling itself was strange. I'd never been depressed before, so I didn't realize what it was. I found myself alternating between sporadic bursts of energy and heavy periods of time where I could barely smile. As I continued with this for more than three months, my dissociation began to control me. Frightened and confused, I tried cutting myself to feel something, to remind myself I was still alive. Clearly not the best choice, but it was the only thing my emotionless brain could think of. My darkest month went on with the constant cycle of dissociation, cutting, bursts of energy, and slumps. I soon was taking frequent walks throughout dangerous streets, not caring if anything happened to me. These walks led to exploring high places, to sitting on ledges, to standing on a parking garage edge, to wondering if I would feel anything on impact. Maybe the world would be better without a burden like me. Maybe if I were gone, people would be happier. I wouldn't be there to annoy anyone. I wouldn't bother people anymore with my presence. I would be gone. Maybe it's better on the other side. To think of where I was back then scares me even now. The amount of pure hopelessness radiated from me everywhere I went. My attempts ultimately sent me to a mental hospital. Contrary to my friends' beliefs, the mental hospital provided no help and merely gave me meds to keep me sedated, increasing my feeling of disassociation. After I was released, I was forced to think about what could keep me alive. I needed something, something aside from myself to keep me living each day. That's when I came upon the solution: ducks. I know it sounds crazy, but I adopted ducklings. I waltzed into a Tractor Supply and left with two ducklings, paying only $15 for them. I had no clue what breed or brand of ducks I had just purchased; the only knowledge I had was that I had a yellow duckling and a black duckling and that they were the cutest things in the world. Suddenly, I was a caretaker to something smaller than me, something that couldn't live on its own and needed my help. I slowly began to see the world with hopeful eyes. I had something to live for. I went to class and came back to my dorm where two little ducklings were waiting for me, running around in the tiny space and pooping up a storm. My recommendation for everyone struggling is to find something to live for aside from yourself. If you want to kill yourself, you're past the point of living for yourself. So find something, even if it's ducks, to bring you that joy to keep on pushing through and live another day. Because I promise it gets better.

Mental health is one of the biggest problems in our society today. Over one million people commit suicide every year. That number is terrifying, but an even worse statistic is the fact that attempted suicides are around twenty times more frequent than completed ones. For myself, mental health is a topic that hits close to home. I grew up in a happy household, and never struggled with my mental health until my freshman year of college. It was an exciting time. I moved away, lived on my own, and got to have my own say on what I did. However, it came with consequences. I felt exceedingly lonely, unseen, forgotten, and unimportant. Without the support of my family and close friends, I fell into a dark depression. The feeling itself was strange. I'd never been depressed before, so I didn't realize what it was. I found myself alternating between sporadic bursts of energy and heavy periods of time where I could barely smile. As I continued with this for more than three months, my dissociation began to control me. Frightened and confused, I tried cutting myself to feel something, to remind myself I was still alive. Clearly not the best choice, but it was the only thing my emotionless brain could think of. My darkest month went on with the constant cycle of dissociation, cutting, bursts of energy, and slumps. I soon was taking frequent walks throughout dangerous streets, not caring if anything happened to me. These walks led to exploring high places, to sitting on ledges, to standing on a parking garage edge, to wondering if I would feel anything on impact. Maybe the world would be better without a burden like me. Maybe if I were gone, people would be happier. I wouldn't be there to annoy anyone. I wouldn't bother people anymore with my presence. I would be gone. Maybe it's better on the other side. To think of where I was back then scares me even now. The amount of pure hopelessness radiated from me everywhere I went. My attempts ultimately sent me to a mental hospital. Contrary to my friends' beliefs, the mental hospital provided no help and merely gave me meds to keep me sedated, increasing my feeling of disassociation. After I was released, I was forced to think about what could keep me alive. I needed something, something aside from myself to keep me living each day. That's when I came upon the solution: ducks. I know it sounds crazy, but I adopted ducklings. I waltzed into a Tractor Supply and left with two ducklings, paying only $15 for them. I had no clue what breed or brand of ducks I had just purchased; the only knowledge I had was that I had a yellow duckling and a black duckling and that they were the cutest things in the world. Suddenly, I was a caretaker to something smaller than me, something that couldn't live on its own and needed my help. I slowly began to see the world with hopeful eyes. I had something to live for. I went to class and came back to my dorm where two little ducklings were waiting for me, running around in the tiny space and pooping up a storm. My recommendation for everyone struggling is to find something to live for aside from yourself. If you want to kill yourself, you're past the point of living for yourself. So find something, even if it's ducks, to bring you that joy to keep on pushing through and live another day. Because I promise it gets better.

Mental health is the biggest problem in our society today. Over one million people commit suicide every year. An even worse statistic is the fact that attempted suicides are around twenty times more frequent than completed ones. For myself, mental health is a topic that hits close to home. I grew up in a happy household, where mental health talks were avoided. I never struggled with my mental health until my freshman year of college. It was an exciting time. I moved away, lived on my own, and got to have my own say on what I did. However, it came with consequences. I felt exceedingly lonely, unseen, forgotten, and unimportant. Without the support of my family and close friends, I fell into a dark depression. The feeling itself was strange. I'd never been depressed before, so I didn't realize what it was. I found myself alternating between sporadic bursts of energy and heavy periods of time where I could barely smile. As I continued with this for more than three months, my dissociation began to control me. Frightened and confused, I tried cutting myself to feel something, to remind myself I was still alive. Clearly not the best choice, but it was the only thing my emotionless brain could think of. My darkest month went on with the constant cycle of dissociation, cutting, bursts of energy, and slumps. I started exploring high places, sitting on ledges, standing on a parking garage edge, to wondering if I would feel anything on impact. Maybe the world would be better without a burden like me. Maybe if I were gone, people would be happier. I wouldn't be there to annoy anyone. I wouldn't bother people anymore with my presence. I would be gone. Maybe it's better on the other side. To think of where I was back then scares me even now. The amount of pure hopelessness radiated from me everywhere I went. My attempts ultimately sent me to a mental hospital. Contrary to my friends' beliefs, the mental hospital provided no help and merely gave me meds to keep me sedated, increasing my feeling of disassociation. My time there frankly traumatized me. After I was released, I was forced to think about what could keep me alive. I needed something, something aside from myself to keep me living each day. That's when I came upon the solution: ducks. I know it sounds crazy, but I adopted ducklings. I waltzed into a Tractor Supply and left with two ducklings, paying only $15 for them. I had no clue what breed or brand of ducks I had just purchased; the only knowledge I had was that I had a yellow duckling and a black duckling and that they were the cutest things in the world. Suddenly, I was a caretaker to something smaller than me, something that couldn't live on its own and needed my help. I slowly began to see the world with hopeful eyes. I had something to live for. I went to class and came back to my dorm where two little ducklings were waiting for me, running around in the tiny space and pooping up a storm. My recommendation for everyone struggling is to find something to live for aside from yourself. If you want to kill yourself, you're past the point of living for yourself. So find something, even if it's ducks, to bring you that joy to keep on pushing through and live another day. Because I promise it gets better.

Helping others is something that is simple yet rarely occurs. Whether someone needs help carrying groceries, picking up dropped items, or taking care of something else, people often need help. The lack of helping others in our society often relates to the bystander syndrome. People choose to stay hidden and blend into the crowd rather than stand out, even if it's to help others. If you truly think about it, people are scared to stand out. We follow others and try to be perceived as normal and relatable. Society has drilled into our heads that "different is bad" and that we should fade into the background, never standing out or letting ourselves truly express ourselves. This concept is what keeps people in the crowd, waiting on the sideline for someone else to break out and help those in need. Bystander syndrome frustrates me. As a second-year theatre major, I have begun to understand the beauty of showing off what makes you different and celebrating each other's differences. The raging fear at first goes away, and it leaves behind a feeling of excitement to do whatever we want. The more we stand out in theatre, the better job opportunities we achieve. I think everyone should have that mindset. Standing out from others should be a good thing. We should be ourselves and celebrate our differences. In turn, we should begin to do things without worrying about if it's normal, but instead, do them because it's the right thing to do. If we choose to stand out, we can start to see real change in positive ways within our lives and the lives of others. Good deeds don't take much time or money. Even a quick stop to help someone else on a walk can brighten their day. Helping others has also proven to increase our well-being and decrease depression. When you help others, you are not only aiding them in a time of need, but you are also benefiting yourself. Statistics state that helping others can reduce stress and increase your daily mood. In the USA today, around one out of four Americans volunteer. Two out of three Americans help their neighbor. While these statistics are decent, I want us to raise the bar. What if collectively, as a country, we would agree to help each other? If we would help those in need, without fear of being different? People would be kinder, they would focus on themselves less, and burdens wouldn't have to be carried alone. We would be a country that cared and took care of one another. This is why it is important to help each other, for when we help each other, we can change the world.

Mental health is one of the biggest problems in our society today. Over one million people commit suicide every year. That number is terrifying, but an even worse statistic is the fact that attempted suicides are around twenty times more frequent than completed ones. For myself, mental health is a topic that hits close to home. I grew up in a happy household, and never struggled with my mental health until my freshman year of college. It was an exciting time. I moved away, lived on my own, and got to have my own say on what I did. However, it came with consequences. I felt exceedingly lonely, unseen, forgotten, and unimportant. Without the support of my family and close friends, I fell into a dark depression. The feeling itself was strange. I'd never been depressed before, so I didn't realize what it was. I found myself alternating between sporadic bursts of energy and heavy periods of time where I could barely smile. As I continued with this for more than three months, my dissociation began to control me. Frightened and confused, I tried cutting myself to feel something, to remind myself I was still alive. Clearly not the best choice, but it was the only thing my emotionless brain could think of. My darkest month went on with the constant cycle of dissociation, cutting, bursts of energy, and slumps. To think of where I was back then scares me even now. The amount of pure hopelessness radiated from me everywhere I went. My attempts ultimately sent me to a mental hospital. Contrary to my friends' beliefs, the mental hospital provided no help and merely gave me meds to keep me sedated, increasing my feeling of disassociation. After I was released, I was forced to think about what could keep me alive. I needed something, something aside from myself to keep me living each day. That's when I came upon the solution: ducks. I know it sounds crazy, but I adopted two ducklings. I waltzed into a Trader Joe's and left with two ducklings, paying only $15 for them. I had no clue what breed or brand of ducks I had just purchased; the only knowledge I had was that I had a yellow duckling and a black duckling and that they were the cutest things in the world. Suddenly, I was a caretaker to something smaller than me, something that couldn't live on its own and needed my help. I slowly began to see the world with hopeful eyes. I had something to live for. I went to class and came back to my dorm where two little ducklings were waiting for me, running around in the tiny space and pooping up a storm. Mental health is a constant struggle, which means it must be constantly combated. I fought my mental health with something aside from myself. I fought for others. And the more I fought to stay alive for my ducks, the more it became to stay alive for myself. My recommendation for everyone struggling is to find something to live for asides from yourself. If you want to kill yourself, you're past the point where living for yourself is going to keep you going. So find something, even if it's ducks, to bring you that joy to keep on pushing through and live another day. Because I promise it gets better.

Mental health is one of the biggest problems in our society today. Over one million people commit suicide every year. That number is terrifying, but an even worse statistic is the fact that attempted suicides are around twenty times more frequent than completed ones. For myself, mental health is a topic that hits close to home. I grew up in a Christian household, and never struggled with my mental health until my freshman year of college. It was an exciting time. I moved away, lived on my own, and got to have my own say on what I did. However, it came with consequences. I felt exceedingly lonely, unseen, forgotten, and unimportant. Without the support of my family and close friends, I fell into a dark depression. The feeling itself was strange. I'd never been depressed before, so I didn't realize what it was. I found myself alternating between sporadic bursts of energy and heavy periods of time where I could barely smile. Raised Christian, I'd never been taught about the struggles of mental health, simply told to "give it to Jesus." My prayers didn't seem to get me anywhere, and they only seemed to remind me of my struggles. As I continued with this battle for more than three months, my dissociation began to control me. Frightened and confused, I tried cutting myself to feel something, to remind myself I was still alive. Clearly not the best choice, but it was the only thing my emotionless brain could think of. My darkest month went on with the constant cycle of dissociation, cutting, bursts of energy, and slumps. I soon was taking frequent walks throughout dangerous streets, not caring if anything happened to me. These walks led to exploring high places, to sitting on ledges, to standing on a parking garage edge and wondering if I would feel anything on impact. Maybe the world would be better without a burden like me. Maybe if I were gone, people would be happier. I wouldn't be there to annoy anyone. I wouldn't bother people anymore with my presence. I would be gone. Maybe it's better on the other side. To think of where I was back then scares me even now. The amount of pure hopelessness radiated from me everywhere I went. My attempts ultimately sent me to a mental hospital. Contrary to my friends' beliefs, the mental hospital provided no help and merely gave me meds to keep me sedated, increasing my feeling of disassociation. After I was released, I was forced to think about what could keep me alive. I needed something, something aside from myself to keep me living each day. That's when I came upon the solution: ducks. I know it sounds crazy, but I adopted two ducklings. I waltzed into a Trader Joe's and left with two ducklings, paying only $15 for them. I had no clue what breed or brand of ducks I had just purchased; the only knowledge I had was that I had a yellow duckling and a black duckling and that they were the cutest things in the world. Suddenly, I was a caretaker to something smaller than me, something that couldn't live on its own and needed my help. I slowly began to see the world with hopeful eyes. I had something to live for. I went to class and came back to my dorm where two little ducklings were waiting for me, running around in the tiny space and pooping up a storm. As life went on, I began to find peace. It wasn't a huge feeling all at once, but it grew slowly. I found myself returning to Christ. I reached back out and remembered His peace. I felt Him throughout my day, whether it was a good or bad day, and I remembered that talking about my feelings to Him helped me feel relieved and seen. Talking to God in prayer led me to talk to my friends and family about my feelings as well. I began to reach out to others, asking for their help and support. Despite my worst fears of them rejecting me, they supported and reminded me that I'm not alone. My recommendation for everyone struggling is to find something to live for asides from yourself. If you want to kill yourself, you're past the point of living for yourself. So find something, even if it's ducks, to bring you that joy to keep on pushing through and live another day. Because I promise it gets better.

Mental health is one of the biggest problems in our society today. Over one million people commit suicide every year. That number is terrifying, but an even worse statistic is the fact that attempted suicides are around twenty times more frequent than completed ones. For myself, mental health is a topic that hits close to home. I grew up in a happy household, and never struggled with my mental health until my freshman year of college. It was an exciting time. I moved away, lived on my own, and got to have my own say on what I did. However, it came with consequences. I felt exceedingly lonely, unseen, forgotten, and unimportant. Without the support of my family and close friends, I fell into a dark depression. The feeling itself was strange. I'd never been depressed before, so I didn't realize what it was. I found myself alternating between sporadic bursts of energy and heavy periods of time where I could barely smile. As I continued with this for more than three months, my dissociation began to control me. Frightened and confused, I tried cutting myself to feel something, to remind myself I was still alive. Clearly not the best choice, but it was the only thing my emotionless brain could think of. My darkest month went on with the constant cycle of dissociation, cutting, bursts of energy, and slumps. I soon was taking frequent walks throughout dangerous streets, not caring if anything happened to me. These walks led to exploring high places, to sitting on ledges, to standing on a parking garage edge and wondering if I would feel anything on impact. Maybe the world would be better without a burden like me. Maybe if I were gone, people would be happier. I wouldn't be there to annoy anyone. I wouldn't bother people anymore with my presence. I would be gone. Maybe it's better on the other side. To think of where I was back then scares me even now. The amount of pure hopelessness radiated from me everywhere I went. My attempts ultimately sent me to a mental hospital. Contrary to my friends' beliefs, the mental hospital provided no help and merely gave me meds to keep me sedated, increasing my feeling of disassociation. After I was released, I was forced to think about what could keep me alive. I needed something, something aside from myself to keep me living each day. That's when I came upon the solution: ducks. I know it sounds crazy, but I adopted two ducklings. I waltzed into a Trader Joe's and left with two ducklings, paying only $15 for them. I had no clue what breed or brand of ducks I had just purchased; the only knowledge I had was that I had a yellow duckling and a black duckling and that they were the cutest things in the world. Suddenly, I was a caretaker to something smaller than me, something that couldn't live on its own and needed my help. I slowly began to see the world with hopeful eyes. I had something to live for. I went to class and came back to my dorm where two little ducklings were waiting for me, running around in the tiny space and pooping up a storm. My recommendation for everyone struggling is to find something to live for asides from yourself. If you want to kill yourself, you're past the point of living for yourself. So find something, even if it's ducks, to bring you that joy to keep on pushing through and live another day. Because I promise it gets better.

I was a Christian as soon as I came out of the womb. My parents took me to Sunday School, I prayed before bed, and I was baptized when I turned seven. I even grew up going to a private Christian school. In high school, we moved on from simply memorizing Bible verses to really digging into our faith. Junior year came, and we read a book titled, I Don't Have Enough Faith to be an Atheist. At first, I was shocked. The word atheist was rarely said in our school, let alone on the title of a book we were assigned to read. Curiously, I began flipping through the table of contents and trying to scrape together some understanding of the book. The author walked through his faith in the first few chapters and quickly challenged ours. Not only did the chapters discuss biblical events and facts, but they also examined scientific facts that support Christ's existence. Within the book, a reference was made to The Case For Christ, a book written by a former atheist. The number of scientific facts that make no sense EXCEPT when God was the answer astonished me. How could scientists, who we are told are completely biased, ignored such blatant proof of God's existence? I found myself pulled into the book, studying the facts and memorizing every little piece of information I could. I knew that this was valuable information that I would need later in life. This information solidified that case that Christ is real, He really died and resurrected, and that I should trust Him with my whole life. It seemed that after that class, I would never waver in my faith. That was until I went to my freshman year of college. Attending a huge, secular college, I never expected to be faced with so much sin all at once. Determined to stay true to my faith, I quickly became involved with the Navigators, an on-campus Christian club. My first college friends were made in that group, and I thought that college could never affect my faith with my new friends. Those friends turned out to be the most manipulative and callous people I've ever met. Though I've forgiven them for their ignorance now, they treated me like everything I did was wrong. They called me a sinner for every little thing I did, such as talking to people that weren't in our group, making other friends, and going to places with my other friends. Their possessiveness, negative attitudes, and self-righteous talk sent me to a dark place. Nothing I did could please them. Soon, I gave up trying to do better and cut off the friendship. Their final words were that they "were praying I didn't end up sinning even more without them." Finding a new religious group was tough, and as the next semester rolled around, I found myself falling into depression. Towards the end of the semester, however, I discovered my old copy of I Do Not Have Enough Faith to be an Atheist. Scanning through the well-loved book, I began to study and remind myself of its contents. Rejuvenated with a new passion from Christ, I shared the book with my friends. Not only did they love it, but we ordered copies and studied it as a group together. Despite my trials, God gave me a new friend group filled with love and Christ. I have never felt so loved and supported than at that moment. This book is one that I will share forevermore, for I, too, don't have enough faith to be an atheist.

To me, patience is more than just a virtue, it's a way-of-life. Patience is needed for every aspect of life, and without it, one's life becomes difficult to be apart of. I have had a friend once with whom I was very close, but after a few weeks together, I noticed they started showing signs of impatience towards not only me, but others around us, and natural happenstances. These signs frightened me, but I was confident in our friendship and brushed it aside. However, they eventually began being rudder, angrier, and more impatient with everything. I finally was terrified of them when they shouted at me and almost hit me for not understanding something they were explaining to me. Ultimately, I cut off the relationship and felt relieved as the stress in my life drastically decreased. This example of impatience displays why I value patience so much. With patience, one never loses friends and instead keeps them even closer. Patience opens so many doors to build friendships and relationships. Patience doesn't mean you don't feel the frustration, but it means you understand that acting out that frustration will lead to consequences. I don't find the consequences of losing friendship, family, or even possibly a job worth the risk. Thus, patience should not only be a good principle, but a lifestyle.

To me, the most important personal finance lesson is to make a budget. Budgeting can be difficult at first, but in the end, it pays off so much, literally. Budgeting can help you track your expenses, and it shows where you spend too much or where you can afford to save money. Once you have evaluated your spending habits, you are able to make wise decisions regarding where your money goes. Budgeting gives you the knowledge to take control of your finances; it doesn't restrict you, it actually frees you to spend your money without stress, knowing that you have an amount budgeted for your expense. Budgets relieve stress and help people take hold of their money. It not only helps at the present moment, but it can help when looking forward to the future. Budgeting provides an opportunity for saving for big purchases, emergencies that come up, and even retirement because when you have money saved, the future doesn't seem as daunting or worrisome.

Love is kind. To me, this phrase embodies the love of Christ. Christ is love, and His kindness to humanity and the grace that our Heavenly Father poured out on us provided us with a way to live with Him forever. The phrase "love is kind" makes me think of Jesus every time I hear it, for it is from Jesus that we get our love. If we are not kind or encouraging to others, we are not showing them love. If we embody the love of Jesus in our hearts, kindness becomes a natural response. Therefore, if we have God's love, we shall be kind as a result, and vice versa. In the past, I have learned that kindness is beautiful. Kindness can be shown in so many ways that there's never an excuse not to be kind. In seventh grade, I learned that one way I could be kind was to write out encouraging notes and messages, and I'd leave them in people's lockers and on my teachers' desks. Not only did this bring happiness and peace to others, but it brought me incredible joy to know that my kindness had touched others in such a positive and lasting way. A few summers ago, I found a love for baking, and I fell in love with baking for others. I started baking and giving the food away to homeless people and those in need. I especially enjoy buying food for my friends when they need it. I'm often at dance classes on the weekdays, and when there's a break, I am one of the few older kids who stick around and hang out with the younger dancers. As a result, it's become a habit to buy them food when their parents either forgot to pack food for them or they are super hungry but don't have any money with them. This has led to me even driving to buy food for the workers at the dance studio, with whom I have grown close. Without these small acts of kindness, however, my relationships would not be as vibrant and loving. I have attempted to be kind to everyone I meet. No matter what they are like or how they act, I know that being kind is the only acceptable response to everyone I meet and interact with. Firstly, you can never know someone's background or family life. Most everyone's thought processes and reasoning develop from their childhood and how they were raised. Because of this, I try not to judge others, for had I been put through all the same experiences and been raised as they were, I would respond the same as them. Secondly, we should be like Jesus, and He treated everyone with kindness and compassion. He did not pick and choose the good people over the sinners, instead, He gave everyone his love and kindness. Jesus is the perfect role model of how we should behave and how we should treat others. We are granted our lives here on Earth, and we should live them selflessly to fulfill God's glory and His design for our lives, which includes being like Jesus. In the future, and even now, I desire to live and love like Jesus. I plan to go into the performing arts and evangelize in that field. I know many people go into theatre because they are lost and broken, and I want to be a light in the darkness. I will use my kindness and joy to encourage others and show them the love and hope I have found in Jesus Christ our Savior.