As the bus screeched to a stop. I hurried to bore the air-conditioned Metro with my pregnant mother. I held my mother’s hand and took a seat . “Que caliente esta hoy” It’s so hot today my mom says as she wipes the drop of sweat dripping from her check. I asked my mom if we can get ice cream on the way home. My mom says “claro mija” when suddenly I feel a tap on my shoulder” Excuse me” before my mom and I could finish our conversation we are interrupted by a middle-aged lady who looked my mother and I up and down and said, “why are you speaking Spanish?” “In America we speak English if you want to speak Spanish go to Mexico” I felt my face turn bright red as a knot grow in my throat. I felt the tears pile in my eyes because I was ashamed to speak up. I felt ashamed I wasn’t able to speak up for myself and my culture. As the oldest daughter in an immigrant household, I have always had to carry an immense weight on my back. From ensuring the house was clean to making sure all my siblings were constantly well taken care of and most importantly to never share an immense secret from everyone I knew. The huge secret being that I was born in Honduras, a country that I have no memories of. For as far I can remember Houston Texas was my beloved home and I was considered “Illegal”. As a young girl it was a difficult concept to understand that because I was born in Honduras, any day I could be deported. For most of my life I’ve lived through the challenges of being different. “ Why can’t you get your driver’s license? “Why can’t you get a job?” “Why are you speaking Spanish?” “this is America”. After hearing the long list of no can do’s due to my legal statues I still remained optimistic about my future. My dream has always been to go to college, Although I know my journey is not as simple because of my legal status, that just makes me a dreamer. The good news of being optimistic for many years is that I recently received a life changing paper.The weight on my shoulder felt lighter now that I’m closer to my goal but this is just the beginning. In its own having an education is a privilege. My education is a curial aspect of my life as It’s an opportunity to repay my parents for the suffices they made to give me an education they never had. I’m incredibly privileged to have the chance to further my education and I’m filled with excitement as new chapter in my life unfolds. Every day I’m closer to making my dream a reality. My immigrant parents would ask me daily what I wanted to be when I grow up. For as long as I remember I gave them the same answer “I want to be a nurse when I grow up”. My dream is to offer compassion, empathy, and support to those who may be in physical and emotion need. My Ethnicity gives me a way to connect with patients who may not be able to speak English and allows me to build better relationship. The life as an undocumented first-generation woman comes with many challenges as facing racism and being shamed for being different but with hard work and dedication, I’m motivated to dedicate my all into my education and make my dreams a reality.

I’ve always admired how brave people in the medical field are. How they are they are able to save and help people who cannot help them self’s. Learning about how the human body works is incredible as it is one of the most complex organisms. It would be my life accomplishment to be able to save or even just help someone recover as I have when I’ve been to the hospital. I know that becoming a nurse would make a positive impact on society. I would be doing something I would enjoy be making my dreams come true of doing something to help others with my knowledge. I would like to be a member of the St. Thomas University and be involved in clubs, like I was at my school Yes Prep Brays Oaks. On campus there is a club organization called LatinxStudentAssociation in which me partake in actives to help the Latinx students celebrate our culture around campus. Similarly, I would volunteer around school helping run school activities for students and parents. My dream is to offer compassion, empathy, and support while being able to heal others. I know my dream can become a reality at St. Thomas University.

Breakfast Lunch and Dinner As I took a seat at my dining room table and stared at the food Infront of me, a haunting sensation gripped my stomach. My surroundings are filled with people chatting and the clinks of cutlery. While everyone around me enjoyed their food, I could not bring myself to take a single bite. As I see the plates next to me begin to empty, I begin to worry, my plate is still full. Slowly, I fight the terrifying feeling in my stomach, and I bring myself to eat. I know in my head exactly what is to come when my family departs, and I am left on my own. An all too familiar routine looms on my mind, I sit on my restroom floor and stare at the porcelain toilet, the nausea begins to creep, and I throw up. I stare at my body in the mirror and a sense of relief washes over me, yet deep down I am aware that this feeling is temporary. As the oldest daughter in an immigrant household, I have always had to carry an immense weight on my back. From ensuring the house was clean to making sure all my siblings were constantly well taken care of, due to having all these responsibilities from an early age, I was forced to grow up faster than most kids around me. I was forced to sacrifice my childhood to ensure my siblings had theirs. This always took a mental toll on me. The constant pressure and stress of managing the household and caring for my siblings created a toxic environment where my own needs were constantly overlooked. I found peace in controlling my eating habits. It was an aspect in my life I could manage amidst the chaos. I went months without anyone noticing, until they did. I could not hide the weight loss any longer, and my parents eventually began to realize I needed help. As I begin to sink into an outdated black leather couch my stomach consumed only with anxiety, let out a roaring growl. Wondering when this therapy session would come to an end. I’m lost in my thoughts while I continued to twist apart the hangnail on my fingernail. until I felt a sharp stabbing sting, a stream of blood drips down my finger and suddenly every thing goes quiet. “To nurture the mind, you must nurture the body.” Said my therapist. Her words pierce through my body. I realize she is right. I’m exhausted of the lingering taste of acid in my throat and the never-ending thoughts of food. Talking about how I felt gave me a rush of relief and helped clear my mind. As advised by my therapist to channel my negative thoughts into positive ones. The more I ate the more I was able to regain my mental focus. A year later I continue to attend therapy, and I can say that while it has been months, the thoughts still linger in the back of my mind. I am much healthier now and I’ve not only gained a healthy amount of weight but gained my desire to continue focusing on my education. These struggles have made me a stronger person than I was. Therapy has been one of the best things in the process of recovery. I 've learned to cope with stress and frustration in a healthy way. Through therapy I have gained coping strategies I could not have on my own. I began to wonder if I could help others in the same way. My journey of recovery has inspired me to discover my calling. I have realized I want to make people feel truly heard and accepted. Becoming a therapist is not just a career choice for me, it is a deeply personal mission. It is my way of repaying the help that has been given to me. I want to be able to tell those who are scared to seek help that they are not alone, and that prioritizing your mental health is important. My goal is to offer compassion, empathy, and support to those who may be struggling in silence just as I once was.