When I think back to my childhood, the moment that changed everything happened when I was just six years old. My mom came home from work one evening, and she had promised we would watch Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer together. I was excited, but the second she walked through the door, I knew something was terribly wrong. Her skin was hot, her fever was over 105 degrees, and she could barely stand. My older brother had to carry her to the car because she was so weak. I remember begging her to get help, terrified that she might never come back. She was rushed to the hospital, and that night became the start of nine long days that felt like forever. My mom had sepsis caused by severe diverticulitis, and she almost died. At six years old, I didn’t understand everything medically, but I understood fear. I understood watching the strongest person I knew fight for her life. That experience stayed with me, shaping the way I see the world and the way I see myself. It wasn’t just traumatic—it changed the entire direction of my life. After she survived, things were never the same. The damage from the infection left her unable to work, and our family faced years of financial hardship. I watched my mom struggle physically and emotionally, yet she still tried her best to love me and raise me with everything she had left. Seeing her push through pain and exhaustion taught me what real strength looks like. It also showed me how deeply a parent’s illness affects their children. That understanding is one of the biggest reasons I’ve always known I wanted to go into the medical field. I want to help others the way I wish someone could have helped us. I want to support families, especially children, who feel scared and confused when their mothers or caregivers are sick. I know what it’s like to feel helpless, and I want to be someone who brings comfort, clarity, and care during those moments. Over the years, I’ve taken on responsibilities to help my mom with her medical needs and lighten the burdens she can’t carry anymore. I’ve worked hard in school and stayed focused on my goals, even when life has been difficult. I take pride in being strong for my mom, just like she has always tried to be strong for me. This scholarship would make a meaningful difference for us. It would help me continue my education and move closer to a career where I can give back to families like mine. My mom has shown me that even when you don’t have much, you can still give love, support, and hope. I carry that lesson with me, and it’s what drives me to follow my dreams and help others heal.

The Giles family motto, “the two most important things are to be nice and hard working,” is something I’ve had to live by long before I ever read it. Growing up with parents who struggled with addiction meant that kindness and hard work weren’t just values — they were survival skills. I learned early that being gentle with others, even when life felt heavy, mattered. And I learned that working hard was the only way I could build a future different from the one I was born into. School became my escape. When home felt unpredictable, school felt steady. When addiction created chaos, education gave me structure. When finances were tight and stability was fragile, learning gave me hope. My advanced courses, especially Dual Enrollment, became the place where I could breathe, focus, and imagine a future beyond the circumstances I grew up in. They didn’t just challenge me academically — they taught me how to stay disciplined, how to communicate respectfully, and how to treat people with kindness even when I was carrying my own struggles silently. Dual Enrollment pushed me into college-level expectations while I was still navigating instability at home. I had to learn how to manage deadlines, advocate for myself, and stay organized without anyone reminding me. I also learned how to support classmates who were overwhelmed, because I understood what it felt like to be stretched thin. In those classrooms, kindness wasn’t optional — it was what kept us all going. Hard work wasn’t just about grades — it was about proving to myself that I could rise above everything happening around me. These experiences shaped my dream of becoming a NICU nurse. NICU nursing requires compassion, patience, and the ability to stay calm in moments when families are facing their hardest days. Growing up in Easley, SC, I saw how addiction affects mothers, families, and newborns. I saw how babies can enter the world already fighting battles they never chose. Those experiences lit a fire in me — a desire to be the person who shows up with gentleness, strength, and hope when families need it most. Kindness and hard work are the foundation of NICU nursing, and they are the foundation of who I am. Financial hardship has made my path to higher education incredibly difficult. Addiction in my family didn’t just create emotional challenges — it created long-term financial ones. There was no college fund, no safety net, no backup plan. Every step toward college has required determination, planning, and sacrifice. Scholarships aren’t just helpful for me — they are essential. Without them, pursuing nursing would be nearly impossible. But these challenges have also shaped me into someone who doesn’t give up. I’ve learned how to stretch every dollar, research financial aid, and stay motivated even when the cost of college feels overwhelming. I’ve learned how to keep going, even when life feels unfair.The Giles family motto reflects the values I’ve lived by my entire life: be nice, be hardworking, and keep moving forward. My advanced courses strengthened those values. My financial circumstances tested them. And my future goals show how deeply I want to use them to help others. I am ready to grow, ready to work hard, and ready to make a difference.