There was a time in my life when I did not understand what mental health really meant. I just knew what it felt like to wake up heavy, to carry worry and sadness around like a backpack that never came off. Looking back, I realize those were the years that taught me the most about strength, healing, and how important it is to care for your mind. Mental health is important to me because it shaped who I am. When I was younger, my mom struggled with alcoholism, and eventually, it caused her to leave our family home. Watching someone I loved lose herself to addiction was painful in ways I could not explain. There were days when I felt angry, other days when I felt hopeless, and times when I wondered if things would ever get better. The hardest part was pretending I was fine when I was not. It was during those years that I first began to understand how deeply mental health can affect a person’s life. For a long time, I carried the weight of sadness and confusion. I did not talk about it much because I did not know how to. But eventually, I found something that helped me begin to heal: fitness. At first, exercise was just a distraction, a way to escape my thoughts. But over time, it became more than that. It gave me a sense of control and purpose. When I worked out, I could feel the stress leave my body. I began to see that taking care of my physical health was also taking care of my mind. The gym became my outlet, my therapy, and my place of peace. That realization changed everything for me. I started to view mental health not as something to hide from, but as something that deserves the same attention as physical health. I began studying kinesiology at Crafton Hills College because I want to help others find strength through movement, just like I did. I plan to transfer to California State University, San Bernardino to earn my bachelor’s degree and teaching credential so I can become a physical education teacher. My goal is to help students understand that taking care of their minds and bodies go hand in hand. In my own community, I advocate for mental health by being open about my story. I check in with friends who seem withdrawn or stressed and invite them to come to the gym with me. Sometimes, they just need someone to talk to, and I make sure to genuinely listen. I have learned that small actions can make a big difference. Even a simple conversation or a shared workout can remind someone that they are not alone. At school, I try to encourage others to take breaks, go outside, and stay active when they feel overwhelmed. I remind them that asking for help is not weakness, it is strength. Mental health is not something that gets fixed overnight, and it is not something we can ignore. It is a lifelong journey that takes patience and compassion. My own journey has taught me that healing is possible, but it often begins with understanding. That is why I want to dedicate my career to helping others find balance, strength, and hope, both in their bodies and their minds.

When Professor Harold Bloom said, “the purpose of teaching is to bring the student to his or her sense of his or her own presence,” I believe he meant that the true role of a teacher is to help students discover who they are beyond their challenges and expectations. It is about helping them see their own strength and believe they have a place in this world. Teaching is not just about lessons or grades. It is about guiding someone to recognize their own worth. I learned that lesson from a girl named Sophie. I met her through the Special Olympics when I volunteered to help athletes with intellectual disabilities. Sophie had Down syndrome and the kind of joy that filled the entire room. She loved to laugh, dance, and make jokes that caught everyone off guard. I helped her for two years, and in all that time, I never realized she was blind. When someone told me at the end of the second year, I was speechless. I had spent all that time thinking I was helping her, but she had been the one teaching me. She never once acted like her blindness was something that defined her. She was fearless, determined, and full of life. Watching her run in her race, listening to her cheer for others, and seeing her light up when she crossed the finish line changed me. It made me understand that every person carries something extraordinary inside them, but not everyone gets the chance to show it. Sophie showed me that strength looks different for everyone, and it reminded me that we all deserve to be seen for who we are, not for what we lack. Working with her made me realize how powerful teaching can be. I began to see physical education as more than sports or exercise. It became a way for students to express themselves, to build confidence, and to find independence. Through movement, they could discover their potential. That experience inspired me to become a teacher. I am currently attending Crafton Hills College, majoring in Kinesiology, and I plan to transfer to California State University, San Bernardino to earn my Bachelor of Science degree and my Single Subject Teaching Credential in Physical Education. My long-term goal is to become a PE teacher who works with students of all abilities, including those with special needs, to help them experience the same sense of joy and confidence that Sophie showed me. My mission as a future special education and physical education teacher is to help every student find that same sense of presence Professor Bloom described. I want to help them recognize their abilities instead of their limits. I believe movement and physical activity can be powerful tools for growth. They teach discipline, teamwork, and resilience. They help students communicate in ways that go beyond words. My goal is to design lessons that challenge and inspire, where students can take pride in every small step of progress. There was a moment during one of the Special Olympics events that I will never forget. Sophie was nervous before her relay race. She held my hand tightly and whispered, “What if I mess up?” I told her, “You will not mess up, just run with your heart.” When she crossed the finish line, she smiled so wide it looked like sunlight. That moment reminded me that teaching is about helping others run their own races, not by taking away their fear, but by standing beside them as they move through it. That is the kind of teacher I want to be. If I were to tell my journey as a fairy tale, I would be a young guide who sets out to help a brave hero named Sophie. She cannot see the road ahead, but she walks with courage and laughter. Along the way, I think I am teaching her to be strong, but she is the one who teaches me to see the world differently. By the time we reach the end of the path, I realize that the real treasure was not strength or victory. It was understanding what it means to believe in someone and to help them believe in themselves. Every student deserves that kind of belief. Every child deserves a teacher who sees them fully and helps them see themselves. I want to be that teacher. Sophie helped me find my purpose, and through teaching, I want to help others find theirs.

Growing up, my life was shaped by my mother’s struggle with alcoholism. I remember nights when she was gone, or when her moods swung from cheerful to angry in an instant. Those years were confusing, lonely, and frightening. I felt like I had to be strong before I even knew what that meant, taking care of myself and sometimes trying to take care of her, too. I carried a heavy weight of responsibility and sadness, and there were moments when I did not know if I would be able to get through another day. During that time, depression became a quiet companion. I did not know how to talk about my feelings or who I could trust. School became a place of routine, but not refuge. I felt isolated, like the challenges at home were invisible to everyone around me. I struggled with low self-esteem and a sense that my life would always be defined by my family’s struggles. Fitness became my lifeline. At first, it was just a way to get out of the house and have something I could control. Running, lifting, and training gave me a rhythm, a discipline I could rely on when everything else felt unpredictable. Slowly, I began to feel stronger—not just physically, but mentally. I learned that I could face discomfort, push myself further than I thought possible, and come out on the other side feeling proud. Fitness became more than exercise—it became a way to reclaim my life from the chaos and sadness I had experienced. Now, looking back, I see how far I have come. I have learned that being “sober” does not just mean avoiding substances—it means finding stability, strength, and purpose in my life. I have found ways to cope, to set goals, and to push forward even when challenges arise. I have learned that pain does not have to define me; it can become a source of motivation to create something better. I want to use my education in Kinesiology to help others who are facing struggles like mine. I want to teach young people that physical health is connected to emotional and mental well-being. I want to show that even when life feels overwhelming, it is possible to find control and confidence through movement, discipline, and support. My goal is to be a teacher who not only instructs students in fitness but also inspires them to see their own strength, resilience, and potential. Experiencing addiction in my family has been one of the hardest things I have faced, but it has also shaped the person I am becoming. It has taught me empathy, patience, and determination. Most importantly, it has shown me the power of transforming pain into purpose. I want to give young people the tools to take control of their lives and realize that they can overcome hardship and find hope in themselves.