As a female entering the automotive industry, I get asked often what inspired me to pursue my career path of a degree in Automotive Collision Technology. Now, I could sit here and explain how my dad taught automotive mechanics when I was younger and that I've been surrounded by it my entire life; However, if you ask me to pinpoint the moment I was inspired to start pursuing a career in the field, it would be midmorning on June 5th, 2018. I was sitting on a curb being examined by a paramedic and looking at the mashed ball of metal in the center of the road that used to be my car. Being told you should be dead instead of talking with police officers is not a memory you forget, especially when the accident was no fault of your own. The way I see it, you have two options in a situation like that: fight or flight. I chose to fight. Within a couple of months of my car accident, I was diagnosed with a severe traumatic brain injury, including vision problems, memory loss, PTSD, and more. In January 2019, I had surgery on my right arm for nerve damage caused by an airbag injury. In 2020 during the COVID pandemic, I had hip surgery on my right hip and took eight long months to relearn how to walk, but I knew that wasn't going to stop me. While recovering in October 2020, I was accepted to Aims Community College into the Automotive Collision Program. January 2021 I started my first semester, and 17 days into the program I found out I required hip surgery on my left hip. My instructor informed me that even if I had to learn how to MIG weld sitting on a walker, we were going to make it happen. So what did I do? I had my second hip surgery in May of 2021, and I showed up for my next semester of class in August of 2021. It is now five years later, and although I went through all of that, there is one emotion that sticks with me and pushes me above all else. It is a feeling that doesn't come with a title, but it is the reason I chose automotive. It is the feeling that the girl sitting on the curb felt when she looked a her first car crumpled in the road. It is a little bit of panic, sadness, confusion, exhaustion and wanting to give up; but it is mostly dread. Dread that someone else will have to look at a car the way I looked at mine. Dread that someone else will have to live with the reminder that something so awful happened to them every time they look at their vehicle. That very moment was when I decided I didn't want anyone else to go through the same experience I did, and it sparked my passion for automotive repair. I know I am only one person, and I know that I can't possibly fix every vehicle in the world, but I also know that all it takes to make a difference is one person. For the past year, I have been working in a collision shop and have been painting semi-trucks. I am 5"3 and 100 pounds, I paint wrecked semi-trucks for a living, and I know I make a difference. With that being said, my role has already contributed to innovation in the field, and I absolutely know I will see it contribute more in the future. Quite frankly, being a female in the automotive industry is a progression in the field itself! I am thrilled to say that my current boss has been very proactive at adapting to having someone my size work on vehicles that are so large! For example, he recently made the drive out of state to pick up a few man-lifts, like someone would use to work on a roof or power lines. I am now efficient at operating those man lifts to paint roofs or complete bodywork up high, and to work in otherwise very inconvenient places! I envision my role as a female to continue to contribute to progression in the automotive field in two specific ways. I want to inspire other women to not be intimidated or hesitant to join the industry, and I want to continue to inspire those around me to think outside the box-- like I have with my boss-- to get work done. Women bring a different point of view to the industry, and I've noticed that even with something as simple as having a smaller employee, certain jobs can be completed more quickly, and time is money! Inspiration and innovation, here we come!

After years of living in a household filled with screaming, objects being thrown, and the constant crying of my younger sibling, I told my parents they needed to get a divorce at the ripe age of 11. When you find yourself in a scenario like that, you never forget where you were, what you were doing, or what was said. I knew my parents had their issues and I knew my mom had depression; but I didn’t understand the full extent of the situation until my dad moved states and I was left to take care of my brother. While my dad was trying to make money to keep a roof over our heads and shoes on our feet, my mom ended up in a downward spiral. She had started out being the keenest on the idea of a divorce, however, she ended up being the one who took it the hardest. It started with me making dinner for my brother while my parents were out at counseling. Then late nights turned into later nights, and I found myself cooking, helping with homework, cleaning, and solely taking care of my younger brother. I don’t know if it was somewhere during counseling, or somewhere after, but my mother sunk into a state where she didn’t want to do anything; she would go to work, go to counseling, and pretty wanted nothing to do with us kids. At the time, I didn’t realize how bad her depression had become. All I knew was that I was the one left to do everything and take care of the house, and I started to resent her for it. One weekend in particular, my dad had come back to visit us. My mother had decided she was going out to have drinks with some friends so she didn’t have to see my dad. He stayed home with my brother and I, and was there when my mom got home. My mom was so drunk that she couldn’t even make it up the stairs into our house. My dad had to go get her out of her friend’s car, and carry her upstairs to her room where she attempted to overdose on her sleeping medication. She had absolutely no regard for the fact that her two kids were still in the house with her. She had no regard for what would have happened if my dad hadn’t come home to visit that weekend (I was too young to understand medication or proper dosing at that time). I was already so absolutely livid with her being an irresponsible parent, and little did I know this was only the beginning. For the next few years, my mom usually spent her nights buzzed or out to dinner with friends after work. She blew her money on alcohol; I usually had to tape mine and my brother’s shoes together until I could convince her to buy us new ones, and it was like pulling teeth to get her to go to the grocery store. She didn’t see much of my brother and I. Then, the summer before I hit high school, my brother decided to move states and go live with my dad. I missed him more than anything; I put all this time and effort into shaping him into a fantastic human being, but he was finally old enough to make that decision for himself. I started my freshmen year of high school and I was absolutely miserable. I had to deal with my mom’s poor decisions at home, taking care of a household, and maintaining grades and a sense of normalcy at school. I only realized my mom was pulling me down into a depression of my own after she started dating again. She got her first boyfriend after the divorce, and she disappeared for entire weekends, and sometimes weeknights, as well. I spent most of my weekends stuck at home with no way of knowing if she was ok, or if she was laying dead in a ditch somewhere. We didn’t have the money to pay for Drivers Education classes, or a vehicle for me to drive, so unfortunately, I still had to rely heavily on her to be the adult in the situation. When I was younger, I didn’t realize how much her behavior, being influenced by her depression, was affecting me. Now I am seeing the after-effects of how I was treated and raised. It shows itself prominently in conversations with friends, my actions and small quirks, and my decisions. I can’t say for sure whether or not her mental health affected me for better or for worse overall, but I can verify that it reflects in everything I do. There is a lot of emotional damage I continue to deal with, as well as a rocky relationship with my mother; but I recognize the good I carried out of it, as well. I can’t help but wonder if her depression was what caused my own diagnosis of depression. My mother is most likely the reason I have a hard time trusting others, why I struggle to carry long-term relationships, and why pinky promises are still sacred to me, even as an adult. However, she is also the reason I am unafraid to be myself. She is the reason I carry my head up so high; If I made it through her, I can make it through anything. She is the reason why, even though so many people told me I couldn’t make it in a male-dominated industry, that I knew I could. She made me completely fearless of life—because what is more terrifying to a child than a mother who seemingly doesn’t want them? It’s approximately 13 years later, I still find her mental illness affecting me in every aspect of the word; The difference now is, I am wise enough to realize I wouldn’t change a thing with how I turned out.

“The sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe.” Where this quote originated from and who said it seems to be a mystery, but it has stuck with me every day for the past five years of my life. Why? Five years ago, I woke up and found myself in an abusive relationship. I can tell you now, that unless you have lived with the pain of someone telling you they love you, and then turning around to harm you, there are absolutely no words to describe the emotional pain or PTSD that you are left with. Needless to say, I packed my things while he was at work the next day and “got the heck out of dodge.” The only reason I found the strength to leave was because of my dad. From day one, he has always told me never to settle. My dad has always been my number one supporter; He undoubtedly believed in me, even when I made some agonizing decisions. We never had a lot of money, and he gave up so much so I could have a roof over my head and shoes on my feet as a child. It is because of my dad that I got this quote tattooed on my arm almost five years ago, today. Whenever I’m down in the dumps, or something doesn’t work out, or even if I just wake up unhappy and have a bad day, I look at my tattoo and I ask myself—Am I settling? If I am, I go out and change something. I find the source of my unhappiness and get rid of it down at the roots. If I’m not settling, I carry on knowing that I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed and my unhappiness will dissolve with time. For the past five years of my life, because of this quote, I have made the best possible decisions for myself. Now I encourage you to ask yourself—Am I settling?

Let me get this out of the way--I am absolutely terrified of water. I don’t even like to get water on my face in the shower! This picture was captured during my first time snorkeling, and (shockingly) I loved it! Aside from leaving fingerprint bruises where I climbed up my best friend’s back to get out of the water, it went surprisingly smooth. It was a moment where I was able to conquer one of my worst fears, and even enjoy it after a while of floating around! I guess I needed a scare to conquer my fear!

I’ll admit I’m a very petite female, but I never thought I would be swept off my feet by a 30 pound, 2-year-old toddler. Meet Alexander. He is the light of my life, my best friend, the reason I make it through each week, and coincidentally, my godson. From the day we met, we have been joined at the hip. If I stick my tongue out, he does it back. I kiss his “boo boos,” and if I get hurt, he kisses mine too. I am absolutely thankful for everything about him—including the temper tantrums! Even with my 23 years of experience on this Earth, he manages to teach me something new every time I see him. For example, I once said a “potty word” in front of him, and I had to go stand in the corner for punishment. So what does he decide to do? He ran into the corner before I could even get up, and stood facing the wall so I didn’t have to! Talk about a knight in shining armor! He never fails to amaze me with his actions and how thoughtful he is. There is not a day in my life where I do not recognize how thankful I am to have him around. I visit him once a week, and that day is by far my favorite. He makes the bright days brighter, and the dark days bearable. I let his big eyes and dimples suck me in, and I will never make a better decision in my lifetime. The poopy diapers can’t even change my mind!

What adversity or hardship have I faced in my lifetime? Well, truthfully, I look at my entire life as a hardship. However, it took a sharp turn when I was in the 7th grade, and it seemed to get the ball rolling for everything that followed. Let me explain; After at least a year of listening to my parents scream at each other, and several instances of items being thrown, I (their 11-year-old daughter) finally told them they absolutely had to get a divorce for everyone’s sake. They had tried so hard to “keep it together for the children” and I recognize what they were attempting to accomplish. The part they didn’t recognize was how it was actually affecting the children--I was the oldest, and I have a younger brother, four years my junior. He was seven at the time. From then on, he became my responsibility. While my parents did everything in their power to fix their problems, I was left taking care of my brother. I walked him to and from school, I made him dinner, I limited his TV time, and I helped him with his homework. I didn’t want him to end up with what I did. I wanted him to know that someone cared about him, and would always take care of him. The summer before I was headed to high school, my brother moved out of state with my dad. My dad was always the more reliable and responsible parent, and it was an environment he could (and would) prosper in. Meanwhile, my mother had taken up drinking. I’m not sure if it was the divorce, or the reality that the marriage was over, or even my younger brother moving away (maybe all three), but it hit her, and it hit her hard. My eighth grade and freshman year of high school, she was almost non-existent. She was gone most nights, “out with friends” or “having drinks with coworkers.” She ended up dating a guy who lived about 45 minutes away, and most weekends or holidays, she was gone. I don’t mean in the sense that she wasn’t at home—I specifically mean gone; I wouldn’t hear from her, I couldn’t get a hold of her, and I spent most weekends hoping she didn’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Now, as a 12-13 year old, you can imagine what position this put me in as a minor; not being able to drive, not being able to pick up groceries, and praying she showed up the next day alive so I didn’t have to explain to someone why I was left alone for long periods of time without an adult. One instance in particular, I remember as if it happened yesterday. My dad had come back to visit one weekend, and my mom had decided to “go out with a friend” again. She came back extremely late and stumbling in the door, completely smashed. She couldn’t even make it upstairs to the living area, much less put together a coherent sentence. My dad took her upstairs to her room as my brother and I sat in the living room shell shocked. That night, if my dad had not been there to look after her, she would have overdosed on her medication. The only thing worse than having an alcoholic mother, is having an alcoholic mother that doesn’t seem to care or doesn’t know how to take care of her own children. My mother became the tipping point. I couldn’t seem to escape to a better life after that experience. Through high school I sunk into a heavy depression, and still somehow managed to navigate my way through a physically abusive relationship; a mother who couldn’t survive unless she was under the influence; an allergy reaction that just about killed me; holding a full time job while maintaining a 3.4 GPA; a good friend’s suicide and four other unsuccessful suicides that followed; and having to pay the mortgage on my parent’s house (with my college fund) because they just couldn’t seem to keep a roof over my head. Looking back at my life so far, I still even shock myself sometimes. On top of that, I graduated high school a full year early, I made honor roll, and I bought myself a car. All of these things happened by the time I was 19, and it taught me so many priceless life experiences. From that, I learned to overcome everything I have been through by changing my perspective. I could look back at how horrible a past I had, and I could choose to be bitter about it every day, but I decided to let it carry me forward through my obstacles instead of wallowing in my own self-pity. All the situations I have had to overcome, and all the days I decided to get back up and let my feet hit the ground once more, are recognized as accomplishments in my eyes. I look back at the girl in the mirror, and I see everything she has been through. If I saw her make it through that, then I know I will make it through everything still to come. I refuse to let anything get in my way; instead, I use it as motivation. My challenges not only play into my goals for the future, but they are what propel me forward to my goals. Though I have been through quite a bit, I wouldn’t change a thing. Everything I have been through is a little piece of the puzzle that makes me unique, and all those pieces put me closer to where I want to be.