I wear a lot of hats: Mother, Daughter, Wife, Small Business Owner, and soon, Graduate Student. When people describe the “Sandwich Generation,” they are talking about me. My father moved in with us just before my mother died in 2015. My twins were three years old. There are days when my juggling act includes the needs of my children, my father, my husband, my clients, and occasionally, myself. The multitasking required to cook dinner while simultaneously emailing a client, booking an orthodontist appointment, and answering the question my father is shouting from downstairs is no small feat. I have learned to wear all of the hats, even though it often means my hair is a mess. At the time of my mother's death, I was considering an MS in Counseling program similar to the one that I am currently in, but it quickly became clear that it was not the right time to choose me when there were so many others with big needs. I knew they had to take precedence. My mother’s passing also clarified for me the importance of prioritizing my relationships with my children, which were only just forming in those early years of their lives. Death has a way of putting life in perspective. I will never regret being patient and focusing first on the needs of my children. The reality, though, is that Kira (that’s me) has been on the back burner for a very long time. We moms almost always are. My twins are thirteen now and spending a lot more time with their friends (I like to joke that I moonlight as an unpaid Uber driver – five stars please). As they become increasingly independent, I feel ready to choose myself for the first time in a long time. It is now with a renewed focus that I am pursuing an MS in Counseling, hoping to specialize in working with mothers: new mothers, motherless mothers (like me), and mothers struggling with postpartum depression. I believe this is a demographic that is grossly underserved and overlooked. Far too many women slip through the cracks in their first year of motherhood due to the societal expectation that women should come to motherhood “naturally” and be capable of “having it all.” I dream of building an online therapy practice, where women can prioritize their mental health without a commute or the need for childcare. A place where women can, just for an hour, put on their own hat and choose themselves. I also believe that by supporting this demographic I will not only be able to help the mothers themselves but make it far more likely that their own children’s mental health will benefit, creating a cycle of healing for this generation and for the ones to come. Going back to school at forty-three is daunting. Funding my degree feels overwhelming. Taking on a full-time program means cutting back on my current work and income. It is not lost on me that I must first ask for help on this journey to be able to help other mothers on theirs. Awarding me this scholarship would enable me to pay forward the support that I will be receiving. Thank you for your consideration and for creating a scholarship in Ms. Jackson's name that acknowledges the challenge of being a non-traditional student. If chosen, I hope to honor her memory with the work I do both in my Master's program and beyond.

My mother was the first-born to two Holocaust survivors, one Polish and one Romanian, who met in a German displaced persons camp and married ten days later. She was born in that same camp nine months after they married. Her family then emigrated to Canada after the war and lived on a small farm a few hours outside of Toronto. She grew up with nothing. When I was small, she would mention in passing that she had one doll as a child and that, eventually, one of her younger brothers destroyed it. Her parents never spoke directly about their time in concentration camps, but it was always there, bubbling under their lives, shaping her childhood. My grandparents never received mental health support and, thus, passed their trauma down to their children. Generational trauma has been the silent backdrop of my upbringing. I believe that my mother’s mental health was always precarious due to her childhood, but I know it was exacerbated by the postpartum depression that came with having me. I was born in Canada during a blizzard, and I'm confident that for my mother, that blizzard never passed. She did not receive the support she needed to move through her postpartum depression, and it ultimately became a life-long battle with wounds and scars that never healed. I became a mother to twins in 2011. After a difficult birth and weeks in the NICU, I also found myself with an intense case of postpartum depression. Having never struggled with my mental health before, I felt completely lost, alone, and, if I'm honest, ashamed. I was only a few weeks into motherhood and already felt like a failure. Unlike my mother and her mother before her, I was fortunate enough to receive the therapy I needed, and my depression passed. While the families of Holocaust survivors and the mothers and children of postpartum depression may seem completely different, research shows that families in both these groups suffer intergenerational trauma. My own experience with postpartum depression fueled a passion for helping new mothers for the past decade. I have spent that time advocating for parenting support and postpartum support with the hope of creating positive change within this demographic. I trained as a HypnoBirthing instructor to help prevent the birth trauma experienced by many women, which can lead to postpartum mood disorders. Several years later, I trained as a doula with a specialty certification in birth trauma. I also co-created the HypnoMothering training program which was designed to help women experience a smooth transition into motherhood. Finally, in 2019 I launched a parenting podcast called Raising Adults: Future Focused Parenting designed to help take families from surviving to thriving. I am pursuing a graduate degree in counseling to gain the necessary skills to walk with these women on their path in deeper and more meaningful ways than I could before. I hope to support and nurture mothers in the ways I wish my own mother had been nurtured. A degree in counseling will allow me to achieve licensure and build a fully online practice where women can prioritize their mental health without a commute or the need for childcare. I also believe that by supporting this demographic, we not only help the mothers themselves but make it far more likely that their own children’s mental health will benefit, turning generational trauma into generational healing. L'dor V'dor. Thank you for your consideration and for creating a scholarship in Ilya's name, honoring the incredible female, Jewish immigrants seeking higher education so that they might contribute to the betterment of our world.

My mother was the first-born to two Holocaust survivors, who met in a displaced persons camp and married ten days later. She was born in that same camp nine months later. Her parents never spoke directly about their time in concentration camps, but it was always there, bubbling under their lives, shaping her childhood. My grandparents never received mental health support and thus, passed their trauma down to their children. Generational trauma has been the silent backdrop of my upbringing. I believe that my mother’s mental health was always precarious due to her upbringing, but I know it was exacerbated by the postpartum depression that came with having me. She never received the support she needed to move through the depression, and it ultimately became a life-long battle with wounds and scars that never healed. I became a mother to twins in 2011. After a difficult birth and weeks in the NICU, I also found myself with an intense case of postpartum depression. Having never struggled with my mental health before, I felt completely lost, alone, and, if I'm honest, ashamed. I was only a few weeks into motherhood, and already I felt like a failure. Unlike my mother and her mother before her, I was fortunate enough to receive the therapy I needed, and my depression passed. This experience fueled a passion for helping new mothers in myriad ways. I trained as a HypnoBirthing instructor to help prevent the birth trauma experienced by many women, which can lead to postpartum mood disorders. Several years later, I trained as a doula with a specialty certification in birth trauma. I also co-created the HypnoMothering training program which was designed to help women experience a smooth transition into motherhood. Finally, in 2019 I launched a parenting podcast called Raising Adults: Future Focused Parenting designed to help take families from surviving to thriving. I am pursuing a graduate degree in counseling to gain the necessary skills to walk with these women on their path in deeper and more meaningful ways than I could before. I hope to support and nurture mothers in the ways I wish my own mother had been nurtured. A degree in counseling will allow me to achieve licensure and build a fully online practice where women can prioritize their mental health without a commute or the need for childcare, and, just for an hour, choose themselves. I also believe that by supporting this demographic we not only help the mothers themselves but make it far more likely that their own children’s mental health will benefit, turning generational trauma into generational healing. Going back to school at forty-three is daunting. Funding my degree feels overwhelming. Taking on a full-time program means cutting back on my current work and income. It is not lost on me that I must first ask for help on this journey to be able to help other mothers on theirs. Awarding me this scholarship would enable me to pay forward the support that I will be receiving. Thank you for your consideration and for creating a scholarship in Mr. Bryan's name that acknowledges the challenge of being a middle-aged student. If chosen, I hope to honor his memory with the work I do both in my Master's program and beyond.

My mother was the first-born to two Holocaust survivors, who met in a displaced persons camp and married ten days later. She was born in that same camp nine months later. Her parents never spoke about their time in concentration camps, but it was always there, bubbling under their lives, shaping her childhood. As is the case with many descendants of Holocaust survivors, my mother grew up in a complicated household. Her parents never received the mental health support they needed to process their experiences and inevitably passed their trauma down to their children. Generational trauma has been the silent backdrop of my upbringing and only in adulthood have I begun to ask myself how it may have shaped my mother's life, my life, and the lives of my children. My mother and all her siblings struggled with mental health throughout their lives. My daughter has an OCD diagnosis (a common issue for descendants of Holocaust survivors) and anxiety runs rampant through all of us. I believe that my mother’s mental health was always precarious due to her upbringing, but I know that it was exacerbated by the postpartum depression that came with having me. She didn't receive the support she needed to move through the depression, and it ultimately became a life-long battle with wounds and scars that never healed. I also struggled with postpartum depression as I transitioned into motherhood with my twins and this fueled a passion for helping parents, particularly postpartum women, a group that I believe is grossly overlooked. Too many women slip through the cracks in their first year of motherhood. While the families of Holocaust survivors and the mothers and children of postpartum depression may seem completely different, research shows that families in both these groups suffer intergenerational trauma. Helping women overcome that trauma has been my passion for the past decade. I have spent that time advocating for parenting support and postpartum support with the hope of creating positive change within this demographic. I trained as a HypnoBirthing instructor to help prevent the birth trauma experienced by many women, which can lead to postpartum mood disorders. Several years later, I trained as a doula with a specialty certification in birth trauma, again to further my understanding and ability to support the women I was working with in my practice. I also co-created the HypnoMothering training program which was designed to help women experience a smooth transition into motherhood. My co-creator and I led trainings for HypnoMothering practitioners all over the world. Finally, in 2019 I launched a parenting podcast called Raising Adults: Future Focused Parenting designed to help take families from surviving to thriving. I am pursuing a graduate degree in counseling to gain the necessary skills to walk with these women on their path in deeper and more meaningful ways than I could before. I hope to support and nurture mothers in the ways I wish my own mother had been nurtured. A degree in counseling will allow me to achieve licensure and build a fully online practice. My dream is for women to have a space where they can receive support without leaving their nursing chair or seeking out childcare. I believe that by supporting this demographic we not only help the parents themselves but make it far more likely that their own children’s mental health will benefit, turning generational trauma into generational healing. Thank you for your consideration and for creating a scholarship in honor of Ms. Schalk. If chosen, I hope to pay forward the support that I will be receiving and be part of honoring her memory.

"We are all connected, to each other, biologically. To the earth, chemically. To the rest of the universe atomically." - Neil deGrasse Tyson My son was eight years old when he asked me, "Mama, do you think that it is worse for a fish to be caught and released than it is for the fish to die?" I took a long swig of my coffee. It was seven o'clock in the morning and far too early for my almost forty-year-old brain to think about this. Stalling, I replied, "Are you asking me if the residual trauma from thinking it will die is harder on the fish than simply dying?" He nodded and looked at me, waiting for my answer, waiting for his mother to explain this small part of the universe to him. I have spent the entirety of motherhood trying to help my children make sense of the world around them. I have sought to help them separate the parts they can control from the ones they cannot. I have taught them how to recognize opportunities to learn and grow and sat with them in the moments that seem to make no sense, where all I have to offer them is love. "I really don't know buddy," I told my brilliant boy. "It's a great question. What do you think?" I'm an Agnostic Jew, which means I have spent my whole life trying to make sense of the universe. As a descendant of Holocaust survivors, I was raised on the parable of the three Rabbis in Auschwitz who put G-d on trial, found him guilty, and then got down on their knees and prayed. I was taught the messy, grey, complexity of the universe. Judaism teaches us to question, to try and understand, and to accept that we never will. It is exhausting. Especially now as a mother, I ache to make it all make sense for my children. My heart is heavy each time I start a sentence with, "There's something I need to share with you...." There was a shooting at an elementary school today. Most of our family was killed in the Holocaust. For safety, your father and I think we should take the mezuzah off of our door. "But why Mama?" they always ask. Why would someone shoot up a school? Why would people kill us just because we are Jewish? Why Mama? Why? Why? Why? Far too many questions I cannot answer. Instead, I have focused on helping them try to understand themselves, their humanity, and the humanity of those around them. In a universe that often makes no sense, this is a piece of the puzzle where they might find some clarity. For example, in our home there are no "Good Guys" or "Bad Guys." Instead, we get curious about what might have happened to The Joker in his childhood. How were his needs not met to lead him to behave the way that he does? How can we hold compassion and justice together in one hand? Years of working in the mental health world helped me to develop this skillset and I have endeavored to pass it on to my children. I see it working. I hear my daughter complain about a friend's behavior and in the same breath remind me that her friend is having a hard time at home and is probably not her best self right now. I hear my Jewish son and his Iranian best friend quietly discuss the heartbreak in Gaza with such love, kindness, and commitment to their friendship. In a broken universe, I see their fierce desire to be a small part of its healing. I am pursuing a Master of Science in Counseling because I believe that understanding humanity is the key to making sense of the universe, or at least making sense of our human experience within it. I contend that we achieve this by focusing our attention on two things: family of origin and emotional intelligence. I am deeply curious about how our family of origin impacts us individually, as well as our children and future generations. My grandparents met and married in a displaced persons camp right after being released from concentration camps. My mother was born in that same DP camp nine months later. Generational trauma has been the silent backdrop of my upbringing and only now have I begun to ask myself how it may have shaped my life, my relationships, and the lives of my children. By becoming a therapist, I hope to help future clients understand their stories so that they can heal any trauma therein and be intentional as they create a healthy family of origin for their children. As an advocate for raising emotionally intelligent children, I am committed to giving parents the tools they need to unpack their own experiences whilst simultaneously raising mentally and emotionally healthy children. By teaching the next generation to understand their emotions, healthily express them, and develop the skills necessary to understand and hold space for the emotions of others, we can turn generational trauma into generational healing. We can help future generations make sense of their human experience in the universe. My dream is to open an online private practice that focuses on supporting new parents, particularly mothers, as they transition into parenthood and beyond. This way, with the click of a button, they can receive support without having to leave their nursing chair or arrange childcare. Together, we will explore and unpack their family of origin and build the emotional intelligence skills needed to help them help the next generation understand themselves, each other, and their interconnectedness within the universe. Through compassion, emotional intelligence, and the understanding of our own stories we can create a universe where humans help more than hurt. And maybe, just maybe, where we have answers to more of our wide-eyed children's questions.

First, let me begin by giving you my definition of resilience, for that is a word we love to throw around but often misuse. Resilience, for me, means moving through something, not getting over it. Grief is a beautiful example of what it means to be resilient. In grief we are never looking to get over our loss, but instead we hope to one day move through it. Much can get in the way of moving through our feelings. Too often we suppress them with distraction or unhealthy coping mechanisms like drugs or alcohol. But when we truly create space for those feelings, enough room to feel them, to process them, to hold them close and then begin to let them shift and change....this is true resilience. This is moving through grief. My mother died of Ovarian Cancer in 2015. I was thirty-four years old with three-year old twins at home. I worked in mental health at the time and found myself keenly aware of the myriad needs that would crop up through the process of losing my mother. There were my own mental health needs and the desire to find space to process my feelings in the midst of trying to work and raise twins. There would be the needs of my children, who were close with her and would be left with a scar that they would never remember getting. And there were the needs of my father, who lives with us, and would be mourning the loss of his best friend. Somehow, all of those needs fell squarely on my shoulders. I called in the experts. I found a therapist for myself and for my children. I reached out to a local program who helps children navigate death and provided support and resources. I posted regularly on facebook asking for support as and when we needed it. I swallowed my modern pride knowing that I simply could not do this alone. I took three weeks off of work when she died, telling myself that these three weeks were for me to feel my feelings. I was prepared. But those feelings didn't come. Instead, I was numb. I spent those three weeks in a haze and when they were over, I learned the most valuable lesson of all: you cannot plan for loss. You cannot control grief. All you can do is move through it, with a gentle patience for yourself and the process. True resilience in grief means buckling up your seatbelt and throwing your arms in the air as you ride the ride. There were days after she died that I was fine. And there were days I was not. I learned over those first months that every feeling I felt was exactly the right feeling for that moment and deserved to be welcomed as part of the process of moving through. At the time of my mother's death I was considering a graduate program similar to the one that I will be starting in the Fall. It is now with a renewed focus that I wish to pursue my graduate degree, in the hopes of working with women like me. I hope to counsel and walk with motherless mothers: women who are raising children without their own mothers by their side. Her death inspired me as I moved through the roller coaster to see that on the other side is purpose, and passion and possibility. Thank you for considering me for this scholarship in Mr. Watabe's name. I hope that my graduate degree will enable me to leave a similar impact on my community.