Growing up in a Mexican household, heart disease was never just a medical condition. It was something that shaped our daily life and the way our family functioned. My mother has lived with serious cardiac problems for many years, including multiple stent procedures, unstable blood pressure, and sudden episodes where she has to take nitroglycerin to keep her symptoms under control. There were nights when we rushed her to the hospital believing it might be the last time we would hear her voice. I remember standing next to the bed, listening to the hospital machines, and trying to stay calm for her even though my own fear felt overwhelming. Those experiences changed the way I see health, family, and resilience. In our culture, when someone gets sick, the entire family carries it. We show up with food, prayer, jokes, and stories because that is how we cope. We lean on faith and on each other. Whenever my mother had a cardiac event, everyone stepped in. My aunts lit candles at church. My siblings and I handled the chores. My father cooked and paced through the house, pretending he was fine even when his eyes told the truth. We do not talk about fear in my family, but we feel it together. My mother’s heart problems are not only medical. Her history is filled with trauma, migration stress, poverty, and the kind of emotional pain that many people in our community learn to carry quietly. When I later learned about the ACEs studies and how childhood trauma increases the risk of lifelong health problems, it suddenly made sense. My mother had been fighting for her physical and emotional survival long before the heart attacks began. Understanding the connection between her past and her health helped me see how deeply stress, anxiety, and trauma affect the body. It also helped me understand why mental health is not just a clinical subject for me. It is personal. Watching her struggle created a responsibility in me. I felt called to learn how to support people whose lives have been shaped by fear and chronic pressure. My mother taught me what it looks like to keep moving forward even when your body is exhausted. She taught me that faith and community can keep a family afloat when everything feels uncertain. She also taught me that healing cannot happen without acknowledging the emotional wounds that so many of us were raised to ignore. These lessons guided me into the mental health field and continue to influence how I show up for the people I serve. The challenges we faced as a family were painful, but they also built strength. They showed me the power of compassion, the importance of advocating for those who cannot speak up for themselves, and the value of culturally grounded care. My mother’s journey still affects me, but not in the way that breaks someone. It pushes me to do more for my community, to honor the resilience that Mexican families pass down, and to build a life where I can help others who are carrying their own invisible weight. Her story became part of my purpose. It taught me that the heart is not only an organ. It is the center of our history, our culture, and everything we love.

I grew up in a household shaped by migration, poverty, faith, and the quiet kind of strength that comes from surviving more than you ever talk about out loud. My parents came from Michoacán, Mexico with almost no schooling and no safety net. They carried trauma, loss, and constant pressure to survive while raising children in a country they did not fully understand. That stress lived in our home. It shaped the way we communicated, the way we coped, and the way we held pain. Mental illness was never named, but it showed up in the form of anxiety, depression, exhaustion, and emotional shutdowns that none of us had the language for at the time. As a child, I watched my parents work themselves past the point of exhaustion. I saw my father fall into periods of silence and irritation that I now recognize as depression mixed with the pressure of providing. I saw my mother push through anxiety and stress while hiding tears in the kitchen. We dealt with the emotional impact of financial instability, frequent moves, and the pressure to be strong because our parents had sacrificed everything for us. At the time, we did not call it mental illness. We just called it life. As I grew older, especially during my time in the Marine Corps, I began to understand how deeply mental health affects entire families, not just individuals. I witnessed trauma, hypervigilance, and the impact of chronic stress on myself and those around me. I carried my own anxiety, grief, and internal battles long before I had the courage or knowledge to seek help. My path into the mental health field came from wanting to break the silence that defined so much of my childhood and early adulthood. I became a therapist because I wanted to offer families what mine never had: a place to speak openly, to understand their emotions, and to get support without shame or fear. Today, in my practice, I often work with people who remind me of my parents, my siblings, and even my younger self. Immigrant parents holding too much. Veterans carrying trauma alone. Children trying to make sense of the emotional storms around them. Mental illness has touched my family in ways that were never named, but always felt. It influenced the man I became, the work I do, and the commitment I have to helping others heal with compassion, dignity, and hope.

As a therapist, a doctoral student, and a Marine Corps veteran, my learning has always taken place in motion. I rely heavily on online platforms and digital tools because they allow me to continue studying at the same time I am treating clients, raising children, and running a practice. These tools have become part of the way I think, learn, and integrate new knowledge into real life clinical work. For research, I use PubMed, Google Scholar, and ResearchGate, but not just to pull articles. I use them to build a thread between what I am studying in my PsyD program and what I see every day in the therapy room. Much of my work centers on trauma, military mental health, immigrant family systems, and mind body interventions. I search terms related to PTSD symptom reduction, nature based therapies like the program in my dissertation, interoception, and attachment injuries. The studies I find help me refine how I sit with someone who is overwhelmed, dissociated, or carrying multigenerational trauma. I also use online continuing education platforms like PESI and SimplePractice Learning, not only to earn hours but to fill the gaps I notice in my own work. When I have a client who struggles with emotional regulation or chronic hypervigilance, I intentionally seek out trainings on somatic grounding, polyvagal theory applications, and culturally responsive trauma treatment. These platforms have helped me develop parts of my clinical identity that I did not learn in the classroom but discovered through experience. My practice, Connection Matters Family Therapy, also relies on digital tools for growth. I use TherapyNotes training videos, telehealth best practice webinars, and online consultation groups to strengthen the way I support clients during complex sessions. These resources help me stay regulated so I can co regulate with the people I serve. They also give me a community of other clinicians who understand the emotional weight of this work. For my doctoral research, I use Zotero to organize articles and write reflections that eventually shape my dissertation on nature based PTSD treatment for veterans. This platform helps me transform academic concepts into something living, something I can eventually bring into group programs and community work. These tools have not only expanded what I know, they have changed how I practice. They help me learn with purpose and apply everything I study back into the heart of why I entered this field: to help people feel seen, supported, and capable of healing.

Helping others with their mental health has been the central purpose of my life and career. Long before I became a clinician, I was the person family and friends turned to during moments of fear, crisis, or uncertainty. Growing up in a home shaped by migration, financial pressures, and emotional adversity taught me to listen deeply, stay patient, and offer comfort in the moments people often feel most alone. Serving in the Marine Corps strengthened this even further. I learned how trauma can live in the body, how stress can shape a person’s identity, and how much people need safe spaces to be vulnerable. Today, as a licensed marriage and family therapist and the founder of Connection Matters Family Therapy, I support individuals, couples, and families who often come from communities that struggle to access care. I work with trauma survivors, veterans, immigrants, children with behavioral challenges, parents under overwhelming stress, and clients who carry the weight of their family systems. My approach is grounded in compassion, cultural humility, and the belief that healing begins when someone finally feels seen. I help clients understand their nervous system responses, process painful memories, strengthen relationships, and move toward healthier patterns. Whether I am working with a veteran battling PTSD or a parent overwhelmed by their child’s disability needs, I give people space to breathe and return to themselves. In my practice I try to model the very hope I want clients to carry into their own lives. I remind them their story does not end with what hurt them. Their story begins when they learn they are not navigating it alone. My doctoral training has allowed me to deepen my understanding of trauma, attachment, and integrative mind-body approaches. I plan to use my PsyD not only to expand my work in community mental health, but to build programs for veterans, immigrant families, and underserved populations who often fall through the gaps. My long-term vision is to create accessible group programs, community workshops, and nature-based treatment options that bring healing directly to the people who need it most. I want my future career to honor where I came from and uplift the voices of those often overlooked. My studies will help me continue to serve with empathy, cultural sensitivity, and a commitment to walking alongside others as they heal and rebuild their lives.

Being a first generation student means carrying the weight and the hope of two lifetimes. My parents came from Michoacán, Mexico with nothing but the belief that their children would have a chance at something better. My father had no education and my mother was only able to attend first grade for a couple of weeks before she had to leave school because her family could not afford the materials or clothing. They both came to the United States searching for a life they could not find in their hometown. They worked in the fields under the sun for long hours and took on any job they could find. My father sold paletas from a small cart he pushed down neighborhood streets. My mother worked long days as a seamstress in what would now be considered a sweatshop. Even with all of that, they never stopped dreaming. My father eventually learned a trade and became a master painter who restored antique furniture. My mother found her courage in entrepreneurship and sold Mary Kay and Princess House products. She took us everywhere she went. I will always remember carrying her heavy supply bags on the bus and helping her set up at her presentation parties. My siblings and I would help fill out order forms and try to upsell items because we knew that if she made enough money, we might get a treat like a ninety nine cent Whopper. That was luxury to us. Growing up, we moved many times and I had to restart my life in new schools over and over. At the time, I did not realize that I was learning how to adapt, how to stay flexible, and how to begin again without losing myself. When I finally made it to college, I wanted so badly to make my family proud, but I had no idea how to navigate higher education. I was overwhelmed, working multiple jobs, and on my own for the first time. I did not know who to ask for help. I eventually dropped out and spent a period of my life feeling lost and unsure of who I was supposed to become. Everything changed when I joined the Marine Corps. The structure and discipline helped me rebuild myself and discover strengths I did not know I had. When I returned to school, I was ready. I earned my bachelor’s degree, then my master’s degree, and I am now completing my doctorate. The difference was community, mentorship, and finally understanding that I was not meant to do this alone. Once I found support, I thrived. This scholarship would help me continue a journey that began long before I was born. It would honor my parents’ sacrifices and allow me to focus fully on completing my doctorate so I can serve others the way I once needed to be served.

I was raised in a devout Christian household where positive values and biblical lessons were woven into the fabric of daily life. My parents modeled faith not only through words, but through the way they lived, serving others, showing grace in adversity, and trusting God’s plan in every season. These early lessons shaped my heart for service and my understanding that every person is worthy of dignity, compassion, and care. Growing up in the church, I heard Matthew 4:19 many times: “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” As a child, I understood this in the context of evangelism, sharing the Gospel and helping bring others to Christ. As I matured and witnessed the mental and emotional struggles of people both inside and outside the church, I began to see a broader meaning. Being a fisher of men also means reaching people where they are, in their moments of deepest need, and offering them the love, hope, and healing that Christ offers, sometimes through prayer, sometimes through presence, and sometimes through professional mental health care. My own journey into the mental health field began with a recognition that faith communities often encounter complex struggles,addiction, depression, anxiety, trauma, but do not always have the tools or training to address them effectively. I have seen friends and family members battle the silent pain of mental illness while keeping up a strong exterior at church, unsure if it was safe to speak openly. I have also seen how substance abuse and mental illness can intertwine, making the road to recovery even steeper. These experiences have reinforced my conviction that the mental health field needs more professionals who approach their work with both clinical skill and a Christ-centered heart. I began my career in 2014 as a case manager at Telecare, working with individuals living with severe and persistent mental illness. Many of my clients faced co-occurring substance use disorders. The work was challenging and often heartbreaking, but it also deepened my empathy and strengthened my resolve. I learned to listen without judgment, to celebrate small victories, and to see each client as more than their diagnosis. I moved into leadership roles as team lead and later clinical director, guiding teams through crises, including the height of the COVID-19 pandemic. In those years, I witnessed the resilience of the human spirit, but also the devastating impact of untreated mental illness and addiction on individuals, families, and entire communities. While working full-time, I earned my master’s degree in Marriage and Family Therapy, and I am now in my final semester of my PsyD program. Balancing advanced studies with a demanding career has required discipline, faith, and a clear sense of calling. I believe God has equipped me for this work, using my professional training and my spiritual foundation to help bridge the gap between faith-based and clinical mental health support. In February 2025, I opened my private practice, Connection Matters Family Therapy. This was more than a career move, it was a ministry. My practice serves individuals, couples, and families, offering trauma-informed, culturally responsive care. I accept multiple forms of insurance and offer sliding-scale rates so that cost is never a barrier to care. I also envision expanding the practice to include group therapy, workshops, and community education programs that equip churches and faith leaders to recognize and respond to mental health and addiction challenges. My beliefs shape every aspect of my work. I believe that each person is made in the image of God and carries inherent worth, no matter what they have endured. I believe in the power of restoration, that people can recover, rebuild, and thrive with the right support. I believe that mental health care, when grounded in compassion and guided by ethical practice, can be a reflection of God’s love in action. These beliefs influence my relationships with clients, colleagues, and the broader community. In relationships, I strive to embody the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. In professional settings, this means leading with integrity, listening more than I speak, and treating every person with respect. In personal relationships, it means being present, extending grace, and remembering that everyone is fighting battles we may not see. My faith also teaches me to guard my own mental and spiritual health, so I can continue to serve effectively without becoming depleted. My career aspirations are both practical and visionary. In the immediate future, I will complete my PsyD and continue to grow my private practice. Over the next several years, I plan to hire additional clinicians, develop specialized programs for individuals with co-occurring mental illness and substance use disorders, and strengthen partnerships with local churches, schools, and nonprofits. I also want to create training modules for pastors and ministry leaders, equipping them to recognize warning signs, provide appropriate support, and connect people to professional resources when needed. I see my work as an extension of my faith, a way to live out Matthew 4:19 in a modern context. To be a fisher of men in the mental health field means casting the net of compassion wide enough to reach those who feel unseen, unloved, or beyond hope. It means meeting people in their pain and walking with them toward healing, offering both professional expertise and the assurance that they are not alone. The Fishers of Men-tal Health Scholarship would directly support my ability to finish my degree and move into the next phase of this calling without financial delay. More importantly, it would affirm the value of integrating faith and mental health work in a way that honors God and serves His people. I am committed to using my education, leadership experience, and spiritual foundation to make a tangible difference in the lives of individuals and families struggling with mental illness and addiction. In every client interaction, every team I lead, and every program I build, my goal is to reflect Christ’s love and to help people move toward wholeness, in mind, body, and spirit. I believe this is the work God has set before me, and I am ready to keep casting my net.

My career goal is to expand my private practice, Connection Matters Family Therapy, into a full-service group practice that integrates clinical care with community-based mental health education. As a PsyD candidate in my final semester, I am building the skills to lead a multidisciplinary team, influence policy, and improve access to mental health services, particularly for underserved populations in Southern California. This award would help me complete my doctoral degree without delay, allowing me to fully focus on launching my expanded practice and mentoring future clinicians. Over the past decade, I have advanced from case manager to clinical director at Telecare, and now to private practice owner. In these roles, I have trained and supervised clinicians, developed programs, and implemented policies that improved service delivery. I have also provided direct care to diverse populations, including veterans, immigrants, and individuals with severe mental illness. Leadership for me is not only about managing people, it is about inspiring teams to see the value in every client’s story. I have led through times of crisis, including the COVID-19 pandemic, adapting services to ensure continuity of care. My commitment to community extends beyond the therapy room through partnerships with local organizations to offer workshops and resources. As a first-generation Hispanic graduate student committed to honoring my parents’ sacrifice in immigrating to the United States, I have worked full-time throughout both my master’s and doctoral programs. This experience has taught me to persevere through challenges, and that resilience is now at the core of my leadership style, driving my commitment to creating lasting change in mental healthcare.

My career in healthcare has been shaped by a deep commitment to serving individuals and families facing serious mental health challenges. I began in September 2014 as a case manager with Telecare, supporting clients with severe and persistent mental illness. That role taught me the importance of building trust and walking alongside people as they navigated complex systems to access care. In August 2018, I stepped into the role of team lead, managing a group of dedicated professionals while continuing direct client work. A year later, in July 2019, I became clinical director, a position I held until February 2025. As clinical director, I oversaw programs, trained staff, and ensured that clients received quality, compassionate care. My leadership role meant balancing the operational demands of a healthcare program with the human side of our mission, seeing each client as a person first, not a diagnosis. The pandemic years were especially challenging, but they underscored the vital need for mental health services. We adapted quickly, implementing telehealth and creative outreach methods to ensure continuity of care. In February 2025, I opened my own private practice, Connection Matters Family Therapy, where I continue to serve individuals, couples, and families. My focus is on trauma-informed, culturally responsive therapy, with the goal of making mental health care accessible to as many people as possible. I accept multiple forms of insurance and offer sliding-scale fees so that cost does not become a barrier. Throughout my career, I have pursued higher education while working full-time. I earned my master’s degree in Marriage and Family Therapy while maintaining a full caseload, and I am now in my final semester of my PsyD program. Balancing graduate-level work with a demanding career has required discipline, resilience, and unwavering commitment. I have stayed the course because I believe deeply in the work I do and the people I serve. What inspired me to enter healthcare was the realization that mental health care is not a luxury, it is a necessity. I have seen firsthand how untreated mental illness can erode families, limit opportunities, and diminish quality of life. I have also seen how the right support can restore hope and change the trajectory of someone’s life. In the future, I plan to expand my practice into a group model, hiring additional clinicians to serve a broader range of clients. I envision a space that not only provides therapy but also offers community workshops, support groups, and training for future mental health professionals. My goal is to continue investing my time, skills, and resources into creating a healthier, more resilient community. This scholarship would help me complete my PsyD program without delay, allowing me to transition fully into the next stage of my career. I want to keep building on what I have started, making quality mental health care accessible, compassionate, and grounded in the belief that connection truly matters.

I’m a first-generation doctoral student in my final semester of a PsyD in Marriage and Family Therapy. I’ve worked hard to get here, balancing school, clinical training, and life while keeping my eyes on the goal of helping people heal. Like Catrina Celestine Aquilino, I believe access to care and justice should never depend on where someone was born, how much money they make, or the family they come from. Growing up, higher education was a dream, not a guarantee. I’ve built my path step by step, driven by a commitment to serve people who often get overlooked by the system. My work has brought me into contact with veterans living with PTSD, immigrant families trying to build a new life, and individuals navigating deep grief and loss. These experiences have shown me that mental health care isn’t just a service, it’s a lifeline, and too many people still can’t reach it. As I finish my degree, I’m preparing to open a private practice designed to be both sustainable and accessible. My vision is to create a space where someone can receive high-quality therapy whether they have private insurance, need a sliding scale, or are referred through a community partner. I plan to offer workshops, group programs, and mental health education in partnership with local organizations. My focus will be on underserved groups, first-generation students, immigrant families, and veterans, because these are communities I understand and care deeply about. Catrina’s life story resonates with me because she used her education and skills to create real change across multiple communities. She carried a sense of justice into everything she did, and that’s the kind of legacy I want for my own career. Mental health may not be the law, but it’s another form of advocacy. Where a lawyer might fight for legal rights, I fight for the right to heal, to feel safe in your own mind, and to have your story heard without judgment. This scholarship would allow me to complete my last semester without the financial pressure that can distract from the work itself. I could finish my dissertation strong and focus on laying the groundwork for a practice that reflects my values. More importantly, it would help me step into this next chapter ready to serve, not just those who can afford care, but anyone who needs it. I want my work to cast its circle beyond the walls of my office. I want to build something that ripples outward into homes, families, and communities. And I want to do it in a way that honors people like Catrina, who believed in using their knowledge and compassion to make the world better. I believe mental health care can be that change, and I’m ready to make it happen