"I love you. Have the best day," were my dad's last words as he dropped me off at school on May 5, 2011. Little did I know moments like those would be cherished memories. You see, I was unaware that he was fighting a daily battle against his mental health. I discovered later on that my father had been quietly fighting a diagnosis of bipolar disorder and depression. Unfortunately, he became the fourth generation in his family to die by suicide, following his father, grandfather, and aunt. Despite our loss, my mom did an excellent job of normalizing our family's story and never letting us feel ashamed of our grief. She taught us to honor our broken parts and to live our lives in a way that would make my dad proud. She also worked hard to create a space where it was okay to talk about our mental health and that sometimes our brains can be wired differently, just like my dad. She made us understand that there is never any shame in asking for help; sometimes, that is the bravest thing we can do. After a few years post-loss, my family found support and comfort in advocacy work. My mother became involved with the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, a non-profit organization that educates, funds research, holds community events, and more. She began participating in walks and organizing various events and trainings. It was powerful and inspiring to watch her share in large groups, to share her pain, and to listen to others share their stories. Eventually, she became the Chairperson for AFSP’s state chapter, which, in many ways, was instrumental in making sense of this tragic topic. I joined her in these efforts, volunteering at community walks and meeting people like me. I had felt so alone in this loss, but to see that other kids and even adults had lost a parent to suicide made me feel not so alone. During junior high and high school, I had the opportunity to go on a local morning show several times where I shared my story and talked about how this loss impacted me, talked about being a teenager, and the genuine struggles of talking about mental health and suicide prevention and education. Over time, memories have begun to fade; I used to hear him when I would close my eyes and think of him. I wonder if I am like him. My mom tells me I embody much of his spirit, likes, and dislikes. I hear stories about him and go through his old pictures from when he was my age, and the traits that stood out about him are that he was patient, thoughtful, kind, and would do anything to help anyone, from what my Auntie and mom have said, he did that until the very end. As I grow up and think about the person I want to be, I think of my dad. These are the traits that I want to embody and share with the world both personally and in my career. As I look forward, I want to take my deepest hurts and losses and use them for good; just because something painful happened does not mean it has to define me. In doing this, I want to walk alongside youth and their families who are navigating the road of suicide loss. Though it is complex and multilayered, being able to combine my education and experiences with this grief and be a support to others is the best and purest way to honor my dad and make an impact in this world.

Mental health struggles can be overwhelming and have a profound impact on one's life. It can make us feel like our diagnosis defines us, but it's important to remember that we are not our diagnosis. My mother's words have always given me hope and inspiration to keep going despite my struggles. Her unwavering support and reassurance have been invaluable to me. My father's battle with severe depression and bipolar disorder left an indelible mark on my life. I vividly remember my mother explaining to me that his brain "didn't work properly and made him believe things that weren't true," and I struggled to comprehend the complexity of his illness. It wasn't until years later that I fully appreciated the importance of mental health awareness and the impact it has on individuals and families. Growing up, I was plagued by anxiety and an overwhelming fear that the people I loved would leave me. My father's sudden disappearance from my life only exacerbated these feelings. It was difficult for me to say "I love you" to my mother because I remembered that was the last thing I said to my father when we said goodbye. Despite these challenges, my mother worked tirelessly to normalize the subject and to create a safe space for me to express myself. I didn't realize it at the time, but there was a history of mental health concerns on both sides of my family, and my mother's dedication to educating me about mental health and suicide prevention undoubtedly has helped inspire my desire to work with youth who struggle. As I got older, I struggled to open up to others about my mental health issues. I was afraid of burdening my mother, who had already been through so much. I also felt ashamed and guilty for not being able to cope on my own. Eventually, I found the courage to seek help, and my mother's unwavering support was instrumental in my recovery. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety at a young age and later with bipolar disorder. It was scary and embarrassing to talk about my diagnosis, particularly knowing that my father had also suffered from bipolar disorder. However, over the last few years, I have become more comfortable talking about my experiences, and I believe that we can break down the stigma surrounding mental health. I want to use my experiences to help others who are struggling with mental health issues and to create a more compassionate and supportive community.