My anxiety has grown and matured alongside me. When I was maybe 10, my anxiety reflected my religious upbringing. Staying up into the late hours of the night, questioning my faith and feeling like a traitor to my friends and family, terrified of my loved ones being snatched up during the rapture and leaving me behind, normal young teenager things. As I grew up, my faith-based anxiety evolved into social anxiety as my body began to change and my self-esteem plummeted. I never lost that baby fat everyone said I would, my teeth were crooked, my nose was too big for my face, and I dressed like the average 8th-grade loser. At the age of 23, my anxieties are plentiful and complex. Still, I'm not too fond of class presentations, that never changed. I constantly worry I'm being a burden or annoying to those around me, so I avoid making bonds or friendships with my peers. My shoulders and back are a mess of knots so as not to feel like I am wasting what little money I have and tension from the financial stress of college and the academic strain I put on myself. I have asked myself a myriad of times why I keep doing this to myself. Why do I insist on putting myself through these amounts of stress and worry? Quite simply, to prove that I can. Time and time again, life has thrown obstacles at me. Death, health issues, lack of money, and relationship strain. It would be easier just to let my depression absorb me, to lay in bed and do nothing but eat, work, then sleep. But that would be giving up. I have made it this far despite everything, to give up now would be ridiculous. I have a passion, and I have a dream career I'm pursuing. I'm not doing this just for the current me, but 10-year-old me who was lying in bed shrouded in fear and uncertainty. For 16-year-old me who struggled to get out of bed every day and find a reason to keep going. Some could say it is spite, and I'm not ignorant enough to deny that, but mostly it is pride. I need something I and my younger selves can be proud of. I need to prove that I survived regardless of my less-than-stellar mental health. All this, and I still have student loans to pay off.

Picture it: a family of four living in suburban Ohio, two children in a pretentious private school. The eldest daughter, who was once part of the gifted school program, is now experiencing academic decline for the first time in her life. I still have distinct memories of fidgeting in class and doodling when I should've been learning long division and hearing about the crucifixion for the 5th time. My head was preoccupied with fanciful daydreams of characters from my favorite show or video games, set to whatever "edgy" music was blasting through my MP3 player at the time. ADHD wasn't even a consideration for my parents; I just had an active imagination and was naturally fidgety. Lucky for me, my ADHD allowed me to excel in subjects I liked, such as science or reading. Math was, and still absolutely is, a challenge. The second my brain registers that I'm struggling with a math concept, any effort towards learning said concept is thrown out of the metaphorical window. This problem was only exacerbated once I hit high school. I had started showing symptoms of anxiety and depression around the 7th grade. My parents just assumed that having anxiety attacks in the middle of Wednesday night youth group was a totally normal and cool thing that teenagers do. It wasn't until my grades and attendance began slipping and my teachers took notice of me wearing hoodies in the middle of spring that I saw an unqualified school counselor. She suggested sleep, magnesium, and talking to the big absent parent upstairs. It wasn't until my Latin and English teachers talked to my mother personally that I was sent to a proper doctor. I was diagnosed with depression when I was sixteen, much to no one's shock and my family's dismay. My mental wellness has improved as it has declined. I'm on medication and can actually focus in class; however, I rarely have energy. If I'm a little too tired or run myself a little too ragged, I can forget about getting an assignment done at a reasonable time. Paintings and crochet projects take up what little space I have in my room. I know I have assignments to finish, I know there's old laundry festering in my basket, I know I should pick up that shirt off the floor; I just cannot find the willpower to accomplish those tasks. Working 3 jobs to pay for my college's radically increasing tuition costs certainly does not help. Despite what 16-year-old me would have you believe, I'm now in my 20s just trying to finish college. I've been in therapy for several years and was put on medication after going my entire life without psychiatric help. Like most mentally ill young adults, I have my good days and my bad days. With the help of my incredible friends, I've learned how to prioritize myself and view myself for who I am: a person who cares deeply and has a life goal. My existence does have purpose, no matter how much my mental illness insists otherwise. I'll always have a long road ahead of me, but I feel a little more prepared than I have in a long time. Mental illness is not something you necessarily "overcome". You learn to live with it like an annoying roommate who sometimes costs a miasma of sadness over you or calls you vile things for fun. They roll over you and kick you while you're down, or you can get back up, insult them back, and continue living your life the best way you can.

I often found myself amongst the dirt and bugs as a small child, deeming those bugs little friends. It was only a matter of time before that childhood innocence and curiosity blossomed into a reverence and respect for nature. With cardinals, frogs, and elephants decorating our suburban home, courtesy of my mom and countless rescues, animals have been an integral part of my life. As I continued through middle school and suffered through high school, this love and respect for nature only increased and evolved. Biology classes were often the highlight of my day, as I learned about the intricacies of cell cycles and the vast diversity of Earth's animals. My parents were never really ones to heed the words of scientists when it came to global warming and climate change. However, even as a teen, I could see the impact that climate change was having not just on the world, but on our humble state of Ohio. Birdsongs went quiet, bugs no longer splattered the front of our vehicles, the weather getting more severe each summer and winter, always chalked up to "crazy Midwest weather". These changes only became more apparent the older I grew. Our planet was and is dying. Environmental science seemed to be the most logical route in my academic studies. A penultimate curriculum of biology, chemistry, geology, and politics. Even in my Intro to Environmental Science class, taught by a scatterbrained and lovely professor, I could see the passion people had in this field and how incredibly important this knowledge and information were. Seeing the damage that corporations have done to native lands, displacing countless animals and people I the name of business. Aquatic populations are devastated by pollution and fertilizer-fueled algal blooms. Our own Lake Erie is a shining example of the harm this wanton dumping of chemicals causes catastrophic effects. My studies give me the knowledge to educate folks on the harm being done to the environment and the small ways that the average person can help. On a bigger scale, I have learned about the symbiotic relationships all species have with their homes and one another. From the humble decomposer worms to the majestic African elephant, every animal plays a designated role in the machine of life. It can be exhausting to see the damage done by massive companies and feel as if it is our fault. A single person cannot undo what has been done, but there are ways that younger and older generations can improve the environment around them. Overconsumption has become a staple on social media, with people buying the latest little toy or trendy chocolate bar. My advice to them would be to find joy in what they have. What is something that you will treasure and not end up in a landfill 3 years later? Additionally, the overuse of generative artificial intelligence is massively harmful to the environment. Data centers pull massive amounts of electricity just to generate an answer on ChatGPT that Google could have answered just as easily. Technology has its time and place; however, many average citizens are unaware of how harmful its overuse is. The Earth is for everyone. We have managed to evolve and thrive on a planet with the perfect conditions to support vastly diverse life, and it would be foolish to squander said life for the sake of convenience.

The decision to pursue a STEM degree was a relatively easy one. I've loved nature and science ever since I was a young girl watching Zaboomafoo and Mythbusters in between helping my mother in the garden. Bugs were friends (except hornets and stink bugs), birds were undeniably cool, and the unpredictable weather of the American Midwest kept us on our toes. It only made sense that I would pursue a career where I can be up close and personal with all the funky and fuzzy creatures I would see on television or in the local park. However, with time came change. I watched as the number of lightning bugs dwindled with each passing summer. The summers grew hotter, the winters became grey and barren. I remember my dad's white pickup truck being bespeckled with bugs that had been hit at highway speeds. Now, my windshields remain clean and bug-less after every drive. The air feels different. Not in the "constant wildfires and chemical spills way", however, that is a factor. There isn't any whimsy left. Everyone and their problematic uncle has heard of climate change. Panicked news reports on the boiling world and the polar bears drowning. Every major corporation now boasts how they are "eco-friendly" and contributing to the fight against climate change. Do you know how much trash you contribute as a single human being amongst billions? What was once a topic for your baby boomer father to roll his eyes at has now become an all-encompassing burden placed upon the shoulders of younger generations. Like thousands my age, that all-important question loomed over my head: "What could I possibly do?" Truthfully, not much. However, an important lesson I have had to learn over my tumultuous college career is that the inability to make a huge impact isn't an obstacle. It's a reason to keep going. If I can educate friends and family on endangered species and habitat destruction, then maybe they can educate their friends and family. Perhaps someone's young daughter can see someone like me helping all the fuzzy little critters and creatures. I don't blame people for feeling hopeless and therefore not doing anything. especially when the major corporations causing the climate problems are pushing the problem onto the average civilian. I'm guilty of throwing up my hands and asking, "Well, what am I supposed to do? I'm only one mentally ill college kid." But throughout my education path, I've learned all the impactful ways that I can contribute. As a woman of color pursuing the wildlife biology field, I aim to teach young children the importance of cohabiting with all these wonderous animals and the ways in which they can help them.

I still have distinct memories of fidgeting in class and doodling when I should've been learning long division. My head was preoccupied with fanciful daydreams of characters from my favorite show or video games, set to whatever "edgy" music was blasting through my MP3 player at the time. ADHD wasn't even a consideration for my parents, I just had an active imagination and was naturally fidgety. Lucky for me, my ADHD allowed me to excel in subjects I liked, such as science or reading. Math was, and still absolutely is, a challenge. The second my brain registers that I'm struggling with a math concept, any effort towards learning said concept is thrown out of the metaphorical window. This problem was only exacerbated once I hit high school. I had started showing symptoms of anxiety and depression around 7th grade. My parents just assumed that having anxiety attacks in the middle of Wednesday night youth group was a totally normal and cool thing that teenagers do. It wasn't until my grades and attendance began slipping and my teachers took notice of me wearing hoodies in the middle of spring that I saw a shrink. I was diagnosed with depression when I was sixteen much to no one's shock and my family's dismay. To ask if my mental health is negatively impacting my academic performance is like asking if the ever increasing forest fires in the United States is bad for the environment. I rarely have energy, if I'm a little too tired or ran myself a little too ragged, I can forget about getting an assignment done at a reasonable time. Paintings and crochet projects take up what little space I have in my room. I know I have assignments to finish, I know there's old laundry festering in my basket, I know I should pick up that shirt off the floor; I just cannot find the willpower to accomplish those tasks. Despite what 16-year-old me would have you believe, I'm now in my 20's just trying to finish college. I've been in therapy for several years and was put on medication after going my entire life without psychiatric help. Like most mentally ill young adults, I have my good days and my bad days. With the help of my incredible friends, I've learned how to prioritize myself and view myself for who I am: a person who cares deeply and does have a life goal. My existence does have purpose, no matter how much my mental illness insists otherwise. I'll always have a long road ahead of me, but I feel a little more prepared than I have in a long time.

My chosen career path is conservation wildlife biology. Since my younger years, I have possessed a reverence and appreciation for nature and its quirks. Sitting cross-legged on the pavement, gently holding potato bugs with a goofy smile on my face, walking in the parking with my family pointing out birds and squirrels. Now, in my adult years, I noted the lack of birdsong in the morning with sadness. The summer nights are no longer speckled with lightning bugs and the screams of cicadas. As a current college student studying Environmental Science, I hear daily of the dwindling biodiversity at the hands of corporations and industrial companies. The yearning to fix that which has been torn down is strong in my heart and it is why I have chosen to work in the conservation field. To be able to foster and care for the endangered species that remain is valuable to me and my fellow wildlife biologists. I hope to work with other compassionate and kindhearted individuals with the Cleveland Metroparks to tend to the species we have and improve the depleted biodiversity of northeastern Ohio. The area is home to beautiful dragonflies, Indiana bats, Karner blue butterflies, and copious other endangered creatures, with those numbers looking less and less promising as technology and industry choke the climate. I aspire to witness the regrowth of the Earth and the stabilization of the climate and say that I contributed. My mental health has been and will more than likely remain an incessant hurdle in my academic and professional career. For the majority of my life, I went undiagnosed and unmedicated as my religious and conservative parents chose to believe that I was just being dramatic. It was not until I was 18 that I took my suffering into my own hands and got myself into therapy and on medication. However, as much as I would have preferred that this was the magical cure for my depression and ADHD, those who also battle with mental illness know otherwise. Now, as the news becomes bleaker and the public's emotional energy runs dry, I do not blame people for feeling as if there is no point in trying to fight climate change. I will be the first to admit that I have found that a similar sense of despair turned into apathy. However, I owe it to my younger bug-befriending self to start caring for the only planet I will call home.

For decades, scientists and environmentalists have warned and pleaded with the populace to act against a slowly warming planet. The need for mandatory recycling, sustainability, and global action against climate change is more urgent than ever, as inaction has far-reaching consequences for our environment, health, and future. Biodiversity has seen a steep and severe decline due to corporation-funded habitat destruction. Thousands of pounds of E-waste and non-biodegradable plastics flood landfills and oceans, suffocating the local wildlife and plantlife. Humanity has gradually destroyed its home and now we must rebuild that which we damaged. Climate change, pollution, and resource depletion do not stop at national borders. Rising sea levels and extreme weather affect every country around the world, even those that have not contributed to the harm. International cooperation is essential to address these global challenges effectively. Collective action can lead to stronger policies, sharing of technologies, and funding to support sustainable development in both developed and developing nations. Rebuilding habitats, and repairing the oceans and their vast coral reefs, can not be done by a single country, let alone a single person. Reform on an international scale is the first and foremost step as it is massive industrial corporations that pour chemicals into lakes and dump waste into vacant fields, using the planet as a trashcan. The more we push for this reform, the more we urge government officials to secure a healthy planet for our children and their children, the better our chances of making an impactful change.

Depression and ADHD are complex illnesses that deeply shape your beliefs and relationships in ways that are often hidden or ignored. These conditions influence how you perceive yourself, interact with others, and navigate the world, often in ways not immediately understood by those around you. I was diagnosed with severe depression in 2017 but wasn't put on medication as my mother was vehemently against it. High school became a mild hellscape as there were nonexistent mental health services and my struggles were chalked up to "lacking a true trust in God". If God was the answer, why were my cries for help left unanswered? What of righteous classmates who were also silently struggling? Maybe I was just being dramatic. My inability to focus in class was surely just me being constantly tired and because having Precalculus at 7:50 am is cruel and unusual. I used to be in my elementary and middle school's gifted program, now I was just scraping out a C- in my classes. College brought its garbage bag full of struggles. Now on my own, I was forced to learn how to be an adult and reign in my worsening mental health. If only I knew in high school how much harder it is to pay attention to a lecture and retain any sliver of information. Homework assignments were forgotten about, keys and IDs were lost, and I could rot in bed as long as I wanted. COVID exacerbated these issues ten-fold. I quickly found out virtual lectures were the worst possible way for me to learn anything and they were not going away anytime soon. I was back at home and with my emotional instability at its worst, my mom and I fought constantly. I dropped out of college in 2021. Now that I was able to have some semblance of control over my mental well-being, I finally made an appointment to see an actual therapist. They put me on a low dosage of antidepressants and soon after I was diagnosed with ADHD at age 22. My entire life, I was wracked with frustration about how I couldn't learn at the same pace as my peers. How I couldn't pay attention to a math lecture no matter how desperately I forced myself to. The fidgeting, the constant need to do something with my hands, and the unending cacophony of noises in my head, were all finally answered. I am currently back at college pursuing an Environmental Science degree. My mental health has its ebbs and flows, some worse than others. A lesson taught to me over the years has been the importance of a support system. My parent's disbelief in my ailments caused me to go unmedicated and untreated for most of my life. I couldn't discuss how poorly I was doing and chose to hide it all away. Meeting my partner and his family and finally having people who can relate and empathize has been a genuine lifesaver. I've learned how to be a helping hand to my friends and myself. A future that was once blurry and uncertain is slowly coming into focus. I've learned that it isn't my responsibility to make my parents believe me, but I owe it to myself to believe me.

Growing up in a predominately white and Christian neighborhood, to say that I had very little exposure to anything mildly LGBT+ related is an understatement. My parents dragged us to church every Sunday and holiday, we volunteered at events and attended private Christian school. Up until high school, the only exposure I had was the occasional gay makeup YouTube creator and the family members that my parents would talk ill of. Then, as is customary for most who are discovering their sexuality, I developed a crush on my heterosexual best friend. Panic ensues, my already fragile faith is thrown into turmoil, and I have no one to talk about this revelation with. Except for one person. Madelyn has been my best friend since 5th grade as we are both avid readers and had many a strong stance to share, even in middle school. We were also both a part of our church's youth group program and endured more Christian retreats than any sane person should. Circle back to high school and we are still best of friends but now with more repressed angst and conflicted feelings. My questions about my faith were slowly brewing into anger and borderline hatred, not just for Christianity but for myself as well. Chapel services, apologetics classes, bible groups, and even our classmates were loudspeakers for the homophobic rhetoric that so many Christians are known for. "Did I truly like both boys and girls? Did my friends know? Would they treat me differently? Would they tell my parents?" were just a few of the questions that rattled around my unmedicated brain. However, I was able to graduate being moderately proud and comfortable with who I was. Over my junior and senior years, Lynn patiently helped soothe my gay panic and faith-based nerves. I was no longer a Christian, but that did not matter to her. To Lynn, her role was to love everyone and educate people not just on Christianity, but any relevant topic. From sexuality to changes in legislation, and discussions on why Harry Potter is not actually that good, the floor was always open for conversation. I cringe to think about what my ideologies could have been had our friendship fallen through in high school. A handful of months after we graduated, Madelynn came out to me as trans. I was supportive and ecstatic for her, but I was terrified for my family to catch wind. You see, our parents were and still are close friends, however they are steadfast Christians. We had more than our fair share of uncomfortable dinner conversations about "The Gays". Lynn was my safe space, a pillar of support where we could lament our home situations and the growing turmoil in America that was quickly becoming overwhelming and dread-inducing. She still is and I hope she always will be. We attended our first pride event in 2021 and shared pictures of our orange cats. Working with LGBT+ organizations, Lynn has extensive knowledge of current events and is my go-to for information that won't send me into a spiral of anxiety. I've strived to become more active in my community through her help. Madelynn is a friend that I cherish and will protect with my life, for without her, she never would have changed it.

Being someone who struggles heavily with their mental health, I can empathize heavily with my fellow peers and their battles. I am all too familiar with the feelings of hopelessness, anxiety, fear, and the many other detrimental feelings and symptoms of mental illness. I am also no stranger to lacking supportive family members or being constantly told that you're fine or suck it up, so I try my damndest to be that support system for my friends. A shoulder to cry on, an ear to lend, or just a presence to have, I will do what is needed to make my friends feel safe and secure. If I can relieve even an ounce of their mental burden, I've accomplished my duty as their friend. While my future career path may not be directly mental health-related, it impacts those around me. News of how the environment is dying, and studies illustrating our hand in damaging the earth, it is all, for lack of a better word, depressing. I work myself to the bone to pay for college in the hopes of working in a field that can slowly undo that damage. I want my friends and maybe even a future family to hear the birds loudly chirping in the morning, lightning bugs dotting the night air, and lush forests decorating the landscape. Nature brings joy, and I strive to bring that joy back through my work.

Mental health is a vital aspect of our overall well-being, impacting how we think, feel, and act. It influences our ability to handle stress, relate to our peers, and how we go about or cope with life. Despite its importance in our lives, mental health is often overlooked or flat-out disregarded. Mental health encompasses emotional, psychological, and social well-being. Contrary to social belief, mental illness does not discriminate. There are genetic and environmental factors or no factors at all. Just as physical health is essential for functioning, mental health is crucial for achieving a balanced life. Neglecting your mental health can lead to a myriad of negative outcomes. You lose interest in things you once loved, push people away, and no longer take care of yourself. On a larger scale, the impact of mental health issues extends to society. Ever-increasing healthcare costs, lost productivity, and the burden on already strained social services are all consequences of untreated mental health conditions. College students, perhaps more than anyone, know how damaging untreated mental illness can be. In my experience, once the stress or anxiety begins, the workload and financial burden of college add to that until you can't cope. I've witnessed many of my peers turn to alcohol or marijuana just to cope with the weight college puts on your shoulders. Historically, I have not coped with my various mental illnesses well due to a lack of a support system at home and no money to spare for therapy. My burdens and problems were mine to deal with alone, not for someone else to bear. In the past, I've tried to drink or smoke away my stress. If I'm not coherent, what is there to worry about? Now, as I'm approaching the age of 24 and the end of my college journey, I've slowly learned how to cope in more healthy ways. I'm in therapy and on medication that, thankfully, my insurance covers. I've let my partner and close friends in on what I have been struggling with and have allowed them to willingly share that pain and walk me through it. I allow myself mental health days, pushing aside the guilt I have been carrying for years for doing so. Feeling the sun on my face, becoming more social, opening up about my life, and volunteering, all have helped little by little to bring me out of the dark place I have been in for years. There is no quick-fix solution to mental illness, as fantastic as that would be. However, mental illness is not a battle to face by yourself, nor is the journey toward healthy mental well-being a path to walk alone.

My anxiety has grown and matured alongside me. When I was maybe 10, my anxiety reflected my religious upbringing. Staying up into the late hours of the night, questioning my faith and feeling like a traitor to my friends and family, terrified of my loved ones being snatched up during the rapture and leaving me behind, normal young teenager things. As I grew up, my faith-based anxiety evolved into social anxiety as my body began to change and my self-esteem plummeted. I never lost that baby fat everyone said I would, my teeth were crooked, my nose was too big for my face, and I dressed like the average 8th-grade loser. High school is brutal for those with undiagnosed anxiety disorder between social pressures and the dreaded class presentations. As a former gifted child, the onus was on me to be a straight-A student and successful high school student, meanwhile, I was failing to grasp basic algebraic concepts and falling behind in my classes. So, as any ordinary social-anxiety-stricken would do, I joined the marching band and the school's improv comedy group. Performing in front of hundreds of parents and students on Friday nights, and making sure my color guard routines were perfect, seemed like a fantastic way to compensate for being afraid of people. Adding an extra layer of pressure by having to be funny and quick-witted in improv was just a sweet bonus. At the age of 23, my anxieties are plentiful and complex. Still, I'm not too fond of class presentations, that never changed. I constantly worry I'm being a burden or annoying to those around me, so I avoid making bonds or friendships with my peers. My shoulders and back are a mess of knots so as not to feel like I am wasting what little money I have and tension from the financial stress of college and the academic strain I put on myself. I have asked myself a myriad of times why I keep doing this to myself. Why do I insist on putting myself through these amounts of stress and worry? Quite simply, to prove that I can. Time and time again, life has thrown obstacles at me. Death, health issues, lack of money, and relationship strain. It would be easier just to let my depression absorb me, to lay in bed and do nothing but eat, work, then sleep. But that would be giving up. I have made it this far despite everything, to give up now would be ridiculous. I have a passion, and I have a dream career I'm pursuing. I'm not doing this just for the current me, but 10-year-old me who was lying in bed shrouded in fear and uncertainty. For 16-year-old me who struggled to get out of bed every day and find a reason to keep going. Some could say it is spite, and I'm not ignorant enough to deny that, but mostly it is pride. I need something I and my younger selves can be proud of. I need to prove that I survived regardless of my less-than-stellar mental health. All this, and I still have student loans to pay off.

In today's social media-saturated culture, mental illness has been watered down to be a quirky personality trait for young kids or an excuse to avoid accountability. It seems less and less people are aware of how detrimental it can be or those who are struggling with it themselves can be made to feel like a freak or dramatic. Depression is perhaps the clearest example of it, being boiled down to "just being sad" by every generation. It was never just being sad when I was 15, rotting away in bed and questioning why I was ever born and it still isn't just being sad as any vision for a future becomes murky and opaque. I was diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder at 16, despite my mother's refusal to believe such a preposterous thing. I went through the rest of high school unmedicated and drowning in obsessive thoughts on why I was so broken despite having my most basic needs met. I had to learn that unlike the faculty and staff at my primarily white Christian high school, depression does not discriminate. It does not matter if you are popular, an outcast, rich, poor, or somewhere in the middle. As unfair as it is, depression can be random chance. It was for me, anyway. I was put on antidepressants when I was 21. Today, my mother still believes I need to just take a walk outside and find faith in a God that was never there for me. I'm in therapy, a healthy relationship, and am pursuing a field I'm passionate about. I'm happy, right? Alas, another lesson to learn is that depression doesn't just go away. You don't just "get better". In truth, I haven't overcome adversity in a traditional sense. I've simply refused to let that adversity break me. Every day for 23 years, I have woken up, gotten out of bed at least once, and gone back to sleep. I have lived day after day with a 100% success rate. Even if all I do is get up to use the bathroom and eat a piece of toast, I have lived and pushed back that looming abyss that depression is. I haven't beat it; I just have not let it beat me. And that is more than enough. My advice for those who find their heads dipping beneath the surface time after time again, their lungs burning and the desire to give up becoming near overwhelming: it is OK to just float. You may have days where you can muster the strength to swim closer to land, you may also have days where all you can do is float and stare at the endless blue of the sky. You have made it this far. You have made it through your worst days, and you can do it again. You always do.

My personal background is that of many other Midwest-born and suburban-raised children my age. I have two parents who probably should've divorced a decade ago who worked hard to provide for my brother and I. We had home-cooked meals, public school education, reluctant Sunday church services, and block parties during the summer. Like many toddlers, I took an innocent curiosity in nature. Making friends with potato bugs, collecting cicada skins, and eating dirt by the fistful were just a few of the ways I developed a love and reverence for nature. I went to a local public school however my mother deemed me "too smart" for such an education and I was promptly plopped into private Christian school, where I would remain until my high school graduation. Like many schools of this nature, it was incredibly financially burdensome and my family, as much as they tried to hide it, struggled. While many of my classmates sported brand name clothing, large houses, and trim cars, my brother and I strutted around in beat-up Vans and were dropped off in my mom's used 2014 Toyota RAV 4. Our backpacks were our parents', our notebooks from Walmart, and our uniforms from the "Used" section of the uniform store. If memory serves me correct, I wore the same plaid skirt and khakis for all 4 years of high school. Despite this, I graduated with moderate grades and two different diagnosed mental illnesses. Student loans were a boogeyman to many a high school senior. Colleges enticed us with promises of well-paying internships and bountiful scholarships. Military recruiters lured desperate students in, vowing to pay for college in exchange for only two to three years of dedicated service. For many like me, college and the military was the only post-high school option. Of course I, a freshly 18-year-old, would blindly sign off on a $25,000 loan. I was going to become a woman in STEM, of course I would be able to pay it off without so much as a bead of sweat on my brow. Tuition handled, I headed out to the University of Toledo to pursue a career in mechanical engineering. Then, the lab fees appeared on my bill. Then the $100 textbooks and $50 drawing supplies. Specialized eye gear, stacks of drawing paper, jazz shoes for band, and far more materials than I could possibly remember, let alone pay for. I was in an unfamiliar city with no job. I couldn't just ask Daddy for a couple hundred dollars or access a trust fund. Then COVID hit. I managed to find a minimum wage retail job that paid a whopping $12 an hour, but it was stable and they gave me decent hours. I had no room to complain when the only other option was, well, nothing really. School eventually was back in session and I landed an internship after months and months of submitting resumes and dead end Zoom interviews. They paid me $13 an hour to pack boxes and hoist sheet metal into punches. My next internship a year later paid better, but required I stare at Excel spreadsheets populated with hundreds of aircraft parts. It had become more than apparent that I was not built for engineering. However, those loans were not going to pay themselves. Today, I find myself in the worse financial shape I've ever been in. After a gap year of working a full-time night job and part time retail, I decided to go back to college and pursue Environmental Science. The air was violently pulled from my already weathered sails upon finding out that my loans will not cover any of Baldwin Wallace's costs. No matter, I've worked myself into exhaustion before, I can do it again. My first year I managed to earn a few transfer grants and paid the rest off out of pocket. My second year approaches; I have a tutoring job and I'm still at my initial retail job now making a grand total of $16.50 and hour. I wake up on a Thursday morning in June to find my appendix has ruptured, I have sepsis, and will need emergency surgery and a hospital stay. Lucky me. Despite the best insurance my father's job can offer him, my bill arrived and casually stated I owed thousands of dollars from the three different hospitals I was carted around to. Despite all that I have laid out in bleak detail, I refuse to let it pull me off my path. I may not have overcome this specific financial adversity yet, but I will not simply lie on my side and let those bills eat away at me like vultures. I have a passion for the environment and bettering all those who live in it. I've witnessed the disappearance of lightning bugs in the summer nights and the absence of bird song in the coming mornings. Humanity has done more than their fair share of harm to the planet they call home, however maybe we can do more than just put a corporate-art-covered bandage on it. If I, along with so many others who share this same desire for conservation, can help the myriad endangered and vulnerable species even a little bit, I will know that I have served my purpose as a caretaker of Earth. It is the least I can do for my little potato bug friends.

My favorite aspect of the game is the ability to play with friends. I am typically an adamant single-player game person, however I rarely ever play Minecraft alone. Amidst the stress of school, work, and life, nothing soothes my brain quite like hopping on and joining my friends in our little journeys. I adore seeing our efforts come to fruition as we build complex houses, expansive farms, intricate cave systems, or even something as simple as a library. It is way of making your creativity into a virtually tangible thing. It can be relaxing or it can be adventure-filled. Regardless, there are laughs to be had whenever we are on. I unfortunately seldom see my friends in person due to life and all our working schedules and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't lonely as a result. Playing Minecraft with them is a way to stay in touch and spend time with them, even if it's over a headset and microphone. I cherish this time nonetheless. I hadn't played Minecraft in years prior to last year and it was a lovely nostalgia trip to jump back in as if I never left. Coupled with the joy of being with my friends in such a big game, it is something I look forward to every weekend and makes the stresses of life worth it.

I am a 23-year-old undergraduate student studying Environmental Science in the hopes of becoming a wildlife conservation biologist. I absolutely love bats and birds and wish to work in the field with them, especially endangered species. I was previously attending University of Toledo for Mechanical Engineering however that college and that major was not a good fit for me. In my minimal free time, I work a part-time retail job and am a kindergarten English tutor. Additionally, I paint, crochet, read, and play video games with my friends. The biggest adversity that I have had to overcome is my battle with my mental health. Over the course of five years, I have been diagnosed with Major Depressive Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, and ADHD. I do not function the same as my fellow students and learning is especially hard. I have had to teach myself how to learn in a way that works alongside healthy coping mechanisms. I have been to several therapists and just recently was put on medication. While these have helped immensely, I still have my good days and terrible weeks. I've lost friends and various support networks over the years making it especially difficult to cope sometimes. However, it is not nearly as crippling as it was in high school. I'm much more stable and haven't self-harmed in years. My ongoing battle with depression especially has made college a nightmare. I've missed class and assignments, my grades have fallen, and it is difficult to keep going. However, I have this burning desire to prove to myself that I can do this. My depression often puts these notions in my head that I'm not worth anything or that I'm stupid and should just give up. I suppose that out of spite more than anything, I refuse. I know I struggle in classes with new concepts, but it is up to me to find a way to make it work. In high school, I firmly believed that I would not live past 18. Now, I graduated, have a lovely new group of friends, got into a field I adore, and have hope. I can't let this go to waste as it would be a disservice to my severely depressed teenage self. She deserves to see me succeed and find happiness. She deserves to see me doing what I love with the people I love. This is my second chance and I intend to make the most of it.

From past experience, when my mental health is struggling, it becomes a detrimental domino effect. My physical health will suffer due to low energy and I find myself getting sick more often during bad bouts of depression. I will also neglect myself causing my skin and hair to get worse or struggling with stomach pain due to not eating. My mental health needs to be attended to first and foremost or else everything else will start to suffer. Not just my physical health, but my grades, relationships, and hobbies I would typically enjoy. I do not enjoy rotting in bed being stuck inside my own head while my friends carry on with their lives or my parents worry about me. It is an exhausting thing to constantly deal with as it can quickly become an all-encompassing darkness that isolates me from everyone. However, when I finally do get my mental health back on track, the world seems a little less awful. The biggest challenge as a student is the previously mentioned domino effect. When my mental health starts failing, my grades start failing. When my grades start failing, my stress becomes unbearable as I desperately try to claw my way back into a stable place and feel some semblance of normality. Teachers begin to worry which fills me with guilt, my parents start asking questions, and I often find myself asking if any of this is even worth it. On top of all of this, my financial situation paralyzes me with anxiety. I truly enjoy learning and making connections. College has given me a reason to keep going but is also my biggest source of stress. I'm incredibly grateful I can even attend college and find the mentors I need. Due to being a transfer student, I no longer have that support network of friends that I had at my previous college. I would be lying if I said that I didn't constantly feel like I do not belong here. However, all of this in mind, I fully intend to keep going. I've dedicated to much time and money to give up now and I can not let my parents down. My dreams and desires once I graduate are too strong to simply throw in the towel because my brain can't function properly. College takes an incredible mental toll on me, however it gives me the reason I need to keep fighting.

My go-to show when people want a recommendation is Avatar: the Last Airbender. However, I am not talking about the live action version but the original animated version. It is three seasons long but each episode is only roughly 10 minutes long. At a glance, it will seem like just a silly children's cartoon and I do not blame people for getting that impression. But as the show progresses, it becomes a story of guilt, forgiveness, past trauma and moving on from it, and the value of friendships. You follow Aang, the last remaining survivor of the Air Nomads, who has just woken up from a 100-year long coma to a nation oppressed by the Fire Nation. He is the Avatar; one who must master all four of the elements and bring peace, even though he is only 12 years old. He meets Katara and Sokka, a pair of siblings who are no strangers to the loss that war brings. Across the four seasons, you follow these three as they visit each nation to master their respective elements. All the while, Aang grapples with the guilt of being the Avatar and protecting his friends. Meanwhile, a young teenager named Zuko is hellbent on capturing the Avatar to earn back his father's favor alongside his tea-loving uncle Iroh. His story is one of recovering from trauma and found family. All these stories intertwine in a masterfully told story. There are hilarious moments but also moments that will make you cry or incite anger. It is incredibly easy to get attached to these characters as they are flawed and relatable in their own ways. Additionally, the music is absolutely beautiful and adds to the atmosphere of every scene. I highly recommend this show to anyone that wants a show that isn't terribly long and, unlike most Netflix series, actually has an ending to it. Despite first releasing in 2005, the animation quality is astounding and it is a feast for the eyes. It's not graphic or overly sexualized nor are the episodes 40 minutes long. It's a show for all age ranges. I remember watching it on Nickelodeon as a young child and falling in love with the characters and the music. Now, as a 23-year-old, I still absolutely adore the show but can view it through a different lens. And in regards to the live-action, I would say do not bother. It does not carry the magic the original possessed.

The book I would choose is one that I read last year titled "A Man Called Ove" by Fredrik Backman. Without giving too much away, the book centers around an old man living in a Swedish development named Ove. Not much is known about him except that he is incredibly grumpy and standoffish. As the book unfolds, you learn more about his story and what has made him so bitter. You experience the joys and the heartbreak alongside of him. Between sections of backstory, Ove makes hesitant connections with his fellow neighbors and even a stray cat. This book is wonderful showcase of human resiliency but also how important human connection is. Throughout the story, a beautiful display of kinship, kindness, and trust is slowly put together. The book is tragic at times, however Backman flawlessly captures the tongue-in-cheek humor of a grumpy old man who is not quite with the modern times. In today's society, especially after the pandemic, people have never felt so isolated from their neighbors and even their friends. People have lost kindness to one another, preferring to have petty spats over social media or flat out refusing to acknowledge people. There is little to no sense of community anymore, even in my own neighborhood. I believe anyone who is feeling that isolated bitterness or loneliness should read this book, or even if you need a book that is equal parts hilarious and heartbreaking. "A Man Called Ove" also tackles grief, something many people don't know how to deal with. Whether the reader finds themself relating to Ove, his neighbors, or even the cat, everyone at some point should give this book a try.

I find it difficult to find things that make me proud to be American in this day and age, however, that isn't to say there aren't any. My family and I have learned the hard way that the American dream is just that; a dream. We have been beaten down by medical bills when my mother had cancer and my father had a kidney blockage, I have been back and forth with doctor's and insurance companies to acquire my medication, and it seems every day there are more bills being passed that limit rights and choices for women and LGBTQ citizens. It's difficult to not adopt a pessimistic or even nihilistic view of this country with every new compounding issue. All of this being said, despite America's numerous shortcomings, I am proud of a select number of things. Our geography, wildlife, and landscapes are diverse and beautiful. Starting with the forest-covered giants in the Appalachians and running through golden plains to arrive at the painted canyons and plateaus in the southwest. Amongst the brush are brightly-colored beetles and vibrant salamanders. In the sky are majestic falcons and eagles. In our lakes we have hundreds of fish. The biodiversity within America is astounding and something I'm dedicating my life to. What makes me the most proud is the people who are fighting tooth and nail for positive change. My generation specifically is educating themselves and others on how to push back on oppressive bills and policies. Decades ago, citizens with that same unbreakable will and spirit fought for gay and women's rights, for equality, for better standards of living. Every generation will have those in power trying to crush them or put them in line, and every generation will have its rule-shattering rebels. The honor of sharing the title of "American" with these movers and shakers makes me proud. As stated previously, our country is deeply flawed. We always proclaim we are the "Land of the Free" yet women have to travel across states for reproductive care, disabled citizens are locked out of accessible medical care or employment, and books are being banned and burned. We are the very oppression we call other countries out on. Its expensive to be poor and exhausting to be happy. A change I need to see to earn back pride for this country is true equality and, as lofty as it sounds, kindness. Too many citizens let hate, whether politically-fueled or religiously-fuel, dictate how they treat people. Our own politicians exemplify this with their policies and propaganda by placing unjust blame on LGBT adults, denying children gender-affirming care and forcing women to carrying unwanted or dangerous pregnancies. There needs to be kindness again. Even the smallest act or gesture of kindness can change a person or even a generation. Our country isn't "united" anymore. I am only one person and it would be unrealistic of be to think I can march up to the White House and demand everyone be nice to each other. However, I am not powerless. I can show kindness to those around me, educate those who may be misinformed or ignorant, and show an understanding many may have never received. I will teach my children to respect everyone, regardless of race, gender, sexuality, or life situation, and maybe they will teach their own children the same.

My mental health has caused me have a rather warped and pessimistic view of many things in my life compared to those around me. When your own brain is telling you that life isn't worth it and that everyone you know hates you, it can be difficult to continue on with life. My mental illnesses have taught me that I'm difficult to love and mentally exhausting to be around. On my bad days, my partner can feel like they're walking on eggshells, lest a change in tone send me into a spiral of overthinking and panicking. My partners in the past have had to worry about my physical well-being. Did I actually eat something? When was the last time I showered? Are you wearing a hoodie because you're cold or because you hurt yourself again? It has taught me that friends are hard to keep when you're mentally ill. People can only handle so much before they have to leave. I hold no blame over them, but they take a piece of me with them every time. I will be forever grateful for the ones who have stayed, in this life and the next. I have put them through hell and they held my hand and willingly walked through it with me. The world is not kind to mentally ill people. I have the privilege of being high-functioning in my anxiety and depression and can force myself to go to work and make an unlivable wage. I can push my worries down and pretend to be normal in public. I've been able to hold my job by hiding everything away from my managers. But not everyone can do all that. Not everyone can leave their house, work a full-time job, or get access to medication. I have seen first hand how cruel society is to mentally ill. Companies and organizations love to uphold a facade of caring about mental health until people actually show the symptoms. I have seen my friends failed my doctors and their parents. I have seen those same parents deny that they're not okay. It is a vicious cycle of denial and repression that hurts every single person involved. As pessimistic and, for lack of a better term, depressing, as this all sounds, I still want to live. For the people who stayed and continue to love me, I have to stay. For my younger brother, I have to stay. To prove to my younger self that I am not worthless and can actually achieve something in life, I must stay. I have improved myself despite everything. I have been learning to love myself again, slowly and painfully, and learning to trust people. There are still moments of darkness, bordering on hopelessness, however I can pull myself out of that abyss with the help of my loved ones. I must live and thrive for them and myself.

There have been numerous moments in my life that I could define as "hardships". Questioning my faith in a religious family, figuring out my sexuality in a homophobic environment, going away to college, the seemingly endless spirals in my mental health. All these taken into account, the moment that sticks out to me the most, like a jagged thorn you miss while walking, happened my Sophomore year in college. Even now, roughly 3 years later, it still sends a pang of sadness through my stomach. In short, a family acquaintance outed me to my parents and sent them a meme I had posted on my personal Instagram account. My father did not take it kindly in the slightest, in fact to say he took it poorly would be an understatement. I was met with paragraph upon paragraphs of anger and what he took as betrayal. I was made to feel like I slighted his family but was not included in said family. There was no love in his words. No understanding, no desire to learn why I never told him I was bisexual. Just blind rage towards his oldest daughter. My own mother sided with him, saying I hurt both of them. I felt a loneliness and sadness I had never felt before in my life. It was all-encompassing, swallowing any progress I had made in bettering my mental health. Finding out your parents' love is in fact conditional was a hurt nothing could have prepared me for,a hurt I have trouble putting into words even now. A physical pain in your heart and a twisting of your stomach. Despite this oppressive loneliness and sadness that was threatening to tear me apart, I wasn't alone. I had friends in college who too had parents that treated them poorly. I slowly reached out to them, letting them into the void of anxiety and hurt. They held me tight, and made the world a bit brighter again. With my then boyfriend's encouragement, I even reached out to his mother and received the love and support I so desperately needed from a parent. I distanced myself from my own parents and focused on being with my friends. I made it out alright, had my words with my parents, and even mended our relationship tiny piece by tiny piece. Now, I take this experience and make sure to show my friends love and support, no matter their gender expression or identity. Many of them have parents who don't show that unconditional love they deserve. I welcome them with open arms readily. I also show the kids I tutor love and respect. I know school is difficult, especially with no support. I make sure they know they are smart and worthy of love, so they may grow and treat others the same. My parents' generation was one of hurt. I will make sure mine is one of love.

I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder when I was 16, at the peak of high school. Presentations were a heart-thundering nightmare, reading in front of English class sent my blood pressure into the red zone, and the mere thought of socializing at prom made me want to return the beautiful black ballgown I bought. On top of these, in hindsight, humorous affairs, I was questioning my faith in a private Christian school. That brought its own set of gut punches and nervous breakdowns. However, I managed to graduate and keep a close-knit circle of friends. In college, I would venture to say it got worse. The stakes were much higher as i was two hours away from home and just signed of on a $27,000 loan at barely 19. My family was excited for me to be a woman in engineering and I was dreading the notion of sharing a room with multiple strangers. Being in lecture halls surrounded by men did not alleviate my fight or flight response. Tests, quizzes, grades, food, waking up on time, and a myriad of other factors made me, in short, a nervous wreck. I lost weight, became sleep-deprived on a constant basis, and the fear for my grades actually negatively impacted them. My own brain was against me. I finally had enough in 2022 and got into therapy. I was put on long-awaited antidepressants and anxiety medication. I felt some semblance of normality after years of fear and worry. My anxiety still rears its ugly visage on occasion, sending me into spirals of hyperventilating and isolation. Learning to cope has been difficult, but I like to think I've managed with the help of friends, mentors, and my lovely therapist. Pursuing a college degree and achieving one would prove to my 16-year-old self that I made it. I survived and I achieved something noteworthy. I pushed past my mental illnesses, the cacophony of negative thoughts and self-hatred, and came out on the other side with the battle scars to prove it. It will show my parents that I can succeed despite the obstacles they chose to ignore for years. Most importantly, I can tell my present self that you are capable of great things. I am not just my mental illnesses or my worries. I am worthy of friendships and love and people do in fact care about me. I doubt my anxiety will ever go away, but it has become less of a looming, ominous shadow over me and more of an annoying little imp that likes to agitate me.

I have struggled with school since I was in grade school. Whether is was fidgeting and drawing on the desk when I should've been paying attention, or forgetting about important assignments, the early symptoms of ADHD were not only apparent, but an extra obstacle in my education. In high school, depression and anxiety made it difficult to get school work done or retain information in class. My attendance was poor and my grades suffered. I didn't know what was wrong with me, I just knew what was easy to my fellow peers felt impossible for me. My junior year in high school, I was diagnosed with depression and generalized anxiety disorder. It wasn't until two years ago that I was put on medication. Last year, I was finally diagnosed with ADHD. I had the answers I so desperately needed all those years ago. However, despite being medicated for my disorders, I still struggle greatly in school. Paying attention to lectures can be an arduous task if I don't find it that interesting. I forget assignments and projects, even if I write them down. During the winter, getting out of bed will be the most difficult thing I do that day. My energy and motivation drops while my anxiety skyrockets. Those days, it seems my brain rolls a die to see what mood I will be in. I've even made my fair share of calls to crisis hotlines when I spiraled to what felt like rock bottom. Despite all of this, I persevere. I have had to essentially re-learn how to learn. I've developed an efficient way of studying and getting assignments done when I can. I have a therapist I talk to regularly so I don't dampen down my emotions until they overflow. The most difficult step I've taken is talking to my professors and asking for help. I've felt like a burden to the people around me for most of my life and have this notion in my head that no one cares. I've since learned my professors do care and want to see us succeed. My mental health will always be an uphill battle. Some days I achieve small victories, other days are crippling defeats. Despite it all, I am still here and I am still me. My brother still has an annoying older sister and my parents still have an eldest daughter. My friends still have someone to play games with and my pets have someone to snuggle with and bother. I don't know how I'll be in the future, but I know I'll still be here.

No, I do not. My parents are religious and raised my brother and I as such. We went to church on Sundays, attended Wednesday night bible groups, read the Bible every Christmas eve, and generally tried to uphold Christian values. At a glance, I was a standard Christian girl. However, around middle school, I started to properly question if God existed or not. Many people my age at youth group always talked of hearing God speak to them or showing them the path they must walk. To my confusion, I never heard anything. I prayed every night, I read my bible, I loved my neighbor, and did everything I was supposed to do. So why did I never hear anything? Where was this path I was supposed to be shown? Embarrassed and ashamed for even questioning such a thing, I pushed these questions down. Children in youth group were expected to believe the same things with little to no question. You could have your small inquiries, but something as drastic as questioning the existence of God was frowned upon. I would lay awake at night, horrendously anxious as I had the primal fear of hell and damnation drilled into my still-developing mind. Looking back, I think it was immoral to put such a terrifying concept into the heads of young children to keep them from questioning. Children shouldn't be concerned about burning eternally in hell, they should be worried about the next video game coming out or what theme to have for their birthday party. The years progresses, and still God was silent. My mental health declined, yet I was told I had no reason to be depressed because Jesus was in my heart. At the time, the only thing in my heart was guilt and shame. I was a developing girl, and the men on the stage of our humble meeting room were telling me to cover up and to be a modest young girl. They would tell me to not tempt my fellow brother in Christ with my 15-year-old shoulders. It was humiliating to say the least. What God would let his creations prey upon each other for showing skin? What God would care what I do in the privacy of my own room. I wasn't my own person. My heart, my thoughts, my own body belonged to God, as if autonomy itself was a sin. On top of all this, he was still silent as the air before a storm. The only voice I was hearing was my anxiety-filled questioning. I could not take it anymore. My parents did not take the news well. Not only had I left the suffocating environment of the church and renounced my faith, but I had come out as bisexual. I knew I couldn't follow a God that hated who I was and who I chose to be with. I wouldn't have this absent supposed higher power control my personhood. I would no longer let the men of the church guilt me into being subservient and modest. I left, and never looked back. Today, I am still my own person. I got help for my mental disorders, unlearned the shame that was drilled into me, and abandoned the harmful teachings and hypocrisy the forced into my life. I have hope and no longer pine for a God that won't give me the time of day.

My education goals are to learn as much information and knowledge as I can so I may be successful in my dream field of wildlife conservation biology. I wish to learn from my professors, not just from he curriculum, but in research projects. Any bit of advice, knowledge, or experience I can gain is incredibly valuable to me. My dream career, as previously stated, is to be a wildlife biologist with a focus in conservation and endangered species. I've seen the damage humans have done to local and global wildlife and want to work towards bringing those species back to life and possibly reducing the harm we have done. I believe it is our duty as humans as a whole to give back to nature as it have given so much to us. Animals, birds, and insects were here before us and it is unfair that they should suffer at our hands. Each organism has an important role in its environment and we need to ensure it can sufficiently complete that role, lest other organisms suffer for it. In my dream career, I would work with a dedicated team to nurture the local species that have been most affected and bring them back to their former glory, from the majestic hawk to the tiniest firefly. I unfortunately do not have the privilege of coming from a rich family that can simply pay my tuition with a simple check. My parents both worked to provide us a home and schooling. However, unforeseen financial troubles have made both this year and last year especially difficult. My mother;s cancer surgery from last January is still having an impact on all of us. I currently work two part time jobs in addition to full-time school just to afford my tuition alongside my necessary medication. Needless to say, paying for college is a great source of stress for my parents and I. The financial aid that we have received has been incredibly helpful, however it has not been enough. With this scholarship, we can worry less about paying my fees and focus on other matters in our family. I can then focus more on my schoolwork and grades instead of working myself to exhaustion in the hopes of paying off my tuition and student debt. I know in my heart that I want to be a wildlife biologist, but to do so I need my necessary degrees and research experience. To have to drop out of college because I can no longer afford it would be devastating. Any financial help is greatly appreciated and would make my dreams not as lofty.

Success to me to seeing that all your sleepless nights, last minute essays, projects, and sacrifices have come to realization. It is seeing the fruits of your labor in action and being able to say to yourself, "I did that." In my dream career field of wildlife conservation biology, success would be observing endangered species make a comeback thanks to mine and my team's work. Seeing fireflies fill the summer nights again, hearing more birds in the wee hours of the morning, cleaning our lakes and witnessing the blue of the water again. I wish to give back to nature, as without it, I wouldn't be who I am today. I love and respect nature, and I believe it is my duty to pay that back. While this description of success is in the long run, I have my own smaller success that I'm proud of. My mental health has been its own obstacle my entire life, one that has threatened to drag me underwater and never let me go. Despite this, I've persevered and wrench myself from its grasp for fresh air. To be brought to the brink of rock bottom only to fight your way back up, to me at least, is success. To be able to look back on who you were and know that you have improved in every aspect, is success. This opportunity presented would help me in several ways. It is no secret that college is expensive, to the point that many 18 and 19 year olds are signing loan agreements for thousands of dollars. It is a huge source of stress for students, including myself. Currently, in addition to being at school full-time, I work two jobs in order to pay for my semesters. Getting my degree and pursuing further education are incredibly important to me as I did not fight tooth and nail to get here only to not be able to afford it. To win this scholarship award would mean a weight lifted of my shoulders, even if temporarily. i can focus more on my education and experience rather than stressing about my next semester payment. I won't have to work myself to exhaustion to chip away at my school balance little by little. I am not fortunate nor privileged enough to have my parents or relatives pay for everything. While this has taught me a great deal about independence and fending for myself, I would be lying if I said it wasn't frustrating, especially in the midst of inflation. The knowledge and experience I gain from college is paramount to making it in my dream career. Learning the details of biology, the idiosyncrasies of species, and the cycles of the environment are critical and not something I can learn on my own. I need the guidance and mentorship that college provides. With the current cost of secondary education, that dream is becoming more and more lofty. With the financial aid this scholarship provides, I can work on making this "lofty" dream a proper reality and alleviate the financial burden on myself and my parents.

I was born to an Indian immigrant mom and all-american father in a small suburb in Northeast Ohio. By all accounts, I had a normal childhood. Went on fantastical adventures to the hardware store, ate dirt, befriended bugs, acquired a younger brother to fight with, and maintained a healthy fear of my father. A perfect Christian family. We attended church every Sunday, went to private school from Kindergarten to High School, and read the cartoonishly large King James Version of the Bible every Christmas Eve. By 7th grade, I was no longer Christian. By junior year, I realized I was bisexual, much to none of my friends' surprise. High school was wrought with diminishing friendships, petty drama, and undiagnosed mental illnesses. I hoped from therapist to therapist as my parents assured me I was fine and just being dramatic. I had attempted suicide once by senior year. At my graduation, I felt out of place as I hadn't expected to still be alive. But, there I stood in an uncomfortable white robe and itchy dress that was no more than 2 inches above my knees. I thought I wanted to be an engineer as I signed a loan agreement for $20,000 and prepared to move to notorious human trafficking hot spot: Toledo, OH. Two years later, a pandemic sent us all home, someone outed me to my parents, my cat died, and I realized I didn't want to be in the career field I thought I wanted to. I dropped out and moved back home. I found my current therapist and was finally put on antidepressants, diagnosed with ADHD, and transferred to Baldwin Wallace University. Within the span of my much-needed gap year, I rediscovered my love for nature and the desire to learn more about it. I've noticed the lack of fireflies on summer nights, the quieting of birdsong in the morning, and the mounds of trash in and around lakes and streams, and the dwindling number of already endangered species. My new major I've chosen at BW is environmental science and I wish to use all I've learned to pursue wildlife biology and conservation. I adore animals and their diversity and it pains me to see how they've suffered at the hands of humans and climate change. I wanted to bring life back to our parks and forests, just as nature would bring life back to me when I felt dead inside. I want to see ladybugs and bees on wildflowers and birds in the clear sky and see the list of endangered species decrease. Giving back to the planet I call home is the least I can do to make young me proud.

I choose to make small but gradual changes in order to live sustainably. I am all too familiar with how difficult it can be to live an eco-friendly lifestyle without burning out, therefore I try to do what I can little my little. For starters, I use the same Hydroflask water bottle in my daily life to reduce the amount of plastic water bottles in my area or workplace. When I pack my lunches, I try to avoid using plastic wrap or plastic bags, instead using the same containers my family has had for years, provided we can find the lids to them. I've recently started crocheting my own clothing as well as thrifting. With the rise of harmful fast fashion, I make it a point to avidly avoid those companies, choosing instead to give new life to second-hand clothing. My mother and I have tended to our small garden since I was a small child. We love to grow our own tomatoes, carrots, peppers, and herbs and refuse to use any pesticides or harsh chemicals. Some changes I have convinced my family to adopt is using a bamboo ball instead of dryer sheets, using my crocheted washcloths, better insulating our house to save on energy costs, and biking to nearby places rather than using a car. It is important to reduce your carbon footprint as it mitigates the effects of climate change little by little. Not much of a difference may be made if only one person reduces their footprint, however the more people who do so, the more of an improvement we'll see in our environment. Modern news on climate change is bleak and it is easy to get burnt out or adopt an apathetic opinion on the whole deal. I have come across many my age who have the "I can't do anything about it" mentality, and its understandable as to why they would. The Earth is our massive home and we want to protect, but just don't know how on an individual level. If being more eco-friendly is normalized and made more accessible to everyday people, it won't be as stressful to help the environment. The acknowledgement that corporations are the main cause of blame is the first step in alleviating that environmental stress, putting less of the blame on the individuals who wish to help. One-by-one, if we reduce our footprint, we just might be able to save our home.

Having attended two different colleges, I am no stranger to not only the financial difficulties but the societal ones as well. Before pursuing Environmental Science, I was studying to become an Engineer. From the get-go, there was a staggering gender discrepancy in my classes. Often times I was one of few, if not the only woman in my class. My professors were male, my classmates were male, even the people I would interview with were all male. I knew this going into University but it was jarring nonetheless. The male-majority population of this field didn't quite hit me until I was applying for internships. My male friends landed internships quickly and easily, yet I was struggling to find anyone to give me the time of day. My desires to become an engineer quickly diminished. Years later I find myself now studying Environmental Science and Sustainability. The majority of those in my classes are women, a refreshing change to say the least. My dream at the end of my college journey is to not only help improve the environment, but its inhabitants as well. I've seen the affects on food insecurity, rising oil prices, climate change. Therefore, I wish to work with my fellow women and enhance life for humans and animals alike. However, as previously mentioned, with college comes financial difficulty. Thousands of dollars are required for classes, lab work, and textbooks. I've had to take out loans to even enter into college. I believe it will be worth it in the end, but I would be lying if I said it did not weigh heavy on me. With this scholarship, I can focus less on trying to afford education, and more on my aspirations and projects. I have worked hard to get here, tackling a learning disability I didn't discover until adulthood, severe depression, financial hurdles, and life seemingly trying to do everything in its power to hold me back. I want to better the world I live in, one tiny step at a time. I wish to take all that I've learned from my professors and mentors and apply it wherever I go and in whatever I find myself doing. And finally, I wish to show the myriad of young girls out there who may feel hesitant about perusing STEM that they can excel, and to show my younger self that I can, in fact, do this. I can adapt to my disabilities and succeed, and I can take my passions and "lofty pursuits" and utilize them for the greater good of those around me.

Everyday, it seems that the amount of trash left behind by humans is drastically increasing. Landfills full of tires, plastic rings in the oceans, and canisters littering Mount Everest's peaks. In addition to this, the looming threat of climate change and its irreversible changes grows ever closer. The future of our children and our children's children is grim to say the least. Earth is our home, and it is our duty as its inhabitants to take care of it and perhaps reconcile the damage we have done. Mandatory recycling ensures that products that can be reused again do not take up space in landfills or end up in wildlife habitats. Many of these recyclable items take hundreds of years to decompose fully, causing harmful build-up and pollution. By recycling, we remove a great portion of this "trash", putting it to use elsewhere. Energy is a finite resource and we are quickly approaching not only an increasing need and use of it, but also a lack of it. Oil companies are digging their way into habitats and oceans via fracking and oil rigs. Carbon emissions and electrical consumption are at an all time high with no end in sight. Over time, not only will this negatively impact humanity, but the earth as a whole as well. By looking into greener alternatives, we can reduce the requirements for harmful fossil fuels and coal, instead paving ways for innovation and cleaner air and water. Changes this big requires governmental involvement, however we can start on the individual scale. The more we normalize environmental activism and make it more accessible, the more people will be incentivied to be the change we so desperately need.