As a Latina student I have seen firsthand how a lack of diversity in STEM is detrimental to the science we do. While working for Harvard Medical School I signed up with one of our partnering labs to mentor an underrepresented high school student. During the summer project they did original data analysis which culminated into a prestation at the end. We also met with our mentee weekly to discuss important things in career development and college preparation. The bright student that I was paired with, we clicked immediately and talking to her about what was going on in her life made me feel like I was able to go back and talk to a younger version of myself. Once the predetermined mentorship length continued we kept in touch and culminated in me writing a letter of recommendation for her to get into college. That was an experience so moving for me that it would reduce me to tears whenever I tried to get my thoughts together. I managed, of course, and she got into her first school of choice. I then continued on to helping with soft skills like resume editing and interview preparation for getting into undergraduate research. I suppose I can answer the prompt by stating the impact I've already had: I've helped another first generation Latina get into a highly university and am sharing all of my inside knowledge to succeeding as a college student and as an undergraduate researcher, which is very important in neuroscience and biospsychology, the field we are both pursuing. I am so excited to see what she gets up to next and will be there to help if she needs it. At this level of study, with a graduate degree I intend to positively impact my university's community by opening dialogues about mental health. Undergraduate students are at the age when most mental illnesses emerge and begin to struggle with mental illness. As a graduate student, when I start I have successfully applied to the position of Student Health Ambassador with a focus on mental health. I wield additional power and influence in that role by being a successful example of a low-income, first generation minority student. I could type an 1000 word essay about the additional stressors these identities brought me as an undergrad, and now I am in a position to have a positive impact on my academic community and continue to set an example for young minority women in an overwhelmingly white city, university and STEM field.

It was the mentorship of my undergraduate professors that rubbed off on me. Additionally, as a Latina student I have seen firsthand how a lack of diversity in STEM is detrimental to the science we do. While working for Harvard Medical School I signed up with one of our partnering labs to mentor an underrepresented high school student. During the summer project they did original data analysis which culminated into a prestation at the end. We also met with our mentee weekly to discuss important things in career development and college preparation. The bright student that I was paired with, we clicked immediately and talking to her about what was going on in her life made me feel like I was able to go back and talk to a younger version of myself. Once the predetermined mentorship length continued we kept in touch and culminated in me writing a letter of recommendation for her to get into college. That was an experience so moving for me that it would reduce me to tears whenever I tried to get my thoughts together. I managed, of course, and she got into her first school of choice. I then continued on to helping with soft skills like resume editing and interview preparation for getting into undergraduate research. I suppose I can answer the prompt by stating the impact I've already had: I've helped another first generation Latina get into a highly university and am sharing all of my inside knowledge to succeeding as a college student and as an undergraduate researcher, which is very important in neuroscience and biospsychology, the field we are both pursuing. I am so excited to see what she gets up to next and will be there to help if she needs it.

In 2020 the US Census Bureau counted that the 65-and-older population grew by 13,787,044 people during the previous decade. Life expectancy is now 81 years for women and 77 years for men. The human lifespan is getting longer but the span of cognitive health has not caught up, with such an increased incidence of neurodegenerative disorders in the elderly that one in nine people aged 65+ has Alzheimer's dementia. To help address the growing need in a ballooning elderly population, a master’s degree is my next step in developing the research and clinical skills needed to become a clinical psychologist. As an undergraduate, I worked in Purdue’s low-cost treatment clinic for 2 years, conducted research in a clinical lab for 5 semesters and a cognitive lab for 5 semesters. My original data analysis resulted in a poster and presentation. The dramatic upward trend of improvement in my grades showed my maturation as a student and exploration of my true academic interest, from biochemistry to biopsychology. Entering the workforce after graduation, I served as a clinical research professional for 2.5 years. In these roles I set up multi-site trials, recruited participants, corresponded with the IRB, and applied for grants. The modalities of imaging data that I acquired and analyzed are fMRI, EEG and PET. I learned clinical skills such as collecting blood and administering neuropsychological tests. The populations that I worked with were people of all ages experiencing intractable OCD, young adults in the prodrome of psychosis, and middle-aged folks with various aging-related cognitive impairments. The patient-facing experience in my background shows that, in addition to being a skilled researcher, I’ve gained invaluable clinical skills working with severe and traditionally vulnerable subject populations. Things that can’t be learned from a book are how older skin is much more delicate during a blood draw or how to react when an elderly person expresses suicidal ideation after performing poorly on an assessment. From my senior thesis, I learned that in science, a well-crafted question only leads to more questions. The conclusion of my undergraduate research of Number Series tests was the elimination of possible factors that could influence performance and their connection to working memory capacity, but not the discovery of what actually drove incorrect responses. Continuing my education will allow me to further explore the topic of cognitive and neuropsychological assessment and applications to neurodegenerative disorders and unhealthy aging. Boston University has extensive course offerings pertaining to neuropsychology and connections to the best research hospitals in the world. It is home to one of the NIA’s national Alzheimer’s Disease Research Centers and landmark studies in aging such as the Vietnam Era Twin Study of Aging. When a person develops neurodegenerative disease it is not just the individual that suffers, but their entire family. They lose who they are, then often times their dignity, to slowly decline in distress and fear. After my master’s education, I plan to pursue a doctoral program and research the assessment of cognitive decline and impairment in the elderly. Establishing closer connections to the underlying biological factors of developing these debilitating conditions is another focus that I intend to explore. As the aging population grows, an already-urgent demand for discovery will only increase; graduate study at Boston University is how I hope to obtain the skills to address the plight of preceding generations.

Mental health and the societal issues surrounding it are a topic that I could go on about forever as a person about to enter grad school as a start on the long road to becoming a clinical psychologist. One important tool that could be worked into our present system is the normalization of mental health checkups being just as important as physical checkups. People see a general practitioner to have their blood pressure, height and weight monitored every 6 months or year and there should be more conversation about how people should also have regular checkups with a mental health professional to get a sense of how they are functioning. Depression a mental health disorder that the WHO estimates 5% of adults suffer from worldwide. There are dozens of symptoms and combinations of symptoms, and even then each person experiences it uniquely. With a mental health check up, a mental health provider could catch something that a person dismisses as normal or get someone into therapy to help with a difficult life situation they're going through. Therapy can even be beneficial for a 'healthy' person. There is a shortage of psychiatrists and psychologists, but such a checkup could even be performed by a licensed clinical social worker, someone at the master's level of certification. The resources already exist, the changes that need to be made are at the level of insurance providers and the cultural attitude toward being in therapy.

The most helpful financial advice I've received is to never spend money that I don't have. This was instilled in me so thoroughly that I was hesitant to get my first credit card at the age of 25. Americans, as a total, have 848 billion dollars in debt. It's an easy hole to fall into, with products as expensive as couches at 900$ and small things like necklaces that are 12$ available for purchase on plans that have monthly installments of payments. These options encourage more spending, which is obviously what companies want, but people give in and then ruin their financial futures. Debt is sometimes necessary in terms of student loans and such that are an investment in yourself and your future. But Debt from excessive spending and buying objects or even homes that one can't afford are a recipe for disaster. Take a friend I no longer spend time with due to finding about how negative of an influence he was: went into debt buying a 1,000,000$ apartment assuming that his fancy finance job would ensure he could pay it off. He ended p losing that job dur to a drug problem and now he is stuck with the place and that massive burden over the next few decades of his life, at least. Presently my debt is extant but under control.. for now. It is still a tenuous situation and one severe health incident would be catastrophic for my family even though the state of Massachusetts offers more benefits than most states.

The importance of relaxation, leisure and mental health has received wider attention in the past few years. Over the pandemic entire demographics across the world had to find new ways to cope with isolation, being indoors and the disruption of normalcy. A skill I learned during the pandemic and continue to use for overcoming my stress is meditation. They don't call it 'practicing' meditation for nothing! Emptying my mind of as many thoughts as I can still proves to be challenging. A therapist has helped me along the way and now whenever I am feeling overwhelmed or overly anxious I take a moment apart from to action to breath calmly and deeply. Focus on how the sun feels on my skin or the whirring fan. My anxiety abates. The great thing about mediation is that it's tried and true, the practice spanning back thousands of years, and free as well. All you need is for your lungs to reign in your mind and heart. Just breathe. Mediation can be practiced on public transportation, at home or before a movie starts at the theater: challenge mode is meditating in a busy space or a space where you're not alone. While meditation is an important technique to practice, another resource that is just as low-cost as meditation is calling a family. Studies have shown that your brain is stimulated in the same was as if you were physical with the person when communicating. Having a medically-disabled mother I can confidently say that I raised them and consider myself to be a single parent. It's only until recently can I admit to them that I struggle at times with the stress of situation or things that come up in life. Something as small as asking about their day and talking about whatever is on my mind with them eases my ambient anxiety. Presently we live apart and I work, and will become ever more busy should I assemble the funds to attend the school I've accepted to, Boston university. No matter how things turn out I'll never be too busy to either vent to them or be a source of solace for them, as I have been over the course of our lives as our single mother became unable to take care of us. By not having it, I understand the importance of a strong and united family and we do the best with what we have.

In 2020 the US Census Bureau counted that the 65-and-older population grew by 13,787,044 people during the previous decade. Life expectancy is now 81 years for women and 77 years for men. The human lifespan is getting longer but the span of cognitive health has not caught up, with such an increased incidence of neurodegenerative disorders in the elderly that one in nine people aged 65+ has Alzheimer's dementia. To help address the growing need in a ballooning elderly population, a master’s degree is my next step in developing the research and clinical skills needed to become a clinical psychologist. As the eldest child I raised the family, with my mother slipping into early-onset Alzheimer's. As an undergraduate, I worked in Purdue’s low-cost treatment clinic for 2 years, conducted research in a clinical lab for 5 semesters and a cognitive lab for 5 semesters. My original data analysis resulted in a poster and presentation. The dramatic upward trend of improvement in my grades showed my maturation as a student and exploration of my true academic interest, from biochemistry to biopsychology. Entering the workforce after graduation, I served as a clinical research professional for 2.5 years. In these roles I set up multi-site trials, recruited participants, corresponded with the IRB, and applied for grants. The modalities of imaging data that I acquired and analyzed are fMRI, EEG and PET. I learned clinical skills such as collecting blood and administering neuropsychological tests. The populations that I worked with were people of all ages experiencing intractable OCD, young adults in the prodrome of psychosis, and middle-aged folks with various aging-related cognitive impairments. The patient-facing experience in my background shows that, in addition to being a skilled researcher, I’ve gained invaluable clinical skills working with severe and traditionally vulnerable subject populations. Things that can’t be learned from a book are how older skin is much more delicate during a blood draw or how to react when an elderly person expresses suicidal ideation after performing poorly on an assessment. From my senior thesis, I learned that in science, a well-crafted question only leads to more questions. The conclusion of my undergraduate research of Number Series tests was the elimination of possible factors that could influence performance and their connection to working memory capacity, but not the discovery of what actually drove incorrect responses. Continuing my education will allow me to further explore the topic of cognitive and neuropsychological assessment and applications to neurodegenerative disorders and unhealthy aging. When a person develops neurodegenerative disease it is not just the individual that suffers, but their entire family. They lose who they are, then often times their dignity, to slowly decline in distress and fear. After my master’s education, I plan to pursue a doctoral program and research the assessment of cognitive decline and impairment in the elderly. Establishing closer connections to the underlying biological factors of developing these debilitating conditions is another focus that I intend to explore. As the aging population grows, an already-urgent demand for discovery will only increase; graduate study at Boston University is how I hope to obtain the skills to address the plight of preceding generations.

Cambridge, MA has a large homeless population, one of which was an old lady named Abby. Her body was haggard and her eyes unfocused with the haze of what was surely dementia. Abby lived on the steps of the city post office. From August to December I walked past the steps she occupied right across from a city hall that had forgotten about her. Every morning I would carry her cart down the big stone steps. Everything she owned was in that cart and it barely weighed anything. She was so frail that the local cops knew her by name and knew to look out for her. Unfortunately Jenni's story doesn't end well. This January I was walking a dog when I saw commotion on the street above. I only recognized the bloody form seizing on the black pavement from the same cart I had carried down the steps so many times. A teenaged boy recklessly riding his bike had knocked her over and she cracked her skull, and that was the end of her. This wasn't my first time seeing a dead body but it still hurts that someone could just leave this world in such a senseless and random fashion. Being homeless she had definitely suffered over the last months of her life. But at least I had done something small to make her feel 'seen' and like at least someone cared for her. And unlike the boy that accidently killed her, I can remember her and be at peace with myself. It always makes me sad to think that someone's daughter ended up like that, and very likely someone's grandmother. May she rest in peace.

Is a woman still a mother if she doesn’t even recognize her own children? If her grown daughter has to take care of her instead of vice versa? These thoughts have occurred to me when I’ve been angry with her, though I recognize that they’re more directed at the hand she’s been dealt: Early-Onset Alzheimer’s diagnosed at the age of 45. First we thought it was quirky how she’d vacillate between her two daughters, grasping for names (or even calling us the name of our cat). Must just be my light-hearted mother making a joke. Appointments slipped away, then grosser organizational tasks like packing out lunches at school. Maybe she was just kidding when she included a plastic spoon to eat out sandwich with? Over the years these little jokes became a pattern. Her erratic behavior in stores and confusion over small things like where the eggs were was met with scoffs and rolled eyes. No one suspects legitimate cognitive impairment it in a woman whose hair had barely just began to go grey. Her unsteady gait made her arthritic feet hurt so much that when we rarely went out in public anymore. When we did she would would have to put them up, leading to dirty looks at the least. The public's reaction to my mother's dysfunction taught me one of the first lessons that sticks with me: that you never truly know what someone is going through. That homeless woman sagged over a bench on the corner of the street? Perhaps she lost her home due a domestic violence situation (or most likely has untreated mental illness herself). Watching my mom fade into a stranger also drove me to study Psychobiology when I cobbled enough scholarships and loans together to attend university. I knew all too well that a family member with mental health issues is devastating and painful to not just the person but the entire family. As an aspiring psychologist, there was nothing that could really be done for us, I had already raised myself and it was too late, but now I want to be a healer of that pain. My mother's decline to someone that rarely recognized her own children at the age of 50 galvanized me. After completing my bachelor's degree I accepted an opportunity studying Early-Onset Alzheimer's at Vanderbilt University. I see my mother’s drawn-out terror in the eyes of our research subjects. It cements my goal even further, to be a clinical neuropsychologist that works with neurodegenerative disease in the elderly. It may be too late for my family and I may have not had a childhood, but through training and research I can prevent others from meeting the same fate.

Is a woman still a mother if she doesn’t even recognize her own children? If her grown daughter has to take care of her instead of vice versa? These thoughts have occurred to me when I’ve been angry with her, though I recognize that they’re more directed at the hand she’s been dealt: Early-Onset Alzheimer’s diagnosed at the age of 45. First we thought it was quirky how she’d vacillate between her two daughters, grasping for names (or even calling us the name of our cat). Must just be my light-hearted mother making a joke. Appointments slipped away, then grosser organizational tasks like packing out lunches at school. Maybe she was just kidding when she included a plastic spoon to eat out sandwich with? Over the years these little jokes became a pattern. Her erratic behavior in stores and confusion over small things like where the eggs were was met with scoffs and rolled eyes. No one suspects legitimate cognitive impairment it in a woman whose hair had barely just began to go grey. Her unsteady gait made her arthritic feet hurt so much that when we rarely went out in public anymore. When we did she would would have to put them up, leading to dirty looks at the least. The public's reaction to my mother's dysfunction taught me one of the first lessons that sticks with me: that you never truly know what someone is going through. That homeless woman sagged over a bench on the corner of the street? Perhaps she lost her home due a domestic violence situation (or most likely has untreated mental illness herself). Watching my mom fade into a stranger also drove me to study Psychobiology when I cobbled enough scholarships and loans together to attend university. I knew all too well that a family member with mental health issues is devastating and painful to not just the person but the entire family. As an aspiring psychologist, there was nothing that could really be done for us, I have already raised myself and it was too late, but now I want to be a healer of that pain. Nothing energized me more than screening prospective patients who came to the clinic and being in the position to acknowledge and explore the issues that people were experiencing, having a concrete plan of action for an otherwise nebulous problem. My mother's decline to someone that rarely recognized her own children at the age of 50 galvanized me. After completing my bachelor's degree I accepted an opportunity studying Early-Onset Alzheimer's at Vanderbilt University. I see my mother’s drawn-out terror in the eyes of our research subjects. It cements my goal even further, to be a clinical neuropsychologist that works with neurodegenerative disease in the elderly. It is not uncommon for people diagnosed with Alzheimer's to consider or even complete suicide after their diagnosis, another tremendously painful hardship for those afflicted. It may be too late for my family and I may have not had a childhood, but through training and research I can prevent others from meeting the same fate.

Is a woman still a mother if she doesn’t even recognize her own children? If her grown daughter has to take care of her instead of vice versa? These thoughts have occurred to me when I’ve been angry with her, though I recognize that they’re more directed at the hand she’s been dealt: Early-Onset Alzheimer’s diagnosed at the age of 45. First we thought it was quirky how she’d vacillate between her two daughters, grasping for names (or even calling us the name of our cat). Must just be my light-hearted mother making a joke. Appointments slipped away, then grosser organizational tasks like packing out lunches at school. Maybe she was just kidding when she included a plastic spoon to eat out sandwich with? Over the years these little jokes became a pattern. Her erratic behavior in stores and confusion over small things like where the eggs were was met with scoffs and rolled eyes. No one suspects legitimate cognitive impairment it in a woman whose hair had barely just began to go grey. Her unsteady gait made her arthritic feet hurt so much that when we rarely went out in public anymore. When we did she would would have to put them up, leading to dirty looks at the least. The public's reaction to my mother's dysfunction taught me one of the first lessons that sticks with me: that you never truly know what someone is going through. That homeless woman sagged over a bench on the corner of the street? Perhaps she lost her home due a domestic violence situation (or most likely has untreated mental illness herself). Watching my mom fade into a stranger also drove me to study Psychobiology when I cobbled enough scholarships and loans together to attend university. I knew all too well that a family member with mental health issues is devastating and painful to not just the person but the entire family. As an aspiring psychologist, there was nothing that could really be done for us, I had already raised myself and it was too late, but now I want to be a healer of that pain. My mother's decline to someone that rarely recognized her own children at the age of 50 galvanized me. After completing my bachelor's degree I accepted an opportunity studying Early-Onset Alzheimer's at Vanderbilt University. I see my mother’s drawn-out terror in the eyes of our research subjects. It cements my goal even further, to be a clinical neuropsychologist that works with neurodegenerative disease in the elderly. It may be too late for my family and I may have not had a childhood, but through training and research I can prevent others from meeting the same fate.

One thousand dollars may be the price of 50 betta fish but it goes a long way for a young, struggling scientist. Were I to win this money would go towards tuition for my master's degree, which I'm obtaining in the subject of psychological research with a focus on neurodegenerative disease. My education is my first priority right now and the logical next step in my journey to becoming a clinical psychologist. One thousand dollars buys me my textbooks. A bus pass to get to the lab or campus. All small, essential things for a graduate student and young professional. Expenses at this stage in life add up; food, rent and utilities are not cheap. My life in Boston was not the first time when I have felt the pinch of financial constraints but they were exacerbated by the high cost of living in this city and the low salary of post-grad research professionals, often at minimum wage despite having a bachelor's degree. An extra thousand dollars will help bolster me into the next phase of my education and career. It helps to already have adjusted to living on a slim budget but these upcoming years are also going to be tough with no income source.

Is a woman still a mother if she doesn’t even recognize her own children? If her grown daughter has to take care of her instead of vice versa? These thoughts have occurred to me when I’ve been angry with her, though I recognize that they’re more directed at the hand she’s been dealt: Early-Onset Alzheimer’s diagnosed at the age of 45. First we thought it was quirky how she’d vacillate between her two daughters, grasping for names (or even calling us the name of our cat). Must just be my light-hearted mother making a joke. Appointments slipped away, then grosser organizational tasks like packing out lunches at school. Maybe she was just kidding when she included a plastic spoon to eat out sandwich with? Over the years these little jokes became a pattern. Her erratic behavior in stores and confusion over small things like where the eggs were was met with scoffs and rolled eyes. No one suspects legitimate cognitive impairment it in a woman whose hair had barely just began to go grey. Her unsteady gait made her arthritic feet hurt so much that when we rarely went out in public anymore. When we did she would would have to put them up, leading to dirty looks at the least. The public's reaction to my mother's dysfunction taught me one of the first lessons that sticks with me: that you never truly know what someone is going through. That homeless woman sagged over a bench on the corner of the street? Perhaps she lost her home due a domestic violence situation (or most likely has untreated mental illness herself). Watching my mom fade into a stranger also drove me to study Psychobiology when I cobbled enough scholarships and loans together to attend university. I knew all too well that a family member with mental health issues is devastating and painful to not just the person but the entire family. As an aspiring psychologist, there was nothing that could really be done for us, I had already raised myself and it was too late, but now I want to be a healer of that pain. My mother's decline to someone that rarely recognized her own children at the age of 50 galvanized me. After completing my bachelor's degree I accepted an opportunity studying Early-Onset Alzheimer's at Vanderbilt University. I see my mother’s drawn-out terror in the eyes of our research subjects. It cements my goal even further, to be a clinical neuropsychologist that works with neurodegenerative disease in the elderly. It may be too late for my family and I may have not had a childhood, but through training and research I can prevent others from meeting the same fate.

The importance of relaxation, leisure and mental health has received wider attention in the past few years. Over the pandemic entire demographics across the world had to find new ways to cope with isolation, being indoors and the disruption of normalcy. A skill I learned during the pandemic and continue to use for overcoming my stress is meditation. They don't call it 'practicing' meditation for nothing! Emptying my mind of as many thoughts as I can still proves to be challenging. A therapist has helped me along the way and now whenever I am feeling overwhelmed or overly anxious I take a moment apart from to action to breath calmly and deeply. Focus on how the sun feels on my skin or the whirring fan. My anxiety abates. The great thing about mediation is that it's tried and true, the practice spanning back thousands of years, and free as well. All you need is for your lungs to reign in your mind and heart. Just breathe.