God has helped me in my life by continually calling me back when I wanted to chase everything but Him. For a long time, I thought success meant making a name for myself, becoming wealthy, proving people wrong, and finally feeling important. I wanted the life the world says matters: status, comfort, recognition, money, and freedom from struggle. But every time I tried to build my identity on those things, I felt further from peace. My faith has taught me that success without surrender is empty. James 4:7-10 has been especially meaningful to me because it says to submit to God, resist the devil, draw near to God, cleanse our hands, purify our hearts, and humble ourselves before the Lord. Philippians 2:3-8 echoes James 4 by calling me away from pride and worldly ambition, toward Christlike humility, surrender, and servant-hearted obedience. That passage feels like a mirror. It reminds me that I cannot say I love God with my whole heart while keeping one foot in the world and one foot in obedience. I am still growing, still learning, and still being corrected daily, but I want my life to belong fully to Him. God has carried me through grief, financial struggle, caregiving, and seasons where I felt alone. I lost both of my parents and had to learn how to keep moving forward without the safety net many students have. My father immigrated from Mexico and only went to school through the sixth grade, but he worked hard, taught himself how to read and write, and gave everything he could to provide for our family. Caring for my elderly parents as their health declined taught me how fragile life is and how deeply people need compassion, dignity, and support. Faith has helped me not become bitter from those experiences. It has helped me see pain as something God can use, not something that has to destroy me. I believe He is shaping my heart for service. That is why I am pursuing nursing. I want to care for people during vulnerable moments and become the kind of nurse who sees the person behind the diagnosis. My faith will help me in my career because nursing requires more than knowledge. It requires patience, humility, discernment, compassion, and the ability to serve people when they are scared, hurting, angry, or forgotten. My faith has also shaped my long-term vision. I hope to become an RN, earn my BSN, and eventually become an APRN with a holistic and community health focus. Beyond nursing, I hope to build a nonprofit organization and Christ-centered coffee shop rooted in dignity, healthcare, education, and second chances. My dream is to serve people who are homeless, low-income, without family support, or rebuilding their lives after hardship. I want to offer employment opportunities, mentorship, healthcare education, prayer, safe spaces, and practical support. I know entrepreneurship can easily become about ego, money, or self-promotion. My faith is what I hope will keep me grounded. If God allows me to build something successful, I do not want it to exist only for my comfort. I want it to become a tool for service. I want to build with integrity, treat people fairly, and remember that every resource I receive is something I am responsible for stewarding well. God has helped me by changing what I want my life to be about. I no longer want success just to be seen. I want to be faithful. I want my education, career, and future work to point back to Him through the way I serve, lead, and love people.

I chose to pursue STEM through nursing because I have seen what happens when science is not explained in a way families can understand. My interest in healthcare did not begin in a classroom. It began at home, caring for my elderly parents as their health declined. My mother lived with diabetes and cardiac health issues, and my father battled serious cardiac illness before being diagnosed with colon cancer. Watching them suffer taught me that science is not abstract. It is blood sugar, blood pressure, lab results, medications, symptoms, scans, treatment plans, and families trying to make sense of frightening information. That experience shaped the way I see nursing as a STEM field. Nursing requires biology, anatomy, physiology, pharmacology, microbiology, chemistry, math, and critical thinking. But nursing also requires the ability to translate that knowledge into care people can actually use. A nurse may understand the science behind diabetes, infection, heart disease, or kidney failure. Still, the true impact comes when that knowledge helps a patient understand what is happening in their body and what steps they can take next. As a woman in STEM, I want to make science feel less intimidating and more accessible, especially for people who are overwhelmed, low-income, grieving, or afraid to ask questions. I know what it feels like to be on the family side of healthcare, trying to understand medical information while emotionally falling apart inside. That is why I want to become the kind of nurse who slows down, explains clearly, listens carefully, and helps patients feel informed instead of dismissed. My path has not been traditional. I am a first-generation Latina student, an adult learner, and someone who has had to keep going through grief, financial pressure, and uncertainty. Since losing both of my parents, I have had to navigate school and adulthood without the parental safety net many students have. Those challenges have made me more determined to succeed, but they have also made me more compassionate toward others trying to build a future without much support. I already try to use STEM to help others. I privately tutor microbiology students for free on weekends because I know how overwhelming science courses can feel. Many students think they are not “science people” simply because no one has explained the material in a way that clicks for them. I love breaking down difficult concepts and watching students realize they are capable. That is one way I hope to contribute as a woman in STEM: by making knowledge reachable. My long-term goal is to become a registered nurse, earn my BSN, and eventually become an APRN with a holistic and community health focus. I want to help patients prevent illness, manage chronic conditions, understand nutrition, and recognize warning signs before they reach a crisis. I am especially passionate about serving people affected by poverty, chronic illness, food insecurity, and lack of health education. Beyond the bedside, I hope to build a nonprofit organization rooted in healthcare, education, dignity, and second chances. My dream is to connect health education, mentorship, housing support, employment opportunities, and community resources for people rebuilding their lives. I want science to leave the textbook and enter neighborhoods, kitchens, clinics, classrooms, and community spaces. I chose STEM because knowledge can save lives when it is combined with compassion. As a woman in nursing, I hope to use science not to distance myself from people, but to come closer to them, educate them, advocate for them, and help create healthier futures for families like mine.

Education is important to me because it represents opportunity, responsibility, and legacy. As a first-generation college student, I am not only pursuing a degree for myself. I am walking a path my parents did not have the chance to walk, and I carry their sacrifices with me every step of the way. My father immigrated from Mexico and only went to school through the sixth grade. After his father passed away, he had to leave school to help support his family. Even without a formal education, he taught himself how to read and write and became one of the most capable people I have ever known. He worked multiple jobs and used his hands as a carpenter, craftsman, electrician, mechanic, welder, cook, and baker. He could build, fix, cook, create, and provide. Watching him work so hard with limited opportunities taught me that education is a privilege I should never take lightly. My mother also shaped the way I view education. She ran a home daycare for more than 25 years and took classes to prepare children for kindergarten in a preschool-like environment. Because of her, I grew up surrounded by children, learning, patience, and care. She showed me that education does not only happen in classrooms. It happens when someone takes the time to teach, nurture, guide, and prepare others for what comes next. Losing both of my parents made education even more meaningful to me. I no longer have the parental guidance or safety net many students rely on. I have had to figure out adulthood, finances, school, and my future while carrying grief and responsibility. Being first-generation can feel overwhelming because there are so many hidden rules: financial aid, scholarships, degree plans, deadlines, requirements, and career pathways. At times, it feels like everyone else received a handbook that I never got. Still, I keep going because I know my education can change the direction of my life and allow me to serve others. I am pursuing nursing because caregiving shaped my heart. As my parents’ health declined, I saw how illness affects more than the body. It affects dignity, independence, finances, family, and hope. My mother lived with diabetes and cardiac health problems, and my father battled serious cardiac illness and later colon cancer. Those experiences taught me that patients and families need more than treatment. They need education, compassion, advocacy, and someone willing to see the person behind the diagnosis. The legacy I hope to leave is one of service, faith, and generational change. I want to become a registered nurse, earn my BSN, and eventually continue my education to become an APRN with a holistic and community health focus. I want to use my education to help patients understand their health, prevent illness when possible, and feel supported instead of dismissed or confused. Long term, I hope to build a nonprofit organization rooted in dignity, healthcare, education, faith, and second chances. My dream is to support people who feel forgotten, including homeless individuals, low-income students, young adults without stable family support, and people rebuilding their lives. I want to create pathways that offer mentorship, housing support, employment opportunities, health education, and community care. To me, legacy is not about being remembered for success alone. It is about what my life makes possible for others. I want my education to honor my parents, break cycles, and become a doorway for people who need someone to believe in them. I hope to leave behind a legacy that says: hardship can become purpose, education can become service, and one life can help lift many others.

As a Latina, first-generation, non-traditional student pursuing nursing, I am working to address my current and future student loan debt with urgency, discipline, and a realistic plan. I know my degree can change my future, but I also know that student debt can follow people for decades if they are not careful. My goal is to become a nurse without allowing loans to become another barrier I have to spend years trying to escape. My financial situation is personal. I grew up low-income, and I am still navigating financial hardship while trying to move forward academically. Since losing both of my parents, I have had to figure out adulthood, education, and finances without the parental guidance or safety net many students rely on. I do not have parents who can help with tuition, rent, supplies, transportation, clinical costs, or emergencies. That reality makes every financial decision heavier. It also makes me more determined to plan carefully instead of borrowing blindly. The first way I am addressing student debt is by applying for scholarships consistently. I have made scholarship applications part of my routine because every award, even a smaller one, reduces what I may need to borrow. I am applying for nursing scholarships, first-generation scholarships, low-income scholarships, caregiver scholarships, healthcare scholarships, and scholarships connected to community service. I understand that scholarships are competitive, but I also know persistence matters. I plan to stack as much gift aid as possible before depending on loans. The second way I am addressing debt is by continuing to work while I pursue my education. I currently work full-time in healthcare, and I plan to keep working as much as I realistically can while protecting my academic success. Working while studying is difficult, especially as an adult learner with responsibilities, but it helps me cover basic expenses and reduce unnecessary borrowing. It also keeps me connected to the field I am entering and reminds me why I am pursuing nursing in the first place. I am also being strategic about loans. I plan to prioritize grants, scholarships, and subsidized federal loans first, and I want to avoid private loans whenever possible because of their higher risk and less flexible repayment options. I am researching school-specific scholarships, employer-based education assistance, nursing loan repayment programs, income-driven repayment plans, and public service options for the future. I am also tracking costs beyond tuition, including books, scrubs, exams, supplies, transportation, and clinical travel, because those expenses can quickly push students into more debt if they are not planned for. My reason for being this intentional is bigger than money. I am pursuing nursing because caregiving shaped my life. I helped care for my elderly parents as their health declined, and I saw how illness affects dignity, finances, family, and hope. My long-term goal is to become an RN, earn my BSN, and eventually become an APRN with a holistic and community health focus. I want to use my education to serve patients who feel overlooked, especially those affected by poverty, chronic illness, limited health education, or lack of support. Reducing student debt matters because I do not have a family safety net to fall back on. I am building this future while carrying grief, financial pressure, and responsibility largely on my own. This scholarship would help me borrow less, stay focused, and continue working toward a nursing career rooted in compassion, stability, and community impact. I am not only trying to earn a degree. I am trying to build a life where my education becomes a tool to lift others, not just myself.

I am a first-generation Mexican-American nursing student whose life has been shaped by caregiving, grief, faith, and the desire to serve people who are often overlooked. I grew up low-income in a family where hard work was necessary, not optional. My father immigrated from Mexico and only went to school through the sixth grade, but he taught himself how to read and write and became one of the most capable people I have ever known. He worked with his hands as a carpenter, electrician, mechanic, welder, cook, and baker. My mother ran a home daycare for more than 25 years and helped prepare children for kindergarten. My parents could not guide me through college, but they taught me perseverance, service, and the value of caring for others. My decision to pursue healthcare began at home. My mother lived with diabetes and cardiac health problems, and my father experienced serious cardiac illness before later being diagnosed with colon cancer. I watched illness affect not only their bodies, but also their dignity, independence, finances, and emotional well-being. Caring for them taught me that healthcare is not only about treatment. It is also about education, advocacy, compassion, and making sure people feel seen when they are scared or overwhelmed. I also gained experience working in the emergency department as a patient access representative, where I registered patients arriving through the ambulance bay. I saw people in moments of fear, grief, pain, and crisis. I watched nurses bring calm into rooms filled with uncertainty, and I realized I wanted to be part of that work. Nursing interests me because it combines science with service. It allows me to care for people in practical ways while also advocating for them when they may not know how to advocate for themselves. Catrina Celestine Aquilino’s legacy of making justice accessible deeply resonates with me. Although I am pursuing healthcare rather than law, I believe access is also a justice issue in medicine. A person’s income, education level, language, family background, housing status, or fear of the system should not determine whether they receive compassionate care. Too many people delay treatment because they are uninsured, undereducated about their health, overwhelmed by medical language, or used to being dismissed. I want to become a nurse who helps close that gap. My goal is to become a registered nurse, earn my BSN, and eventually continue my education to become an APRN with a holistic and community health focus. I want to help patients understand their health, prevent illness when possible, manage chronic conditions, and feel empowered instead of ashamed or confused. I am especially passionate about serving low-income families, patients with chronic illness, homeless individuals, young adults without stable family support, and people rebuilding their lives after hardship. Long term, I hope to build a nonprofit organization rooted in dignity, healthcare, education, faith, and second chances. My dream is to connect healthcare education, mentorship, employment opportunities, housing support, and community resources so people are not left to survive alone. I want to create spaces where people are treated as worthy before they have anything to prove. Through nursing, I hope to make a positive impact by bringing care beyond the hospital room and into the community. I want to use my education to help people feel seen, supported, and capable of rebuilding their lives. Like Catrina, I want my work to reach beyond myself and remind others that where someone begins should never decide how much they are worth caring for.

Being the first in my family to obtain a college degree means carrying both gratitude and responsibility. It means walking a path my parents did not have the opportunity to walk, while honoring the sacrifices they made so I could have more choices than they did. As a first-generation college student, I have had to learn how to navigate higher education without a family roadmap. Financial aid, degree plans, prerequisites, scholarships, transfer requirements, and academic expectations can feel overwhelming when no one in your family has been through it before. At times, it feels like everyone else was handed instructions while I have had to figure them out piece by piece. My father is one of the biggest reasons this degree matters to me. He immigrated from Mexico and only completed sixth grade. After his own father passed away, he had to leave school to help support his family. Even without a formal education, he taught himself how to read and write and became one of the hardest-working and most capable people I have ever known. He worked multiple jobs and knew how to do almost everything with his hands: carpentry, craftsman, electrical work, mechanics, welding, cooking, and baking. Watching him work so hard with limited opportunities taught me that education is not something to take for granted. My mother also shaped the way I see education and service. She ran a home daycare for more than 25 years and took classes to prepare children for kindergarten in a way that reflected a preschool environment. Because of her, I grew up surrounded by children, learning, patience, and care. My parents may not have been able to guide me through college, but they taught me perseverance, responsibility, and the importance of serving others. In college, I am pursuing nursing because I want to care for people during some of their most vulnerable moments. My interest in nursing began at home, caring for my elderly parents as their health declined. My mother lived with diabetes and cardiac health problems, and my father experienced serious cardiac illness before being diagnosed with colon cancer. Those experiences taught me that healthcare is not only about treating symptoms. It is about dignity, education, advocacy, and helping people feel seen when they are overwhelmed or afraid. My long-term goal is to become a registered nurse, earn my BSN, and eventually continue my education to become an APRN with a holistic and community health focus. I want to use my education to help patients understand their health, prevent illness when possible, and feel supported instead of dismissed. I am especially passionate about serving low-income families, people with chronic illnesses, and communities that often lack access to consistent healthcare education and support. Beyond nursing, I hope to build a nonprofit organization rooted in dignity, faith, healthcare, education, and second chances. My dream is to support homeless individuals, low-income students, young adults without stable family support, and people rebuilding their lives through mentorship, housing support, employment opportunities, health education, and community resources. Being first-generation means I am not only earning a degree for myself. I am building a bridge for my family, my future patients, and others who come from backgrounds like mine. I want my journey to show that limited beginnings do not have to limit a person’s future. With education, faith, perseverance, and support, I hope to turn my family’s sacrifices into a life of service and impact.

I want my nursing career to improve people’s nutrition and overall health by making healthy living feel understandable, realistic, and accessible. Many patients are told to “eat better,” lose weight, lower their blood sugar, or protect their heart, but they are not always taught how to do that in a way that fits their budget, culture, schedule, stress level, or family situation. As a future nurse, I want to help bridge that gap. Nutrition is personal to me because I have seen how chronic illness affects families. My mother lived with diabetes and cardiac health problems, and my father struggled with serious cardiac illness before being diagnosed with colon cancer. I myself struggle with my weight and making better nutrition decisions. Watching their health decline taught me that prevention, education, and daily habits matter. It also taught me that many people are not ignoring their health because they do not care. Sometimes they are overwhelmed, low-income, grieving, confused by medical instructions, or simply doing the best they can with what they have. That is why I want to approach nutrition with compassion instead of shame. I do not want to be the nurse who hands a patient a generic pamphlet and expects their life to change overnight. I want to be the nurse who asks questions first: What foods do you actually eat? Who cooks in your home? What can you afford? Do you have transportation to a grocery store? Do you understand your diagnosis? Are you eating for comfort because life feels heavy? Those answers matter because health is not just about willpower; it is also about access, education, stress, and support. The steps I plan to take are practical. First, I want to use plain language when educating patients. If someone has diabetes, heart disease, hypertension, or kidney concerns, I want to explain how food affects the body in a way that makes sense. Second, I want to focus on realistic swaps rather than perfection. For example, adding more protein, fiber, water, vegetables, and balanced meals can feel more possible than telling someone to change everything at once. Third, I want to encourage small goals: cooking at home a few more times per week, reducing sugary drinks, choosing baked instead of fried foods, or learning how to build a balanced plate. I also want to honor culture. Healthy eating should not mean telling people to abandon the foods they grew up with. It should mean helping them adjust portions, cooking methods, ingredients, and frequency in a way that supports their health while still respecting their identity and family traditions. Long term, I hope to become an APRN with a holistic focus and build community-based resources that connect healthcare, education, food access, and dignity. One part of my future vision includes a nonprofit and coffee shop model with a garden-to-table approach. I hope to grow fresh fruits, vegetables, and herbs that can be used in meals, shared with the community, and used to teach nutrition, gardening, and chronic disease prevention. For people rebuilding their lives, a garden can provide food, peace, responsibility, and practical skills. My goal is to help patients understand that nutrition is not punishment. It is care. It is prevention. It is a way of protecting the body God gave them. Through nursing, I hope to make healthier eating feel less intimidating and more possible, especially for families who have been overlooked, undereducated, or unsupported. Good nutrition should not feel like a luxury. It should be part of the care every community deserves.

Selected Passage: Luke 10:33–37, King James Version “But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was: and when he saw him, he had compassion on him, and went to him, and bound up his wounds, pouring in oil and wine, and set him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn, and took care of him. And on the morrow when he departed, he took out two pence, and gave them to the host, and said unto him, Take care of him; and whatsoever thou spendest more, when I come again, I will repay thee. Which now of these three, thinkest thou, was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves? And he said, He that shewed mercy on him. Then said Jesus unto him, Go, and do thou likewise.” Essay In the parable of the Good Samaritan, Jesus teaches that compassion is not merely a feeling, belief, or identity; it is a costly decision to move toward suffering, restore dignity, and continue care after the visible crisis has passed. The underlying meaning of this passage is that true neighborly love is not proven by proximity, religion, social status, or good intentions, but by mercy made practical. Jesus does not define goodness through words. He defines it through interruption, sacrifice, and actions of service. The passage begins with “a certain Samaritan,” a phrase that would have carried tension for Jesus’ original audience. The Samaritan is not presented as the expected hero. He is “certain,” but unnamed, which shifts attention away from his reputation and toward his response. Jesus’ choice of a Samaritan matters because He is dismantling the idea that mercy belongs only to the socially accepted, religiously respected, or culturally familiar. The man who becomes the neighbor is the one others may have been tempted to dismiss. In that reversal, Jesus exposes a central truth: God often reveals righteousness through the person we least expect. The phrase “as he journeyed” is also important. The Samaritan is not standing still, waiting for a chance to appear virtuous. He is traveling somewhere. He has a destination, schedule, and purpose of his own. Yet when he comes upon the wounded man, he allows suffering to interrupt him. This detail gives the passage its moral weight. Compassion is easy to admire when it does not inconvenience us. Jesus shows a deeper kind of love: one that is willing to be delayed, rerouted, and personally involved. The next phrase, “came where he was,” is quiet but powerful. The Samaritan does not love from a distance. He does not shout advice from the road, pray vaguely, or feel sorry while continuing on his way. He comes close enough to see the man’s wounds and enter his reality. This movement matters because real mercy requires nearness. It is not abstract. It does not treat people as causes, statistics, or interruptions. It steps into the place where pain actually is. Jesus then says, “When he saw him, he had compassion on him.” The order is significant: he saw, then he had compassion. The first act of mercy is attention. The Samaritan’s compassion begins because he refuses to look away. In the story, others had already seen the wounded man and passed by. Their failure was not a lack of awareness; it was a refusal of responsibility. Jesus shows that sight without action is not compassion. The Samaritan’s seeing becomes morally alive because it moves him. The words “bound up his wounds” make compassion physical and practical. The Samaritan does not simply express sympathy; he gives care. Binding wounds is intimate work. It requires touching pain, dealing with blood, slowing down, and doing something useful. This detail connects deeply to the heart of nursing. Healthcare, at its best, is not only knowledge or treatment. It is the willingness to enter vulnerable moments with skill, steadiness, and tenderness. The Samaritan’s mercy is not sentimental. It is clinical in its practicality and spiritual in its motive. The phrase “pouring in oil and wine” adds another layer. Oil and wine were resources. They cost something. The Samaritan uses what he has to soothe, clean, and protect the wounded man. Mercy, in this passage, is not theoretical generosity. It spends itself. Jesus is showing that love becomes real when it touches our time, comfort, money, and resources. The Samaritan does not wait until he has a perfect system. He begins with what is in his hands. Then the Samaritan “set him on his own beast.” This means the wounded man receives the place of comfort while the Samaritan likely walks. That small exchange reveals the humility of true service. The Samaritan is not helping from above; he is lowering himself so another person can be lifted. He does not ask whether the wounded man deserves it, whether he made poor choices, or whether helping him will be inconvenient. He simply recognizes the need and responds. The care does not end at the roadside. The Samaritan “brought him to an inn, and took care of him.” This movement from road to inn is essential to the deeper meaning of the passage. Emergency care matters, but recovery requires continuity. Jesus could have ended the story after the wounds were bound, but He did not. The Samaritan creates a temporary place of shelter, safety, and healing. He understands that rescue is not complete just because the immediate danger has passed. This is where the passage most strongly connects to the kind of future I want to build. I am pursuing nursing because I have seen how health, poverty, family instability, and dignity are connected. Caring for my elderly parents taught me that vulnerable people need more than a moment of concern. They need education, advocacy, patience, and continued support. My father’s illness showed me how quickly a strong person can feel helpless. My mother’s health struggles showed me how easily people can be missed, misunderstood, or left without enough guidance. The Good Samaritan does not only stop the bleeding; he makes sure the man has somewhere to recover. That is the kind of care I want my education to help me offer. When the Samaritan tells the host, “Take care of him,” he extends mercy beyond what he can personally do in that moment. This is not abandonment; it is responsible delegation. He creates a network of care. He pays, makes arrangements, and promises to return. This detail suggests that compassion should not depend only on one person’s emotional response. Mercy can become organized. It can become a system. It can become a community that keeps caring when one person cannot do everything alone. The promise, “when I come again, I will repay thee,” reveals follow-through. The Samaritan does not disappear after the dramatic act. He remains accountable. This is one of the most overlooked parts of the parable. Many people are willing to be moved by suffering for a moment. Fewer are willing to return, pay the cost, and make sure healing continues. Jesus presents mercy as a commitment, not a mood. Finally, Jesus asks which person “was neighbour unto him that fell among the thieves.” The wording is important. He does not ask who correctly identified the wounded man as a neighbor. He asks who became a neighbor through action. Neighbor is not a label; it is a role we choose to fulfill. The answer is simple: “He that shewed mercy on him.” Jesus then closes with the command, “Go, and do thou likewise.” The command is not vague inspiration. It is direct instruction. To understand the parable is not enough. The reader must become the kind of person who practices it. This passage shapes how I understand both faith and nursing. I love Jesus because He does not allow faith to stay comfortable. He pushes love into the road, into wounds, into financial sacrifice, into shelter, into follow-up, into responsibility. I hope to carry that lesson into my future work as a nurse and, one day, into community-based service for people rebuilding their lives. The Good Samaritan teaches that mercy is not proven by how deeply we feel, but by how faithfully we respond. The underlying meaning of this passage is that compassion must become embodied, practical, and continuous. Jesus shows that the true neighbor is the one who sees suffering, moves closer, gives what they have, creates safety, and refuses to let the wounded be forgotten. To “go, and do thou likewise” is not only a religious command. It is a lifelong calling to build a life where love does not walk past pain.

Having family members with disabling health conditions shaped me before I ever fully understood what caregiving meant. My parents were fifty when they had me, so illness became part of my life early. My mother lived with diabetes and cardiac health problems, and my father faced serious heart disease, a triple bypass, and later colon cancer. Their conditions not only affected their bodies. They affected their independence, dignity, emotions, and the way our family functioned every day. As my parents’ health declined, I became familiar with caregiving responsibilities at a young age. I never got the chance to be a normal child, just having fun with no cares in the world. I had to learn about medications, appointments, daily needs, and the emotional weight of watching the people who raised me become vulnerable. My father had always been strong and independent. He immigrated from Mexico, worked multiple jobs, and used his hands as a carpenter, mechanic, electrician, welder, cook, and baker. Seeing him become dependent on others after illness and surgery was painful because I knew how much it hurt his pride. He was not only afraid of pain; he was afraid of losing the part of himself that had always been capable and useful. My mother’s illness shaped me differently. Her diabetes and health complications required attention, patience, and support. There were moments when our family did not fully understand how serious her condition had become, and that experience taught me how important education and advocacy are in healthcare. Patients and families often need someone to slow down, explain clearly, and notice what may be unspoken. Caregiving taught me that people do not always ask for help, even when they desperately need it. Growing up low-income made these experiences even harder. Caregiving is difficult on its own, but financial stress adds another layer. Families like mine often have to make decisions based not only on what is best medically, but on what is affordable, available, or possible. That reality opened my eyes to how closely health, poverty, access, and dignity are connected. It also made me more determined to become the kind of nurse who understands that patients bring more than symptoms into a hospital room. They bring fear, bills, family responsibilities, transportation issues, and sometimes years of feeling unheard. These experiences led me to nursing because caregiving showed me the kind of care I want to give. I want to become a nurse who treats patients as people, not tasks or charts. I want to be patient with families who are overwhelmed, compassionate with patients who feel embarrassed, and strong enough to advocate when someone cannot speak for themselves. My journey has taught me that nursing is not only a clinical skill; it is presence, education, humility, and service. Long term, I hope to become an APRN with a holistic focus and use my education to serve people who are often overlooked, including low-income families, patients with chronic illness, and people rebuilding their lives after hardship. I want to help patients understand their health before they reach a crisis point and create community-based support that connects healthcare education, dignity, and practical resources. Caring for my parents changed me. It made me grow up faster, sacrifice more, and see suffering closely. But it also gave me empathy, resilience, and purpose. Their illnesses shaped my heart for nursing because they taught me that vulnerable people need more than treatment. They need someone willing to see them, support them, and protect their dignity when they need help the most.

Sustainability should be a priority in nursing because health is not separate from the environment people live in. Patients are affected by the food they can access, the neighborhoods they live in, the stress they carry, and the resources available to them. In healthcare, we often meet people after illness has already progressed, but many health problems are connected to preventable conditions such as poor nutrition, lack of stable housing, food insecurity, and limited health education. As a future nurse, I believe sustainability is part of prevention. My interest in this connection comes from my own life and future goals. I grew up low-income and helped care for my elderly parents as their health declined. My mother lived with diabetes and cardiac health problems, and my father faced serious illness as well. Watching chronic illness affect my family taught me that healthcare cannot only focus on what happens inside hospitals. People need support before they reach a crisis point. They need education, fresh food, stable shelter, and communities designed to help them stay healthy. In the future, I hope to become a registered nurse and eventually an APRN with a holistic and community health focus. I want to use my education to build a nonprofit organization that supports people rebuilding their lives, including homeless individuals, low-income students, young adults without family support, and others who have been overlooked. A major part of this vision includes tiny homes, mentorship, healthcare education, employment opportunities, and a community-centered café and study space. Sustainability would be built into this model through a garden-to-table approach. I want the tiny home community to include gardens, fruit trees, and green spaces where residents can grow fresh food used in the café and shared within the community. This would reduce food waste, lower dependence on heavily processed foods, and teach practical skills such as gardening, nutrition, food preparation, and responsibility. For young people who need a safe place to grow, the garden could become more than a food source. It could become a place to learn patience, consistency, and care. The café would also be designed to reduce environmental impact by using fresh ingredients from the garden when possible, composting food scraps, limiting unnecessary packaging, and redirecting profits back into the foundation. Instead of existing only as a business, the café would become part of a sustainable support system: growing food, creating jobs, feeding people, educating the community, and reducing waste. This matters because sustainability is not only about protecting the planet in a broad sense. It is also about building communities that do not waste people, food, resources, or potential. Too many people are treated like lost causes, and too many communities lack the support needed to prevent illness before it begins. I want to help change that by connecting nursing, nutrition, housing, education, and environmental responsibility. My goal is to reduce environmental impact through a profession rooted in care. As a nurse, I want to educate patients about prevention, chronic disease, nutrition, and healthier daily choices. As a future nonprofit leader, I want to create spaces where people can heal while learning how to live more sustainably. A garden, a café, tiny homes, and nursing may seem like separate ideas, but in my vision, they work together. They create a model where people and the environment are both cared for, and where rebuilding a life also means building a healthier community.

I want to build a nonprofit organization rooted in dignity, healthcare, education, and second chances. My dream is to create a system that helps people who have been overlooked rebuild their lives in a real and sustainable way, especially homeless individuals, low-income students, young adults without family support, and people trying to recover from hardship. The Foundation would begin with the belief that people do not need to be treated like lost causes. Many people are not lazy or hopeless; they are exhausted, unsupported, traumatized, sick, or stuck without resources. I want to build something that offers more than temporary help. I want to create a pathway that includes safe housing through tiny homes, access to healthcare, education and basic care, mentorship, employment opportunities, life skills, tutoring, and emotional support. One part of this vision is opening up a Christ-centered coffee shop and study space that would stay open late for students who need a safe place to study, work, and feel less alone. The café would also create jobs for people supported by the foundation. Someone who is homeless or trying to get back on their feet could live in a tiny home, receive support, work at the café, build stability, and eventually become a leader within the organization. What makes this dream different is the way I want it to grow, is that if one person comes through the organization, receives support, heals, gains confidence, and begins thriving, I want them to eventually help open another coffee shop location. The foundation would help with relocation, housing, training, and leadership support. Then that person would run the new café and foundation site with the same compassion they once received. They would help someone else who is standing where they once stood. That person could eventually do the same. My dream is to build a chain of paying it forward, where healing does not stop with one life but multiplies into many communities. My education is the first step toward making this possible. I am pursuing nursing because health, poverty, trauma, and opportunity are deeply connected. People cannot rebuild their lives if they are sick, unsupported, malnourished, unsafe, or ignored. As a future nurse and eventually an APRN with a holistic focus, I want to bring healthcare knowledge into community spaces, not just clinical settings. Building this organization would change my future because it would allow me to turn my own hardships into service. I grew up low-income, lost both of my parents, and had to learn how to keep going without the support I wished I had. I know what it feels like to need someone to believe in you. My goal is to become that person for others. I want to build a future where people are given structure, dignity, faith, healthcare, education, and a real chance to begin again. This organization is not just something I want to create. It is the way I hope to leave my community better than I found it.

My faith is not something I only carry on Sundays. It is the reason I am still standing, the reason I keep trying, and why I want to spend my life serving people who feel forgotten. I love Jesus because He did not walk past broken people. He saw them. He touched the sick, defended the condemned, fed the hungry, and showed mercy without pretending sin or suffering were not real. That is the kind of faith I want to live every day. I actively live out my faith by serving in the places God has already placed me. I volunteer as a catechist, teaching children about God and Jesus in a way they can understand. I help prepare meals for elderly members at church. I tutor microbiology students for free because I know what it feels like to struggle and need someone to believe in you. To me, faith is not just words. Faith should have hands. It should feed, teach, comfort, protect, and show up. My pro-life beliefs come from that same place. I believe every life has value because every life is made by God. That includes unborn babies, struggling mothers, disabled children, sick patients, elderly parents, homeless individuals, and people who feel like their lives are already over. I believe unborn children deserve protection, and I believe mothers deserve support so strong that fear, poverty, and abandonment are not the loudest voices in the room. I am pro-life, but I do not believe I am called to throw stones at women who are scared, unsupported, poor, abandoned, or overwhelmed. Jesus said the one without sin could cast the first stone, and that truth humbles me. I am not God, and I am not here to condemn people. I am here to serve. If a woman believes abortion is her only option because she can barely survive herself, then I believe the Christian response should be more than judgment. It should be providing practical, loving support that makes choosing life feel possible. That belief has shaped my future goals. I am pursuing nursing because I want to protect and care for life in a real, practical way. My own life began in uncertainty, and caring for my elderly parents taught me how fragile life can be. Watching illness, grief, and fear affect my family showed me that vulnerable people need dignity, patience, advocacy, and compassionate care. Long term, I hope to become an APRN with a holistic focus. I also hope to build a nonprofit organization rooted in faith, service, and dignity. As it grows, I want it to support mothers who feel alone, children who need protection, homeless individuals, young adults without family support, and people rebuilding their lives. I dream of offering healthcare education, prenatal and postpartum support, mentorship, housing support, employment opportunities, prayer, and practical resources so people are not left to survive alone. I want to use my education to protect life by making support stronger than fear. I want to help create a world where a mother does not feel abortion is her only option because no one will help her, where children are protected, where the sick are cared for, and where people at every stage of life are treated as valuable. Receiving this scholarship would help me continue my education and move closer to the work I believe God has placed on my heart. My faith has taught me that life is sacred. My goal is to defend that truth not only with my beliefs, but with my hands, my education, my nursing career, and the way I serve.

My experience with mental health has shaped the way I understand people, relationships, family, and the kind of future I want to build. For a long time, I thought mental health wasn't real, that people just made it up in their heads. Now I understand that mental health affects the way people love, communicate, parent, cope, make decisions, and survive. It is not always visible, and it is not always easy to name, especially in families where pain is passed down quietly and never fully addressed. I grew up in a home where love and hurt often existed together. My mother loved me, but our relationship was complicated and painful. She had waited years to have a daughter after having three sons, and when I was born, I think she imagined a perfect mother-daughter relationship. As I grew older and became my own person, I did not always match the version of me she had built in her mind. When I had my own voice, opinions, struggles, or flaws, it often felt like I became a disappointment to her. My mother was never formally diagnosed with a mental health condition, so I do not want to label her unfairly. However, looking back, I can recognize patterns of anxiety, control, emotional pain, and unresolved trauma. She could be very critical, easily upset, and deeply affected when things did not go the way she expected. At times, she complained often or reacted harshly, and as a child, I did not understand why. I only knew that her words shaped the way I saw myself. I often felt like I was not good enough, not pretty enough, not disciplined enough, not the daughter she had hoped for. As I got older, I began to understand that my mother’s pain did not begin with me. She had her own history of emotional trauma and abuse. She came from a background where she was hurt, and I believe she carried wounds she never fully healed from. That does not erase the pain she brought onto me, but it helps me understand her differently. It showed me how generational trauma works. One person’s unresolved pain can become another person’s childhood. Hurt people can love deeply and still cause harm. That truth has shaped my understanding of mental health more than almost anything else. Mental health has also affected my family through addiction, emotional instability, and suicide attempts. One of my brothers has struggled with mental health, drug and alcohol abuse, destructive behavior, and moments of deep hopelessness. Watching someone you love battle addiction is painful because it affects everyone around them. It creates fear, anger, disappointment, and guilt. You want to help, but you also have to learn that love cannot save someone who is not ready to heal. That has been one of the hardest lessons of my life. These experiences have deeply affected my relationships. For a long time, I did not understand boundaries. I thought loving someone meant staying, forgiving endlessly, and carrying their pain even when it was destroying me. Because I grew up trying to earn love from the one person who was supposed to give it unconditionally, and because of the way she treated me, I learned it was better to avoid conflict. I later accepted unhealthy treatment in relationships. I confused emotional intensity with love. I apologized for things I did not cause. I tried to prove my worth to people who were hurting me. My own mental health has also been shaped by ADHD. Having ADHD affects more than schoolwork or focus. It affects how I process emotions, responsibilities, relationships, and stress. Sometimes I care too much, to the point where I carry other people’s problems like they are my own. Other times, I can shut down and feel disconnected because everything becomes too overwhelming. I have had to learn that my brain does not always move in a straight line, but that does not make me broken. It means I need structure, grace, honesty, and tools that actually work for me. Through all of this, my beliefs have changed. I no longer believe people can simply “get over” pain. Mental health is real, and it affects families, communities, education, and physical health. I believe people need safe spaces where they can be honest about what they are carrying. We need to talk about trauma, addiction, depression, anxiety, and emotional pain without shame. Silence does not heal people. It only teaches them to suffer alone. My relationships have since changed to loving with boundaries. I can love my family and still acknowledge the ways I have been hurt. I can pray for someone and still protect my peace. I can forgive and still decide that certain patterns cannot continue. Mental health has taught me that healthy love requires truth, safety, respect, and accountability. My experiences have also shaped my goals. I am pursuing nursing because I want to care for people beyond the diagnosis written on their chart. I have seen how emotional pain, poverty, family instability, addiction, grief, and chronic illness can connect. When patients enter a hospital or clinic, they bring more than symptoms. They bring fear, history, stress, financial pressure, and sometimes years of feeling unheard. Long term, I hope to become an APRN with a holistic focus and use my education to serve people who feel overlooked. I also hope to build a nonprofit organization supporting homeless individuals, low-income students, young adults without family support, and people rebuilding their lives. My goal is to create spaces where people are not treated like lost causes. Mental health has taught me that people often fight battles others cannot see. It has taught me that pain can be inherited, but healing can be chosen. My journey has given me empathy, discernment, and purpose. I want to use what I have lived through to help bring darkness into the light, so others do not have to feel alone in it.

As a first-generation Latina college student, my educational journey has been shaped by sacrifice, uncertainty, and the determination to build a future my parents never had the opportunity to experience. I did not grow up with parents who could explain college applications, financial aid, degree pathways, or transfer requirements. I have had to learn by asking questions, making mistakes, researching, and continuing even when the process felt overwhelming. Being first-generation often feels like walking into a room where everyone else was handed instructions, while you are trying to figure out the rules as you go. My father is one of my greatest motivations. He immigrated from Mexico and only completed sixth grade. After his own father passed away, he had to leave school to help support his family. Even without formal education, he taught himself how to read and write and became one of the most capable people I have ever known. He worked multiple jobs and used his hands as a carpenter, electrician, mechanic, welder, cook, and baker to provide for our family. Although we grew up low-income, he showed me what perseverance looked like every day. Watching my father work so hard with limited opportunities changed the way I see education. To me, earning a degree is not just about personal success. It is about honoring the sacrifices of those who had to survive without the opportunities I am now fighting for. My father’s life taught me that circumstances may limit access, but they do not have to limit purpose. His resilience is one of the reasons I refuse to give up on my education, even when finances, grief, and fear make the path difficult. I chose nursing because caregiving became part of my life at a young age. My parents were older when they had me, and as their health declined, I learned how illness affects more than the body. My mother lived with diabetes and cardiac health problems, and my father suffered from serious cardiac illness before being diagnosed with colon cancer. Watching them become vulnerable taught me that patients need more than treatment. They need dignity, education, advocacy, and someone willing to see the person behind the diagnosis. My experience working in healthcare has also strengthened my motivation. I have worked in hospital settings where I have seen patients and families arrive scared, grieving, confused, or overwhelmed. I have watched nurses bring calm into rooms filled with fear. Those moments confirmed that nursing is the career I want to pursue because it combines science, compassion, service, and advocacy in a way that can directly impact people’s lives. My goal is to become a registered nurse, earn my BSN, and eventually continue my education to become an APRN with a holistic and community health focus. I want to use my degree to serve patients who are often overlooked, especially those affected by poverty, chronic illness, lack of health education, and limited access to care. Long term, I hope to build a Foundation, a nonprofit that supports homeless individuals, emancipated youth, low-income students, and people rebuilding their lives through healthcare education, mentorship, housing support, and employment opportunities. As a first-generation student, I am not only pursuing a degree for myself. I am pursuing it for my family, my community, and the people who will come after me. My father’s sacrifices gave me a foundation, and I want to build something meaningful from it. My motivation is to turn hardship into service, education into opportunity, and success into a way to help others climb.

My brand new Love Island challenge would be called “Baggage Claim.” The challenge would be based on a simple idea: everyone brings something into love. Some things are worth carrying forward, like loyalty, humor, and affection. Other things need to be left behind, like jealousy, dishonesty, or fear from past relationships. This challenge would test how well couples understand each other beyond attraction. Before the challenge begins, each Islander privately answers five questions: 1. What is one thing you need in a relationship? 2. What is one red flag you will not ignore again? 3. What is your biggest insecurity in love? 4. What makes you feel most cared for? 5. What is one dream you hope your partner supports? The answers are kept secret until the challenge starts. Each couple then takes the stage in front of the villa. One partner stands at a fake airport baggage carousel with five oversized suitcases labeled Needs, Red Flags, Insecurities, Love Language, and Future Dreams. Inside each suitcase are four possible answers, but only one belongs to their partner. The goal is for the Islander at baggage claim to correctly identify their partner’s real answer from the four options. For example, if they open the Red Flags suitcase, they might see options like “being ignored,” “lying,” “moving too fast,” or “jealousy games.” They have to choose which answer their partner gave. If they guess correctly, they earn a heart stamp on their boarding pass. If they guess wrong, the correct answer is revealed to everyone. This would create the perfect mix of funny, awkward, and emotional moments. Some Islanders may realize their partner knows them better than they expected. Others may find out their connection is mostly surface-level. The villa would react, the couples would have to explain their choices, and viewers would get to see which relationships have real emotional awareness. After all five suitcases, each couple enters the final round called “Carry-On.” In this round, each Islander must choose one trait they believe their partner should carry into the relationship, such as honesty, patience, loyalty, communication, affection, or trust. Then their partner reveals whether they chose the same trait for themselves. If they match, they earn bonus points. The couple with the most heart stamps wins a private date called “First Class.” The couple with the fewest stamps goes to the Layover Lounge, where they must answer three honest relationship questions before the next recoupling. It is not meant to punish them, but to force a real conversation. “Baggage Claim” would add excitement to Love Island because it would reveal who is truly paying attention and who is just attracted to the idea of someone. It would still be entertaining, dramatic, and funny, but it would also show emotional depth. Love is not just about chemistry, flirting, or looking good together by the pool. It is about knowing what someone carries, respecting what shaped them, and deciding whether you are willing to move forward together. This challenge would stand out because it turns emotional baggage into something playful but meaningful. It would give the villa drama, the viewers memorable moments, and the couples a chance to prove whether their connection can survive more than just attraction.

I want to pursue a degree in nursing because I know what happens when health education, prevention, and advocacy do not reach a family soon enough. My interest in nursing began at home, caring for my elderly parents as their health declined. My mother lived with diabetes and cardiac health problems, and my father experienced serious cardiac illness before later being diagnosed with colon cancer. Watching them become vulnerable taught me that healthcare is not only about treating symptoms. It is about dignity, communication, education, and helping people feel less alone during some of the hardest moments of their lives. Those experiences changed the way I see nursing. A nurse is often the person standing between fear and understanding. Patients and families may be overwhelmed by medical language, embarrassed to ask questions, or unsure how to advocate for themselves. I want to become the kind of nurse who slows down, listens carefully, explains clearly, and treats patients like whole human beings rather than diagnoses or another charts. I want my patients to feel seen, respected, and empowered in their care. My experience in healthcare has strengthened this calling. I have worked in hospital settings, including the emergency department and currently at Valley Children’s Hospital in Madera California. In the emergency department, I saw people arrive in moments of fear, pain, grief, and crisis. I watched nurses bring calm into rooms filled with uncertainty. At Valley Children’s, I am reminded of how deeply healthcare affects families, especially when children are involved. These experiences have shown me that nursing requires clinical skill, but it also requires compassion, patience, emotional intelligence, and advocacy. As a nurse, I hope to contribute to my community by focusing on education, prevention, and access. Many people in underserved communities do not receive consistent healthcare until their conditions become emergencies. Chronic illnesses such as diabetes, heart disease, hypertension, kidney disease, and complications from untreated symptoms often become worse when people lack transportation, health literacy, nutritious food, insurance, or financial stability. I want to help bridge that gap. I want to teach patients what warning signs to look for, help them understand their medications and care plans, and encourage prevention before a crisis occurs. My commitment to community service has already begun outside of nursing. I privately tutor microbiology students for free on weekends because I believe education should be accessible to students who need help but cannot afford private tutoring. I volunteer as a catechist, teaching children about God and Jesus in a loving and understandable way, and I help prepare meals for elderly members at church. These experiences have taught me that community care is not always dramatic. Sometimes it is teaching, feeding, listening, encouraging, and showing up consistently. Long term, my goal is to become an APRN with a holistic focus and create community-based resources through a non-profit organization. My dream is to support homeless individuals, emancipated youth, low-income students, and people rebuilding their lives by connecting healthcare education, mentorship, employment opportunities, housing support, and compassionate care. I want to help people before they are forgotten by the system and before their needs become emergencies. Receiving this scholarship would help reduce the financial burden of nursing school and allow me to continue moving toward a career built on service. I do not want to pursue nursing only to improve my own life. I want to use my education to become a health ambassador in my community. Become someone who teaches, advocates, listens, and helps people feel worthy of care before, during, and after they need it.

I am a fan of Sabrina Carpenter because my connection to her began before she became a major pop star. Before the larger stages, viral songs, and global attention, I knew her as Maya Hart from Girl Meets World and as a young artist posting covers online. That version of Sabrina impacted me the most because she felt talented, relatable, and full of possibility. Watching her grow from Disney Channel to a successful music career showed me that small beginnings can still lead to something meaningful when someone keeps developing their gift. Maya Hart was one of the first characters Sabrina played who really stayed with me. Maya was funny, bold, sarcastic, loyal, and deeply emotional underneath her confidence. She had a tough exterior, but she also had pain, fear, and a desire to be loved and understood. I connected with that because I have often used humor and personality to cover deeper emotions. Maya made me feel like someone could be messy, wounded, and still worthy of love, friendship, and growth. Sabrina brought warmth to that character, and that made her memorable to me. My favorite Sabrina performances, though, were some of her early covers. One that has always stayed with me is her cover of “Like I’m Gonna Lose You” with Sarah Carpenter and Tyler Spry. There was something simple and genuine about it. It did not need a huge stage or dramatic production to feel meaningful. It was just voices, emotion, and connection. That kind of performance reminded me that talent does not always need to be loud to be powerful. Another cover I loved was “Hopelessly Devoted to You” from Grease. That song connects to my childhood because Grease was one of my favorite movies growing up. I watched it so much that I wore out the VHS, even though my mom used to say it was not really a kid’s movie. Hearing Sabrina sing a song tied to such a nostalgic part of my life made me appreciate how music can connect generations. A song my younger self loved could be reintroduced through an artist I admired years later, and it felt like two parts of my life meeting. Sabrina’s career has impacted me by reminding me that growth is allowed. People are not meant to stay in one stage forever. She began as a young actress, grew into a musician, and continued evolving creatively. Even if every phase of an artist’s career does not connect with me the same way, I can still appreciate the dedication it takes to keep creating, performing, and taking risks. That lesson matters to me as a student pursuing nursing. My own path has not been simple or traditional. I have faced grief, financial struggle, caregiving responsibilities, and the pressure of being a first-generation college student. Sabrina’s early journey reminds me that people often start with small opportunities, small audiences, and uncertain futures. What matters is continuing to show up, practice, grow, and believe that the work can become something bigger. I am a fan because Sabrina’s work, especially her early performances, reminds me of authenticity, nostalgia, and perseverance. Maya Hart made me feel seen, and Sabrina's covers reminded me that honest emotion can be powerful even without a spotlight. Her career shows that growth takes courage, and that inspires me as I work toward my own future.

The Taylor Swift performance I find most moving is “Snow on the Beach” because it captures the strange, beautiful disbelief of something good happening when you least expect it. The song feels soft, dreamlike, and almost surreal, which is exactly why it connected to me during one of the most vulnerable seasons of my life. When I first connected with that song, I had recently lost my mother, just a few years after losing my father. Grief had changed the way I saw the world. I was used to loss, uncertainty, and trying to survive emotionally. Then I entered a relationship with someone I had known for a while, and at first it felt unbelievable in the best way. It felt familiar and unexpected at the same time, like something rare had finally found me after years of pain. That is what “Snow on the Beach” sounded like to me, the shock of being seen, chosen, and wanted when I felt broken. What makes the song even more meaningful to me now is that my relationship did not stay beautiful. Over time, it became toxic and emotionally damaging. The person I thought I knew changed, or maybe I began to see what had been hidden from me all along. What made it hard to leave was not only the pain, but the memory of who I believed he could be. “Snow on the Beach” preserved that version of him, the beginning, the hope, the dream, the person I thought I had found. In a way, the song became painful because it held onto the softness of something that later hurt me. That is why this performance moves me. It reminds me that music can hold more than one truth at a time. A song can remind you of happiness and heartbreak, hope and disappointment, innocence and growth. At first, “Snow on the Beach” reminded me of the shock of being loved by the perfect person after grief. Now, it reminds me that something can feel magical in the beginning and still not be healthy enough to keep. Through that experience, I learned that love should not require me to lose myself. I learned that a beautiful beginning does not excuse harmful patterns. I learned that healing means being honest about the full story, not just the parts that were easy to romanticize. For a long time, I missed who I thought that person was. Eventually, I realized I was also grieving the version of myself who believed that love had finally arrived to rescue me. Today, “Snow on the Beach” no longer makes me want to go back. It reminds me that I was brave enough to believe something beautiful could happen after loss, and I am still brave enough to believe that again, but with more wisdom. The ending of the song, with the repeated lyrics of the snow “coming down,” now feels different to me. What once sounded like magical love falling softly now reminds me of the relationship slowly coming down. The illusion, the hope, the version of him I wanted to believe was real. Taylor Swift’s performance moves me because it captures the fragile moment when hope feels impossible and real at the same time. My experience taught me that not every dreamlike connection is meant to last, but every painful ending can still lead to self-respect, healing, and a stronger understanding of the love I deserve.

I am choosing a career in nursing because I have seen how deeply compassionate healthcare can affect patients and families during their most vulnerable moments. My interest in nursing began through personal caregiving, but it became stronger through my experience working in healthcare. Caring for my elderly parents as their health declined taught me that illness affects more than the body. It affects dignity, emotions, families, and the way people experience fear. Those experiences made me want to become the kind of nurse who brings skill, patience, and comfort into difficult moments. I am especially interested in pediatric nursing because I have always had a heart for children, but also because I have seen how deeply children need protection and advocacy. I currently work at Valley Children’s Hospital in Madera, California, and I love being part of an environment centered on children and families. Children may not always understand what is happening, know how to describe their pain, or have the words to explain when something is wrong, which is why pediatric nurses must be clinically skilled, but they must also be gentle, observant, patient, and willing to advocate when a child cannot speak for themselves. One experience that deeply shaped me happened while I was working in the emergency department as a registration tech. A critically injured infant arrived by ambulance, and the medical team did everything they could to save him. I may have not been part of the code team, but I still witnessed the heartbreak of that moment. The situation raised concerns beyond an accident, and I remember feeling devastated by the thought that a baby had been failed by the adults and systems meant to protect him. That experience has stayed with me and I will always carry it with me. It taught me that pediatric healthcare is not only about treating illness or injury. It is also about noticing, listening, documenting, advocating, and protecting. Children depend on adults to pay attention. They depend on healthcare workers, teachers, neighbors, family members, and communities to respond when something is wrong. I cannot change what happened that night, but I can allow it to shape the kind of nurse I become. I do not want to be someone who looks away. I want to be someone who pays attention. My love for children also shows up outside of healthcare. I volunteer as a catechist, teaching children about God and Jesus in a loving and understandable way. That experience has taught me how important it is to meet children where they are. Children need patience, safety, kindness, and explanations they can understand. Teaching them has strengthened my communication, creativity, and compassion, which are qualities I hope to carry into pediatric nursing. One day, I also hope to become a mother, and that hope deepens my respect for the bond between children and the people who care for them. When a child is sick or hurt, the whole family is affected. Parents may feel terrified, helpless, or overwhelmed. I want to become the kind of pediatric nurse who supports both the child and the family with calmness, education, and compassion. Pediatric nursing interests me because children deserve nurses who will protect them, comfort their fears, and advocate for their safety. I know this field can be emotionally difficult, but I also know it is meaningful. I am pursuing nursing because I believe care can change the atmosphere of a room. I want to pursue pediatric nursing because children deserve adults who are willing to notice, speak up, and fight for their well-being when they need it most.

The person who supported me most in my educational journey was my father. He did not support me by knowing how to navigate college applications, financial aid, or degree plans. He supported me by showing me what perseverance looked like every day of his life. My father immigrated from Mexico and only went to school through the sixth grade. After his own father passed away, he had to leave school to help support his family. Even without formal education, he taught himself how to read and write and became one of the most capable people I have ever known. My father was a carpenter, electrician, mechanic, welder, cook, and baker. He worked multiple jobs, fixed what was broken, made what we needed, and always found a way forward. He was the kind of man who made sacrifices quietly. He did not always have much, but he gave everything he could to his family. Watching him work so hard with limited opportunities shaped the way I see education. It taught me that earning a degree is not something to take for granted. It is a privilege, a responsibility, and a way to honor the people who worked hard so I could have choices they never had. My father also shaped my dream of becoming a nurse. When I was in high school, he suffered serious heart problems that led to a triple bypass. By the time I was eighteen, he had been diagnosed with colon cancer, which later spread aggressively through his body. I watched the strongest man I knew become vulnerable, dependent, and afraid. I saw how illness affected his dignity, independence, and identity. He was not just a patient. He was my best friend, my protector, my teacher, and the person I shared simple, beautiful mornings with, watching Mexican TV shows like "Como Dice el Dicho" and "El Chavo del Ocho" while eating the pan dulce he baked. Losing him by the time I was twenty-two changed me. It left a kind of absence that cannot be filled, but it also gave my life direction. I am pursuing my BSN because I love nursing and because I feel called to the emergency department, where people arrive in some of the most vulnerable moments of their lives. The ER is not for everyone. It is fast, intense, emotional, and unpredictable, but I feel drawn to it because I know what it feels like to be the family member standing in fear, waiting for answers. I want to become the kind of nurse who brings calmness, and compassion into those moments. I honor my father by continuing this path, even when it's difficult. As a first-generation college student, I do not have parents to guide me through higher education or help me financially. I have had to learn, ask questions, work hard, and keep going through grief, financial pressure, and uncertainty. But my father’s life reminds me that difficulty is not a reason to stop. He never had an easy path, yet he kept building, fixing, providing, and showing up. My BSN is for him, not because he forced this dream on me, but because his life made me understand the value of service, and I want to honor his memory by turning his sacrifices into purpose. I want to become a nurse who treats patients as people, not charts. I want to use my education to serve families like mine, who need someone to listen, explain, advocate, and care. My father gave me the foundation. Now I am determined to build something meaningful from it.

I am a first-generation college student pursuing nursing because I have seen how deeply health, poverty, education, and dignity are connected. My interest in healthcare began at home, caring for my elderly parents as their health declined. My mother lived with diabetes and cardiac health problems, and my father faced serious cardiac illness and later colon cancer. Watching them become vulnerable taught me that healthcare is not only about treating illness. It is also about helping people feel seen, educated, supported, and valued during some of the hardest moments of their lives. I chose healthcare because I want to care for people who aren't used to being cared for. Many health issues are connected to more than biology. Poverty, food access, housing instability, lack of education, stress, and limited preventive care can all affect whether a person heals or continues to struggle. I want to become a registered nurse and eventually continue my education to become an APRN with a holistic focus. My goal is to combine clinical knowledge, compassion, education, and advocacy so I can help people understand their health before they reach a crisis point. The difference I hope to make is bigger than one job title. In the future, I want to create a nonprofit organization that supports people who are trying to rebuild their lives, including homeless individuals, emancipated youth, low-income students, and people who feel forgotten by society, the ones who need a fresh start. My dream is to provide safe housing through tiny homes, access to compassionate healthcare, mentorship, education, and employment opportunities through a community-centered coffee shop. The goal would not simply be to give temporary help. I want to build a system that helps people regain stability, confidence, and purpose. For example, if someone comes to the Foundation after experiencing homelessness or hardship, they would have a safe place to stay, access to free health care, guidance, and a job opportunity. As they begin to heal and rebuild, they could gain skills, leadership experience, and a sense of dignity. If that person eventually thrives, my dream would be to give them the opportunity to help lead a future coffee shop location, allowing them to serve others who are standing where they once stood. That is the kind of impact I want to create, a chain of paying it forward. One person receives support, rebuilds their life, and then becomes part of the support system for someone else. A coffee shop could become more than a business. It could become a place where students study safely, people are employed with support and liveable wages, resources are connected, healthcare education is offered, and the money earned is poured back into the foundation to help the next person. I know this vision is large, and I know it will take years of education, partnerships, funding, discipline, and wise leadership. However, I believe pursuing healthcare is the first step. Nursing will give me the knowledge and experience to serve people physically, emotionally, and educationally. It will also help me understand the real barriers patients face when they leave the hospital or clinic and return to unstable environments. I want my future work to remind people that rock bottom does not have to be the end of their story. Many people do not need to be judged; they need structure, opportunity, healthcare, mentorship, and someone willing to believe they are still worth investing in. Through healthcare and future nonprofit work, I hope to create a model of care that restores dignity, encourages independence, and turns one person’s healing into hope for the next.

Grief, caregiving, family instability, and learning how to rebuild my self-worth after painful relationships impacted my Mental health. For a long time, I did not understand how much my environment affected the way I saw myself. I grew up in a home where love and pain often existed together. My mother loved me, but some of her words and actions deeply affected my confidence and self-esteem. Because my parents had me later in life, I also became familiar with illness, caregiving, and fear at a young age. As their health declined, I had to grow up quickly. Losing both of my parents changed my mental health in ways I could not explain. Grief does not only make a person sad, it can make the world feel unstable. After their deaths, I often felt like I had to figure life out alone. I did not have the kind of steady family support I wished I had, and that loneliness shaped me. I became used to carrying things quietly, pushing forward even when I was overwhelmed, and trying to appear strong because I felt like I had no other choice. My family has also been affected by addiction, anger, and instability. Watching someone I love struggle with substance abuse and destructive behavior taught me that pain can affect an entire household. It also taught me that loving someone does not mean ignoring the damage they cause. That was a difficult lesson for me because I have always wanted to help people. For a long time, I confused compassion with sacrificing myself. That pattern followed me into an abusive relationship, a relationship where I experienced emotional manipulation, isolation, cheating, and blame. Instead of recognizing that I was being hurt, I believed I was the problem. I apologized for things I did not cause and tried harder to earn love that was not healthy. That experience damaged my self-worth, but it also became part of my healing. I slowly learned that love should not require me to lose myself. Self-help books changed my beliefs. I no longer believe people can simply “move on” from pain without support, honesty, and time. I believe people need safe spaces where they can admit they are struggling without being judged. I also believe boundaries are part of healing. Compassion is important, but compassion without wisdom can become self-destruction. These experiences have influenced my relationships by teaching me to value honesty, safety, and respect. I am still a person who cares deeply, but I am learning to care without abandoning myself. I want to build connections that are rooted in peace, not fear. I want to be someone who listens, but also someone who understands that protecting my own mental health matters too. My mental health journey has also influenced my future goals. I am pursuing nursing because I want to care for the person struggling just as I was. Many people are carrying invisible pain while still going to school, working, caring for family, and trying to survive. I want to become a nurse who recognizes that health is not only physical, but emotional, and spiritual too. Long term, I hope to become an APRN with a holistic focus and serve people affected by trauma, poverty, chronic illness, addiction, and lack of support. Mental health challenges have not made my journey easy, but they have made me more empathetic and determined. They taught me that healing is possible, but people should not have to do it alone. I hope to use my education and experiences to help others feel seen, supported, and worthy of a better future.

My experience with mental health has influenced the way I see people, relationships, and the kind of nurse I hope to become. I grew up in a home where love and pain often existed together. My mother loved me, but she was also emotionally hurtful in ways that affected my self-worth. I was raised by older parents, and as their health declined, I became familiar with caregiving, fear, and grief at a young age. Losing both of them forced me to grow up quickly and left me feeling like I had to figure life out without the kind of steady support many people have. My family has also struggled with addiction, incarceration, and emotional instability. Watching a sibling struggle with substance abuse and anger taught me how complicated pain and love can be. I learned that love does not automatically make someone safe. For a long time, I did not understand how those experiences shaped the way I accepted treatment from others. That became clear during an abusive relationship that lasted three years right after my parents passed away. Instead of recognizing the warning signs, I accepted emotional abuse, manipulation, isolation, cheating, and blame because it felt familiar. I had already learned to question myself, apologize for things I did not cause, and work hard to earn love. That relationship damaged my confidence and made me feel like I was the problem, even when I was being hurt. It took time for me to understand that surviving pain does not mean I deserved it. These experiences affected my mental health through anxiety, grief, shame, low self-esteem, and seasons of feeling deeply alone to the point I no longer knew who I was. However, they also changed my beliefs. I no longer believe healing is as simple as “just move on.” I believe people need compassion, honesty, support, faith, boundaries, and safe spaces where they can rebuild. I also believe that mental health struggles should not be treated as weakness. Many people are carrying invisible wounds while still going to work, attending school, caring for family, and trying to survive. My relationships have changed because I am learning that love without boundaries can become self-destruction. I still care deeply for people, but I am learning that compassion does not require me to ignore harm. I want to love people with wisdom, not fear. I want to build relationships where honesty, safety, and respect matter. My past taught me how easy it is to lose yourself when you do not believe you are worthy, and I never want to forget that lesson. My mental health journey has influenced my career aspirations. I am pursuing nursing because I want to care for the person, not just a diagnosis. Working in healthcare and caring for my parents showed me that people often need more than medical treatment. They need someone who listens, notices what is unspoken, and treats them with dignity. In the future, I hope to become an APRN with a holistic focus and serve people who feel overlooked, especially those struggling with poverty, trauma, addiction, chronic illness, or lack of support. Being a first-generation college student has not been easy, especially while carrying grief and financial pressure, but it has given my education deeper meaning. I am not pursuing nursing only to create a better life for myself. I want to use what I have survived to become a compassionate, grounded, and trauma-informed healthcare provider. My experiences have taught me that people need hope, but they also need practical support. I want to become someone who offers both.

The most meaningful relationship in my life was my relationship with my father. He shaped who I am not only through what he taught me, but through the way he lived. My father was an immigrant from Mexico, a hardworking provider, and one of the most generous people I have ever known. He did not have much money, and he only went to school through the sixth grade, but he had a heart that gave as if he had everything. He taught me that human connection is not just about family, friendship, or conversation. Sometimes connection is noticing a stranger’s burden and choosing not to look away. One memory that has stayed with me happened when I was younger. My father had a parking ticket to pay, and we were waiting in line when a man ahead of us was trying to pay something of his own. He was short by about one hundred dollars. I remember him pleading for more time, explaining that he was the sole provider for his family and that if he did not pay that day, his license would be suspended. He needed to drive to work. The woman helping him was dismissive and told him to move aside. When it was my father’s turn, he pulled out one hundred dollars and told her to put it toward that man’s payment. The man overheard and was overwhelmed with gratitude. To my father, it was simple. Someone needed help, and he had a way to help him. He did not know that man. He did not expect repayment, attention, or praise. He helped because it was the right thing to do. That is the kind of man my father was. He was not perfect, but he carried deep compassion for people. As I grew older, I realized how much that shaped me. People have sometimes called me too giving or too much of a people pleaser. I understand why they say that. I have had to learn boundaries and discernment, because compassion should not mean allowing people to take advantage of you. But I also do not want fear of being used to make me cold. My father taught me that a clear conscience matters. If I help someone with no expectation of receiving anything back, and I do it from a sincere heart, then that act still has value. My faith has deepened that lesson. I believe we are called to carry one another’s burdens, not only when it is convenient, but when compassion requires action. That does not mean ignoring wisdom or neglecting responsibilities. It means choosing to remain aware of the people around me. It means remembering that every person has a story, a struggle, and a reason they may need kindness that day. My relationship with my father influences the way I build connections with others now. I try to listen closely, notice what people may be too embarrassed to say, and offer help in practical ways. I privately tutor microbiology students for free on weekends because I know how overwhelming science can feel, especially for students who cannot afford extra support. I volunteer as a catechist, teaching children about God and Jesus in a loving and understandable way. I also help prepare meals for elderly members at church because sometimes connection looks like serving food, setting a table, or making someone feel remembered. My father’s example also influences my long-term goals. I am pursuing nursing because I want to care for people during some of their most vulnerable moments. I want to become the kind of nurse who sees the person behind the chart, listens without rushing, and advocates for patients who feel afraid, embarrassed, or overlooked. In the future, I hope to create a nonprofit foundation that supports homeless individuals, emancipated youth, low-income students, and people rebuilding their lives through mentorship, housing support, employment opportunities, education, and compassionate healthcare. My father taught me that meaningful connection is not always dramatic. Sometimes it is one hundred dollars handed to a stranger in line. Sometimes it is patience, presence, a meal, a lesson, or a moment of kindness that helps someone keep going. His relationship with me shaped the way I see people. Not as interruptions, but as human beings worthy of dignity. I hope to spend my life building connections that make others feel seen, supported, and less alone just like he used to.

I chose to pursue nursing because I have seen how deeply health, poverty, education, and dignity are connected. As a first-generation college student from a lower socioeconomic background, I understand how difficult it can be to move forward when money, resources, and guidance are limited. I also grew up caring for my elderly parents as their health declined, which showed me that healthcare is not only about treating illness. It is also about helping people feel seen, educated, supported, and valued during some of the hardest moments of their lives. My goal is to become a registered nurse and eventually continue my education to become an APRN with a holistic focus. Nursing allows me to combine science, compassion, advocacy, and education in a way that feels meaningful. I want to understand the body clinically, but I also want to care for the whole person. Many health problems are connected to stress, poverty, food access, housing instability, lack of education, and limited preventive care. I want to be the kind of healthcare provider who does not only ask, “What is wrong today?” but also, “What is happening in your life that is making it harder for you to heal?” In the future, I hope to use my healthcare degree to serve people who are often overlooked, especially homeless individuals, emancipated teens, low-income students, and people trying to rebuild their lives after hardship. My long-term dream is to create Salted Foundation, a nonprofit organization that would provide practical support, mentorship, housing resources, employment opportunities, and access to free compassionate healthcare. I want to help create a system where people who have been dismissed by society are given structure, dignity, and a real chance to start again. One part of this vision is to provide tiny homes for individuals who need stability while they work toward independence. Housing alone does not solve everything, but without a safe place to sleep, it is incredibly difficult for someone to focus on school, work, health, or healing. I also hope to open up one day, Salted Cafe, a community-centered coffee shop and study space where some of these individuals could be employed, trained, mentored, and supported. Rather than only offering temporary help, I want to help create a pathway that includes shelter, work experience, encouragement, and long-term growth. Healthcare would be a major part of this mission. Many homeless individuals and emancipated teens do not have consistent access to health insurance, preventive care, education, or someone who follows up with them over time and doesn't let them get lost in the system or be forgotten. I want to use my nursing and future APRN training to help provide continuous, compassionate care that focuses on prevention, chronic illness support, mental and emotional wellness, and patient education. My goal is not to replace emergency care, but to help people avoid reaching that emergency level of care by giving them support earlier. I know this vision is large, and I know it will take years of education, discipline, partnerships, and resources. However, I believe earning my BSN is the first step toward making it possible. I do not want to use my education only to improve my own life. I want to pay it forward by creating opportunities for others who have been told, directly or indirectly, that their lives are not worth investing in. Receiving scholarship support would help reduce the financial barriers that make this path difficult and allow me to continue pursuing the education needed to serve my community well. My dream is to use healthcare as a tool for dignity, restoration, and hope.

I am a first-generation Latina college student pursuing nursing, and my journey has been shaped by perseverance, faith, service, and the desire to build a future that my parents did not have the opportunity to experience. My father immigrated from Mexico and only went to school through the sixth grade. After his father passed away, he had to leave school to help support his family. Even without a formal education, he taught himself how to read and write, worked multiple jobs, and used his hands as a carpenter, mechanic, electrician, welder, cook, and baker to provide for us. My mother also worked hard and ran a home daycare for more than 25 years, helping prepare children for kindergarten. They both taught me the value of hard work, even though they could not guide me through college themselves. Being a first-generation student can feel overwhelming because there are so many hidden rules. No one sits you down and explains every deadline, scholarship, transfer requirement, financial aid form, degree pathway, or academic expectation. Sometimes it feels like everyone else received a handbook that you never got. I have had to learn by asking questions, making mistakes, researching on my own, and refusing to give up when the process felt confusing or discouraging. I grew up low-income, and I still understand the pressure of trying to pursue school while worrying about finances. For students like me, college is not just about attending classes. It is about balancing work, family responsibilities, transportation, bills, and the fear of not being able to afford the next step. That reality has made me more determined, not less. I am pursuing nursing because I want to use my education to serve people during vulnerable moments and eventually become an APRN with a holistic focus. My long-term dream is to combine healthcare, education, and community service through a foundation that supports homeless individuals, emancipated youth, low-income students, and people rebuilding their lives. I already try to inspire other students through service. I privately tutor microbiology students for free on weekends because I know how intimidating science courses can feel, especially when someone cannot afford private help. I enjoy breaking down difficult material in a way that makes students feel capable instead of defeated. I want students to know that struggling does not mean they are not smart. Sometimes it means they need someone to explain things differently and believe in them until they can believe in themselves. I also volunteer as a catechist, teaching children about God and Jesus, and I help prepare meals for elderly members at church. These experiences have strengthened my patience, communication, and heart for service. They have also taught me that leadership is not always loud. Sometimes leadership is simply showing up consistently, sharing what you know, and helping others feel seen. I plan to inspire first-generation students by being honest about the journey and generous with what I learn. I want to share resources, encourage students to apply for scholarships, help them understand difficult classes, and remind them that they belong in higher education even if they are the first in their family to walk that path. My goal is not only to earn my degree, but to become a bridge for others. I want my story to show first-generation students that their background is not a limitation; it can become the reason they rise and help others rise too.

I plan to make a positive impact on the world by using my education, faith, and personal experiences to serve people who feel overlooked, unsupported, or forgotten. I do not believe impact always begins with something large or impressive. Sometimes it begins with helping one student understand a difficult subject, serving a meal to an elderly person, teaching a child about God’s love, or sitting with someone during one of the hardest moments of their life. My goal is to build a life where service is not something I occasionally do, but something that shapes everything I become. My desire to help others comes from my own life experiences. I grew up low-income and watched my parents work hard with limited resources. My father immigrated from Mexico and only went to school through the sixth grade, yet he taught himself how to read and write and worked multiple jobs to care for our family. As my parents aged and became sick, I helped care for them and saw how illness affects more than the body. It affects dignity, independence, finances, family, and hope. Those experiences changed how I view people who are struggling. They taught me that many people do not need judgment; they need compassion, education, resources, and someone willing to believe they are still worth fighting for. I am pursuing nursing because I want to care for people during vulnerable moments and help them feel seen, not reduced to a diagnosis or chart. My long-term goal is to become an APRN with a holistic focus so I can combine clinical care, prevention, education, and advocacy. I want to help patients understand their health, recognize warning signs, and feel empowered instead of overwhelmed. Healthcare can feel intimidating, especially for people who are low-income, uninsured, undereducated, or afraid to speak up. I want to be the kind of nurse who slows down, listens, teaches, and advocates. I also plan to make an impact through education and community service. I currently tutor microbiology students for free on weekends because I know how overwhelming science courses can feel, especially for students who cannot afford private tutoring. I volunteer as a catechist, helping children learn about God and Jesus in a loving and understandable way. I also help prepare meals for elderly members at church. These experiences remind me that service does not have to be flashy to be meaningful. Sometimes impact looks like patience, consistency, and showing up for people. In the future, I hope to create Salted Foundation, a nonprofit organization focused on helping people rebuild their lives, including homeless individuals, emancipated youth, low-income students, and others who have been made to feel forgotten. My dream is to provide safe spaces, mentorship, employment opportunities, housing support, education, and access to compassionate health resources. I also hope to create Salted Beans Café, a late-night study and community space where students can feel safe, supported, and encouraged while also creating jobs for people who need a second chance. I know I cannot help everyone, but I believe every life helped matters. I plan to make a positive impact by becoming someone who turns hardship into purpose, education into service, and compassion into action. My hope is to leave people better than I found them and to help build communities where people feel seen, supported, and valued.

Faith plays the role of foundation in my life. It is what has helped me keep going when grief, financial struggles, and uncertainty made my future feel impossible. My faith in God has changed the way I see education, nursing, service, and success. I no longer see my goals as only personal achievements. I see them as responsibilities. If God gives me the opportunity to learn, grow, and become stable, then I believe I am called to use that opportunity to serve others with humility, honesty, and love. For much of my life, I thought success meant becoming financially secure, respected, and independent. While those things still matter, my faith has taught me that success without purpose is empty. I believe we are called to care for one another, carry each other’s burdens, and use our gifts to help people who feel forgotten. That belief has shaped my academic goals because I am pursuing nursing not just for a career, but as a way to serve people during some of their most vulnerable moments. My desire to become a nurse was shaped by caring for my elderly parents as their health declined. My mother lived with diabetes and cardiac health problems, and my father battled serious heart issues and later colon cancer. Watching them become vulnerable taught me that illness affects more than the body. It affects dignity, independence, family, finances, and hope. Those experiences made me want to become the kind of nurse who listens, advocates, educates, and treats patients like whole human beings instead of charts or diagnoses. Faith has also impacted my future goals beyond nursing. Long term, I hope to become an APRN with a holistic focus and eventually create Salted Foundation, a nonprofit organization that supports people who have been overlooked, including homeless individuals, emancipated youth, low-income students, and people rebuilding their lives after hardship. I also dream of creating safe community spaces, including Salted Beans Café, where students can study late at night, people can find encouragement, and those who need a second chance can receive employment, mentorship, and support. My faith reminds me that this vision should not be about making a name for myself. It should be about stewardship, service, and creating something that helps others feel seen and valued. My parents also pushed me to pursue higher education, even if they did not have the same opportunities. My father immigrated from Mexico and only went to school through the sixth grade. After his father passed away, he had to leave school to help support his family. Even without formal education, he taught himself how to read and write and became one of the hardest-working people I have ever known. He worked as a carpenter, electrician, mechanic, welder, cook, and baker. His life taught me perseverance. His sacrifices remind me that earning a degree is not something to take for granted. My mother also shaped my love for learning and service. She ran a home daycare for more than 25 years and took classes so she could prepare children for kindergarten in a way that reflected a preschool environment. Because of her, I grew up surrounded by children, patience, teaching, and care. Today, I see that same influence in my own life. I volunteer as a catechist, teaching children about God and Jesus in a loving and understandable way. I also tutor microbiology students for free on weekends because I know how overwhelming education can feel when someone needs help but cannot afford extra support. Faith has taught me that leadership is not about being seen, it is about serving well when no one is watching. It has pushed me to pursue higher education with integrity, not just ambition. My goal is to become a nurse, educator, advocate, and servant leader who uses her life to bring dignity, hope, and practical support to others. I believe my education is one of the tools God can use to help me do that. Social media handles: Krystynunez Instagram

Cancer changed my family by taking away pieces of my father before it took his life. My father was an immigrant from Mexico, a provider, and one of the hardest-working people I have ever known. He only went to school through the sixth grade, but he taught himself how to read and write and built a life through his hands. He was a carpenter, electrician, mechanic, welder, cook, and baker. To others, he may have seemed like a strong, hardworking man, but to me, he was also my best friend. Some of my favorite memories with him were simple. On weekends, we would wake up early and watch Como Dice el Dicho and El Chavo del Ocho, (Mexican TV shows) together while eating the pan dulce he made. He would make conchas for me and cuernitos for himself. Those mornings were peaceful, ordinary, and full of love. They remind me that before cancer, my father was not a patient. He was laughter, warmth, food, sacrifice, and home. By the time I was eighteen, my father was diagnosed with colon cancer. At first, I knew cancer was serious, but I did not fully understand how quickly it could change a person and a family. His cancer spread aggressively to his liver and eventually throughout his body. I remember the weight of hearing updates, watching treatments take a toll on him, and seeing life slowly drain from someone who had always been so strong. His final PET scan showed how far the cancer had spread, and eventually he made the decision to stop chemotherapy. By the time I was twenty-two, my father was gone. Watching my father battle cancer affected every part of our family. It brought fear, grief, financial stress, emotional exhaustion, and a helplessness that is hard to explain. Cancer does not only affect the patient; it affects everyone who loves them. It changes routines, conversations, responsibilities, and the way a family imagines the future. I watched my father go from being independent and capable to needing help with basic parts of life. That was painful for him, and it was painful for me to witness. His illness taught me that patients are not only afraid of pain or death. They are also afraid of losing their dignity, identity, and control. Through that experience, I learned the importance of compassion in healthcare. Medical treatment matters, but so does the way patients and families are spoken to, educated, comforted, and supported. I learned that families often carry questions they are afraid to ask and emotions they do not know how to express. I learned that a kind nurse, a clear explanation, or a moment of patience can make a hospital room feel a little less terrifying. My father’s cancer also shaped my purpose. It is one of the reasons I am pursuing nursing. I want to become the kind of nurse who remembers that every patient has a life beyond their diagnosis. My father was not just a cancer patient. He was a husband, father, immigrant, provider, teacher, cook, baker, and the person I shared quiet weekend mornings with. I want to care for patients in a way that honors the fullness of who they are. Cancer took my father from me, but it also gave me a deeper understanding of dignity, compassion, and purpose. I cannot change what happened to him, but I can carry the lessons of his life into nursing and help other patients and families feel seen, supported, and less alone.

I want to pursue a career in the nonprofit sector because I have seen how easily people can fall through the cracks when they do not have money, support, education, or someone willing to believe in them. Growing up low-income, caring for my elderly parents, and serving in my church and school community have taught me that people often do not need judgment, they need resources, dignity, guidance, and a real opportunity to rebuild. My long-term goal is to create Salted Foundation, a nonprofit organization focused on serving people who feel forgotten, including homeless individuals, emancipated youth, low-income students, and people rebuilding their lives after hardship. I also hope to create Salted Beans Café, a safe, late-night study and community space where students can work, learn, and feel supported. My vision is not only to provide temporary help, but to create a pathway forward through education, employment opportunities, mentorship, housing support, and access to compassionate health resources. This mission is personal to me. My father immigrated from Mexico and only went to school through the sixth grade, yet he worked multiple jobs and taught himself skills so he could provide for our family. Even with his hard work, we still grew up low-income. Watching him sacrifice so much showed me that opportunity is not equally available to everyone. It also taught me that education, support, and stability can change the direction of a family’s future. My desire to serve also comes from my experience caring for my elderly parents as their health declined. I saw how illness affects more than the body; it affects dignity, independence, finances, and the entire family. That is one reason I am pursuing nursing and hope to eventually become an APRN with a holistic focus. I want to combine healthcare, public health education, and nonprofit work so that underserved people are not only treated when they are sick, but also supported before they reach crisis. I have already begun living this mission through volunteering and service. I privately tutor microbiology students for free on weekends because I know how overwhelming science courses can feel, especially for students who cannot afford private tutoring. I volunteer as a catechist, helping children learn about God and Jesus in a loving and understandable way. I also help prepare meals for elderly members at church, which reminds me that service does not have to be large to be meaningful. Sometimes impact begins with showing up, setting a table, listening, or making someone feel remembered. Through Salted Foundation, I hope to create a positive impact by addressing both immediate needs and long-term barriers. For homeless individuals and emancipated youth, I want to help provide safe housing, job training, mentorship, and a community that reminds them they are not disposable. For low-income students, I want to create spaces where they can study safely, receive encouragement, access tutoring, and believe their dreams are still possible. For people struggling with health challenges, I want to offer education, prevention, and compassionate care that respects the whole person. I know building a nonprofit will require patience, discipline, education, and resources. However, I believe purpose-driven work is worth pursuing because even one life redirected matters. My goal is not to build something flashy, my goal is to build something faithful, practical, and lasting. I want Salted Foundation to become a place where people who have been overlooked can receive support, regain dignity, and begin again.

My personal experiences have given me a sense of purpose rooted in service, education, and breaking generational barriers. My father immigrated from Mexico and only went to school through the sixth grade. After his father passed away, he had to leave school to help support his family. Even without formal education, he became one of the most capable people I have ever known. He taught himself how to read and write, worked multiple jobs, and used his hands as a carpenter, mechanic, welder, electrician, cook, and baker to provide for us. Growing up low-income, I saw how hard my parents worked and how limited opportunities can shape a family’s future. Their sacrifices taught me that education is not something to take for granted. For me, pursuing higher education is not only about earning a degree; it is about honoring what my parents endured and creating a new path for my family. My experiences caring for my elderly parents also shaped my purpose. Watching them struggle with chronic illness taught me the importance of compassion, advocacy, and dignity in healthcare. That is why I am pursuing nursing. I want to become the kind of nurse who educates, listens, and serves patients who feel overwhelmed or overlooked. My purpose is to turn hardship into service. I want to use my education to build stability, serve my community, and create opportunities for others who come from low-income or immigrant families like mine.

I have chosen to pursue nursing because chronic illness has shaped my life in a deeply personal way. My interest in healthcare did not begin in a classroom, it began at home, caring for my elderly parents and watching how illness affected not only their bodies, but also their dignity, independence, and quality of life. My mother lived with diabetes and cardiac health problems, and my father experienced serious cardiac issues that led to a triple bypass. Later, he was also diagnosed with colon cancer. Seeing both of my parents become vulnerable helped me realize that nursing was the path I wanted to pursue. My planned specialty is emergency nursing, with a long-term goal of becoming an APRN with a holistic focus. I am drawn to emergency care because it allows nurses to serve patients during some of the most urgent and vulnerable moments of their lives. However, I also understand that many emergencies are connected to chronic conditions that were not fully managed, understood, or supported. Diabetes, cardiac symptoms, kidney issues, wounds, infections, and complications from long-term illness often bring patients into the emergency department. I want to respond with clinical skill in the moment while also educating patients in a way that helps them better understand their health after they leave. I have chosen to work with patients experiencing chronic illness, diabetes, and cardiac symptoms because I have seen how overwhelming these conditions can be for both patients and families. My mother’s diabetes eventually contributed to serious health complications, and by the time we understood how severe her condition had become, it was too late. That experience taught me the importance of patient education, early intervention, and advocacy. Many patients do not ignore their health because they do not care; sometimes they are scared, overwhelmed, financially limited, or unsure of what warning signs mean. I want to help bridge that gap. My father’s cardiac illness also shaped my desire to care for this population. He had always been strong, independent, and hardworking, so watching him become dependent after his health declined was painful. It taught me that patients with chronic or cardiac conditions are not only dealing with symptoms; they are also dealing with fear, grief, frustration, and the loss of the life they once knew. I want to care for patients in a way that protects their dignity while helping them feel informed and supported. At this time, I have not received specialized stoma care training, but I would be open to pursuing wound, ostomy, and continence education as I advance in nursing. I understand that patients requiring ostomy care often need physical support, emotional reassurance, education, and dignity-centered care. For the supplementary questions, I do not personally experience chronic illness, diabetes, cardiac symptoms, or require an ostomy, but my mother had diabetes and cardiac health problems, and both of my parents experienced chronic illness and cardiac symptoms. No one in my family has served in the military. My mother worked in education through her home daycare, which she ran for more than 25 years. She took classes to prepare children for kindergarten in a preschool-like environment, so I grew up surrounded by children and early learning. Nursing gives me the opportunity to combine science, compassion, education, and advocacy. My goal is to become a nurse who treats the whole person, not just the diagnosis.

I decided to pursue a career in nursing because of my father. He was an immigrant from Mexico, a hardworking provider, and one of the most capable people I have ever known. He worked multiple jobs throughout his life and had many skills: carpentry, mechanics, welding, electrical work, cooking, and baking. Even though he only went to school until the sixth grade, he taught himself how to read and write and spent his life doing whatever was necessary to care for his family. To me, he represented strength, sacrifice, and perseverance. When I was in high school, my father suffered a serious heart condition that led to a triple bypass. By the time I was eighteen, he had also been diagnosed with colon cancer. Watching him become sick changed the way I understood healthcare. I saw a man who had always been independent, strong, and useful with his hands suddenly need help with the most basic parts of life. That was painful for him, and it was painful for me to witness. His illness taught me that patients are not only afraid of pain. They are also afraid of losing their dignity, independence, and sense of identity. During his hospital stays and recovery, I began to notice how much small moments of care mattered. A nurse explaining something patiently, adjusting him so he was more comfortable, treating him with respect, or acknowledging our family’s fear could change the entire atmosphere of the room. I learned that nursing is not only about medication, procedures, or clinical skill. Nursing is also about presence. It is about stepping into someone’s hardest season and helping them feel less alone. My father’s experience inspired me because I wanted to become the kind of nurse who protects a patient’s dignity even when illness makes them feel helpless. I want to be the nurse who slows down, listens, educates, and advocates. I want to remember that every patient has a story beyond their diagnosis. They are someone’s parent, child, spouse, sibling, or friend. My father was not just a patient recovering from surgery or battling cancer. He was a man who had worked hard his entire life, loved his family, made flan, fixed things with his hands, and carried pride in being able to provide. Nursing, to me, means never forgetting the person behind the chart. My interest in nursing was also strengthened by my experience working in the emergency department as a patient access representative. I registered patients arriving through the ambulance bay and saw people in moments of fear, pain, grief, and crisis. I watched nurses become calm in rooms filled with panic. I saw how their compassion could bring comfort not only to patients, but also to families who were scared and overwhelmed. Those experiences confirmed that nursing is the career I want to pursue. My goal is to become a registered nurse and eventually continue my education to become an APRN with a holistic focus. I want to provide care that combines clinical knowledge, compassion, education, and advocacy. My father’s life and illness shaped my purpose, and I hope to honor him by becoming a nurse who serves with skill, humility, and heart. I found out about this scholarship through Bold.org.

Attending higher education will give me the knowledge, credentials, and stability I need to change my life and serve people who have been overlooked or limited by poverty. As a low-income student, I understand how difficult it can be to pursue education while worrying about work, transportation, family responsibilities, and basic needs. I am still struggling financially, which is why scholarships matter so much to me. Higher education is not just a personal goal, it is the path that will help me break cycles and turn my experiences into service. Education is especially meaningful to me because my father only went up to the sixth grade. After his father passed away, he had to leave school to help care for his family. Even without formal education, he became one of the hardest-working and most capable people I have ever known. He worked multiple jobs and taught himself how to read and write. He was a carpenter, electrician, mechanic, welder, cook, and baker. Our family still grew up low-income, but he did everything he could to provide for us. Watching him work so hard with limited opportunities shaped the way I see education. To me, earning a degree is also a way to honor the sacrifices he endured as he did not have the same opportunities as me. My goal is to become a registered nurse and eventually continue my education to become an APRN with a holistic focus. Nursing interests me because it combines science, compassion, education, and advocacy. Growing up, I helped care for my elderly parents as their health declined. Those experiences taught me that illness affects more than the body; it affects a person’s dignity, independence, confidence, and family. They also taught me how important it is for patients and families to have someone who explains, listens, and advocates when they are overwhelmed. Higher education will prepare me to become that kind of nurse. It will teach me how to understand the body, recognize warning signs, communicate with families, and provide safe care. It will also give me the stability to stop living only in survival mode and begin creating opportunities for others. For low-income students, education is not just about earning a degree. It is about gaining choices and proving that where you start does not have to determine where you end. My work and volunteer experiences have already shaped the positive impact I hope to create. I have worked in the emergency department as a patient access representative, registering patients during vulnerable moments. I saw people arrive scared, grieving, angry, confused, or in pain. I also saw how kindness and calmness could change the atmosphere of a room. That experience confirmed my desire to work in healthcare and reminded me that compassion is not an extra part of care; it is part of care itself. Outside of school, I serve through tutoring and volunteering. I privately tutor microbiology students for free on weekends because I know how overwhelming science courses can feel, especially for students who cannot afford private tutoring. I also volunteer as a catechist, helping children learn about God and Jesus in a loving and understandable way, and I help prepare meals for elderly members at church. These experiences have taught me patience, communication, humility, and the importance of serving in simple but meaningful ways. In the future, I hope to create a larger impact through a foundation focused on supporting people who are rebuilding their lives, including homeless individuals, emancipated youth, low-income students, and others who feel forgotten. My dream is to create safe spaces that offer encouragement, employment opportunities, housing support, education, and access to compassionate healthcare. I know this vision will require time, discipline, and resources, but higher education is the first major step. Receiving this scholarship would reduce the financial pressure that makes college difficult for students like me. It would allow me to focus on my studies, continue serving my community, and move closer to a career where I can help others with skill and compassion. My dream is not just to earn a degree. My dream is to turn hardship into purpose, knowledge into service, and opportunity into a doorway for someone else.

My “awkward” thing is my brain. More specifically, my ADHD brain that has never learned how to care about things casually. If I care about something, I care about it all the way. I do not simply enjoy a class, I start making study guides. I do not just learn something new, I want to explain it to someone else. I do not hear a good idea without my brain turning it into a plan, a project, or a way to help people. Growing up, that intensity did not always feel like a strength. I often felt like I was “too much”, too emotional, too passionate, too curious, too invested, or too affected by things other people could move past quickly. I could turn a simple conversation into a deep discussion about life, faith, purpose, or why a character in a show made the wrong decision. Sometimes I feel like Max from Ginny & Georgia, especially in the way she cares so deeply that it almost spills out of her before she knows what to do with it. That is me. My brain feels like it has too many tabs open, but every tab matters. For a long time, I thought that made me awkward or weird. My thoughts moved fast, my emotions felt big, and my heart attached itself to people, ideas, and problems I wanted to fix. While some people were comfortable staying on the surface, I was usually the person asking, “But what does that really mean?” I used to wish I could be more casual, less intense, or less affected by the world around me. Over time, I have learned that what once made me feel out of place is also what helps me serve others. My ability to care deeply has shaped the way I show up in school, church, and my community. I privately tutor microbiology students for free on weekends because I know what it feels like to struggle, feel overwhelmed, and need someone to slow the material down. I enjoy breaking difficult topics into simpler explanations because I believe understanding should not only belong to people who can afford extra help. That same part of me shows up in my volunteer work. As a catechist, I help teach children about God and Jesus in a way that feels loving and understandable. I also help with elderly meals at church because I believe service does not always have to be dramatic to matter. Sometimes love looks like preparing food, setting a table, listening to someone, or making people feel remembered. My “awkward” brain also pushes me toward my future goals. I am pursuing nursing because I want to care for people during some of their most vulnerable moments. I want to become the kind of nurse who listens closely, advocates for patients, and treats people like human beings rather than tasks or charts. So yes, my awkward thing is my brain. It cares too much, thinks too much, feels too much, and dreams too much. But I am learning that “too much” can become something meaningful when it is guided by purpose. The world needs people who notice, feel, ask deeper questions, and use their awkwardness to make others feel seen, supported, and valued.

Olivia Rodrigo’s song “traitor” resonates with me because it captures a kind of heartbreak that is difficult to explain. The pain of betrayal that may not always fit a neat definition, but still leaves a person feeling deeply deceived. The lyric, “you’re still a traitor,” stands out to me because it describes the emotional confusion of realizing that someone may not have broken every technical rule, yet still broke trust, safety, and love. For me, this song connects to a relationship that slowly changed the way I saw myself. At first, I wanted to believe the best in the person I loved. I excused behavior that hurt me because I thought loyalty meant staying, forgiving, and understanding everything. Over time, that relationship became unhealthy. I was isolated from friends, manipulated emotionally, and made to feel responsible for things I did not cause. There were lies, cheating, substance abuse, and financial choices that drained me. But the hardest part was not only what happened, it was how much I began to believe I deserved it. That is why “traitor” feels so powerful to me. The song is not just about someone moving on too quickly or choosing someone else. It is about the moment when your mind finally catches up to what your heart has been trying to deny. It reflects the ache of looking back and realizing that someone you trusted had been betraying you long before the relationship officially ended. In my own experience, betrayal was not one dramatic moment. It was a pattern. The apology that came without change, the blame that somehow always landed on me, the promises that sounded sincere but never became action. One of the biggest challenges of that season was losing my self-worth. I became someone who apologized for being hurt. I questioned my own instincts. I stayed in situations I should have walked away from because I was afraid of being alone and because I had been convinced that love required me to endure disrespect. Olivia Rodrigo’s vulnerability helped me name emotions I used to feel ashamed of, anger, grief, jealousy, confusion, and disappointment. Her music gave language to feelings I had minimized for too long. The triumph in my story is that I did not stay there. I began rebuilding myself piece by piece. I learned that love should not require losing my identity. I learned that compassion does not mean enabling someone to destroy you. I learned that forgiveness and access are not the same thing. Most importantly, I learned that betrayal does not define my worth; it reveals what I must never again abandon in myself. Today, I hear “traitor” differently. At first, it reminded me of what someone did to me. Now, it reminds me of what I survived. It taught me that heartbreak can become self-discovery when we are willing to be honest about what hurt us. Olivia Rodrigo’s music resonates because it does not make painful emotions look pretty or simple. It allows them to be messy, human, and real. My experience was painful, but it gave me a stronger voice, clearer boundaries, and a deeper understanding of the kind of love I deserve.

The nursing industry interests me because nursing is one of the few careers where knowledge, compassion, patience, and service meet in real time. Nurses are often present during moments people never forget, starting with the diagnosis, the emergency, the recovery, the loss, the fear, and the hope. I chose this career path because I have seen firsthand how much a nurse’s presence can affect not only the patient, but also the family standing beside them. My interest in nursing began at home. My parents were older when I was born, so illness became part of my life early. My mother lived with diabetes and heart problems, and my father faced serious heart complications, a triple bypass, and later colon cancer. As their health declined, I became familiar with medications, appointments, caregiving responsibilities, and the emotional weight of watching someone strong become vulnerable. Caring for them taught me that healthcare is not only about treating the body. It is also about dignity, education, comfort, and advocacy. My father was an immigrant from Mexico and one of the hardest-working people I have ever known. He worked with his hands, provided for his family, and valued independence. Watching illness take away pieces of that independence changed the way I see patients. It taught me that people are not only afraid of pain; they are often afraid of becoming a burden, losing control, or no longer being seen as themselves. My mother’s illness taught me another lesson, patients do not always know how to speak up for themselves. Sometimes they hide symptoms, minimize pain, or stay quiet because they do not want to worry others. Those experiences shaped the kind of nurse I want to become. I also have experience in the medical field through my work in the emergency department as a patient access representative. Registering patients, especially those arriving by ambulance, exposed me to people in crisis, grief, fear, and pain. I saw nurses step into chaotic situations and become steady, calm, and compassionate. That experience confirmed that nursing is not just a career choice for me; it is a calling to serve people when they are at their most vulnerable. My goal is to become a registered nurse who is compassionate, clinically strong, and patient-centered. I want to be the kind of nurse who slows down enough to educate patients, advocate for them, and treat them as whole human beings rather than diagnoses or charts. Long term, I hope to continue my education and become an APRN with a holistic focus, helping patients understand prevention, root causes, and healthier ways to care for their bodies. Some personal accomplishments that have helped me pursue these goals include continuing my education while serving others through tutoring and volunteering. I privately tutor microbiology students for free on weekends because I know how overwhelming science courses can feel, especially for students who cannot afford extra help. I also volunteer as a catechist, teaching children about God and Jesus, and I help prepare meals for elderly members at church. These experiences have strengthened my patience, communication, leadership, and heart for service. Nursing interests me because it gives me the opportunity to combine everything I value: education, compassion, advocacy, and kindness. My past experiences have shown me how deeply people need nurses who care, and my future goal is to become one of those nurses, someone who brings skill, humility, and hope into every room I enter.

My interest in nursing didn't begin in a classroom, it began at home, caring for my elderly parents and learning that illness affects more than the human body. My parents were in their fifties when I was born. My mother lived with diabetes and cardiac health problems, and by the time I was in high school, my father had suffered a serious heart condition that led to a triple bypass. By the time I was eighteen, he had also been diagnosed with colon cancer. I had to learn about caregiving early. My father was an immigrant from Mexico and one of the hardest-working people I have ever known. He worked multiple jobs and had many skills: carpenter, electrician, mechanic, welder, cook, and baker. He loved making his flan and working with his hands. He was independent, resourceful, and self-taught. Even after leaving school in sixth grade to help care for his family after his father passed away, he taught himself how to read and write. When he became sick and dependent on others, I could see how much it broke him. Watching my father taught me that patients are not only afraid of pain. They are also afraid of losing their dignity, independence, and identity. Shortly after my father passed away, my mother’s illness taught me that nurses must notice what patients are too afraid, tired, or overwhelmed to say. Since my mother was diabetic, I first thought her symptoms were related to uncontrolled glucose levels and grief. She had lost her husband, best friend, and lifelong companion, so it seemed natural that she was struggling. But as time passed, she continued to get worse. I would take her to the emergency room, and she was sent home with explanations that did not fully answer what was happening. One day, after working a double shift in the ER, I came home and found her unconscious. This time, she was not sent home. We learned she was in complete organ failure. Later, I found out she had been in kidney failure related to her diabetes. By then, it was too late. Losing her changed me and deepened my desire to be part of a healthcare system where patients and families are heard, educated, and advocated for. Before my mother became severely ill, I started working in the emergency department as a patient access representative, registering patients who came through the ambulance bay. I saw people in some of their most vulnerable moments: fear, pain, grief, and crisis. I will never forget the cries of a mother who had just lost her nine-year-old son, or the way the nurses brought calmness into the worst moment of her life. In that moment, I realized nursing is not just a skill or a job, it is a calling. It is about being present when someone’s world is falling apart. Working in the emergency department showed me that nurses can become the calm in a room full of fear. I want to become a compassionate nurse who advocates for her patients, slows down, and takes time to educate them about their health. I do not want to treat people like charts or diagnoses. I want to treat them like whole human beings with stories, fears, families, and hopes. My long-term goal is to become an APRN with a holistic focus, helping patients understand the root causes of their health concerns while supporting prevention, education, and compassionate care. Outside of nursing, I find joy in teaching, creating, and serving others. Volunteering as a catechist allows me to help children learn about God and Jesus in a loving and understandable way. Helping prepare elderly meals at church reminds me that service can be simple but meaningful. Baking brings me joy because food has a way of comforting people and making them feel cared for. I also tutor microbiology students for free on weekends because I know how overwhelming microbiology can feel, and I believe students deserve support even when they cannot afford private tutoring. I have been the student who was broke and needed help, so I want to offer others the support I once needed. All of these experiences connect to the nurse I hope to become, someone who teaches, comforts, advocates, and serves her community with humility. My journey has been shaped by caregiving, faith, service, and education. Nursing is not only the career I am pursuing, it is the way I hope to use my life to help others feel seen, supported, and valued.

I chose healthcare because caregiving for my elderly parents at a young age changed the way I view people, suffering, and purpose. My parents were older when they had me, so illness became part of my life early. My mother lived with diabetes and heart complications, and by the time I was in high school, my father had suffered a heart attack, undergone a triple bypass, and later faced colon cancer. I became familiar with medications, appointments, fear, and responsibility before I fully understood the weight of them. Caring for my father taught me that illness does not only affect the body; it affects the whole person. My father was an immigrant from Mexico with a strong work ethic. He worked multiple jobs, provided for his family, and carried himself with strength and independence. He loved to cook, work on projects, and be useful with his hands. Watching him become fragile, dependent, and ashamed after surgery was one of the hardest things I have ever experienced. I will never forget the look on his face when he needed help with the most basic parts of life. That moment taught me that healthcare is not just about treating symptoms. It is about protecting a person’s dignity when they feel like they have lost it. After my father passed away, my mother’s health declined shortly after. At first, I thought her symptoms were related to her glucose levels, but eventually we learned she was in kidney failure. She had been hiding how sick she was because she did not want to burden her children, especially after what happened to my father. I helped with her care at home, including medications, wound care, and learning from the home health nurse who came once a week. Those experiences taught me that patients and families need more than medical instructions. They need patience, education, compassion, and someone willing to advocate for them when they are overwhelmed. I later began working in the emergency department as a registration tech, where I saw healthcare from another perspective. I watched nurses, medics, doctors, and patients move through some of the most stressful and vulnerable moments of their lives. I also saw the reality of burnout and how easily patients can begin to feel like tasks instead of human beings. That did not scare me away from healthcare. It made me more determined to enter the field with compassion, patience, and purpose. I want to become the kind of nurse who slows down, listens, advocates for her patients, and remembers the person behind the chart. As a woman in healthcare, I hope to bring empathy, resilience, and advocacy into every space I serve. Women have often carried quiet caregiving roles in their families and communities, and I want to turn those lived experiences into leadership, education, and meaningful patient care. I want patients who feel embarrassed, forgotten, or like a burden to feel seen, respected, and cared for. My long-term goal is to become an APRN with a holistic focus and use my skills beyond traditional clinical care. I hope to serve overlooked communities through a foundation that creates safe spaces, employment opportunities, housing support, and access to compassionate healthcare for people rebuilding their lives, including homeless individuals, emancipated youth, and students who need support. I know I cannot help everyone, but every person I do help matters. Healthcare is where my story, compassion, faith, and ambition meet. I am pursuing this degree because I want to become a woman in healthcare who does more than provide care. I want to restore dignity, hope, and humanity wherever I serve.