I am pursuing a degree in mental health because I have lived on both sides of the struggle—as someone who has needed understanding and as someone who has learned how to find it. My path has been shaped by a series of experiences that taught me, firsthand, how deeply our minds and bodies are connected in times of crisis. My journey began as a child fighting cancer, an experience that introduced me to fear and resilience before I even knew the words. Ontop of my pediatric cancer diagnosis I suffered a spinal cord injury. I faced a different kind of battle: the loneliness and frustration of being defined by my wheelchair in school, singled out and separated when all I wanted was to belong. Those years taught me that emotional pain can be as isolating as any physical limitation. To move forward, I had to learn to shift my own mindset—to choose hope, even when it felt out of reach. That practice didn’t just help me survive; it showed me that healing is an active choice and starts within. My family’s story deepened this understanding. My father lost everything in the 9/11 attacks—his business, his friends, his sense of stability. I watched as his grief turned inward, leading to a long and difficult struggle with alcohol additiction. Throughout it all, my mother was our anchor. She cared for him, for me through my own health battles, and for our entire family including my two older brothers, often putting her own well-being quietly aside. In witnessing her quiet strength and her silent exhaustion, I learned another critical truth: the mental health of the caregiver is just as vital as that of the patient. When the person who holds everyone together is overlooked, the whole foundation of a family’s recovery is at risk. She is my inspiration and the anchor to our family. That’s why I’m drawn to a holistic approach to mental health care. I believe in treatments that honor the whole person—and the whole family system. In my future practice, I want to create space not only for patients, but for the caregivers and family members who stand beside them. I want to integrate therapies like meditation, art, and sound, which help people express what words cannot. And I am particularly committed to biofeedback and neurofeedback brain training, which offer a tangible way to help people retrain their brain’s response to trauma. I want to work with those who, like my father or like me in those lonely classrooms, need someone who doesn’t just treat symptoms but recognizes the person underneath—and with those who, like my mother, give everything in support and deserve to be supported in return. I am entering this field not only with academic interest, but with a sense of responsibility. I’ve carried my own wounds, and I’ve witnessed the wounds of those I love—both the ones who were visibly struggling and the ones who were silently holding us together. Now, I want to use what I’ve learned to walk alongside others, patients and caregivers alike—offering not just tools, but true understanding, so that no one has to heal in isolation. Link to my Christopher and Dana Reeves Blog about me: https://blog.christopherreeve.org/en/daily-dose/picture-perfect-guest-blogger-liliana-blood

My mental health challenge has not been a private struggle with anxiety or depression in isolation, but a very public, daily battle for inclusion, dignity, and simple respect in the educational system. Throughout my entire education, I have navigated the profound loneliness and frustration of being excluded by peers and, most painfully, singled out—not for my contributions—but for my wheelchair by the very teachers entrusted with my growth. These experiences chipped away at my sense of belonging, creating an environment where I constantly had to prove my worth from the corner of a room I wasn’t fully invited into. My path to overcoming this has been an active, daily practice of radical self-definition. I refused to let those isolating moments define my capacity for joy, connection, or achievement. Instead, I consciously channeled my energy into what I could control: my academic excellence, my commitment to helping others who feel sidelined, and cultivating a positive attitude that became my shield and my light. I pursued my degree not in spite of this environment, but as a testament to a future I knew was possible. I created PackNPals, donating shirts to hospital patients, to ensure others in difficult situations felt seen and celebrated and happy when I often did not. I chose to see my physical therapy not just as rehabilitation, but as a parallel journey of perseverance—step by step, both in gait and in grace. This was something that I could build and use to inspire. Moving forward, I will leverage this lived experience as the foundation of my mission. My goal to become a biofeedback/neurofeedback practitioner for veterans and children with PTSD is deeply personal. When I was 10 my mom took me to recieve PTSD brain training in order to help overcome the trauma from when I went through cancer treatment at 18 months old. This helped my brain process and conquer the wounds that others could not see. I understand that trauma isn’t only from dramatic events; it can accumulate slowly from a thousand small cuts of exclusion and invalidation. I will bring not just clinical skills, but an innate, hard-won empathy for the psychological impact of feeling "other." I will generate awareness by giving this specific mental health challenge a voice. In academic and professional spaces, I will advocate for true inclusivity that goes beyond physical ramps to include pedagogical and social accessibility. Through my work and my story, I will demonstrate that overcoming mental health challenges isn’t always about quieting an internal storm—sometimes, it is about persistently, positively changing the environment that creates the storm for others. My journey from the isolated corner of a classroom to a healer’s chair is my blueprint. I will use it to build a practice where everyone has a seat at the table, their worth unquestioned, and their mental well-being supported from a place of deep understanding Link to my blog with the Christopher and Dana Reeve Foundation: https://blog.christopherreeve.org/en/daily-dose/picture-perfect-guest-blogger-liliana-blood