I can't remember a time before alcohol became a tumor on my family. Growing up, my mom drank so frequently that my family forgot who she was sober. Through her alcoholism, she forgot about little things that mattered to me, couldn't persevere through important school events, and would instigate horrifying fights with my dad and younger sibling. My mother was unpredictable and made our home a prison of neglect and verbal abuse. I spent my childhood in constant fight-or-flight mode, dreaming of a day I could escape; physically or mortally. Building my formative years on fear, instability, and emotional unrest showed detrimental consequences in high school. On the outside, I got perfect grades, had a fun job, picked up new skills easily, and was loved by most of my peers and teachers. On the inside, I was terrified of disappointing adults, avoided conflict at all costs, and needed to be useful or good to find my life valuable. Freshman year, a few counselors unofficially diagnosed me with anxiety and depression, and junior year is when my suicidal ideation began. These struggles---heirlooms from my mother---hurt me and my closest friends. Throughout high school, I would go without eating for days at a time and stopped contacting the people who were supposed to care about me. No adults noticed my decline, and no length of time helped me understand why I was inherently wrong; I was completely and utterly alone. Even after what I would consider, "the worst of it," I know the substance abuse and resulting traumas did not leave me unscathed. Normal bad days, the kind everyone has from time to time, send me into spirals. What if I keep feeling worse, and this time I do take my life? What if I spend another six months drowning in tears? What if this is the straw that pushes everyone away from me? What if I can't form meaningful relationships because everything I know about them is corrupted? Even on good days, I might lock myself away and panic about becoming the same woman my mother has. Through these experiences, the toxic home life created by my mother's unwillingness to accept help, and the fear I felt when I was envisioning my own suicide, I realized my purpose after high school was to be a counselor. I think back to all the times I wished I knew what to do, or wished someone else would tell me what to do. How many nights could I have rested easier because someone understood me and wanted to make a difference? I realized that I wanted to be that person for others, even if I was struggling, too. One of my greatest passions is understanding people as individuals. I can't imagine a better way of understanding and helping people than guiding them through their personal battles. If awarded this grant, the money would go towards my Master's in Psychology. My passion to pursue counseling as a career has given me a reason to live. If I have nothing else, I know I at least have the ambition and drive to help people, and a plan to achieve that desire. With this degree, I am equipping myself with the knowledge necessary to become a better, more productive person, as well as the means to connect with people and make the world a better place. Thank you for giving this kid, who grew up terrified of how big dreams were granted, a glimmer of hope for actualizing them and helping others in the process.

My suicidal ideation started in my junior year of high school. I have come to believe this is because of my own mother's depression and bipolar disorder; these heirlooms were not only passed down to me, but infected every interaction I had with her. My mother was unpredicable and made our home a prison of neglect and verbal abuse. I went without eating for days at a time and stopped contacting my friends. No adults noticed my decline and no length of time helped me understand why I was inherently wrong; for six months, I was completely and utterly alone. Now, as a high school senior, I know that period of turmoil didn't leave me unscathed. Normal bad days, the kind everyone has from time to time, send me into spirals. What if I keep feeling worse, and this time I do take my life? What if I spend another six months drowning in tears? What if this is the straw that pushes everyone away from me? Even on good days, I might lock myself away and panic about becoming the same woman my mother has. Through these experiences, the toxic home life created by my mother's unwillingness to accept help, and the fear I felt when I was envisioning my own suicide, I realized my purpose after high school was to be a counselor. I think back to all the times I wished I knew what to do, or wished someone else would tell me what to do. How many nights could I have rested easier because someone understood me and wanted to make a difference? I realized that I wanted to be that person for others, even if I was struggling, too. One of my greatest passions is understanding people as individuals. I can't imagine a better way of understanding and helping people than guiding them through their personal battles. If awarded this grant, the money would go towards my Master's in Psychology. My passion to pursue counseling as a career has given me a reason to live. If I have nothing else, I know I at least have the ambition and drive to help people, and a plan to achieve that desire. With this degree, I am equipping myself with the knowledge necessary to become a better, more productive person, as well as the means to connect with people and make the world a better place. I believe this scholarship can make my dream all the more possible, for both my and others' futures.