At age fourteen, my little bubble of life would never be the same. My father took his own life. He had struggled with addiction for as long as I could remember. But to me, he was my father, a beautiful and creative soul, with a warm smile and a heart that loved bigger than life itself. Even when he was at his worst, he never stopped trying to be a part of my life. Losing him permanently was the hardest thing I’d ever experienced, and it’s a loss that will always be a part of me. But through that pain, I’ve also found strength, purpose, and a deep desire to build a bright future that honors his memory and the life he wanted so greatly for me. Getting through that time in my life wasn’t easy. For months, sorrow came in waves. There were days I couldn't even leave my bed, and others I was numb. And what made it harder was that people didn't necessarily get the full picture. Addiction and mental illness has a way of hiding the person under its influence. But I knew who my dad really was. I held onto good memories, like when he took me out to the Texas Renaissance Festival, his homemade barbecue sauce, the moments when I was able to see the real him emerge from such pain. Talking to my mom and close friends helped me tremendously. I was eventually able to turn my grief into a powerful drive. I vowed that I would work hard, stay attentive, and build a future that he would be proud of. Growing up with an addict parent was difficult enough, years before my dad passed away. There were times when I had no idea if he'd appear or if he'd be okay, and, in most instances, I had to grow up faster than other kids. I worried about things no kid should have to, whether he was using again, whether he was safe or not, whether he'd ever be well again. School was hard to concentrate on, I was more likely to bottle things up because I didn't want to be judged or thought about differently. I felt like I was carrying around this unseen weight, one that nobody else could see but that I knew pressed down on all I did. Despite all of this, I did my best to keep moving forward. I focused on education and school. I found comfort in science, especially when learning about the ocean and its creatures. The sea was fascinating. While my home life was at times chaotic, the ocean to me was something beautiful, an escape. It was then that I decided that I wanted to become a marine conservationist. I would love to study the impact of climate change, pollution, and human activity on ocean life and create ways to help maintain them for an uncertain future. I would like to live my life giving back, both to the earth and to communities like my own, where youth grow up thinking that mental and financial stability can be out of reach. I would like to prove those pessimistic ideologies wrong. In fact, I know my father wouldn’t want me to remember him with an overwhelming feeling of sadness, but with gratitude for all of the memories I got to make with him, as well as a drive to pursue a successful life in honor of him. I would like to prove to those affected by such ultimatums that no matter what challenges you've been through, you can overcome, rise above, and flourish.

At age fourteen, my little bubble of life would never be the same. My father took his own life. He had struggled with addiction for as long as I could remember. But to me, he was my father, a beautiful and creative soul, with a warm smile and a heart that loved bigger than life itself. Even at his worst, he never stopped trying to be a part of my life. Losing him permanently was the hardest thing I’d ever experienced, and it’s a loss that will always be a part of me. But through that pain, I’ve also found strength, purpose, and a deep desire to build a bright future that honors his memory and the life he wanted for me. Getting through that time in my life wasn’t easy. For months, sorrow came in waves. There were days I couldn't even leave my bed, and others I was numb. And what made it harder was that people didn't necessarily get the full picture. Addiction and mental illness has a way of hiding the person under its influence. But I knew who my dad really was. I held onto good memories, like when he took me out to the Texas Renaissance Festival, his homemade barbecue sauce, the moments when I was able to see the real him emerge from such pain. Talking to my mom and close friends helped me tremendously. I was eventually able to turn my grief into a powerful drive. I vowed that I would work hard, stay attentive, and build a future that he would be proud of. Growing up with an addict parent was difficult enough, years before my dad passed away. There were times when I had no idea if he'd appear or be okay, and, in most instances, I had to grow up faster than other kids. I worried about things no kid should have to, whether he was using again, whether he was safe or not, whether he'd ever be well again. School was hard to concentrate on, and I was more likely to bottle things up because I didn't want to be judged or thought about differently. I felt like I was carrying around this unseen weight, one that nobody else could see but that I knew pressed down on all I did. Despite all of this, I did my best to keep moving forward. I focused on education and school. I found comfort in science, especially when learning about the ocean and its creatures. The sea was fascinating. While my home life was at times chaotic, the ocean to me was something beautiful, an escape. It was then that I decided that I wanted to become a marine conservationist. I would love to study the impact of climate change, pollution, and human activity on ocean life and create ways to help maintain them for an uncertain future. I would like to live my life giving back, both to the earth and to communities like my own, where youth grow up thinking that mental and financial stability can be out of reach. I would like to prove those pessimistic ideologies wrong. In fact, I know my father wouldn’t want me to remember him with an overwhelming feeling of sadness, but with gratitude for all of the memories I got to make with him, as well as a drive to pursue a successful life in honor of him. I would like to prove to those affected by such ultimatums that no matter what challenges you've been through, you can overcome, rise above, and flourish.

I have been fascinated with the ocean since I was young. My grandmother, who I lived with for a majority of my childhood, was in love with the ocean, inspiring my love to grow and expand for it. My Junior year, I took an aquatic science class for fun, which turned into a strong passion for marine life and ocean conservation. That's why I've chosen to study Marine Biology. I wish to know about the creatures that live beneath the waves, how they survive in their world, and how to help protect them in a world that's changing so quickly. Marine Biology combines my love of science and animals, and I'm excited about the possibility of doing work in the field, researching, and maybe even discovering new species or even helping endangered ones survive. We still know so little about the ocean, and to be a part of a field that is constantly exploring the unknown is really inspiring to me. My grandmother gave me the gift of a scuba certification, which in turn gave me the opportunity to see how something like the invasive species of lion fish in Jamaican waters negatively affects the ecosystem. I would like to be someone who helps the world know more about our oceans and also help save them for future generations. As a young woman looking to have a career in STEM, I know there will be challenges. Science and research have been a man's field, and while times are changing, there is still a lot of work to be done. But instead of letting that get me down, it just makes me more determined. I want to be a voice and a presence in Marine Biology that will allow other young women to know that they also have a place within science just as much as everyone else. Representation matters, and I would love to show young women that we can be leaders in research, make scientific discoveries, and have an impact in STEM fields. I want to also give back through outreach programs, internships, or volunteer work and help others find their place in this field. Ultimately, I hope to work with organizations dedicated to marine conservation and climate change. The fate of our oceans affects the whole planet, and I would love to be involved in solutions that rescue marine life from threats like pollution, overfishing, and global warming. I dream about combining field research with activism and education to implement real change. Choosing to study Marine Biology is more than just a career choice, it's a commitment to something bigger than myself. It's about exploring the depths of the ocean, fighting to protect the environment, and helping open doors for other young women like me who dream of making an impact in science.

At fourteen, my life changed forever. My father took his own life in my grandmother's backyard. He had struggled with addiction—drugs and alcohol—for as long as I could remember. But to me, he was still my dad: a beautiful soul with a warm smile and a heart that loved deeply. Even at his worst, he never stopped trying to be part of my life. Losing him was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. But through that pain, I’ve found strength, purpose, and a deep desire to build a future that honors his memory and the life he wanted for me. Grieving wasn’t easy. Some days I couldn’t get out of bed. Others, I just felt numb. What made it harder was that people didn’t always understand. Addiction hides the person beneath it. But I knew who my dad really was. I held onto the good memories—trips to the Texas Renaissance Festival, his homemade barbeque sauce, the moments when the real him shone through. Talking to my mom and close friends helped. Slowly, I turned my grief into motivation. I promised myself I’d live a life big enough for both of us—one filled with intention, drive, and hope. Even before my dad passed, growing up with an addict parent meant shouldering burdens most kids don’t. I never knew if he’d show up or be okay. I worried constantly—about his safety, his sobriety, his future. It made focusing on school hard, and I often bottled things up to avoid judgment. I carried an invisible weight that pressed on everything I did. Still, I stayed the course. School became my anchor. I found particular comfort in science, especially learning about the ocean. While my home life was unpredictable, the sea was something vast and beautiful. It inspired me. That’s when I knew I wanted to become a marine conservationist—to study the effects of climate change, pollution, and human activity on ocean life, and to help protect it for future generations. Education has always been important in my family, and I’m proud to be a first-generation college student. It’s both exciting and daunting. My mom and stepdad are incredibly supportive, but finances are tight. They can’t offer much financially, but they believe in me, and that belief fuels me. For me, college isn’t just about a degree. It’s about breaking cycles, creating stability, and proving that where you begin doesn’t have to define where you end up. I believe I deserve this scholarship not because my life has been perfect, but because I’ve shown resilience in the face of loss, adversity, and financial hardship. I’ve balanced sorrow with drive, and kept my academic goals in sight. I’ve held my grades, volunteered, stayed curious, and never let go of my dreams, even when they felt impossible. I bring something unique: passion, grit, and a deep desire to make a difference. Receiving this scholarship would change my life. It would ease my family’s financial burden, allowing me to focus on my studies—not on how to afford books, housing, or tuition. It would be a reminder that my story matters, and that my future is worth investing in. Ultimately, I want to give back—to the earth, through conservation, and to communities like mine, where kids grow up thinking college is out of reach. I want to show them it’s not. That no matter your past, you can rise, overcome, and thrive. Thank you for considering my story, and for giving students like me the chance to turn hope into success.

I have been fascinated with the ocean since I was young. My grandmother, who I lived with for a majority of my childhood, was in love with the ocean, inspiring my love to grow and expand for it. My Junior year, I took an aquatic science class for fun, which turned into a strong passion for marine life and ocean conservation. That's why I've chosen to study Marine Biology. I wish to know about the creatures that live beneath the waves, how they survive in their world, and how to help protect them in a world that's changing so quickly. Marine Biology combines my love of science and animals, and I'm excited about the possibility of doing work in the field, researching, and maybe even discovering new species or even helping endangered ones survive. We still know so little about the ocean, and to be a part of a field that is constantly exploring the unknown is really inspiring to me. My grandmother gave me the gift of a scuba certification, which in turn gave me the opportunity to see how something like the invasive species of lion fish in Jamaican waters negatively affects the ecosystem. I would like to be someone who helps the world know more about our oceans and also help save them for future generations. As a young woman looking to have a career in STEM, I know there will be challenges. Science and research have been a man's field, and while times are changing, there is still a lot of work to be done. But instead of letting that get me down, it just makes me more determined. I want to be a voice and a presence in Marine Biology that will allow other young women to know that they also have a place within science just as much as everyone else. Representation matters, and I would love to show young women that we can be leaders in research, make scientific discoveries, and have an impact in STEM fields. I want to also give back through outreach programs, internships, or volunteer work and help others find their place in this field. Ultimately, I hope to work with organizations dedicated to marine conservation and climate change. The fate of our oceans affects the whole planet, and I would love to be involved in solutions that rescue marine life from threats like pollution, overfishing, and global warming. I dream about combining field research with activism and education to implement real change. Choosing to study Marine Biology is more than just a career choice, it's a commitment to something bigger than myself. It's about exploring the depths of the ocean, fighting to protect the environment, and helping open doors for other young women like me who dream of making an impact in science.

My experience with mental health has been shaped not only by my own feelings but mostly by my complicated relationship with my dad and the pain of losing him to suicide. His struggle with mental illness and substance abuse, the distance that grew between us, and the way he died have changed how I see the world, how I connect with people, and what I want to do in the future. My parents divorced when I was four. At first, my dad still played a part in my life, picking me up on weekends. But slowly, he started to disappear. When I was about seven, he began canceling visits or just not showing up. Sometimes he gave excuses, other times he said nothing. Eventually, the visits stopped, and for years, we had no contact. That silence during such formative years left me feeling confused and hurt. I didn’t understand why he left. As a kid, it’s hard not to blame yourself. I thought maybe I wasn’t enough or that I’d done something wrong. Later, I learned that my dad was struggling with mental illness and addiction, and those battles made it hard for him to be the dad I needed. When I was 12, we reconnected for a short time. I saw him a few times, and even though those visits were awkward and short, I held onto hope that things could change, that he might be getting better. But that hope didn’t last. When I was 14, my dad took his own life in my grandma’s backyard. That day changed everything. Losing a parent is hard, but losing one you were already grieving is even harder. His death brought up so many emotions I still struggle with: sadness for the man he was, anger for the father he couldn’t be, guilt for the things we never said, and grief for the relationship we never had. I was also confused, how could someone who seemed like he was trying leave so suddenly? After he died, I started my own mental health journey. I began healing from the wounds left. I started seeing my dad not just as a father who left, but as a man who was hurting and didn’t know how to ask for help. That change in perspective shifted everything. His struggles and the silence around them made me want to break the cycle. I’ve learned that mental illness affects more than just the person suffering, it impacts families. Now, I openly talk about feelings and asking for help. My relationships have changed too. I check in on friends and family often. I’ve learned to ask hard questions, listen without trying to fix things, and make space for people to share when they’re struggling. Losing him at 14 forced me to grow up emotionally faster than I wanted, but I’ve tried to turn that into something positive. I know how easy it is to hide pain behind a smile, but I also see hope in open conversations, in people standing up for mental health, and in young people realizing mental health is just as important as physical health. To most people, my story might seem like one of loss and sadness. But I see it as a story of growth, strength, and purpose. I didn’t choose my dad’s struggles or how I lost him, but I’ve chosen to speak out. This scholarship would mean more than money for school, it would support a mission I carry in my heart. I want to honor my dad by helping others find the help he never got the opportunity to.

At fourteen, my life changed forever. My father took his own life in my grandmother's backyard. He had struggled with addiction, involving drugs and alcohol, for as long as I could remember. But to me, he was still my dad: a beautiful soul with a warm smile and a heart that loved deeply. Even at his worst, he never stopped trying to be part of my life. Losing him was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. But through that pain, I’ve found strength, purpose, and a deep desire to build a future that honors his memory and the life he wanted for me. Grieving wasn’t easy. Some days I couldn’t get out of bed. Others, I just felt numb. What made it harder was that people didn’t always understand. Addiction hides the person beneath it. But I knew who my dad really was. I held onto the good memories—trips to the Texas Renaissance Festival, his homemade barbeque sauce, the moments when the real him shone through. Talking to my mom and close friends helped. Slowly, I turned my grief into motivation. I promised myself I’d live a life big enough for both of us, one filled with intention, drive, and hope. Even before my dad passed, growing up with an addict parent meant shouldering burdens most kids don’t. I never knew if he’d show up or be okay. I worried constantly, about his safety, his sobriety, his future. It made focusing on school hard, and I often bottled things up to avoid judgment. I carried an invisible weight that pressed on everything I did. Still, I stayed the course. School became my anchor. I found particular comfort in science, especially learning about the ocean. While my home life was unpredictable, the sea was something vast and beautiful. It inspired me. That’s when I knew I wanted to become a marine conservationist, to study the effects of climate change, pollution, and human activity on ocean life, and to help protect it for future generations. Education has always been important in my family, and I’m proud to be a first-generation college student. It’s both exciting and daunting. My mom and stepdad are incredibly supportive, but finances are tight. They can’t offer much financially, but they believe in me, and that belief fuels me. For me, college isn’t just about a degree. It’s about breaking cycles, creating stability, and proving that where you begin doesn’t have to define where you end up. I believe I deserve this scholarship not because my life has been perfect, but because I’ve shown resilience in the face of loss, adversity, and financial hardship. I’ve balanced sorrow with drive, and kept my academic goals in sight. I’ve held my grades, volunteered, stayed curious, and never let go of my dreams, even when they felt impossible. I bring something unique: passion, grit, and a deep desire to make a difference. Receiving this scholarship would change my life. It would ease my family’s financial burden, allowing me to focus on my studies, not on how to afford books, housing, or tuition. It would be a reminder that my story matters, and that my future is worth investing in. Ultimately, I want to give back to the earth, through conservation, and to communities like mine, where kids grow up thinking college is out of reach. I want to show them it’s not. That no matter your past, you can rise, overcome, and thrive. Thank you for considering my story, and for giving students like me the chance to turn hope into success.

At age fourteen, my little bubble of life would never be the same. My father took his own life. He had struggled with addiction for as long as I could remember. But to me, he was my father. He was a beautiful and creative soul, with a warm smile and a heart that loved bigger than life itself. Even when he was at his worst, he never stopped trying to be a part of my life. Losing him permanently was the hardest thing I’d ever experienced, and it’s a loss that will always be a part of me. But through that pain, I’ve also found strength, purpose, and a deep desire to build a bright future that honors his memory and the life he wanted so greatly for me. Getting through that time in my life wasn’t easy. For months, sorrow came in waves. There were days I couldn't even leave my bed, and other days I was numb. And what made it harder was that people didn't necessarily get the full picture. Addiction and mental illness has a way of hiding the person under its influence. But I knew who my dad really was. I held onto good memories, like when he took me out to the Texas Renaissance Festival, his homemade barbecue sauce, the moments when I was able to see the real him emerge from such pain. Talking to my mom and close friends helped me tremendously. I was eventually able to turn my grief into a powerful drive. I vowed that I would have a life big enough for the both of us. A promise that I would work hard, stay attentive, and build a future that he would be proud of. Growing up with an addict parent was difficult enough, years before my dad passed away. There were times when I had no idea if he'd appear or if he'd be okay, and, in most instances, I had to grow up faster than other kids. I worried about things no kid should have to, whether he was using again, whether he was safe or not, whether he'd ever be well again. School was hard to concentrate on, I was more likely to bottle things up because I didn't want to be judged or thought about differently. I felt like I was carrying around this unseen weight, one that nobody else could see but that I knew pressed down on all that I did. Despite all of this, I did my best to keep moving forward. I focused on education and school. I found comfort in science, especially when learning about the ocean and its creatures. The sea was fascinating. While my home life was at times a bit chaotic, the ocean to me was something beautiful, something to be appreciated. An escape. It was then that I decided that I wanted to become a marine conservationist. I would love to study the impact of climate change, pollution, and human activity on ocean life and create ways to help maintain them for an uncertain future. Another thing that truly helped me get through such an obstacle was my school theater. I was in the midst of a production at the time and I simply could not bring myself to leave my bed for school or to do anything -- except for the rehearsals and performances I had been committed to previously. Everyone in that community at the time supported me through what I was going through and empowered me to keep on going despite being in such a belligerent position. I would like to live my life giving back, both to the earth and to communities like my own, where youth grow up thinking that mental and financial stability can be out of reach. I would like to prove those pessimistic ideologies wrong. I would like to prove to those affected by such ultimatums that no matter what challenges you've been through, you can overcome, rise above, and flourish.

Being a first-generation college student means I’m stepping into a future that no one in my family has had the chance to explore. It’s exciting, but it’s also pretty scary. I don’t have parents who can tell me what college is like, or how to apply for financial aid, or what to expect when I move into a dorm. Most of the time, I’m figuring things out on my own, but I’ve learned that being the first means I get to open the door for others. There have been a lot of challenges. My family has always worked hard, but money has been tight. I’ve had to balance school with responsibilities at home, and sometimes that meant putting my own needs second. There were nights I stayed up late studying after working one of two jobs, or days I couldn’t afford a school trip that would’ve helped with college applications. But those challenges taught me to stay focused and to keep pushing forward. My dream is to earn a Bachelor’s degree in Marine Biology and work in marine conservation. I’ve always been fascinated by the ocean and the creatures that live in it. As I learned more about climate change and pollution, I realized I want to be someone who helps protect our oceans for future generations. I want to do field research, help restore coral reefs, and work with communities to make a real difference. I know it’s a big goal, but it’s one I’m passionate about. This scholarship would mean everything to me. It would ease the financial pressure on my family and allow me to focus more on my studies and future goals. I wouldn’t have to worry as much about whether we can afford tuition or books, and instead, I could focus on getting involved in campus programs, internships, and volunteer work related to marine science. It would bring me one step closer to making my dream real. What drives me is knowing that I have the chance to do something meaningful, not just for myself, but for my family and the planet. I want to prove that no matter where you come from, you can chase big dreams and make a difference. Being a first-generation student isn’t easy, but it’s made me determined, grateful, and ready for whatever comes next.

At fourteen, my life changed forever. My father took his own life in my grandmother's backyard. He had struggled with addiction—drugs and alcohol—for as long as I could remember. But to me, he was still my dad: a beautiful soul with a warm smile and a heart that loved deeply. Even at his worst, he never stopped trying to be part of my life. Losing him was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. But through that pain, I’ve found strength, purpose, and a deep desire to build a future that honors his memory and the life he wanted for me. Grieving wasn’t easy. Some days I couldn’t get out of bed. Others, I just felt numb. What made it harder was that people didn’t always understand. Addiction hides the person beneath it. But I knew who my dad really was. I held onto the good memories—trips to the Texas Renaissance Festival, his homemade barbecue sauce, the moments when the real him shone through. Talking to my mom and close friends helped. Slowly, I turned my grief into motivation. I promised myself I’d live a life big enough for both of us—one filled with intention, drive, and hope. Even before my dad passed, growing up with an addict parent meant shouldering burdens most kids don’t. I never knew if he’d show up or be okay. I worried constantly—about his safety, his sobriety, his future. It made focusing on school hard, and I often bottled things up to avoid judgment. I carried an invisible weight that pressed on everything I did. Still, I stayed the course. School became my anchor. I found particular comfort in science—especially learning about the ocean. While my home life was unpredictable, the sea was something vast and beautiful. It inspired me. That’s when I knew I wanted to become a marine conservationist—to study the effects of climate change, pollution, and human activity on ocean life, and to help protect it for future generations. Education has always been important in my family, and I’m proud to be a first-generation college student. It’s both exciting and daunting. My mom and stepdad are incredibly supportive, but finances are tight. They can’t offer much financially, but they believe in me—and that belief fuels me. For me, college isn’t just about a degree. It’s about breaking cycles, creating stability, and proving that where you begin doesn’t have to define where you end up. I believe I deserve this scholarship not because my life has been perfect, but because I’ve shown resilience in the face of loss, adversity, and financial hardship. I’ve balanced sorrow with drive, and kept my academic goals in sight. I’ve held my grades, volunteered, stayed curious, and never let go of my dreams—even when they felt impossible. I bring something unique: passion, grit, and a deep desire to make a difference. Receiving this scholarship would change my life. It would ease my family’s financial burden, allowing me to focus on my studies—not on how to afford books, housing, or tuition. It would be a reminder that my story matters, and that my future is worth investing in. Ultimately, I want to give back—to the earth, through conservation, and to communities like mine, where kids grow up thinking college is out of reach. I want to show them it’s not. That no matter your past, you can rise, overcome, and thrive. Thank you for considering my story—and for giving students like me the chance to turn hope into success.

My experience with mental health has been shaped not only by my own feelings but mostly by my complicated relationship with my dad and the pain of losing him to suicide. His struggle with mental illness and substance abuse, the distance that grew between us, and the way he died have changed how I see the world, how I connect with others, and what I hope to do in the future. My parents divorced when I was four. At first, my dad was still around, weekend visits, pick-ups, small routines. For a while, it felt like I still had two parents. But gradually, he started canceling or not showing up at all. Sometimes he had excuses; other times he just disappeared. By the time I was seven, the visits stopped, and we lost contact. That silence during such formative years left me feeling abandoned and confused. I blamed myself, wondering what I’d done wrong. As a child, it's hard not to internalize that kind of loss. Later, I learned he was battling addiction and mental illness, struggles that made it difficult for him to be present in my life. When I was 12, we reconnected briefly. I saw him a few times. The visits were short and sometimes awkward, but I held on to hope. Then, when I was 14, my dad took his own life in my grandmother’s backyard. That day changed everything. Losing a parent is painful, but losing one you were already mourning is even harder. His death brought a storm of emotions: sadness for the man he was, anger for the father he couldn’t be, guilt for all we never said, and grief for the relationship we never had. I was also confused, how could someone who seemed like he was trying just leave? His death forced me to begin my own mental health journey. I started to heal from the wounds left by years of absence and misunderstanding. Through that process, I came to understand that mental illness isn't something people can just "snap out of." I began to see my dad not just as someone who left, but someone deeply hurting who didn’t know how to ask for help. That perspective changed everything for me. His struggles and the silence around them made me determined to break the cycle. I now speak openly about mental health, not just for my own healing, but to encourage others to do the same. I've learned that honest conversations can be life-changing. My relationships have grown stronger. I'm intentional with the people I care about, regularly check in, and create space for hard conversations. I’ve learned to listen deeply, forgive easily, and show empathy. My dad hurt me, yes, but I’ve made peace with the fact that he was hurting too. Losing him pushed me to grow emotionally faster than I wanted, but I've chosen to turn that pain into purpose. I’ve seen how easily people hide behind a smile. But I also see hope in open dialogue, community support, and in younger generations demanding better mental health care. To most, my story might seem like one of loss. But I see it as one of growth, strength, and purpose. I didn’t choose my dad’s struggles or how I lost him, but I’ve chosen to turn that pain into something meaningful. I want to honor him by helping others find the support he never did. This scholarship would help me continue that mission, to build a future where no one has to suffer in silence, and where mental health is treated with the care and urgency it deserves.

My experience with mental health has been shaped not only by my own feelings but mostly by my complicated relationship with my dad and the pain of losing him to suicide. His struggle with mental illness and substance abuse, the distance that grew between us, and the way he died have changed how I see the world, how I connect with people, and what I want to do in the future. My parents divorced when I was four. At first, my dad still played a part in my life, he would pick me up on weekends, and for a while, it felt like I still had two parents, even if they didn’t live together. But slowly, he started to disappear. When I was about seven, he began canceling visits or just not showing up. Sometimes he gave excuses, other times he said nothing. Eventually, the visits stopped, and for years, there was no contact. That silence during such important years left me feeling confused and hurt. I felt abandoned, angry, sad, and guilty. I didn’t understand why he stopped coming around. As a kid, it’s hard not to blame yourself. I thought maybe I wasn’t enough or that I’d done something wrong. Later, I learned the real reasons: my dad was struggling with mental illness and addiction, and those battles made it hard for him to be the dad I needed. When I was 12, we reconnected for a short time. I saw him a few times, and even though those visits were awkward and short, I held onto hope that things could change, that he might be getting better. But that hope didn’t last. When I was 14, my dad took his own life in my grandma’s backyard. That day changed everything. Losing a parent is hard, but losing one you were already grieving is even harder. His death brought up so many emotions I still struggle with: sadness for the man he was, anger for the father he couldn’t be, guilt for the things we never said, and grief for the relationship we never had. I was also confused, how could someone who seemed like he was trying leave so suddenly? After he died, I started my own mental health journey. I began healing from the wounds left by years of distance. Through that process, I realized mental illness isn’t something people can just “snap out of.” I started seeing my dad not just as a father who left, but as a man who was hurting and didn’t know how to ask for help. That change in perspective shifted everything for me. His struggles and the silence around them made me want to break the cycle. I’ve learned that mental illness affects more than just the person suffering, it impacts entire families, especially when no one talks about it. Now, I openly talk about feelings, mental health, and asking for help, not just for myself, but to encourage others to do the same. My relationships have changed too. I’m more thoughtful about who I spend time with and how I support others. I check in on friends and family often. I’ve learned to ask hard questions, listen without trying to fix things, and make space for people to share when they’re struggling. I’ve also become more forgiving of others and myself. I understand that pain can make people act in ways we don’t always get. My dad hurt me, yes, but I’ve made peace with the fact that he was hurting too. Losing him at 14 forced me to grow up emotionally faster than I wanted, but I’ve tried to turn that into something positive. I see the world differently now. I know how easy it is to hide pain behind a smile, how much stigma still surrounds mental health, and how many support systems are broken. But I also see hope in open conversations, in people standing up for mental health, and in young people realizing mental health is just as important as physical health. To most people, my story might seem like one of loss and sadness. But I see it as a story of growth, strength, and purpose. I didn’t choose my dad’s struggles or how I lost him, but I’ve chosen to take that pain and make it something meaningful. I’ve chosen to speak out, help others feel less alone, and work toward a future where no one has to suffer in silence. This scholarship would mean more than money for school — it would support a mission I carry in my heart. I want to honor my dad by helping others find the help he never did, and by building a world where mental health is treated with care, urgency, and respect.

I have been fascinated with the ocean since I was young. My grandmother, who I lived with for a majority of my childhood, was in love with the ocean, inspiring my love to grow and expand for it. My Junior year, I took an aquatic science class for fun, which turned into a strong passion for marine life and ocean conservation. That's why I've chosen to study Marine Biology. I wish to know about the creatures that live beneath the waves, how they survive in their world, and how to help protect them in a world that's changing so quickly. Marine Biology combines my love of science and animals, and I'm excited about the possibility of doing work in the field, researching, and maybe even discovering new species or even helping endangered ones survive. We still know so little about the ocean, and to be a part of a field that is constantly exploring the unknown is really inspiring to me. My grandmother gave me the gift of a scuba certification, which in turn gave me the opportunity to see how something like the invasive species of lion fish in Jamaican waters negatively affects the ecosystem. I would like to be someone who helps the world know more about our oceans and also help save them for future generations. As a young woman looking to have a career in STEM, I know there will be challenges. Science and research have been a man's field, and while times are changing, there is still a lot of work to be done. But instead of letting that get me down, it just makes me more determined. I want to be a voice and a presence in Marine Biology that will allow other young women to know that they also have a place within science just as much as everyone else. Representation matters, and I would love to show young women that we can be leaders in research, make scientific discoveries, and have an impact in STEM fields. I want to also give back through outreach programs, internships, or volunteer work and help others find their place in this field. Ultimately, I hope to work with organizations dedicated to marine conservation and climate change. The fate of our oceans affects the whole planet, and I would love to be involved in solutions that rescue marine life from threats like pollution, overfishing, and global warming. I dream about combining field research with activism and education to implement real change. Choosing to study Marine Biology is more than just a career choice, it's a commitment to something bigger than myself. It's about exploring the depths of the ocean, fighting to protect the environment, and helping open doors for other young women like me who dream of making an impact in science.

Growing up with a grandmother who surrounded her life around the ocean, I have had a profound relationship with the sea and its life since childhood. This has not only shaped my personal identity but also my aspirations. I am set on studying marine biology with a major in marine conservation management because I am interested in preserving the ecosystems that sustain not only marine life but also human communities like mine that depend on them. I hope to play a role, through advocacy and education, in an international movement to curb ocean pollution, overfishing, and the impacts of climate change on ocean ecosystems. My community involvement has always reflected a desire to serve and protect—whether that’s our natural environment or the people who live in it. In addition to environmental advocacy, I have also been involved in youth mentorship programs, where I help to guide middle school students through both academic and social challenges. One of the most significant challenges in our community, and among youth specifically, is the rise of bullying and cyberbullying. As a mentor, I have led workshops and peer group discussions on online safety, empathy, and the long-term consequences of hateful language. I work with the school counselors to get students resources and help, and I advocate for stronger anti-bullying policies in our schools. Creating safe environments for youth—both online and off—is critical to their mental health and their academic success. Financially, attending college will be a challenge for me and my family. Even though my parents have always encouraged my academic dreams, we do not have a lot of financial resources. Much of our income goes towards daily living expenses, and I have also taken on two part-time jobs to help out. However, with tuition, books, dorm, and other costs, I know I will need additional financial help if I am going to be able to achieve my dream of attending college. Receiving this scholarship would not only remove the financial burden but allow me to focus more intently on my studies and the valuable work that I hope to do in marine conservation. My ultimate goal is to be a marine conservation manager who protects endangered marine ecosystems while working in liaison with local communities in promoting sustainable practices. I believe that the health of our oceans is inseparable from the health of our communities—and that education, advocacy, and inclusive leadership are key to driving positive change. Whether I’m mentoring youth, organizing a coastal cleanup, or conducting marine research, I’m committed to creating a safer, more sustainable world for future generations.