One of the most meaningful relationships in my life is the one I share with my best friend. Our friendship has shaped me in ways I never expected and has influenced how I see faith, love, and connection. There was a time when she was in so much pain that she tried to end her life. Walking through that season with her changed me deeply. In trying to support her, I learned what it truly means to love someone selflessly, to show up even when things are heavy, confusing, and emotionally overwhelming. Before that experience, I thought friendship was mainly about shared interests, laughter, and making memories. While those things still matter, I now understand that real friendship is built in the hard moments. It means staying when things are uncomfortable. It means listening without trying to immediately fix everything. It means being patient when healing takes time. Supporting her forced me to grow up in many ways. I had to learn how to be present for someone else’s pain while also managing my own emotions. That balance strengthened my character and deepened my understanding of compassion. That season also changed the way I view people in general. I became more aware that everyone carries hidden struggles. Someone can smile in public while silently fighting battles no one sees. Because of this, I no longer take relationships lightly. I check in more intentionally. I ask deeper questions. I try to create space where others feel safe enough to be honest. I want the people in my life to know they do not have to pretend around me. In a way, that difficult season saved me too. Watching her fight to stay here reminded me of how precious life is. It forced me to confront how fragile we all are and how quickly things can shift. I realized I could not carry that emotional weight alone. During that time, my faith became more personal than ever before. I began praying not out of routine, but out of desperation and trust. I leaned on God for strength, comfort, and wisdom because I knew I did not have all the answers. Through that struggle, my relationship with God grew deeper and more sincere. Our friendship became stronger as well. We learned to communicate more honestly and support each other more intentionally. We are inseparable now, not because everything is perfect, but because we walked through something difficult and chose to stay. That shared experience created a bond built on understanding and loyalty. This relationship has influenced the way I build connections with others today. I lead with empathy. I try to listen before speaking. I understand that sometimes the most powerful thing you can do for someone is simply sit beside them and let them know they are not alone. I also value authenticity. I no longer feel the need to keep friendships surface-level. I want depth, honesty, and faith-centered connections. Most importantly, I have learned that love is not just a feeling; it is a choice. It is choosing to show up, to care, to pray, and to stay committed even when things are difficult. My best friend may never fully understand how much she shaped me, but through her struggle and resilience, I became stronger, more compassionate, and closer to God. That is why this relationship is so meaningful to me. It did not just change my life in one moment. It continues to shape the way I love, the way I trust, and the way I connect with the world around me.

I love Taylor Swift because she represents a kind of feminism that feels real, honest, and earned to me, not something forced or performative. Watching her grow over the years has shown me that it’s okay to learn, change, and find your voice publicly without losing your strength. She never let herself be reduced to the stereotypes people tried to give her, whether it was being labeled too emotional, boy-crazy, or dramatic, and instead she reclaimed those narratives and turned them into power. Her willingness to speak about double standards, especially how women are criticized for ambition while men are praised for the same behavior, makes me feel seen and understood. When she fought to own her music, it showed me that feminism isn’t just about words, but about standing up for your worth, your work, and your autonomy. She reminds me that feeling deeply isn’t a weakness, that emotions don’t make me less strong, and that I don’t have to shrink myself to be respected. I admire how she supports other women and proves that feminism doesn’t mean losing softness, faith, love, or vulnerability, it means being fully yourself without apology. Taylor inspires me to take up space, trust my voice, and believe that my story, like hers, deserves to be told

Growing up in my small town, I had always felt surrounded by routines and people that made life feel safe. My grandparents, the teachers who shaped me, even those little battles with my mom to stay up late, all felt like constants I could rely on. But life has a way of disrupting even the strongest foundations, and for me, that disruption came not just in the form of a global pandemic, but through my own mind. I’ve struggled with obsessive-compulsive thoughts and anxiety for as long as I can remember. What might seem like small worries or habits on the surface were often impossible to ignore, and they made everyday life feel heavy and exhausting. My grandfather was one of the most important pillars in my life. He served in the military, and while his discipline and structure might have seemed ordinary to others, to me it was extraordinary. He lived a life of quiet commitment, waking early, keeping his promises, and insisting that doing the right thing mattered even when no one was watching. When I was younger, I remember complaining about a responsibility I didn’t want to do. He calmly told me that in the military, you don’t quit just because something is hard. That lesson stayed with me, but as my OCD and anxiety grew, I realized that “hard” didn’t just mean chores or tasks, it meant facing the intrusive thoughts and fears that tried to control me every day. Learning to face them required the same commitment he had taught me, persistence, patience, and faith that I could grow stronger through struggle. The pandemic intensified my mental health struggles. The routines that helped me feel grounded disappeared. Every uncertainty, people leaving their homes, touching surfaces, changing schedules, felt magnified and unmanageable. My OCD made me hyperaware of everything that could go wrong, and my anxiety turned that awareness into constant fear. Some days, I couldn’t even leave my room without spiraling into panic. Losing my grandfather in 2021, the person who had always modeled calm and resilience, left me feeling untethered. It was as if the last stable part of my life had vanished, and the weight of my thoughts became unbearable. In the months that followed, I learned that rebuilding meant confronting my mental health head on. Therapy, journaling, and learning coping strategies helped me slowly regain control, but faith gave me a deeper sense of hope. I remember standing alone in a church, tears running down my face, hearing a message on Psalms 23 that reminded me I was not alone in my darkest valleys. Slowly, I rebuilt my sense of stability, not with the routines of the past, but with tools that let me face my OCD and anxiety rather than be controlled by them. Through these experiences, I’ve learned that mental health struggles don’t define weakness, they define courage. Managing OCD and anxiety requires resilience, patience, and self-compassion, and it has shown me the importance of support, structure, and faith. The lessons my grandfather taught me, commitment, responsibility, and empathy, combined with my own journey through mental health challenges, have shaped me into someone who can persevere, care for others, and find hope even in overwhelming uncertainty. These experiences continue to guide me, reminding me that mental health struggles can become a source of strength when met with courage, support, and faith.

My relationship with Jesus has had a profound impact on my faith by giving me stability, hope, and direction during times of uncertainty. Growing up, I relied heavily on familiar routines, family, and community as sources of security. When the COVID-19 pandemic disrupted daily life, many of those foundations disappeared. Isolation, fear, and loss challenged my sense of stability, especially after the passing of my grandfather, who had been one of the strongest pillars in my life. During this period, I found myself searching for something that could provide lasting strength rather than temporary comfort. As churches began to reopen, I returned to a service where the message focused on Psalm 23, emphasizing that even in the darkest valleys, God is present. That message marked a turning point in my life. It was through developing a deeper relationship with Jesus that my faith was restored and reshaped. Instead of relying on things that could easily change or disappear, I began to place my trust in God. My faith taught me resilience, patience, and the importance of perseverance, allowing me to move forward with a renewed sense of hope and purpose. This relationship with Jesus now guides how I approach my educational journey. I believe that education is both a privilege and a responsibility, and my faith motivates me to approach my studies with diligence and integrity. When academic challenges arise, such as stress, self-doubt, or uncertainty about the future, I rely on prayer and faith to remain focused and grounded. Rather than becoming overwhelmed, I strive to trust that God will guide me through difficulties and help me grow from them. In addition to shaping my work ethic, my faith influences how I interact with others in academic settings. I aim to treat classmates, teachers, and peers with kindness, empathy, and respect, understanding that everyone carries challenges that may not be visible. My experiences have strengthened my desire to be supportive and encouraging, reflecting Christ’s love through my actions. By fostering positive relationships and maintaining compassion, I hope to create an environment where learning and growth are possible for everyone. Although I still carry the lessons learned from difficult seasons, my relationship with Jesus has transformed how I view adversity. Rather than allowing hardship to define me, I now see challenges as opportunities for growth. As I continue my education, I plan to remain rooted in my faith, allowing it to guide my decisions, values, and future goals. My relationship with Jesus remains a constant source of strength, shaping not only my academic journey but also the person I strive to become.

Growing up in my small town, I had always felt surrounded by routines and people that made life feel safe. My grandparents, the teachers who shaped me, even those little battles with my mom to stay up late, all felt like constants I could rely on. But life has a way of disrupting even the strongest foundations, and for me, that disruption came not just in the form of a global pandemic, but through my own mind. I’ve struggled with obsessive-compulsive thoughts and anxiety for as long as I can remember. What might seem like small worries or habits on the surface were often impossible to ignore, and they made everyday life feel heavy and exhausting. My grandfather was one of the most important pillars in my life. He served in the military, and while his discipline and structure might have seemed ordinary to others, to me it was extraordinary. He lived a life of quiet commitment, waking early, keeping his promises, and insisting that doing the right thing mattered even when no one was watching. When I was younger, I remember complaining about a responsibility I didn’t want to do. He calmly told me that in the military, you don’t quit just because something is hard. That lesson stayed with me, but as my OCD and anxiety grew, I realized that “hard” didn’t just mean chores or tasks, it meant facing the intrusive thoughts and fears that tried to control me every day. Learning to face them required the same commitment he had taught me, persistence, patience, and faith that I could grow stronger through struggle. The pandemic intensified my mental health struggles. The routines that helped me feel grounded disappeared. Every uncertainty, people leaving their homes, touching surfaces, changing schedules, felt magnified and unmanageable. My OCD made me hyperaware of everything that could go wrong, and my anxiety turned that awareness into constant fear. Some days, I couldn’t even leave my room without spiraling into panic. Losing my grandfather in 2021, the person who had always modeled calm and resilience, left me feeling untethered. It was as if the last stable part of my life had vanished, and the weight of my thoughts became unbearable. In the months that followed, I learned that rebuilding meant confronting my mental health head on. Therapy, journaling, and learning coping strategies helped me slowly regain control, but faith gave me a deeper sense of hope. I remember standing alone in a church, tears running down my face, hearing a message on Psalms 23 that reminded me I was not alone in my darkest valleys. Slowly, I rebuilt my sense of stability, not with the routines of the past, but with tools that let me face my OCD and anxiety rather than be controlled by them. Through these experiences, I’ve learned that mental health struggles don’t define weakness, they define courage. Managing OCD and anxiety requires resilience, patience, and self-compassion, and it has shown me the importance of support, structure, and faith. The lessons my grandfather taught me, commitment, responsibility, and empathy, combined with my own journey through mental health challenges, have shaped me into someone who can persevere, care for others, and find hope even in overwhelming uncertainty. These experiences continue to guide me, reminding me that mental health struggles can become a source of strength when met with courage, support, and faith.

Growing up in my small town, I had always felt surrounded by pillars, people and routines that made life feel constant and safe. My grandparents, the teachers who shaped me, even those five-minute battles with my mom to stay up late and play, all felt like they would always be there. But as I learned, life can change in the blink of an eye. My grandfather was one of the most important pillars in my life. He served in the military, but what I remember most isn’t a story about combat or medals, it’s the way he carried himself every day. He woke up early, kept his word, and believed that doing the right thing mattered, even when no one was watching. One memory that has stayed with me is when I was younger and complaining about a responsibility I didn’t want to do. He calmly told me that in the military, you don’t quit just because something is hard or inconvenient. Commitment is what builds trust, he explained, both in the service and in everyday life. That lesson shaped how I approach challenges, reminding me that following through matters. Beyond discipline, my grandpa taught me the power of kindness. Despite his strength, he was gentle and attentive. He made time to listen, to support, and to care, showing me that true strength is as much about compassion as it is about resilience. Losing him in 2021, just a year after the world shut down during the pandemic, left a hole in my life. The routines that once made me feel safe were gone, the laughter and Sunday visits disappeared, and the anxiety and isolation of that time felt overwhelming. Losing my grandfather, my strongest pillar, was devastating. In the months that followed, I searched for a way to rebuild. A few years later, I found myself in my blue polka-dotted dress, standing alone in a church, overwhelmed with emotion. Hearing a message on Psalms 23 reminded me that even in my darkest valleys, I was not alone. Slowly, I rebuilt my pillars, not exactly the same, but ones that held me up just as well. My faith became the strongest, bringing hope back into my life and my parents’ lives. Through these experiences, I’ve carried forward the lessons my grandfather taught me, commitment, responsibility, resilience, and empathy. Losing him and enduring the challenges of the pandemic didn’t break me, they shaped me. They taught me to persevere, to care for others, and to lean on my faith and my values when life feels uncertain. These pillars continue to guide me, shaping the person I am today and the person I hope to become.

Growing up, I faced moments of anxiety and stress that I didn’t always know how to manage. When the pandemic began, the routines and support systems I relied on disappeared, and I felt isolated and overwhelmed. Those experiences taught me how important it is to have a safe space and someone to listen. They also showed me that mental health challenges are a normal part of life, and asking for help is a strength, not a weakness. These experiences inspired me to become a school psychologist. I want to create an environment where students feel safe, understood, and supported because sometimes school is more than just a place to learn; it can feel like home. I want to be the person students can talk to when they are struggling, the person who helps them develop coping strategies, and the person who shows them that it’s okay to ask for help. I believe that every student deserves a trusted adult who understands their challenges and helps them feel seen and valued. Part of my goal as a school psychologist is to remove the stigma surrounding mental health. Many students are afraid to speak up because they fear judgment or misunderstanding. I want to change that by encouraging open conversations, educating students and staff about mental health, and modeling empathy and understanding in everything I do. Mental health is just as important as physical health, and students should feel confident that seeking help is a normal and positive choice. I also want to help students develop the tools to manage stress, anxiety, and other challenges so they can succeed academically, socially, and emotionally. By creating programs, workshops, and one-on-one support, I hope to empower students to understand their emotions, build resilience, and support their peers. I believe that when students feel safe and supported at school, it can make a huge difference in their overall well-being and confidence. Ultimately, my own experiences with anxiety and uncertainty have shaped my passion for helping others. I want to make a real difference in students’ lives by providing support, guidance, and understanding. Becoming a school psychologist will allow me to not only help individual students, but also create a culture of awareness, empathy, and acceptance around mental health. I want students to know they are not alone, that it’s okay to ask for help, and that their feelings are valid. By removing stigma and offering consistent support, I hope to make schools a place where mental health is treated with the care and respect it deserves.

Growing up, my grandpa was one of the most important people in my life. He served in the military, but what stands out to me most isn’t a dramatic story about combat or medals it’s the way he lived his everyday life. He carried himself with quiet confidence and purpose. He woke up early every morning, kept his word, and believed that doing the right thing mattered, even when no one was watching. Through his actions, he showed me what responsibility and integrity really look like. One memory that sticks with me happened when I was younger and complaining about having to finish a responsibility I didn’t want to do. I remember feeling frustrated and trying to avoid it altogether. My grandpa calmly listened and then told me that in the military, you don’t quit just because something is hard or inconvenient. He explained that commitment is what builds trust, both in the service and in everyday life. That lesson has stayed with me. Whenever I feel tempted to give up or take the easy way out, I think of his words and remind myself that following through matters. Beyond discipline and responsibility, my grandpa taught me something just as important: kindness is powerful. Despite his strength and serious nature, he was incredibly gentle with the people he loved. He always made time to listen, no matter how busy he was. When I was struggling or feeling overwhelmed, he never dismissed my feelings. Instead, he made me feel heard and supported. He showed me that having someone you can talk to and lean on is just as important as being strong on your own. In 2020, when the world shut down and everything familiar disappeared, the lessons my grandpa taught me became even more meaningful. The routines that once made me feel safe were gone, and the isolation was overwhelming. Anxiety and sadness took over in ways I had never experienced before. When my grandfather passed away the following year, it felt like I lost the strongest pillar in my life. Losing someone who had always been a source of stability and support was incredibly difficult. Even though he is no longer here, his influence continues to guide me. His military values resilience, commitment, and perseverance helped shape who I am today. His kindness taught me the importance of empathy and being there for others, especially during hard times. Through his life and service, my grandpa showed me that true strength comes from responsibility, compassion, and unwavering support for the people you care about. Those lessons are something I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

My relationship with Jesus has had a profound impact on my faith by giving me stability, hope, and direction during times of uncertainty. Growing up, I relied heavily on familiar routines, family, and community as sources of security. When the COVID-19 pandemic disrupted daily life, many of those foundations disappeared. Isolation, fear, and loss challenged my sense of stability, especially after the passing of my grandfather, who had been one of the strongest pillars in my life. During this period, I found myself searching for something that could provide lasting strength rather than temporary comfort. As churches began to reopen, I returned to a service where the message focused on Psalm 23, emphasizing that even in the darkest valleys, God is present. That message marked a turning point in my life. It was through developing a deeper relationship with Jesus that my faith was restored and reshaped. Instead of relying on things that could easily change or disappear, I began to place my trust in God. My faith taught me resilience, patience, and the importance of perseverance, allowing me to move forward with a renewed sense of hope and purpose. This relationship with Jesus now guides how I approach my educational journey. I believe that education is both a privilege and a responsibility, and my faith motivates me to approach my studies with diligence and integrity. When academic challenges arise, such as stress, self-doubt, or uncertainty about the future, I rely on prayer and faith to remain focused and grounded. Rather than becoming overwhelmed, I strive to trust that God will guide me through difficulties and help me grow from them. In addition to shaping my work ethic, my faith influences how I interact with others in academic settings. I aim to treat classmates, teachers, and peers with kindness, empathy, and respect, understanding that everyone carries challenges that may not be visible. My experiences have strengthened my desire to be supportive and encouraging, reflecting Christ’s love through my actions. By fostering positive relationships and maintaining compassion, I hope to create an environment where learning and growth are possible for everyone. Although I still carry the lessons learned from difficult seasons, my relationship with Jesus has transformed how I view adversity. Rather than allowing hardship to define me, I now see challenges as opportunities for growth. As I continue my education, I plan to remain rooted in my faith, allowing it to guide my decisions, values, and future goals. My relationship with Jesus remains a constant source of strength, shaping not only my academic journey but also the person I strive to become.

Madilyn Mattimore Growing up, in my little small town, I had always had these pillars in my life. These things that I felt were constant, would always be the same. The things I was most grateful for. My grandparents, the teachers I had and even those five minutes of begging my mom to let me stay up to play. All things I thought were forever but in a blink of an eye everything changes. The year Twenty Twenty rolls around, I am just starting my sixth grade year, bright eyed and full of dreams, not knowing in just a few months my whole world would be tipped upside down. All of the little routines that made me feel safe were gone, the laughter in the classroom, Sunday visits to my grandparents and the hope I saw in my parents faces were gone as they along with the rest of the world began to fear this new pandemic. At first I thought this was going to be awesome, no more waking up early, no more homework. I was so excited, but soon that excitement turned into anxiety that I had never felt before. The anxiety led to depression and without the community I had before I couldn't get out of it. Everything really came crashing down a year later when my grandfather passed away. He was the pillar in my life, the one i could always rely on, the one i never thought was lost so when I did it broke me. The next few months I found myself searching for a way to feel better, a way to build my pillars back up. A couple years have passed since the whole world had shut down and things were starting to open back up. Churches were starting to open up. I found myself in my blue polka dotted dress standing in the lobby of a church, alone, shaky hands and tears forming in my eyes. The next thing I know I'm hearing this message from the church leader on psalms twenty three. The message felt like the exact thing I needed to hear, that even in my darkest valleys I'm not alone. From that day forward I began to rebuild, not with the same pillars but with ones that held my house up just as well. My faith being my strongest, the one that brought the hope back into my life back into my parents lives. The faces of anxiety and distrust of the world that I saw from my parents for years had turned into hopeful smiles. I still carry the weight of those hard years, I'm sure everyone does, but instead of letting them break me I've let them shape me into the person I am. The resilience they have taught me, the empathy now woven into who I am and the dedication to get through the hard times for that I own gratitude.

Madilyn Mattimore Growing up, in my little small town, I had always had these pillars in my life. These things that I felt were constant, would always be the same. The things I was most grateful for. My grandparents, the teachers I had and even those five minutes of begging my mom to let me stay up to play. All things I thought were forever but in a blink of an eye everything changes. The year Twenty Twenty rolls around, I am just starting my sixth grade year, bright eyed and full of dreams, not knowing in just a few months my whole world would be tipped upside down. All of the little routines that made me feel safe were gone, the laughter in the classroom, Sunday visits to my grandparents and the hope I saw in my parents faces were gone as they along with the rest of the world began to fear this new pandemic. At first I thought this was going to be awesome, no more waking up early, no more homework. I was so excited, but soon that excitement turned into anxiety that I had never felt before. The anxiety led to depression and without the community I had before I couldn't get out of it. Everything really came crashing down a year later when my grandfather passed away. He was the pillar in my life, the one i could always rely on, the one i never thought was lost so when I did it broke me. The next few months I found myself searching for a way to feel better, a way to build my pillars back up. A couple years have passed since the whole world had shut down and things were starting to open back up. Churches were starting to open up. I found myself in my blue polka dotted dress standing in the lobby of a church, alone, shaky hands and tears forming in my eyes. The next thing I know I'm hearing this message from the church leader on psalms twenty three. The message felt like the exact thing I needed to hear, that even in my darkest valleys I'm not alone. From that day forward I began to rebuild, not with the same pillars but with ones that held my house up just as well. My faith being my strongest, the one that brought the hope back into my life back into my parents lives. The faces of anxiety and distrust of the world that I saw from my parents for years had turned into hopeful smiles. I still carry the weight of those hard years, I'm sure everyone does, but instead of letting them break me I've let them shape me into the person I am. The resilience they have taught me, the empathy now woven into who I am and the dedication to get through the hard times for that I own gratitude.