At age 20, I can finally say that I have begun living my life for the first time in forever. My name is Kaitlin Rea, but I have gone by KK since I was a newborn. I never knew who I really was throughout my life, because I was so busy taking care of my family; especially my mom. At the age of 6, I started making my two older sisters (ages 8 and 10 at the time) their school lunches, while my mom was "sleeping". Now that I am older, my sisters and I learned that my mom was blackout drunk in her room, sobbing and consuming her own trauma with her crave for alcohol. For over 25 years, my mom suffered with chronic alcohol use disorder that controlled my entire family's lives forever. She was beautiful, kind, and strong when she was sober, but she was drunk most days and was revolting. I miss her warm smile, her perfume, and her optimistic reassurance. On January 14th, 2024, my mom died from suicide and alcohol poisoning. My sisters and I have been worried about that day for years, as we knew she did not love herself more than her addiction. The mourning and grief that comes with losing a parent is something indescribable; it's a feeling only those who've experienced it can understand. For the past 8 months, I have felt stuck in the month of January, as I cannot fathom that my own mom is gone from suicide, and her addiction. As I work through this hardship, I try to understand that I am not responsible for my mom's passing, nor trauma. With that said, I devote my life to ending the trauma cycles she faced and continued; I want to break free of this cycle, and prove to my mom that living a healthy life is possible, as I want to do it for the both of us. I am currently in school full time at the University of Oregon, and working full time as a DSP (Direct Support Professional) for clients on the spectrum. As I am grateful for a breath of fresh air on the weekends, I take pride in how hard I work. I come from a low socioeconomic status family, as my dad was the only source of income for a family of 5. At the age of 18, I filed as an independent, so I have been paying for my tuition, rent, groceries, and other necessities all by myself. I strive to set myself up for a good life, even through hard times. After college, I want to be a trauma therapist for those who feel alone, or battle through difficult trauma responses. I wish I could heal my mom's trauma, but now, I am more motivated to help as many people as I can with my experience and empathy. I thank my dad, my sisters, my friends, and therapist for all that they have done for me, and I will utilize my experience to curate a fire in me to help as many people as I can in my life. And to my mom, thank you, for doing everything you could while you were here. For you, I will break the family trauma cycle, and proclaim the life you deserved.

Growing up in a household with a parent that battled alcoholism her entire life, I can say that this has altered my life completely. To make this situation more devastating, my mom not only battled with chronic alcohol abuse, but she lost her battle to alcohol and suicide this year. My mom was beautiful, intelligent, and kind when she was sober. But when she was drunk like most days, home was not a home; it was affliction. Maturing at the age of 7 consisted of taking care of my mom while my dad was away at work for weeks on end, providing for all of us with one income. My mom strategically and manipulatively hid her alcoholism from my dad for years, making my sisters and I wonder what was "wrong" with my mom since we could not comprehend alcoholism at our young ages of 7, 9, and 11. My oldest sister took care of my other sister and I, while we all three made breakfast and dinner for ourselves; and our mom, just trying to keep her alive while she was blackout drunk almost everyday. We had to get ready for school, make food, come home from school, and go to bed in silence, walking on broken eggshells maneuvering around the house or else we were "in trouble". If my mom heard us making too much noise in the house at any time of the day, my sisters and I would call it the "dungeon" for the night. The "dungeon" was when my sisters or I made too much noise while my mom was drunk in her room, and she would find us and drag us by the hair into her room. If my sisters saw one of us get dragged, we knew we would not see each other until the next morning. My mom would lock her door and force us to sleep with her for the night. Not knowing what molestation was at the age of 7-11, my mom manipulated us into watching a kids movie with her, while she molested us, yearning for love while my dad was away. I lay in silence on my mom's bed, with the trauma and triggering touch of her cold, weak hands until she fell asleep. As I got older and learned about my trauma, I have met an amazing therapist and have journaled for 5 years now. With the help of my dad, my sisters, friends, and my therapist, I have been able to work through my trauma and finally prioritize myself after my mom committed suicide this year. So much has happened in my life that I cannot elaborate on in 600 words, but coming from a very poor family, I am considered a financial independent that pays for tuition, rent, food, and other necessities all by myself. All of the triggers I face from what my mom did to my sisters and I while she was alive have made me feel lost, unworthy, and never satisfied with what I accomplish; but now, I devote my life to myself, and to the life my mom deserved, but never received. I am a Family Human Services major with a minor in Psychology that wants to be a trauma therapist post college. I work full time and attend school full time, trying my best to make ends meet. Not only am I doing this for myself, but I want to prove to my mom that breaking the trauma cycle can be done, and so can living a deserving, healthy, full life. I am so proud of myself throughout this journey.

I sit on my bathroom floor in the corner as a 9 year old, watching my tears fall to my knees asking myself, "Why is mom like this? Why is mom passed out on the kitchen floor with an empty bottle in her hand? Am I good enough for her?" I wish I was asked, "KK, do you feel safe? Are you okay with your mom binge drinking? Do you need help?" The answers to my lifelong questions will forever be unanswered, as my mom committed suicide on January 14th, 2024. I grew up in a house with my mom, dad, two sisters and myself. I come from a very low socioeconomic status family, while my dad worked out of state for weeks on end, trying to make ends meet for all of us. While my dad was gone at work, home was better described as affliction. My mom was an alcoholic her entire life, and strategically hid this from my dad; with manipulation involved of course. Her behavior consisted of neglect, melancholy, horror, and molestation of my sisters and I. Home was not a home when my dad was gone, it was a terrifying environment. The questions I wanted to hear were, "How was school honey? How are you doing?" But I asked my mom the questions of "How are you mom? Do you need food? Why are you on the floor? Are you awake?" For any child that does not comprehend the abyss of alcoholism, these questions arise from fear and uncertainty. The absence of these necessary questions as a child and upcoming adult make me feel unseen, unworthy, and never satisfied with anything I accomplish. When I was 18, I moved from my hometown to Oregon, to pursue an education at the University of Oregon. With my dad having the only income of the family, and my mom being in and out of rehab my entire life, I had no choice but to stand as an independent, financially. Leaving behind my parents was the most difficult choice I have ever made; more difficult than seeing my mom pass out from being blackout drunk, or watching my dad yell at my sister for calling CPS when we were little. While I was away at school this year, I received a message on Instagram from an unknown person. It was a woman my mom knew, telling me my mom was dead. I found out my own mother killed herself with alcohol from a woman I did not know. This will forever lead me to the questions I won't get an answer to. "Why is mom like this? Why is mom passed out on the kitchen floor with an empty bottle in her hand? Am I good enough for her?" As I sit at my desk, telling you just a sliver of my story, I continue to ponder about millions of questions I wish I could ask my mom, and questions I wish I was asked. I choose to break the trauma cycles of neglect and alcoholism, and use this fire to motivate me to become a trauma therapist, and live the life my mom deserved but never received. As I continue my education, I work full time and attend school full time, paying for rent, tuition, groceries, etc. independently. I hope my mom is looking down on me right now, asking me, "KK, are you proud of yourself? What more will you accomplish in this lifetime?" I hope she is proud of me for showing her that life can, and will get better with time.

Losing my mom to alcohol poisoning and suicide this year has been the most heart stopping, melancholy event I have ever experienced. Eirin Kathleen Rea was an ethereal, empathetic, and faithful woman that stopped time whenever she stepped into a room; when sober. She was a pill and alcohol addict for more than 25 years, so when I'd see her sober for months at a time, life was beyond great and full of calamity. I would go to my mom for my emotional support when she was cognitively present, sober, and empathetic. My mom has taught me how to love others, how to be kind, and to understand everything we release into the universe will be presented back to us; she taught me how to treat others with the utmost kindness. As I grieve the loss of my amazing and intelligent mom, I remind myself of all of the trauma and pained my mom endured, that lead her to committing suicide. I carry anger and sadness with me, to content and understanding towards this discombobulating event. I want to prove to myself, my mom, and others that are battling through any mental illness that life in itself can be successful. Waking up everyday is such an accomplishment that some take for granted, and others share their gratitude for every day. Throughout my life, I've battled with my mental health that consists of depression, anxiety, suicidal tendencies and attempts. With all of this experience, especially now that my mom is gone, my dream of being a Therapist has skyrocketed. I am a Family Human Services major and Psychology minor at the University of Oregon that attends school full time, all while working full time as an ABA Therapist Monday-Friday. It has been such a juggle, but I am committed to helping others if I can save lives, or even reassure others that they are loved and belong here. I want to help the populations that are deserving of empathy and kindness, and I want to help those that have repressed their trauma. Mental Health awareness should be an open book, and should be given to everyone. As I continue my education, I devote my work to my family, myself, and those who I will help in the future. I couldn't save my mom, so I will support everyone else in my life, forever.

Oh, the joy, the comfort, the unconditional love from your own mother is something irreplaceable and unforgettable. Watching my mom sing and dance to Prince playing in the kitchen, or watching her wave to me goodbye on the porch, surrounded by her beautiful jasmine flower trellis was so pure. 2024 is the first year I celebrated my mom on Mother’s day without her presence being here; the first year my mom is no longer with us. Eirin Kathleen Rea was a stunning, intelligent, kindhearted woman that I just so happened to have the blessing to call my mom. A 5 foot 3, blonde woman that made time stop every time she stepped foot into a room. Her aura was incomparable, as she was perfect in my eyes, but not to herself. My entire life I watched my mom battle against her biggest antagonist, alcohol. Unfortunately, after 30+ years of fighting her absolute hardest against alcoholism, I lost my mom to alcohol poisoning and suicide on January 14th, 2024. I sat alone in my one bedroom apartment, receiving a text from a random woman in Alcoholics Anonymous, telling me my mom was dead. Being the youngest in my family, I was devastated, shocked, and everything stronger than melancholy. Growing up with a parental figure craving the love of alcohol more than their own children is a feeling of pain I wish upon absolutely no one, but a trait that has curated who I am today. I matured at the age of 12, learning to cook dinners, clean the house, and make sure my mom was alive when she was too weak to get out of bed. My dad was out of town for weeks, making ends meet with the money he could grasp, while my sisters and I juggled school, sports, our mental health, and our mom’s health every single day. This was my life every day until I moved out for college. Leaving my home in California to attend the University of Oregon was one of the most difficult choices I have ever made in my life, but I knew at 18, I deserved to finally choose what was best for me. My mom taught me to persevere through anything, stay optimistic, and be kind to all. I now see my mom in the clouds, music playing in the grocery stores, and in sunsets. She motivates me to keep going for my sake, and to prove to her that, yes, living is possible. I am finishing up my sophomore year of college at the University of Oregon, paying for my tuition, rent, groceries, and utilities independently. As a 20 year old, I am struggling mentally and financially, and would utilize this scholarship for my studies to be a therapist; I want to show others breaking the trauma cycle can be done. Although I am working hard for myself, I now devote my life to my family, and to my mom, proving that tenacity through hardship is possible.

As a 20 year old female who has been homeless 3 times, filed as an independent at 18 years of age, and lost my mom to suicide in 2024, you could say I have quite the background. Hi there, my name is Kaitlin, or best known as KK, and I like to describe myself as diligent, passionate, and understanding. I grew up in a small town called Pismo Beach, California, with my mom, dad, and two amazing sisters. My childhood was something my brain concealed for a large portion of my life, until I tried therapy at 17. Growing up, my dad was at work, out of state for weeks on end, while my sisters and I would take care of my mom, as she lay weak in her bed. Stating she was sick my entire life is an understatement; rather, it was called alcoholism. My oldest sister, my middle sister and myself would feed my mom, check on her before and after school, and attempt to hide her alcohol every single day our dad was gone. When My sisters and I began this enabling process, I was 8, Chloe was 10, and Isabelle was 13. Needless to say, we matured at an impeccably young age. My mom was beautiful, kind, and loving, but her disease made her revolting. She was in and out of rehabilitation centers my entire life, and when I turned 16, my dad finally set a boundary; my mom needed crucial help and my parents both knew it. My mom left home to Betty Ford Hospital for 3 months, then moved into a sober living home in the Los Angeles area. At the same time, my dad was struggling with making money due to having only one parental income, and of course, the pandemic. In 2012, 2017, and 2022, my dad, my sisters and I were homeless. Each time we had no roof over our heads, my mom did, and that was in a rehabilitation center. I was homeless on my 18th birthday, and to this day, none of my friends from back home know it. I've kept my personal story hidden behind closed doors, and have implemented my trauma into motivation to break my trauma cycle. On January 14th, 2024, my mom was found deceased in a hotel room from alcohol poisoning and suicide. After I found out, I sat in my one bedroom apartment shocked, ineffable, and everything melancholy. Although I did not see my mom much in her last few years of life, knowing I will never get to see her again, physically, is something life altering that few people my age have experienced. 5 months after her passing, I now write to you, the voting committee, about my personal story that has shaped who I am today. As I continue my educational career, I am a full time student, double majoring, and working part time. It has been such a long ride, and I still have a long ways to go. Without my family, I do not know where I would be today, so I remain grateful for the life I was given to this day. Post college, I want to be a licensed therapist that is able to help children break their trauma cycles, just like me. To win this scholarship would benefit me financially and mentally, as I could pay back some of my educational debt, and get to take a breath. I appreciate you reading a little bit about me, my passion, and my story.