I never thought I would lose my father before I became a teenager. His death wasn’t just a personal tragedy, it was the moment everything in my life changed. It marked the beginning of a long, uphill journey of healing, growing up too fast, and learning how to survive when the odds were stacked against me. That moment made me an underdog in the most painful and personal way. But it also lit a fire in me that has never gone out.
My father had diabetes, and it complicated nearly every part of his life. One day, during an argument with my stepmother, he stepped outside our trailer home without shoes on. While walking on the porch, his foot caught on a nail, leaving a deep, gaping wound. He fell down the stairs into the grass, crying in pain while my stepmother stood nearby, indifferent, smoking a cigarette. She came inside and casually told my brother and me, “You might want to go help your dad.” We rushed out and found him lying there, hurting not just from the injury, but from the weight of everything he carried in silence.
That wound never healed. I remember the bandages, the infection, the constant draining, and how he kept going anyway. He was in pain for months. And then, just like that, he was gone.
On April 4, 2017, I was pulled out of school early during fourth grade. I noticed my teacher acting especially kind and looking at me with sad eyes. My mom and grandmother picked me and my siblings up and took us to the park. That’s where they told us that my father had passed away. I sat in silence, frozen, while my siblings cried around me. It didn’t hit me until later, when we were sitting in a McDonald’s parking lot and the tears finally came. I couldn’t believe I would never hear his voice again.
I was just eleven years old. Two months later, I turned twelve. On the same day as his visitation, I started my first period. It felt like life was forcing me to grow up all at once. Shortly before his death, we had moved in with my grandmother, my Meme, and she’s been my rock ever since. But even with her support, I went from being a carefree kid to someone carrying emotional wounds no child should ever bear.
My stepmother had never treated me like I belonged. She favored her own children, and even my brother, over me. After I visited my grandmother, she would ignore me, making it clear I wasn’t her priority. My dad told me he wanted me to live with them, but looking back, it was more about avoiding child support than truly making space for me. Still, he was my dad, and I loved him. Losing him hurt more than I can explain.
After he passed, I could have let that pain define me. Instead, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t give up. I threw myself into school, determined to build a better future. I took care of my siblings, leaned on my grandmother, and kept pushing forward, even when it felt impossible. I knew education was my way to turn pain into something meaningful.
That’s what led me to pursue Health and Exercise Science at the University of Oklahoma, with the goal of becoming a sports physical therapist. My own injuries played a big role in this decision. In high school, I suffered an ATFL sprain that turned out to be much more complicated, I have an extra bone in my foot that now causes long-term pain. Months of medical visits, physical therapy, and uncertainty taught me how much a knowledgeable, compassionate therapist can impact a person’s recovery and confidence. One of my physical therapists became like a father figure to me, showing me that true care is about more than just fixing the injury, it’s about helping the person behind it.
I’m passionate about this field because I know how it feels to be in pain for months and wonder if you’ll ever get better. I know how much it means when someone actually listens and takes your concerns seriously. As a sports physical therapist, I want to give athletes the kind of care I wish my father had, care that goes beyond the physical to address the whole person. I want my patients to feel like they have someone in their corner, because I know firsthand how rare and powerful that is.
My financial circumstances have made this journey even more challenging. Coming from a home that was often unstable and marked by loss, I’ve had to work for every step forward. College is a financial stretch, but I’ve refused to let that stop me. I’ve balanced my coursework with volunteering in the community, like participating in the Oklahoma City Food Bank, the Norman Food Bank, and OU’s Big Event, where I helped restore an old school building in the MLK neighborhood. These experiences have taught me that impact comes from showing up consistently, even in small ways, a principle I plan to carry into my career.
OU also holds deep personal meaning for me. My dad was a huge OU fan, and my love for this school came from him. Every time I walk across campus, I feel like I’m keeping his memory alive. My grandfather also shared that love, so being here is my way of honoring both of them. When I graduate, it won’t just be my accomplishment, it will be a tribute to the two men who shaped who I am.
In the future, I see myself running a physical rehabilitation with mental and emotional support for athletes. I want my patients to feel empowered, informed, and cared for, not just treated for an injury. I also hold multiple SOTC certifications and have completed hands-on physical therapy observation hours, giving me real-world insight into patient care and rehabilitation techniques that will strengthen my future career!