I flipped through the pages of my altered book, which I had transformed into a creative outlet for my emotions. A page blacked out except for a huddled child, pasted cut-out letters spelling the word “fat,” a wilted flower with torn petals. Suddenly, I was transported back to a time of insecurity and shame. A time of blindly stumbling after the voice inside my head in hopes of shedding a few pounds... But I had decided I was done. Never again would that voice inside my head control me. I took my frustration and channeled it into something new: motivation. With the help of my loved ones, I fought every whisper inside my head to diet, to hurt myself, to give up on life. Even when the voice screamed not to, I persisted and persevered. It was not a smooth path to recovery. I fell and stumbled and tripped along the way, but picked myself up every time. I was bruised and rattled, yet determined to overcome the next obstacle. Throughout my battle with mental health, I built strong relationships with those around me as I realized I was not alone in my struggle. My parents drove an hour each day to visit me at the hospital and remind me that they were there for me. My friends called me on a regular basis to cheer me up and update me on our middle school gossip. My teachers sacrificed time out of their busy schedules to ensure I was caught up on my work. As my relationships grew stronger, so did my appreciation and gratefulness for my support system. It has been six years since my diagnosis, and I am no longer the scared, insecure little girl I once was. I have fought hard to become who I am now. Someone who eats cake at parties. Who wears bikinis to the pool. Who takes photos with her friends. I have grown to be somebody who loves herself and puts herself out there. I realize that I can never get back the years I lost to my struggle against mental illness, but I can support those facing the same challenges as I once did. As my feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness began to subside, my determination to help those struggling with mental health issues only grew stronger. I shared my story on social media in hopes of ending stigma and raising awareness. I counseled anyone who reached out to show others that it can and will get better. If I could recover, then so could they. My battle has fueled my determination to further show support in my undergraduate experience. At Carnegie Mellon University, I want to continue to spread awareness and push for additional support. My passion for mental health has led me to become the Director of Risk Management and Wellness in my sorority. In my position, I plan to implement mental health education and programming on campus, as well as offer assistance to those in need. My experiences have grown to influence my goals outside of my extracurriculars. After repeatedly being exposed to adversities and hardships, I started to despise the idea that throughout the world, people were dying from horrible, excruciating conditions. I dreamed of improving the lives of those grappling with diseases and disabilities. This has ultimately developed my aspiration to enter the biomedical engineering field, where I would be given the opportunity to advance medicine through life-changing innovations, such as a material that reduces the likelihood of aneurysm recurrence or prosthetic arms controlled by the mind. I want to be part of the reason that someone gets to live or is able to pursue their dreams. Today, I can proudly say that I am a survivor of anorexia and depression, and while my struggle with mental health does not define me, it has shaped me into who I am.

Dance has always been a form of exercise for me. But beyond a way to stay fit, it is my greatest source of pleasure and gratification. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I release myself. As my limbs glide gracefully through the air, I allow my feelings to flow from within, channeling my pent-up emotions into my movements. Expressing my sadness, anger, anxiety, or fear, my worries dissipate and stress is exiled. Before I know it, hours have passed, and a new sense of tranquility and relaxation has washed over me. Dance does not always come so naturally. Some days, my body protests and resists as it reaches its limits. Perhaps my legs and arms seem heavy as lead, or my feet struggle to keep up with the beat. But I continue to push and challenge myself. Slowly, over time, my muscles develop and my stamina grows. I am able to lift my limbs into the air and capture quick, intricate steps when I once could not. Despite my heavy breathing, pounding heart, and aching muscles after each class, I am left feeling invigorated. I spend considerable time practicing different leaps and turns. It may take days, weeks, or even years before I finally master them. As frustration builds up over time, the thought of giving up occasionally crosses my mind, but I always persist. I know that the excitement of finally landing a move is more than worth the countless obstacles and failures I encounter. And as I continue to develop my skills and abilities, seeing my progress has greatly boosted my confidence and given me a sense of purpose. Dancing has not only improved my endurance and persistence, but it has also enhanced my memory. When I stand poised at the barre or at the center, I remain alert as my dance teacher lets out a string of French terms. He might say "tombé pas de bourrée pirouette en dehors," or "jeté temps levé glissade assemblé," and without a second thought, I carry out the series of jumps and movements. Or he may turn on the music and call out the first moves of a combination taught in a previous class, which I must recall in an instant. My ability to grasp and remember concepts quickly has improved other aspects of my life, such as school, work, and other hobbies. Taking intense ballet lessons for hours at a time, several days a week, for more than a decade, has molded the way I look. Over the years, my body has grown to become slim and lean. My teacher may praise my appearance; however, it is not my slenderness that I am proudest of. Instead, I celebrate the more important benefits of staying fit and active. My health. My strength. My tenacity. My accomplishment. And most importantly, my happiness. Dance has not only shaped me into who I am today, but it has grown to become a part of me. And I will never give it up.

I flipped through the pages of my altered book, which I had transformed into a creative outlet for my emotions. A page blacked out except for a huddled child, pasted cut-out letters spelling the word “fat,” a wilted flower with torn petals. Suddenly, I was transported back to a time of insecurity and shame. A time of blindly stumbling after the voice inside my head in hopes of shedding a few pounds... When I was first diagnosed with major depressive disorder and anorexia nervosa, I immediately felt angry at the world, at everyone, at myself. Every time I sat down with yet another psychiatrist or therapist or nutritionist, hot fury gushed through my veins. The urge to push them away bubbled beneath my skin. I screamed, I yelled, I cried. It wasn’t fair. Why me? But before long, I had decided I was done. Never again would that voice inside my head control me. I took my frustration and channeled it into something new: motivation. With the help of my loved ones, I fought every whisper inside my head to diet, to hurt myself, to give up on life. Even when the voice screamed not to, I persisted and persevered. It was not a smooth path to recovery. I fell and stumbled and tripped along the way, but picked myself up every time. I was bruised and rattled, yet determined to overcome the next obstacle. Throughout my battle with mental health, I built strong relationships with those around me as I realized I was not alone in my struggle. My parents drove an hour each day to visit me at the hospital and remind me that they were there for me. My friends called me on a regular basis to cheer me up and update me on our middle school gossip. My teachers sacrificed time out of their busy schedules to ensure I was caught up on my work. As my relationships grew stronger, so did my appreciation and gratefulness for my support system. It has been six years since my diagnosis, and I am no longer the scared, insecure little girl I once was. I have fought hard to become who I am now. Someone who eats cake at parties. Who wears bikinis to the pool. Who takes photos with her friends. I have grown to be somebody who loves herself and puts herself out there. I realize that I can never get back the years I lost to my struggle against mental illness, but I can support those facing the same challenges as I once did. As my feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness began to subside, my determination to help those struggling with mental health issues only grew stronger. I shared my story on social media in hopes of ending stigma and raising awareness. I counseled anyone who reached out to show others that it can and will get better. If I could recover, then so could they. My battle has fueled my determination to further show support in my undergraduate experience. At Carnegie Mellon University, I want to continue to spread awareness and push for additional support. My passion for mental health has led me to become the Director of Risk Management and Wellness in my sorority. In my position, I plan to share different mental health resources and services on campus with my sisters, as well as offer assistance to those in need. This desire to help others has grown to influence my goals outside of my extracurriculars. After repeatedly being exposed to adversities and hardships, I started to despise the idea that throughout the world, people were dying from horrible, excruciating conditions. I dreamed of improving the lives of those grappling with diseases and disabilities, whether they be mental or physical. This has ultimately developed my aspiration to enter the biomedical engineering field, where I would be given the opportunity to advance medicine through life-changing innovations, such as a material that reduces the likelihood of aneurysm recurrence or prosthetic arms controlled by the mind. I want to be part of the reason that someone gets to live or is able to pursue their dreams. As time went on, I began to understand that the barriers I faced, although terrifying and unbearable at times, have forced me to grow and mature. Life cannot always be fair. It cannot always be easy. But the challenges that we overcome allow us to gain life skills, attain wisdom and insight, and develop our goals. Without them, life may go smoothly, but it would not be as meaningful as it is now. Today, I can proudly say that I am a survivor of anorexia and depression, and while my struggle with mental health does not define me, it has shaped me into who I am.

“Your daughter has a corneal ulcer, an open sore on the eye’s surface. Unfortunately, since it has been several days, I’m afraid her vision will be severely impaired for the rest of her life." Once, when I was eight, I was swinging from the monkey bars when my hand slipped, sending me plummeting to the ground. A violent blow of pain struck me, stunning my entire body into shock. Gasping, I desperately flailed, reaching for anything to save me from what was surely death. As blackness steadily creeped into my vision, all I remembered feeling was panic. Panic I had not felt since. But suddenly today, years later, I was transported back in time. Only now, it was words that knocked me to the concrete. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move. Sputtering for air, every inch of me was consumed by indescribable, inescapable fear. As the words settled in, hot fury gushed through my veins. I felt angry at the world, at everyone, at myself. Every time someone waved their fingers in front of me or asked me what I could see, the urge to push them away bubbled beneath my skin. I screamed, I yelled, I cried. It wasn’t fair. My life, once whole, was now thoroughly shattered. To one eye, everything was precise and clear, but to the other, it was a blur. As my brain struggled to put together the puzzle pieces that were never meant to fit, my last spark of hope flickered. Even weeks later, when the stinging pain in my eye had ceased, the world continued to spin. I retired to bed early every night, fatigued by headaches. I tripped every day, dazed by poor depth perception. I squeezed my left eye shut every few minutes, disoriented by two separate images. Stumbling around and fighting to navigate my new life, I forced myself to search for light amidst the darkness. I realized that I could not change my situation, but there was something that I could change: the way I looked at it. Instead of feeling bitter, I began to see that there was a bright side to my pain. I built strong relationships with my loved ones as I realized I was not alone in my struggle. My parents fought the urge to drift to sleep in order to administer eye drops that I needed every 15 minutes. My peers sacrificed time out of their busy schedule to visit me and make me smile. My appreciation for my family and friends grew as I learned not to take them for granted. I continued to push myself to search for the positives amidst my pain. Although my sight was now tarnished in one eye, I was grateful I could see the beauty in the world at all, recognizing that not everyone was as lucky as I was. As my desire to help the less fortunate grew, I became determined to pursue a career in biomedical engineering. I spent hours volunteering at hospitals, seeking opportunities at laboratories, and taking related classes at school, all the while dreaming of being the reason that someone saw the faces of their loved ones, or watched their child’s first steps. My experience pushed me to take advantage of the privileges I did have. My newfound passion was fueled by my determination to assist those struggling from diseases and disabilities far worse than mine. I learned to look at the bigger picture when approaching a problem, rather than just focusing on the finer details. At the time, my blurry vision seemed like the end of the world, yet from afar, it simply became a minor setback that taught me many life lessons. My view of life would never be the same again. But as I changed my mindset to see the positive, I realized my new outlook was not completely negative. I lost my vision, but gained perspective.