Mental illness and addiction have shaped my life long before I understood their names. My father struggled with addiction and undiagnosed mental illness for as long as I can remember. He was in and out of jail, in and out of my life, and always caught in a storm he couldn’t control. When I was 17, he lost his battle. He overdosed, and just like that, he was gone. I didn’t get closure. I got pain, confusion, and a promise to myself that things had to be different. His death left behind more than grief, it left behind a broken system, unanswered questions, and my younger brother. We didn’t grow up together, but we shared the same father, the same pain, and the same risk of becoming another statistic. My brother fell into that same cycle early. By 13, he was in the system. He struggled with addiction and mental health too, but what he didn’t have—what none of us really had—was support. After our father passed, I stepped up. At 19, I was given legal placement of him. I helped him graduate high school and transition into adulthood. That journey–his and mine–showed me what love, support, and advocacy can truly do. But my story isn’t just about the people I’ve helped. I had to fight for myself, too. Before becoming a mom, I was heading down the same path. I struggled with addiction, anxiety, and pain I didn’t know how to process. I watched friends around me disappear, one by one, from suicide and overdose. Demetrius, a close friend from 13 to 18, battled bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. He died by suicide in a state facility where he was supposed to be safe. I still carry that with me. I carry all of it. What I’ve learned through all of this is that addiction and mental illness aren’t just personal issues, they’re public health issues. They’re misunderstood, mishandled, and far too often ignored until it’s too late. I want to change that. That’s why I’m pursuing a career in nursing. I want to be the kind of nurse who sees patients as people, especially those who are struggling silently. I want to treat addiction like the illness it is, not something to be punished or shamed. I want to be the person who doesn’t look away. Because I know what it feels like to be unheard, unseen, and left behind. To me, being the light means showing up with compassion, patience, and honesty, even when it’s hard. Especially when it’s hard. I’ve lived through darkness. I’ve survived it. And now, I’m using everything I’ve learned to help light the way for someone else.

I’ve faced many obstacles on my way to higher education, some of them generational, some personal, and some I’m still working through today. But one thing I’ve learned is that your past doesn’t define your future. I’m choosing to rise above mine. I grew up in a single-parent home with a mother who did everything she could to raise me. My father struggled with addiction and was in and out of my life. As a mixed-race child I often felt caught between two worlds, trying to find where I belonged. The instability I experienced in my upbringing had a lasting effect on me, and by the time I reached high school, I was struggling with my own battles. I was dealing with diagnosed ADHD and anxiety. I eventually turned to substances to cope, not realizing how deeply it would affect my ability to stay on track. I dropped out of high school, feeling lost and unsure of how to move forward. When I became a mother at 19, everything changed. I had a little girl depending on me. I knew I had to make different choices, not just for her, but for myself. Since then, I’ve worked hard to rebuild my life. I got sober, addressed my mental health, and went back to earn my high school equivalency diploma. I took a job in healthcare with no experience, but I pushed myself to learn, grow, and take on more responsibility. That job sparked something in me. I realized I was capable of more than I ever thought. I’ve now been working for two years in the medical field and am preparing to begin full-time classes this fall at the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh. I’ll be the first in my family to attend college. Balancing school, work, and motherhood won’t be easy, but I’ve never been afraid of hard work. I’ve already overcome so much, and I’m committed to turning my pain into purpose. I plan to complete my BSN and eventually become a nurse practitioner, using my voice and experience to advocate for others, especially those who feel unseen or misunderstood. I carry my past with me, not as a weight, but as a reminder of how far I’ve come. I am a young, first-generation college student, a single mother, and a survivor of struggles many don’t talk about. I am also a future nurse, someone who will bring not just skill, but heart into every room I walk into. I want to keep growing not just for myself, but for the people I care for and for my daughter, who now sees her mother chasing a dream with everything she's got. There is nothing that can stand in the way of the life I’m building.

I’ve faced many obstacles on my way to higher education, some of them generational, some personal, and some I’m still working through today. But one thing I’ve learned is that your past doesn’t define your future. I’m choosing to rise above mine. I grew up in a single-parent home with a mother who did everything she could to raise me. My father struggled with addiction and was in and out of my life. As a mixed-race child I often felt caught between two worlds, trying to find where I belonged. The instability I experienced in my upbringing had a lasting effect on me, and by the time I reached high school, I was struggling with my own battles. I was dealing with diagnosed ADHD and anxiety. I eventually turned to substances to cope, not realizing how deeply it would affect my ability to stay on track. I dropped out of high school, feeling lost and unsure of how to move forward. When I became a mother at 19, everything changed. I had a little girl depending on me. I knew I had to make different choices, not just for her, but for myself. Since then, I’ve worked hard to rebuild my life. I got sober, addressed my mental health, and went back to earn my high school equivalency diploma. I took a job in healthcare with no experience, but I pushed myself to learn, grow, and take on more responsibility. That job sparked something in me. I realized I was capable of more than I ever thought. I’ve now been working for two years in the medical field and am preparing to begin full-time classes this fall at the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh. I’ll be the first in my family to attend college. Balancing school, work, and motherhood won’t be easy, but I’ve never been afraid of hard work. I’ve already overcome so much, and I’m committed to turning my pain into purpose. I plan to complete my BSN and eventually become a nurse practitioner, using my voice and experience to advocate for others, especially those who feel unseen or misunderstood. I carry my past with me, not as a weight, but as a reminder of how far I’ve come. I am a young, first-generation college student, a single mother, and a survivor of struggles many don’t talk about. I am also a future nurse, and I won’t let anything stand in the way of the life I’m building.

I never Imagined I’d go back to school. Becoming a single mom at 20, I was focused on survival, finding work, paying bills, and doing everything I could for my daughter. College felt far away, like something meant for people with more time, more money, or more support. I didn’t have any of that. But everything changed when I took a job at a nearby assisted living facility. I applied because it was close enough to walk to and offered steady pay. I had no idea what a resident services coordinator actually did. I just knew I needed the job. Once I started, I found myself helping the elderly residents with their daily routines. It was nothing like my past jobs, but something about it felt right. I learned quickly, earned every certification I could , and within a few months, I was promoted to shift lead. I began to notice the passion I had for the work I was doing. I cared deeply about the people I had the privilege to work with. The residents trusted me, and I felt proud knowing I could make their day just by showing up. But the night everything truly clicked was when one of my favorite residents, someone I called “Honey”, was near the end of her life. That night, I was short-staffed, but I made sure to sit by her side as often as I could. I held her hand, comforted her, and let her know she wasn’t alone. I was there when she took her last breath. Driving home that morning, I felt this wave of emotion I couldn’t hold back. When I walked through my front door, I cried harder than I had in a long time, not out of sadness alone, but because something in me had shifted. That moment became my “why.” I knew then that I wanted to do more. Not just for my residents, but for anyone who needed care. I didn’t want to feel limited in what I could offer. I wanted to understand more, to do more, to be more. That’s when I decided I was going back to school. Not only for me, but for every person I’d one day care for. I earned my HSED and shortly after started working as a patient care technician on a surgical floor. The hospital was a whole new world. I learned something new every day, taking vitals, assisting with procedures, observing nurses and doctors. I earned my BLS certification and asked every question I could think of. The more I learned, the more certain I became, nursing is my purpose. Now, I’m a nursing student at the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh. I wake up every day with a sense of direction I never had before. My goal is to become a nurse, and eventually a nurse practitioner. I want to be a voice and advocate for people who can’t speak for themselves. I want to bring comfort, care, and compassion into every room I walk into. I never thought I’d be here. But now that I am, I’m holding on to this dream with everything I’ve got. That moment with Honey changed me. It reminded me that even in the hardest circumstances, there's a purpose to be found. And I’ve made it my mission to turn that purpose into a lifelong career. Thanks to UWOs resources I found Bold.org which gave me the opportunity to apply to this scholarship!

I never Imagined I’d go back to school. Becoming a single mom at 20, I was focused on survival, finding work, paying bills, and doing everything I could for my daughter. College felt far away, like something meant for people with more time, more money, or more support. I didn’t have any of that. But everything changed when I took a job at a nearby assisted living facility. I applied because it was close enough to walk to and offered steady pay. I had no idea what a resident services coordinator actually did. I just knew I needed the job. Once I started, I found myself helping the elderly residents with their daily routines. It was nothing like my past jobs, but something about it felt right. I learned quickly, earned every certification I could , and within a few months, I was promoted to shift lead. I began to notice the passion I had for the work I was doing. I cared deeply about the people I had the privilege to work with. The residents trusted me, and I felt proud knowing I could make their day just by showing up. But the night everything truly clicked was when one of my favorite residents, someone I called “Honey”, was near the end of her life. That night, I was short-staffed, but I made sure to sit by her side as often as I could. I held her hand, comforted her, and let her know she wasn’t alone. I was there when she took her last breath. Driving home that morning, I felt this wave of emotion I couldn’t hold back. When I walked through my front door, I cried harder than I had in a long time, not out of sadness alone, but because something in me had shifted. That moment became my “why.” I knew then that I wanted to do more. Not just for my residents, but for anyone who needed care. I didn’t want to feel limited in what I could offer. I wanted to understand more, to do more, to be more. That’s when I decided I was going back to school. Not only for me, but for every person I’d one day care for. I earned my HSED and shortly after started working as a patient care technician on a surgical floor. The hospital was a whole new world. I learned something new every day, taking vitals, assisting with procedures, observing nurses and doctors. I earned my BLS certification and asked every question I could think of. The more I learned, the more certain I became, nursing is my purpose. Now, I’m a nursing student at the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh. I wake up every day with a sense of direction I never had before. My goal is to become a nurse, and eventually a nurse practitioner. I want to be a voice and advocate for people who can’t speak for themselves. I want to bring comfort, care, and compassion into every room I walk into. I never thought I’d be here. But now that I am, I’m holding on to this dream with everything I’ve got. That moment with Honey changed me. It reminded me that even in the hardest circumstances, there's a purpose to be found. And I’ve made it my mission to turn that purpose into a lifelong career.