Watching “13 Reasons Why” as a preteen really changed my perspective on suicide. I would often think to myself that it’s impossible to have these types of feelings. 12 year old Leeah was confused and felt unsure on why someone would let the actions and words of someone else get to them. Now that I’m 18 I am a firm believer, that the way people treat you immensely shape you into the person you are today. Everyone remembers their first bully. Whether it was Sally or John who would push them at recess or say rude remarks. For me my mom was mine. She’d religiously comment on my weight because I was slender and lanky. I'd look at myself and destroy my own confidence. The hot pink mirror covered in monster-high stickers that stared at me can contest. The words “bony bitch” would come out of her mouth whenever I angered her. I often think back to what was the cause of all of this. I came to the conclusion that she was fighting an internal battle with herself. She has never officially opened up to me about what has hurt her. Psychiatric nursing has been a passion of mine, ever since I was enrolled into a psychiatric ward at a hospital when I was 14 or 15 because I attempted suicide. The nurse that I was assigned was so sweet. It was a kind of sweetness that hadn’t been taught, but just came from experience. It was the kind of sweetness that made me melt. I remember crying my eyes out and her just being able to look at me and feel, what I was feeling when she didn’t even know what I was going through. Being able to show empathy for your patient is something that not everyone is capable of. But that nurse was able to show me all of it. The satisfaction of knowing that you helped somebody or you helped someone get through a tough time that they were going through just makes me feel complete. I am very passionate about helping people because I know what it feels like to not be helped. Becoming a nurse has been a dream of mine since I was a little girl it may sound cliché, but I’ve always been wanting to help. God has a plan for me and in that plan nursing is the first thing on the list. I haven’t prepared myself really, but I do plan on furthering my education to help with planning on becoming a psychiatric nurse. I already have so much compassion and love to give out to people who are in need. I feel like with some more schooling and just being myself my career will be endless and I will help thousands of people, God willingly!

I am a high-achieveing high school scholar who has a 3.8 standing GPA. My proudest and most humbling accoplishments include me serving my community by providing selfless deeds to block out the troublesome areas in my life. I have grown to learn the importance of being encourgaing, and inspiring, as well as a person of comfort to many. Though being a leader within an organization built by my friend and her family ( Youth of the Nations). I was able to be a part of a community of people who live without the burden of perfection and always aim with purpose. I feel like with so many accomplishments you also have some blockades in the way that eventually help you get to where you need. Everyone remembers their first bully. Whether it was Sally or John who would push them at recess or say rude remarks. For me my mom was mine. She’d religiously comment on my weight because I was slender and lanky. I'd look at myself and destroy my own confidence. The hot pink mirror covered in monster-high stickers that stared at me can contest. The words “bony bitch” would come out of her mouth whenever I angered her. I often think back to what was the cause of all of this. I came to the conclusion that she was fighting an internal battle with herself. She has never officially opened up to me about what has hurt her. With all the negative I feel like God continues to throw the positive at me. With going through tough times, I continued to believe in God through it all. When i felt at my lowest journaling and prayer has kept me moving forward. Going through one of the most unfortunate times of my life I’ve tried to channel my focus into helping others. I reflected intently on my situation and how I should never let a person make me feel like that. It took some time and personal growth but, I no longer dwelled on my circumstance. I used it to encourage myself to do better. I was able to fall in love with meditation and journaling. I found Christianity on my own with the help of my friends, coming from a nonreligious family. I’ve changed my mindset to something I can’t even fathom. I don’t look at my mom as malicious. I see someone who is deeply hurting and needs help from someone willing. I want to help her but also many others who need it as well. I want to pursue psychiatric nursing. I feel like mental illness is deep rooted within your traumas that you have within yourself. Helping people has always been one of my goals in life especially since I’ve gotten a closer connection with God. I’ve always wanted to do more for myself and for others. As far as relationships I feel like having strong relationships with people, especially people with the same mindset as your own help both sides evolve into people you want to be. Especially when y’all both hold each other accountable.

The question of why do you want to be a nurse is a question that renders in my mind constantly . I instantly think of the satisfaction it feels to be able to help somebody who is in need. I think of the feeling of having someone there for you when you’re at your lowest. Ultimately, I think God has chosen me to be a nurse for people who need help. I’ve grown up with your typical African American mother, who believed in whoppings, strict rules, and cruel punishment. She was a loving mother, but she showed her love in very strange ways. I will forever make excuses on why she treats me the way she does. Being a single mother at 18 , to raising six kids by herself, to withholding physical and mental abuse. Along with generational trauma that she’s passed down I don’t think it’s her fault. I just think she needs to get the help she rightfully deserves. I want to be able to help people like my mother who hurt people because they are hurt. Psychiatric nursing has been a passion of mine, ever since I was enrolled into a psychiatric ward at a hospital when I was 14 or 15 because I attempted suicide. The nurse that I was assigned was so sweet. It was a kind of sweetness that hadn’t been taught, but just came from experience. It was the kind of sweetness that made me melt. I remember crying my eyes out and her just being able to look at me and feel, what I was feeling when she didn’t even know what I was going through. Being able to show empathy for your patient is something that not everyone is capable of. But that nurse was able to show me all of it. The satisfaction of knowing that you helped somebody or you helped someone get through a tough time that they were going through just makes me feel complete. I am very passionate about helping people because I know what it feels like to not be helped. Becoming a nurse has been a dream of mine since I was a little girl it may sound cliché, but I’ve always been wanting to help. Being able to serve my community is the biggest thanks or even helping one person see that they’re enough. God has a plan for me and in that plan nursing is the first thing on the list.

Watching “13 Reasons Why” as a preteen really changed my perspective on suicide. I would often think to myself that it’s impossible to have these types of feelings. 12 year old Leeah was confused and felt unsure on why someone would let the actions and words of someone else get to them. Now that I’m 18 I am a firm believer, that the way people treat you immensely shape you into the person you are today. I feel like the thoughts of suicide first started when I was fresh out of Junior High School. It was an immense transition, and in that transition I felt like I was lacking. The girls had developed over the summer and I haven’t. I feel like at home wasn’t really a home either. School was my escape, but I was putting on a façade for everyone. Leeah from ninth grade would be so proud of me now, to see how much I’ve grown as a woman. In ninth grade, I decided to try and swallow a mouth full of ibuprofen. Thankfully I was unsuccessful at the attempt to do so. I felt like I had no escape from the daily traumas I’ve faced at home and school life was not helping the situation either. My mom would continue to treat me like a stranger. Like she hadn’t birthed me. Like she hasn’t been the only parent in my life. She would continue to mentally abuse me. I was really insecure of my teeth and my weight my freshman year. My own mother would call me a “crooked tooth bitch” and all types of names dealing with my weight. “Bony bitch “ was her favorite phrase. I continue to make excuses for her, but she’s dealt with so much. Being a teen mom and having three kids by 23, along with being and single parent and going through abuse herself. She had so much anger pent up inside that she was taking it out on us. This would continue into present time, but right now I have grown to love myself deeply. I continue to have suicidal thoughts here and there but they fade away. I know the potential I have within myself. I continue to bet on myself and God continues to bless me. With all the negative I feel like God continues to throw the positive at me. With going through tough times, I continued to believe in God through it all. When i felt at my lowest journaling and prayer has kept me moving forward. Going through one of the most unfortunate times of my life I’ve tried to channel my focus into helping others. I am currently in a youth group that helps give back and certain God at all times. I want to become a psychiatric nurse for children, who feel like there is no way out. I want to also help people with mental illness, I feel like mental illness is deep rooted within your traumas that you have within yourself. Helping people has always been one of my goals in life especially since I’ve gotten a closer connection with God. I’ve always wanted to do more for myself and for others. As far as relationships I feel like having strong relationships with people, especially people with the same mindset as your own help both sides evolve into people you want to be. Especially when y’all both hold each other accountable. Dealing with suicide hasn’t stopped anything I continue to grow into a better person each day, and I continue to want to fight for myself and for others.

Watching “13 Reasons Why” as a preteen really changed my perspective on suicide. I would often think to myself that it’s impossible to have these types of feelings. 12 year old Leeah was confused and felt unsure on why someone would let the actions and words of someone else get to them. Now that I’m 18 I am a firm believer, that the way people treat you immensely shape you into the person you are today. I feel like the thoughts of suicide first started when I was fresh out of Junior High School. It was an immense transition, and in that transition I felt like I was lacking. The girls had developed over the summer and I haven’t. I feel like at home wasn’t really a home either. School was my escape, but I was putting on a façade for everyone. Leeah from ninth grade would be so proud of me now, to see how much I’ve grown as a woman. In ninth grade, I decided to try and swallow a mouth full of ibuprofen. Thankfully I was unsuccessful at the attempt to do so. I felt like I had no escape from the daily traumas I’ve faced at home and school life was not helping the situation either. My mom would continue to treat me like a stranger. Like she hadn’t birthed me. Like she hasn’t been the only parent in my life. She would continue to mentally abuse me. I was really insecure of my teeth and my weight my freshman year. My own mother would call me a “crooked tooth bitch” and all types of names dealing with my weight. “Bony bitch “ was her favorite phrase. I continue to make excuses for her, but she’s dealt with so much. Being a teen mom and having three kids by 23, along with being and single parent and going through abuse herself. She had so much anger pent up inside that she was taking it out on us. This would continue into present time, but right now I have grown to love myself deeply. I continue to have suicidal thoughts here and there but they fade away. I maintain my mental health by putting myself first. This is sometimes hard because I’m such a loving and compassionate person but sometimes that gets you screwed in the end. I pray constantly for guidance from God because I’m still seeking answers. But for me maintaining a healthy relationship with God motivates my wellness. Along with living my life how I want to and not what other people tell me. Blocking out the negative even when it seems impossible is also helpful as well. Journaling is the best thing that has came into my life since dealing with my mental health. Sometimes getting it all out in a piece of paper hold all the weight of the world.

Watching “13 Reasons Why” as a preteen really changed my perspective on suicide. I would often think to myself that it’s impossible to have these types of feelings. 12 year old Leeah was confused and felt unsure on why someone would let the actions and words of someone else get to them. Now that I’m 18 I am a firm believer, that the way people treat you immensely shape you into the person you are today. I feel like the thoughts of suicide first started when I was fresh out of Junior High School. It was an immense transition, and in that transition I felt like I was lacking. The girls had developed over the summer and I haven’t. I feel like at home wasn’t really a home either. School was my escape, but I was putting on a façade for everyone. Leeah from ninth grade would be so proud of me now, to see how much I’ve grown as a woman. In ninth grade, I decided to try and swallow a mouth full of ibuprofen. Thankfully I was unsuccessful at the attempt to do so. I felt like I had no escape from the daily traumas I’ve faced at home and school life was not helping the situation either. My mom would continue to treat me like a stranger. Like she hadn’t birthed me. Like she hasn’t been the only parent in my life. She would continue to mentally abuse me. I was really insecure of my teeth and my weight my freshman year. My own mother would call me a “crooked tooth bitch” and all types of names dealing with my weight. “Bony bitch “ was her favorite phrase. I continue to make excuses for her, but she’s dealt with so much. Being a teen mom and having three kids by 23, along with being and single parent and going through abuse herself. She had so much anger pent up inside that she was taking it out on us. This would continue into present time, but right now I have grown to love myself deeply. I continue to have suicidal thoughts here and there but they fade away. I know the potential I have within myself. I continue to bet on myself and God continues to bless me. With all the negative I feel like God continues to throw the positive at me. With going through tough times, I continued to believe in God through it all. When i felt at my lowest journaling and prayer has kept me moving forward. Going through one of the most unfortunate times of my life I’ve tried to channel my focus into helping others. I am currently in a youth group that helps give back and certain God at all times. I want to become a psychiatric nurse for children, who feel like there is no way out. I want to also help people with mental illness, I feel like mental illness is deep rooted within your traumas that you have within yourself. Helping people has always been one of my goals in life especially since I’ve gotten a closer connection with God. I’ve always wanted to do more for myself and for others. As far as relationships I feel like having strong relationships with people, especially people with the same mindset as your own help both sides evolve into people you want to be. Especially when y’all both hold each other accountable. Dealing with suicide hasn’t stopped anything I continue to grow into a better person each day, and I continue to want to fight for myself and for others.

“You have food, water, and a roof over your head. There’s no reason to complain when there are people who have less.” These are the words of a single mother trying to make ends meet for her 3 fatherless kids. As a child, I wanted what everyone else had. I desired the blue and pink twinkle toes and I yearned for the la la loopsy dolls. Most importantly, I craved the mom my friends always told me about. The mom that would hang out with them and talk for hours. I mourned the mom that would comfort me when I cried over the most ridiculous things. But, she did sacrifice everything for me and my sisters and I adore her for that. I’ve never gone without anything essential. She worked for everything she has today and I aspire to be that determined. But, even with her giving me all she could, I still yearned for what I heard about. “The perfect mom”. Everyone has their ups and downs but, the downs severed the ups. Maybe I’m just being dramatic or perhaps it’s just middle-child syndrome only God truly knows. But honestly, I’ve been bullied throughout my childhood and into my teens. Everyone remembers their first bully. Whether it was Sally or John who would push them at recess or say rude remarks. For me my mom was mine. She’d religiously comment on my weight because I was slender and lanky. I'd look at myself and destroy my own confidence. The hot pink mirror covered in monster-high stickers that stared at me can contest. The words “bony bitch” would come out of her mouth whenever I angered her. I often think back to what was the cause of all of this. I came to the conclusion that she was fighting an internal battle with herself. She has never officially opened up to me about what has hurt her. But nosy 11-year-old Leeah would creep outside her door and listen intently to her conversations about my father. I’ve never really known this man, so any information I was quick to listen to. She would tell all these stories of what he’s done to her physically and mentally. I was always told that I looked like my father by family, imagine that. I’d never want to remind my mother of someone who hurt her so intensely. But on the contrary, she’d do what he did to her to me. Quarantine came and I was stuck home with three troublesome siblings. Aiding to bandage calls and sippy cup refills. Running back and forth from computer to computer trying to help two people, myself, and make sure a third is entertained. My mom was an essential worker. She was never home and when she was I wished she would go back to work. I reflected intently on my situation and how I should never let a person make me feel like that. It took some time and personal growth but, I no longer dwelled on my circumstance. I used it to encourage myself to do better. All while maintaining 3 catty sisters I was able to fall in love with meditation and journaling. I found Christianity on my own with the help of my friends, coming from a nonreligious family. I’ve changed my mindset to something I can’t even fathom. I don’t look at my mom as malicious. I see someone who is deeply hurting and needs help from someone willing. I want to help her but also many others who need it as well. I want to pursue psychiatric nursing.

"I remember being scared to go home-, Why don't you hold me (I just wanna be held)". These are lines from the song Home by Brent Faiyaz. I portray the song as bringing awareness to school along with family struggles. I can relate to both because school does get overwhelming at times and we all just want to quit. Along with tests, homework, and classwork being scheduled on a daily basis. In the song, the artist talks about his mom being upset with him and wanting to be held. The message I got from that is that even though we do mess up sometimes we are still your child at the end of the day. The parent degrading the child and calling them names only hurts the relationship. The initial message I got from this song was to never give up on what you believe in. That you are not defined by what school tests say about you or what your parents say about you. You are way more worthy than a number. Choose yourself over everything.

“You have food, water, and a roof over your head. There’s no reason to complain when there are people who have less.” These are the words of a single mother trying to make ends meet for her 3 fatherless kids. As a child, I wanted what everyone else had. I desired the blue and pink twinkle toes and I yearned for the la la loopsy dolls. Most importantly, I craved the mom my friends always told me about. The mom that would hang out with them and talk for hours. I mourned the mom that would comfort me when I cried over the most ridiculous things. But, she did sacrifice everything for me and my sisters and I adore her for that. I’ve never gone without anything essential. She worked for everything she has today and I aspire to be that determined. But, even with her giving me all she could, I still yearned for what I heard about. “The perfect mom”. Everyone has their ups and downs but, the downs severed the ups. Maybe I’m just being dramatic or perhaps it’s just middle-child syndrome only God truly knows. But honestly, I’ve been bullied throughout my childhood and into my teens. Everyone remembers their first bully. Whether it was Sally or John who would push them at recess or say rude remarks. For me my mom was mine. She’d religiously comment on my weight because I was slender and lanky. I'd look at myself and destroy my own confidence. The hot pink mirror covered in monster-high stickers that stared at me can contest. The words “bony bitch” would come out of her mouth whenever I angered her. I often think back to what was the cause of all of this. I came to the conclusion that she was fighting an internal battle with herself. She has never officially opened up to me about what has hurt her. But nosy 11-year-old Leeah would creep outside her door and listen intently to her conversations about my father. I’ve never really known this man, so any information I was quick to listen to. She would tell all these stories of what he’s done to her physically and mentally. I was always told that I looked like my father by family, imagine that. I’d never want to remind my mother of someone who hurt her so intensely. But on the contrary, she’d do what he did to her to me. Quarantine came and I was stuck home with three troublesome siblings. Aiding to bandage calls and sippy cup refills. Running back and forth from computer to computer trying to help two people, myself, and make sure a third is entertained. My mom was an essential worker. She was never home and when she was I wished she would go back to work. I reflected intently on my situation and how I should never let a person make me feel like that. It took some time and personal growth but, I no longer dwelled on my circumstance. I used it to encourage myself to do better. All while maintaining 3 catty sisters I was able to fall in love with meditation and journaling. I found Christianity on my own with the help of my friends, coming from a nonreligious family. I’ve changed my mindset to something I can’t even fathom. I don’t look at my mom as malicious. I see someone who is deeply hurting and needs help from someone willing. I want to help her but also many others who need it as well. I want to pursue psychiatric nursing.

“You have food, water, and a roof over your head. There’s no reason to complain when there are people who have less.” These are the words of a single mother trying to make ends meet for her 3 fatherless kids. As a child, I wanted what everyone else had. I desired the blue and pink twinkle toes and I yearned for the la la loopsy dolls. Most importantly, I craved the mom my friends always told me about. The mom that would hang out with them and talk for hours. I mourned the mom that would comfort me when I cried over the most ridiculous things. But, she did sacrifice everything for me and my sisters and I adore her for that. I’ve never gone without anything essential. She worked for everything she has today and I aspire to be that determined. But, even with her giving me all she could, I still yearned for what I heard about. “The perfect mom”. Everyone has their ups and downs but, the downs severed the ups. Maybe I’m just being dramatic or perhaps it’s just middle-child syndrome only God truly knows. But honestly, I’ve been bullied throughout my childhood and into my teens. Everyone remembers their first bully. Whether it was Sally or John who would push them at recess or say rude remarks. For me my mom was mine. She’d religiously comment on my weight because I was slender and lanky. I'd look at myself and destroy my own confidence. The hot pink mirror covered in monster-high stickers that stared at me can contest. The words “bony bitch” would come out of her mouth whenever I angered her. I often think back to what was the cause of all of this. I came to the conclusion that she was fighting an internal battle with herself. She has never officially opened up to me about what has hurt her. But nosy 11-year-old Leeah would creep outside her door and listen intently to her conversations about my father. I’ve never really known this man, so any information I was quick to listen to. She would tell all these stories of what he’s done to her physically and mentally. I was always told that I looked like my father by family, imagine that. I’d never want to remind my mother of someone who hurt her so intensely. But on the contrary, she’d do what he did to her to me. Quarantine came and I was stuck home with three troublesome siblings. Aiding to bandage calls and sippy cup refills. Running back and forth from computer to computer trying to help two people, myself, and make sure a third is entertained. My mom was an essential worker. She was never home and when she was I wished she would go back to work. I reflected intently on my situation and how I should never let a person make me feel like that. It took some time and personal growth but, I no longer dwelled on my circumstance. I used it to encourage myself to do better. All while maintaining 3 catty sisters I was able to fall in love with meditation and journaling. I found Christianity on my own with the help of my friends, coming from a nonreligious family. I’ve changed my mindset to something I can’t even fathom. I don’t look at my mom as malicious. I see someone who is deeply hurting and needs help from someone willing. I want to help her but also many others who need it as well. I want to pursue psychiatric nursing.

I NEED to succeed not only in college but also in life. I am a first-generation college student, so I really don't have the parental push for going to college. No one really knows how this whole process works so I have to be that person for myself. It is very stressful doing this alone as well. In the end, it will all work out god willingly. I just know what I want and the dedication and drive I have to succeed. I want to make my mom proud of me, she barely tells me she is so I feel like me getting into a college and chasing a degree will help. She barely had a life due to her getting pregnant young. Along with my father being absent, she was the only one providing for 3 young kids by 22. I want to be able to get this degree to help her. She's helped me my entire life and I want to be that person for her now. I degree in Nursing would also help me accomplish my own goals. I always pray about what I would major in. God revealed to me that it should be Nursing due to me having passion for helping people that are in direct need. Another benefit would be the money. I come from a low-income house where hand-me-downs were all I've known. The money aspect would be a plus because I would be able to experience things I was never able to do before. I'm very family oriented so I would bless my family with what I have to offer from my degree. I can't do much now but with the help of this scholarship, it would help to further my education in nursing and help me be able to go to school.

“You have food, water, and a roof over your head. There’s no reason to complain when there are people who have less.” These are the words of a single mother trying to make ends meet for her 3 fatherless kids. As a child, I wanted what everyone else had. I desired the blue and pink twinkle toes and I yearned for the la la loopsy dolls. Most importantly, I craved the mom my friends always told me about. The mom that would hang out with them and talk for hours. I mourned the mom that would comfort me when I cried over the most ridiculous things. But, she did sacrifice everything for me and my sisters and I adore her for that. I’ve never gone without anything essential. She worked for everything she has today and I aspire to be that determined. But, even with her giving me all she could, I still yearned for what I heard about. “The perfect mom”. Everyone has their ups and downs but, the downs severed the ups. Maybe I’m just being dramatic or perhaps it’s just middle-child syndrome only God truly knows. But honestly, I’ve been bullied throughout my childhood and into my teens. Everyone remembers their first bully. Whether it was Sally or John who would push them at recess or say rude remarks. For me my mom was mine. She’d religiously comment on my weight because I was slender and lanky. I'd look at myself and destroy my own confidence. The hot pink mirror covered in monster-high stickers that stared at me can contest. The words “bony bitch” would come out of her mouth whenever I angered her. I often think back to what was the cause of all of this. I came to the conclusion that she was fighting an internal battle with herself. She has never officially opened up to me about what has hurt her. But nosy 11-year-old Leeah would creep outside her door and listen intently to her conversations about my father. I’ve never really known this man, so any information I was quick to listen to. She would tell all these stories of what he’s done to her physically and mentally. I was always told that I looked like my father by family, imagine that. I’d never want to remind my mother of someone who hurt her so intensely. But on the contrary, she’d do what he did to her to me. Quarantine came and I was stuck home with three troublesome siblings. Aiding to bandage calls and sippy cup refills. Running back and forth from computer to computer trying to help two people, myself, and make sure a third is entertained. My mom was an essential worker. She was never home and when she was I wished she would go back to work. I reflected intently on my situation and how I should never let a person make me feel like that. It took some time and personal growth but, I no longer dwelled on my circumstance. I used it to encourage myself to do better. All while maintaining 3 catty sisters I was able to fall in love with meditation and journaling. I found Christianity on my own with the help of my friends, coming from a nonreligious family. I’ve changed my mindset to something I can’t even fathom. I don’t look at my mom as malicious. I see someone who is deeply hurting and needs help from someone willing. I want to help her but also many others who need it as well. I want to pursue psychiatric nursing.

“You have food, water, and a roof over your head. There’s no reason to complain when there are people who have less.” These are the words of a single mother trying to make ends meet for her 3 fatherless kids. As a child, I wanted what everyone else had. I desired the blue and pink twinkle toes and I yearned for the la la loopsy dolls. Most importantly, I craved the mom my friends always told me about. The mom that would hang out with them and talk for hours. I mourned the mom that would comfort me when I cried over the most ridiculous things. But, she did sacrifice everything for me and my sisters and I adore her for that. I’ve never gone without anything essential. She worked for everything she has today and I aspire to be that determined. But, even with her giving me all she could, I still yearned for what I heard about. “The perfect mom”. Everyone has their ups and downs but, the downs severed the ups. Maybe I’m just being dramatic or perhaps it’s just middle-child syndrome only God truly knows. But honestly, I’ve been bullied throughout my childhood and into my teens. Everyone remembers their first bully. Whether it was Sally or John who would push them at recess or say rude remarks. For me my mom was mine. She’d religiously comment on my weight because I was slender and lanky. I'd look at myself and destroy my own confidence. The hot pink mirror covered in monster-high stickers that stared at me can contest. The words “bony bitch” would come out of her mouth whenever I angered her. I often think back to what was the cause of all of this. I came to the conclusion that she was fighting an internal battle with herself. She has never officially opened up to me about what has hurt her. But nosy 11-year-old Leeah would creep outside her door and listen intently to her conversations about my father. I’ve never really known this man, so any information I was quick to listen to. She would tell all these stories of what he’s done to her physically and mentally. I was always told that I looked like my father by family, imagine that. I’d never want to remind my mother of someone who hurt her so intensely. But on the contrary, she’d do what he did to her to me. Quarantine came and I was stuck home with three troublesome siblings. Aiding to bandage calls and sippy cup refills. Running back and forth from computer to computer trying to help two people, myself, and make sure a third is entertained. My mom was an essential worker. She was never home and when she was I wished she would go back to work. I reflected intently on my situation and how I should never let a person make me feel like that. It took some time and personal growth but, I no longer dwelled on my circumstance. I used it to encourage myself to do better. All while maintaining 3 catty sisters I was able to fall in love with meditation and journaling. I found Christianity on my own with the help of my friends, coming from a nonreligious family. I’ve changed my mindset to something I can’t even fathom. I don’t look at my mom as malicious. I see someone who is deeply hurting and needs help from someone willing. I want to help her but also many others who need it as well. I want to pursue psychiatric nursing, to especially help people who have gone through traumatic experiences in their lives. I truly believe God has put me on this Earth to help people. I can't do much now but, by furthering my education I will be able to attain so much more knowledge and the capability to help way more.

“You have food, water, and a roof over your head. There’s no reason to complain when there are people who have less.” These are the words of a single mother trying to make ends meet for her 3 fatherless kids. As a child, I wanted what everyone else had. I desired the blue and pink twinkle toes and I yearned for the la la loopsy dolls. Most importantly, I craved the mom my friends always told me about. The mom that would hang out with them and talk for hours. I mourned the mom that would comfort me when I cried over the most ridiculous things. But, she did sacrifice everything for me and my sisters and I adore her for that. I’ve never gone without anything essential. She worked for everything she has today and I aspire to be that determined. But, even with her giving me all she could, I still yearned for what I heard about. “The perfect mom”. Everyone has their ups and downs but, the downs severed the ups. Maybe I’m just being dramatic or perhaps it’s just middle-child syndrome only God truly knows. But honestly, I’ve been bullied throughout my childhood and into my teens. Everyone remembers their first bully. Whether it was Sally or John who would push them at recess or say rude remarks. For me my mom was mine. She’d religiously comment on my weight because I was slender and lanky. I'd look at myself and destroy my own confidence. The hot pink mirror covered in monster-high stickers that stared at me can contest. The words “bony bitch” would come out of her mouth whenever I angered her. I often think back to what was the cause of all of this. I came to the conclusion that she was fighting an internal battle with herself. She has never officially opened up to me about what has hurt her. But nosy 11-year-old Leeah would creep outside her door and listen intently to her conversations about my father. I’ve never really known this man, so any information I was quick to listen to. She would tell all these stories of what he’s done to her physically and mentally. I was always told that I looked like my father by family, imagine that. I’d never want to remind my mother of someone who hurt her so intensely. But on the contrary, she’d do what he did to her to me. Quarantine came and I was stuck home with three troublesome siblings. Aiding to bandage calls and sippy cup refills. Running back and forth from computer to computer trying to help two people, myself, and make sure a third is entertained. My mom was an essential worker. She was never home and when she was I wished she would go back to work. I reflected intently on my situation and how I should never let a person make me feel like that. It took some time and personal growth but, I no longer dwelled on my circumstance. I used it to encourage myself to do better. All while maintaining 3 catty sisters I was able to fall in love with meditation and journaling. I found Christianity on my own with the help of my friends, coming from a nonreligious family. I’ve changed my mindset to something I can’t even fathom. I don’t look at my mom as malicious. I see someone who is deeply hurting and needs help from someone willing. I want to help her but also many others who need it as well. I want to pursue psychiatric nursing, to especially help people who have gone through traumatic experiences in their lives. I truly believe God has put me on this Earth to help people. I can't do much now but, by furthering my education I will be able to attain so much more knowledge and the capability to help way more.