A healthcare career was not on my radar for most of my life. In my younger years, family members constantly warned me about its grueling nature, long hours, and demands on my body. I was always taught that a field in healthcare wouldn't suit me. It wasn't until I was the patient that I would see the needs in the healthcare system. In 2019 I fell ill. A mysterious ailment took my energy and sanity. One week I was fine and the next I was a slave to my bed. I was covered in rashes, had a never-ending fever, and slept 19 out of the 24 hours a day. I could barely even stand up due to my lack of energy. It was a total and complete shock to my parents and myself. I spent the next few months in and out of the doctor's office without answers or help. I went to primary care, hospitals, and specialists to no avail. As each doctor's appointment passed I became more and more tired of the healthcare system. Why did no one believe this was anything more than a new strain of COVID-19? Why weren't people listening? It ended up taking two years for me to meet a nurse at a new specialist's office in another state who fought for me. She noticed things nobody else did. She sat down and talked with me like I was an adult and aware of my well-being rather than a dramatic child who needed anxiety medication. She fought to get me into another doctor and stood by my side arguing for him to run certain tests. On this very day, they were able to diagnose me with Rheumatic Fever. An ailment that could've destroyed my heart if it had been left to fester much longer. She took the time to believe in me and fight for me, and in turn, she saved my life. It was on this day I decided I too wanted to be a nurse. I want to be like her. I want to fight for my patients, those who are not believed, or gaslighted. I want to be there for those patients who have no voice or no one to fight for them. Now, I am an EMT working my way to get through nursing school. EMS has given me a way to put my foot into the door of healthcare as I continue to pursue my dreams of becoming a nurse. Being able to work with patients every day makes me so incredibly happy. I'm able to begin fighting for people. I can be their voice as they are transferred from home to the hospital. One day I will no longer be the worker who brings people into the hospital but the one who receives them with open arms.

In my family, mental illness seems to be genetic. From my mother to my youngest brother we all suffer in some way. For my mother, it's depression and anxiety so horrible she would work her days away. Working 10-12 hour shifts only to come home to crash before waking to do it again the next day. For my brother, Jeremiah, it's Bipolar Depression causing him to crash his car into a telephone pole. By the grace of God, they have survived. They got through it. As far as my experience goes, ever since I was 12, I battled with my mental health. Societal pressures caused me to lose sight of who I was. Starting at 12 years old, I began questioning what I should and shouldn't eat. What foods would make me look like those models on my Instagram feed? How could I look like them? What I didn't know at the time was many of my peers also were going through these thoughts... Later, something as small as those questions began to get darker. At 13, I began to wonder, what if I cut some skin off? Would it make me feel better? Would it make me smaller? I went from not eating down into a path of self-harm. What's not talked about a lot is how self-harm is addictive. Many teens who start have trouble escaping that path. It makes them feel good, makes them feel better, and makes them feel something much like a drug addict who uses marijuana or alcohol. Continuing my life as a teen with the eating disorder and depression now prevalent I began developing social anxiety. What if they notice? What do they think of me? How do I look to them? It started once again small with a few questions and would lead to panic attacks in the bathroom choking on air because the classroom had many people, who could judge me. The world was hard to face, School was hard to face, and my parents were hard to face. How could I look them in the eye thinking if they knew it would break them? How dare I struggle with this? I was placed in a bubble believing I was the only one. No one else could feel like this right? Am I just the problem? At fourteen, I sat on my bedroom floor and took every prescription medication I could find, in hopes that if I just died, my family wouldn't have to suffer when they realized what was under the surface. That night ended up saving me most cruelly. What I didn't know at the time was my father was asleep on the couch because he was sick. As I began to experience the symptoms of OD he heard me puking and gasping for breath. Calling 911, I was able to be admitted and get the help I needed. I found out about my mom's and brother's illnesses, and as a family, we vowed to be open about mental health. If we were more open about it might I have reached out for help sooner? I do not know, but I hope one day the world can get to a place people do not feel like they cannot share their stories. I have recovered, but many would have lost their lives. One switch of fate and I wouldn't be here today, sharing with others how they are not ALONE.

I admire Zendaya's acting career the most. Ever since I was younger she was always a role model. In the beginning, it was through her show K.C. Undercover. This show exemplified multiple aspects of life in a way that made it easy to understand. It dealt with familial issues, being different and set apart in the family, and putting too much on your plate as a student. As a child this show helped me understand how my family worked, as a teenager in High School it exemplifies the stress that even regular students go through. It shows us that it is okay to be stressed, but don't keep that from your family. It shows teenagers that we are not alone in our struggles for time. She constantly shows children and teenagers how to handle situations in other shows such as Shake It Up and Euphoria. In Shake It she deals with friendships in high school, bullying, and even spite. As a child, you see these things but do not fully realize the messages, but you see the examples, and you learn how they handle things. As you get older and reflect on the messages present you truly begin to acknowledge these messages of family, truth, and hope.

Unbroken by Hillenbrand is such a powerful novel. It goes through fear, bravery, courage and so much more. It shows us how capable we are of surviving the worst of the worst. The man this book was based on, Louis, went through so much as a prisoner of war in World War 2. Often times as humans we give up on the most mundane tasks. We refuse to push through it, we believe it is easier to just lie on the ground and quit. If Louis had done so he would not have survived long enough to get out of the prison camp. He would not have a book written about him. He would not have made such an impact as he has. Personally, I have suffered multiple painful diseases. I have Rheumatic fever which damaged my joints. Undifferentiated Connective Tissue Disease also damaged my joints. I have Porphyria which is extremely painful when triggered. As a 16-year-old being in so much pain even walking down stairs can be exhausting. As you might imagine it would wear on your mental health. I was angry at my body. I could not forgive God. Louis was angry at everything too. Except Louis began to find God and give his anger up. Louis, a Prisoner of War, someone who was tortured, beaten, and practically enslaved for years, let go of his anger and began to spread God's word. I realized if he could forgive so could I. My issues pale in comparison. Shortly after spending my own time reflecting on my anger, and giving it to God. I began spreading the word of God myself. I now lead a Bible study at my school weekly. Strangely enough, I owe that to Louis for inspiring me. I recommend Unbroken by Hillenbrand because I believe that there are so many messages to be received in the biography. I believe the book is capable of changing your heart, but only if you let it.

Mental health is this set of double doors. Oddly enough you walk through double doors almost every day of your life. How are we so oblivious to our own set that lives in our heads? Some say their mental health began its decline in their teenage years. Mine, however, started long before. Ever since I was a child I had anxiety, I would get a 94 on an assignment and fear not going anywhere in life. You see, I was a child in what they called the gifted program. This small anxiety would follow me everywhere. This was just a crack in the door. When I was younger I didn't realize how much worse this could get. I didn't know that this door could open more. I didn't know Id struggle to close it back. I mean I didn't even know mental health was an issue. What many people don't realize though, is that even that small cracked open door is easily pushed wide open. At 12 years old, I began questioning what I should and shouldn't eat. What foods would make me look like those models on my Instagram feed? How could I look like them? Why didn't I look like them? I didn't realize this was another door opening. The door to self-loathing. The door to depression. As the door crept open the questions got darker. At 13, I began to wonder, what if I cut some skin off? Would it make me feel better? Would it make me smaller? I went from not eating down into a path of self-harm. What is happening to me? Are others like me? What is wrong with me? Continuing my life as a teen with the eating disorder and depression now prevalent I began developing social anxiety. What if they notice? What do they think of me? How do I look to them? It started once again small with a few questions, with a small bit of anxiety, and would lead to panic attacks in the bathroom choking on air because the classroom had many people who might notice. The world was hard to face, School was hard to face, and my parents were hard to face. How dare I struggle with this? I was placed in a bubble believing I was the only one. At fourteen, I sat on my bedroom floor and took every prescription medication I could find, in hopes that if I just died, my family wouldn't have to suffer when they realized what was under the surface. I remember laying beside the bathroom; cold, tired, but finally at peace. I took a breath in and passed out. I should have died. I still don't know why or even how I didn't. I may not know how I survived the overdose, but I now know I will work to make sure mental health awareness is spread throughout my friends, team, and school. It may not seem like many people, but It could just be that one person you need to talk to. My journey with mental health has encouraged me to build relationships with my family. I now know even within my family I am not alone. In fact, every single member of my family is diagnosed with some sort of mental health disorder. If only it wasn't so taboo to talk about then maybe I would've reached out earlier on. Maybe others would too. I may not want to be a therapist, but I do want to be an anesthesiologist. Were you aware that patients with depression have a higher mortality rate in surgery? Or that post-op depression plagues thousands if not millions for weeks after surgery? What if the anesthesiologists knew the signs? What if they focused more on mental health than monetary gain? What If that could be me?

I love math because it is the one thing in the world that has an answer. Being human in a world we do not know much about I struggle with the need for answers. Ever since I was little my favorite equation was "why?". Why is the world the way it is? There are no answers to many of these questions. There are, however, answers in math. Now you may be sitting there saying but what about when the answer is "no solution"? What you have yet to realize is that no solution is an answer. So is "all real numbers". They are answers, maybe not the ones you want, but they are. The world instead of giving us that 'all real numbers "answer or the " no solutions", leaves us wondering. Math is also very exact, from the beginning to the end you do the same steps, and all that changes is you build upon it. From a young age you are taught the numbers, then how to add them, subtract, multiply, divide, root, add in letters, then imaginary numbers. You take everything and grow upon it. It's a never-ending cycle. You then take the same steps for each problem. It's a formula for everything. You have a question, an exact way to solve it, and an answer. What more can you want?

Math is easy for some and more difficult for others. For me, math has always been more on the easy side. It has an answer even if the answer is 'no solution', it has an answer. That cannot be said of all subjects, like English for example you might read a passage and come up with a completely different perspective of what happened than the next person. Math takes time to solve, most of the time it is not a quick answer that takes no brain power. It takes time and energy to solve. Math is delicate, it requires perfection to get the right answer, the tiniest mistake will make your final answer inaccurate. Math can help you understand the world, from something as small as being able to see how many cups of flour you need to add when you double a recipe to balancing out your mortgage it is frequently used and well needed in this day and age. Yes, you can use a calculator but wouldn't that ruin the fun of it? The fun of fearing you are messing something up, working through the problem fearing that end result is wrong and the relif that folllows when you learn it is correct. Math is a rollarcoaster, and thats why I adore it.

In my family, mental illness seems to be genetic. From my mother to my youngest brother we all suffer in some way. For my mother, it's depression and anxiety so horrible she would work her days away. Working 10-12 hour shifts only to come home to crash before waking to do it again the next day. For my brother, Jeremiah, it's Bipolar Depression causing him to crash his car into a telephone pole. By the grace of God, they have survived. They got through it. As far as my experience goes, ever since I was 12, I battled with my mental health. Societal pressures caused me to lose sight of who I was. Starting at 12 years old, I began questioning what I should and shouldn't eat. What foods would make me look like those models on my Instagram feed? How could I look like them? What I didn't know at the time was many of my peers also were going through these thoughts... Later, something as small as those questions began to get darker. At 13, I began to wonder, what if I cut some skin off? Would it make me feel better? Would it make me smaller? I went from not eating down into a path of self-harm. What's not talked about a lot is how self-harm is addictive. Many teens who start have trouble escaping that path. It makes them feel good, makes them feel better, and makes them feel something much like a drug addict who uses marijuana or alcohol. Continuing my life as a teen with the eating disorder and depression now prevalent I began developing social anxiety. What if they notice? What do they think of me? How do I look to them? It started once again small with a few questions and would lead to panic attacks in the bathroom choking on air because the classroom had many people, who could judge me. The world was hard to face, School was hard to face, and my parents were hard to face. How could I look them in the eye thinking if they knew it would break them? How dare I struggle with this? I was placed in a bubble believing I was the only one. No one else could feel like this right? Am I just the problem? At fourteen, I sat on my bedroom floor and took every prescription medication I could find, in hopes that if I just died, my family wouldn't have to suffer when they realized what was under the surface. That night ended up saving me most cruelly. What I didn't know at the time was my father was asleep on the couch because he was sick. As I began to experience the symptoms of OD he heard me puking and gasping for breath. Calling 911, I was able to be admitted and get the help I needed. I found out about my mom's and brother's illnesses, and as a family, we vowed to be open about mental health. If we were more open about it might I have reached out for help sooner? I do not know, but I hope one day the world can get to a place people do not feel like they cannot share their stories. I have recovered, but many would have lost their lives. One switch of fate and I wouldn't be here today, sharing with others how they are not ALONE.

Bravery can be hard to see, simply passing someone on the street cant always show you their true battle so I'm here to tell you about mine. In 2020 I became very ill. For two years after this no doctor could tell me why i was getting weak, why I couldn't do everything I once had. Every new needle, new prescription would be terrifying. FIghting for my life physically became one ordeal but what about mentally? The toll a failing body took on your head was a whole other story. Yet every day I woke up went to a new doctor and continued fighting for my chance at this world. It wouldn't be until may of 2023 that I would finally receive a diagnosis. Porphyria. A super rare disease that runs in genes. Now even with treatment I have to wake up everyday and face the fact that today could turn bad at any moment. However I have found living the best way possible pushing yourself to furthering degrees past anything you used to is more fun. Living bravely is fighting. Living Boldly is showing the world what you made of.