On September 4th, 2024, my hometown of Winder, Georgia went from a town in the middle of nowhere to one of the hundreds of towns in the United States that had endured the severe tragedy of a school shooting. In the wake of what had happened at our sister high school, our community came together to mourn those that we had lost and find ways to move on. For the next week, schools were shut down and students stayed home, but instead of shutting us out and forcing us to deal with the mental recoil on our own, the schools extended their hands out to us in the form of professional crisis counseling. Though I never personally interacted with these crisis counselors, I did have the pleasure of meeting an emotional support dog and talking to his owner about the situation and her job. Hearing first-hand the kinds of experiences she has had and the places she has been was inspiring, and though I never planned on becoming a handler for an emotional support dog, my interest in crisis counseling did begin to spark. I have been interested in psychology and mental health counseling since middle school, so I always knew what my career would be and what education I needed to get there. However, as my path continued to cross with crisis counseling throughout my senior year, I became more and more interested with the prospect of becoming a crisis counselor myself. Helping people through hard times in their lives had always been my main goal, so being accessible in the wake of tragedies to provide support for those who need it was not too far off. And though I plan to continue on with my original plan to be a mental health counselor, I hope to do both types of counseling throughout my time in the career field of psychology. Helping people to achieve a better state of mental health has been and always will be my main goal. Even if I am only able to help a few people-- even if I am only able to save one person--, I plan to put everything I have into being a mental health counselor and providing those services for children, teenagers, and young adults who need my help the most. Being the support that they need is a goal I will never let go of. The tragedy at Apalachee was a turning point in the lives of hundreds of people, myself included. The ordeal itself and the chaos that followed inspired me to not only solidify my aspirations of being a mental health counselor, but also to work in crisis counseling to help those vulnerable individuals who need support the most. While I work in this field, I plan to give aid to as many people as I can, and even after I retire, I plan to teach psychology to the next generation to preserve the integrity of the mental health system. My path with this field has crossed, and I know I will follow it as far as it will let me.

As someone who dislikes change, my experience with my sexuality and gender identity has always been uncomfortable for me. From beginning seventh grade confident in my bisexuality to ending high school as a lesbian, I’ve struggled just to figure out who I’m attracted to—let alone settle on a gender identity that feels right. There’s also the ongoing struggle of finding a label that truly fits how I feel. And throughout it all, I’ve dealt not only with my own doubts and self-conscious thoughts but also with the disapproval of people who are supposed to support me. Between the constant change and the backlash I’ve faced just for being myself, I’ve had a hard time being understanding and appreciative of my identity. However, thanks to the support of friends, teachers, and other outside influences, I’ve found ways to cope with the ever-shifting, often frustrating journey of discovering who I am. By the time Christmas break rolled around in seventh grade, I knew I wasn’t straight. I never questioned my attraction to girls and women after sixth grade, but the transition from identifying as straight to identifying as bisexual was hard—especially in a conservative area where queer identities are often misunderstood or rejected, particularly by middle schoolers repeating what they hear at home. By the time I reached high school, I began to realize that my attraction to men was much less frequent than I thought. Over the next four years, I gradually came to terms with the fact that I’m a lesbian. My sexuality is now the part of my identity I feel most confident in. More specifically, I identify as a panromantic lesbian—a label that feels more right than any I’ve used before. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for my gender identity. I vividly remember sitting in a Dairy Queen when I was eight or nine years old, hearing my mom say there were only two genders. She followed it up with, “Saying you’re ‘x’ is wrong,” and those words stuck with me more than I expected. So, when I started experiencing gender dysphoria in eighth grade, I did everything I could to ignore it. But I couldn’t run from it forever. I began high school identifying as gender-fluid, and over the years, my label changed many times—non-binary, demigirl, demiboy, agender, genderflux. One after another, I tried on these identities, searching for one that felt right. In sophomore year, I decided to settle on non-binary after learning it was an umbrella term. Since then, I’ve continued searching for a label that better fits me, but I haven’t found one yet. And while my gender identity remains unclear, the attention I receive because of it is undeniable. Being raised in Georgia has its perks, but one major downside is the homophobia that still exists among older generations. While students and teachers are often accepting, parents and school administrators tend not to be—and it’s exhausting to deal with. Still, I stand my ground alongside the other queer kids in my community. We support and uplift each other in ways we all wish the world would. The broader community around us may feel toxic at times, but the one we’ve created is warm, uplifting, and full of love. And if I had to choose again, I would choose to be part of the LGBTQIA+ community every single time.

Flour Forest Hope Honey Rose Sugar Male Cabin Knight Baby October Faith April Sell Cupcake Candle *** YELLOW: Sugar, Honey, Cupcake, Baby (Endearing Names) Each of these words can be used as endearing pet names for a girlfriend. They are all common enough to be recognized, but not obvious enough to pick out at first glance. GREEN: October, Forest, Candle, Cabin (Gives Off Eerie Vibes) Each of these words represent a noun or a time that can be considered eerie or creepy. It is less noticeable than the pet names, but more noticeable than the others. BLUE: Flour, Male, Knight, Sell (Homophones) Each of these words are homophones. Flour vs flower, male vs mail, knight vs night, and sell vs cell. PURPLE: April, Hope, Rose, Faith (Female Names/Also Nouns) Each of these words represent common female names, but also a noun. It is the hardest group to find. *** Connections Meant to Confuse: 1. Flour, Sugar, Honey. All baking ingredients, no obvious fourth pick. 2. April and October. Both months, no other obvious picks. 3. Candle and Cupcake. Both relating to birthdays, could be connected with (1). 4. Knight, Male, Baby. All pertaining to humans, no obvious fourth pick. 5. Forest, Rose, Cabin. All pertaining to outdoors, no obvious fourth pick. 6. Faith and Hope. Reasoning could be wrong (feelings/emotions vs names)

Growing up with strict parents meant that the array of movies I was allowed to watch without direct supervision was quite limited. Most of the films I consumed had their origins in the ever-expanding world of Disney, but as a kid, I did not mind watching Cinderella try to outrun midnight or laughing at a well-timed joke in Hercules. Those movies were my childhood, and though some were better than others, they will all forever hold a place in my heart. Above all others, for me, is The Princess and the Frog. I found some of my greatest inspiration nestled in the colorful depictions of the bayou and amidst the catchy lyrics of each and every song. Though I once related more to Lottie and her obsession with the fairytale at face value, I have recently realized that it is the story itself that I connect with more deeply. The Princess and the Frog taught me lessons that I still honor and apply to this day. Most importantly, it taught me that the things I want are worth working hard for. As someone who thrives on the short-lived sense of completion rather than the more rewarding satisfaction that comes after finishing a task, I find it incredibly difficult to begin something I know will take time. Because I focus more on finishing tasks for the sake of being done, rather than appreciating the value of the outcome—even if the reward is something I truly want—procrastination becomes my biggest enemy. If the work required outweighs the brief sense of satisfaction I expect to get, I simply will not start it. Even as a child, The Princess and the Frog taught me that the effort is worthwhile, even if the outcome is not my sole motivation. Tiana worked hard to achieve her dream of opening a restaurant in her father's memory, and she poured herself into that goal because she knew it would be worth it. Watching her on my family’s TV, putting in long hours of work and traveling across New Orleans to buy an old building and turn it into something great, was incredibly encouraging for me both as a child and now as a young adult. Of course, I am not planning to open a restaurant anytime soon, but I can replace that building with my college education, and suddenly, I have something worth working toward. The weight of my tasks builds on my shoulders like bricks, no matter how big or small they are. Over my eighteen years, I have found it difficult to tackle these tasks because of how little satisfaction I feel after completing them. But seeing Tiana work so hard, for so long, for what started as an empty, abandoned building gave me a glimmer of light in the dark. She took something that seemed insignificant and turned it into something special. Like her, I plan to focus on earning my college degree—not because it gives me a fleeting sense of accomplishment, but because it opens the door for me to pursue my dreams. The Princess and the Frog taught me how to motivate myself, and that is a lesson that will stick with me for the rest of my life. Perhaps it is not the most impactful lesson that I will ever learn, but it has undeniably changed the way I approach and complete daunting tasks.

Throughout my years of high school, luck has been on my side with the supportive selection of teachers who have spent their time to mold me into the person that I am today. Above all others, however, is my AP Literature teacher. Through weekly timed essays, student-led Socratic seminars, and too many presentation projects to count, my AP Lit teacher, Mr. Perry, taught me that confidence in myself is the quickest way to academic success. Even more powerful than that, alongside his steady encouragement and the high standards he set for all of his students, he found ways to engage with students on an individual level that allowed for personalized aid, and it is through this individuality that I found myself healing from an emotional wound I had not even known about. One of the most influential lessons we had was centered around Barbara Kingsolver's "Poisonwood Bible", which was taught to us through individual reading, chapter-by-chapter class discussions, and essays devoted forcing us to flesh out the real meaning of the passages instead of taking them at face value. As someone whose relationship with religion is less than comforting, I found the book hard to stomach and would often put off reading until the day before it was due, trying to save myself from the aching discomfort of reading about someone else's religious trauma. Inevitably, this half-attempted way of reading led to the steady decline in my scores on my seminars and essays, and I found myself slipping away from the salutatorian spot that I had been holding so firmly since freshman year. AP Lit was dragging me down, and though I tried my hardest, fighting back against the weight on my shoulders was futile. I had no solution, and thus, I continued to let the problem fester. By the second seminar that I sat silently through-- something I had never done before--, and after turning in a blank timed essay, Mr. Perry called me in after class to discuss the sudden decline in my performance. After trying to save myself from the embarrassment of admitting I was struggling because of a book's effect on me, I eventually caved and explained my situation. The only word that can describe how I felt in that moment is 'small'. Throughout his class, I had consistently spoken out in seminars and scored higher than my classmates on the essays, and there I was admitting that I was crumbling because I could not face the book head-on. I expected him to laugh, not that he had given me any reason to expect such a reaction. But he did not laugh. In fact, the reaction he had given me was quite the opposite. After a fairly vulnerable conversation about our shared religious trauma, I managed to find comfort in knowing he had healed from his. We discussed the parts of the book that affected me the most, and we tackled them bit by bit. Within twenty minutes, I understood more of the book than I had in multiple weeks; and with it, I gained a new outlook on how my experience with religion was affecting my interactions with the world. By the end of our discussion, I was able to read the book without feeling like bricks were resting on my chest. And now, even though I hold no faith in any particular religion, I can discuss them and stomach literature about them. Mr. Perry may have improved my writing to a degree that I will always be thankful for, but it was his willingness to support me that truly led to my academic success.

Though I have passed through many phases of my mental health journey that have been less than desirable, most recently I suffered from intense anxiety spurred on by the stresses of working through the gifted/AP path in high school. Whether or not I wished to pursue this pathway as an incoming freshman, I was challenged by my parents and my school counselor to hold onto my place as the salutatorian of my graduating class (a rank that has now been solidified), leading me to take on harder classes with higher impacts on my GPA. Between the expectations, the coursework, and the intensity of these more difficult classes, the stress built into a full four-year stretch of anxiety that oftentimes left me reaching out to find help wherever I could get it. Coming from a family who has faith in a religion that does not support mental health services, I had to pave my own path to the help that I so desperately needed. Throughout freshman year, I watched myself spiral from a distance whilst engaging in nervous habits like picking at my eyelashes or biting my lip until it bled, both becoming so common that I couldn't go a day without one or the other. My anxiety peaked in sophomore year, where the stress of three AP classes at once all settled in on my shoulders, and after too long suffering under stress that my parents had convinced me was necessary, I finally sought out help in the form of my AP Psychology teacher. Her expectations of me were not nearly as high as the rest of the people in my environment at the time, and at the beginning of the year, she took one look at the courses I was taking and promised she would find a way to help me. And, now as a senior who is graduating as salutatorian without those same stressors on my shoulders, I can say that she was successful. We began by changing my study habits and working on time management, both being skills I lacked or had been using ineffectively. Within months, I had a system in place, and where I once was drowning, I found myself flourishing in my classes. Keeping track of deadlines in a planner, setting aside time for homework, asking for help when I need it; all of these being things I learned from my AP Psychology teacher. These new habits of mine helped me manage the stress of the class schedule I had, and throughout junior and senior year, they have kept me afloat during times I once would have drowned. And, with these stresses being lifted off of my shoulders, I was able to manage the anxiety that came with them. The biggest lesson I have learned throughout my time in high school, both from the experience with my anxiety and just as a student in general, I have learned that it is important to have a foundation of supportive people who want to see you succeed. It is because of my AP Psychology teacher that I will be giving the welcoming speech at graduation. And as someone who has reached out for help and has seen the difference that support can make in a life, I have dedicated myself to being that support for other people. By pursuing a degree in psychology, I will set myself up to one day become a mental health counselor, and I will help children, teenagers, and young adults manage the stresses of life, just as my AP Psychology teacher did for me.

I have had a genuine passion for the field of psychology since I was in middle school, but I truly solidified my aspirations to obtain a degree in the field when I pleaded my case to my school counselor so I could be in AP Psychology as a sophomore, even when our school usually offers the AP Psychology class exclusively to seniors. Fighting for a spot against seniors looking for an extra AP class was not easy, but by the time the next January rolled around, I was seated in the AP Psychology class. One sophomore in a sea of seniors, but I held my own and ended the class with a 100 and with a 4 on the AP exam. Since taking part in that AP Psychology class, I have been on a one-way track to getting my bachelor’s degree in psychology, and I know that I will not stop working towards that degree until I have it in my hands. And even after graduating with my undergraduate degree, I intend to immediately enroll in a master’s degree program, and then a PhD to further my understanding of psychology. The allure of a quality higher education is far too strong for me to ignore, and so I have dedicated my high school years and will dedicate my undergraduate years to obtaining the education I need so that I can continue onto the next step when the opportunity arises. All of this, all my education, will eventually culminate in my career as a counselor for children and teenagers. This is my dream, and the money I receive from the scholarships I have the honor of winning will ensure that I am capable of making this dream my reality. Post-secondary education is extremely important to me, and it is vital to my ability to become a counselor later in life. But in order to become a counselor, I have to start with my bachelor’s degree. And in order to begin my bachelor’s degree, I have to start with figuring out how to financially handle the cost of education at Valdosta State University. Obtaining my bachelor’s degree with a minimal amount of student debt will allow me to smoothly transition from my undergraduate degree to my graduate degree, and the financial support I will receive from this scholarship will become the foundation of my first year in college. Receiving this scholarship would be a great honor, and it would help me achieve my goals of obtaining my bachelor’s degree, which will serve as the first step in a long line of steps necessary before I can call myself a true counselor. Thank you for this opportunity and thank you for considering me for such a generous donation.

I have been writing fictional stories since I was seven or eight years old, scribbling down paragraphs upon paragraphs in my messy handwriting in old pink notebooks I could not find today if I tried. Writing was a part of who I was, and it consumed almost every free moment I had. Watching my brother's baseball or basketball games, going on long car rides, even sitting at home. Wherever I was, everyone always knew I was writing something. And, even as my goal for college shifts away from the Creative Writing major I had always wanted, writing will continue to be an important part of my life. It will continue to be something that defines who I am. As I grow older and my writing style changes, I find myself even more infatuated with the idea of creating an entire universe on a piece of paper or a blank document online. All my stories, which remain works in progress, have expanded rapidly as my vocabulary and writing style have become more sophisticated. Writing can be incredibly dynamic, and mine is a clear indicator that writing grows with the author. That is one of the things I love most about writing-- that it is always changing. No matter what I go through or how long I spend away from my stories, I always grow from time that has passed and the experiences I have had. One such experience is a year spent in my AP Language class with the nicest and most influential English teacher I have ever had. My writing, though it was just writing for essays, improved incredibly, and this bled into how I write my personal stories. Even though I continue to add to my works in progress almost every day, my college plans have changed since I was eight years old. I used to believe wholeheartedly that I would attend a liberal arts college and take as many writing classes as possible to attain a Creative Writing degree. But as I grew older, my goals changed. Now, I'm applying to colleges to earn a Psychology degree. However, regardless of what major I obtain while in college, I will never forget my writing roots. Creative writing classes, playwriting classes, and any other class that can help improve my writing will be the first electives on my list when I go to choose my classes at orientation. I cannot think of a better way to spend my time in college than to spend it doing what I love. Writing has taught me so much in life, so why not take some classes specifically designed to let it teach me more? As I change and as my writing changes with me, I realize more and more how much of myself is based around the stories I have created. From my characters' personalities matching mine to the evil villains vaguely resembling my academic rivals, so much of my life has been built on my writing and what I have learned to improve it. And even though my goal in college has changed, my love for writing and my willingness to never stop learning how to do it better never will.