The first time my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer I was 8 years old. It was stage 1. From my perspective, she lost her hair and spent a lot of time in bed and at the hospital, but by the end of the school year, she was ringing the bell and celebrating being cancer-free. The second time, I was 12 and much more aware. This time I understood what was happening. I remember my mom’s unrelenting headaches. I remember my dad taking her to the ER, being gone for hours, then bursting through the door telling me I had to quickly pack a bag to stay with my aunt. I remember the panic on my dad’s face. I remember laying in my mom’s hospital bed crying, having learned her breast cancer returned and spread throughout her body. I remember worrying myself sick during her brain surgery. Most of all, I remember seeing my mom truly sick, and thinking I was going to lose her. My mom is my best friend, my biggest supporter, my favorite person, and seeing her in hospital beds in pain was terrifying. I struggled so much at this time. I thought that I should be more brave, more trusting, or have more faith. Instead, I was thinking about how I couldn’t get by without her. I tried to hide my feelings, but my mom saw right through me and gently suggested professional help to cope with our situation. I realized that I wanted and needed it. The options were slim in my small town. Without much choice, we selected the therapist with the shortest wait, still 2 months out. While the therapist was kind and helped a little, my problems seemed to go beyond her skill set. I stuck it out here until we found a therapist available through telehealth from a larger city. She was able to provide me with coping skills that helped to ease my suffering. She truly listened and taught me so much that I wish I had learned years earlier. Now that I am 18 and have better mental health and hindsight, I can appreciate how much my mom’s cancer has impacted my life. Through the dark, there was positivity. Looking back, I can see how my mom continued to smile and laugh. She wanted to make memories for me so we began experiencing daily life to the fullest. She arranged trips between chemo sessions and hosted game nights with friends. She took me to Guatemala, my birth country, where she taught me to care for others less fortunate. She was not merely surviving, she was LIVING. My mom’s favorite motto, You Only Live Once, has become mine too. My teen years were filled with anxiety, depression, and pain. With therapy and my mom’s example, I learned that I cannot miss any more life being stuck in that dark place. I have to take care of my mental health and live in the present every day. This time in my life has shaped me into the person I am today and has led me to my desired career path. My journey to receiving therapy made me aware of the shortage of well-trained professionals. I have begun studying psychology at Stetson University and intend to become a mental health therapist in the public school system. My vision is to teach all students the importance of mental health, helping them build and practice coping skills so children are ready before stressful situations inevitably arise. I want to teach them how to ask for help and to trust that help will be provided.

There is nothing that can prepare you for the pain of getting THE call, hearing the unexpected words “he’s gone.” I met Aidan at my church camp in 6th grade. He made friends easily with everyone, making us laugh with his Kermit the Frog impression. Everyone loved being around him for his silliness, but I saw Aidan and felt the warmth of his light. Aidan was a kind and gentle soul. Every June we reunited at Camp Luther, our friendship stronger than ever even after the time apart. We had an unspoken connection and I loved him the most. At the end of the week, we hugged our goodbyes. I didn’t know it would be the last time I would ever see him. On July 9th, 2020, my best friend from camp called me. She said that Aidan was in the hospital. She didn’t know why, so we prayed for him that night, and the next. But then, she sent me a screenshot from another friend’s Snapchat story. “Rest in peace” was the caption with a picture of Aidan. Slowly, more posts started rolling in. Then it came, THE call. “It’s real,” she said, “he committed suicide on Monday and they had him on life support, but he’s gone.” I’ve never cried more than I cried that night, the physical pain was as torturous as my thoughts were. “He’s only 15! How is he really gone forever?! Why?! What did I miss? Was there anything I could have done?” My mom held me together as I crumbled into pieces. Eventually, I was able to drag myself out of bed. I didn’t want to, but I knew I had to. I thought of him so often, some days were more painful than others. In time I got used to him not being here. Two years later I was finally back at Camp. I had flashbacks of seeing him in certain places and I could feel him with me again. It was during this week I received the details about what had happened that night. And though he had made his decision to end his life, in his last moments he wrote for us to live for him. To have as many adventures as we could even though he wouldn’t be there to experience them with us. He always wanted people to be happy, even when he himself wasn’t. Though this was one of the most painful experiences of my life, I’ve learned from it. Adolescent depression and suicidal thoughts cannot be dismissed. Help is more difficult to get than it should be for teens, and it’s even more elusive in rural areas. Aidan is the reason for my chosen career path in Clinical Psychology. I want to be a mental health therapist so that I can be a resource and safe space for struggling kids. I want to help them keep going, even when they feel they can’t. My long-term goal is to change our system of mental health care altogether, from the presently reactive to a proactive model. I want to create and implement a K-12 program that will teach kids what our mental health is and how to attend to our needs, learning this daily and adding depth and context as they progress in age. Here healthy coping mechanisms will be learned for the inevitable stressors they will face. All kids will know where to go for help, and they will receive it without delay. By normalizing mental health access and education in all public schools, I envision a healthier society with less suffering for generations to come.

When I first agreed to make slime, I didn’t think it was a big deal. I was 13 years old and returning to my birth country of Guatemala for the first time since my adoption as an infant. The “Travel with Purpose” agency planner asked if I’d like to share a craft with local kids. Without thought I immediately chose slime-making as this was a hobby of mine at the time. She enthusiastically shared with me that the kids were going to be so excited because while they knew about the slime craze, they had never been able to make it due to extreme poverty. This struck me as so sad, and I began to take this task seriously. I asked for and collected many bottles of glue and saline solution from family and friends, and packed them in my luggage to bring on my journey. I practiced speaking the instructions that I so often did without thinking or measuring. When the day arrived, I nervously stood on the makeshift stage in front of 50 eager children at the Backyard School (BYS), an NGO that serves the impoverished San Bartolome Milpas Atlas community, to teach my slime-making method. Together we made a very fun mess while making the slime! I’ll never forget their squeals of laughter or their beautiful smiles as they proudly showed me what they made! I will definitely never forget that I was the reason for those reactions. Witnessing first-hand the living conditions of these kids made me aware of the life I could have had if not adopted. This revelation has kept me connected to this community. Seeing the difference the Backyard School was making in their daily lives led me to want to stay involved with this organization. Aiming to keep at-risk children in families and away from a life in gangs or on the streets, the BYS provides free educational opportunities, feeding programs, and bunk beds for children, resulting in their community being stronger and safer. When I returned home, I designed and sold t-shirts as a fundraiser to provide bunk beds for kids currently sleeping on dirt floors. I raised enough to cover 3 sets of beds and was able to help deliver and assemble them on a subsequent visit. Later, once I was old enough to have a job, I decided to personally sponsor a child’s education. I am happy to know some kids are sleeping better and are learning because of me. When I think back to my first visit, I was full of self-doubt and didn’t think a 13-year-old girl could make a difference in the world. Since then, I’ve realized in those moments I was providing a world of difference for these individual children. I’ve learned how valuable the simple gift of joy can be, and it was an honor to be able to give a small reprieve from a difficult life. What’s more important to me though is the effect it has had on my well-being. Not only have I grown in wisdom, I’ve grown in peace and heart. As much as my actions helped these kids, they in turn helped me more with both my understanding of the world and the individual connections that are capable despite barriers of language and distance. The importance of helping others is necessary for human survival. It is what brings us into community with one another. When we lift someone up, and when we pass on our knowledge, it creates positive connections for both the recipient and giver alike. It strengthens and unifies us leading to a better future for everyone.

Mental health has played a big role in my life. As an international adoptee, raised in a smaller West Virginian town, I have struggled with issues of identity, loss, and attachment. As a daughter, I’ve struggled watching my adoptive mom suffer through breast cancer chemotherapy. As a patient and a student facing chronic pain, I’ve dealt with gaslighting from doctors and teachers, accusing me of faking for attention throughout the years of my many appointments and testing. How I wished during that time in my life that I could swap bodies so everyone would understand. This mental anguish is real! This physical pain is real! I’m hurting and struggling. Why can’t you hear me?! Thankfully, I have a supportive family who believed in me and helped me get the care I needed. Finding this help, however, was not easy. I was 13 when my mom’s cancer returned. It was metastatic this time. My adoption trauma issues were triggered, and I began spiraling. I tried and failed to hide how scared I was to potentially lose my mom, and so began our quest for therapy. This took time as the few local adolescent therapists were not accepting new patients. Meanwhile, my physical pain was getting more intense and lasting longer, causing me to miss many school days. We finally found telehealth to see a therapist specializing in chronic pain in a larger city further away. As a result, combined with prescribed physical therapy, my pain, while still present, is much better managed. I’ve learned techniques to calm my mind and body, and have been provided medication that helps stabilize my mood. I function much better now thanks to the mental health care that I have received. Over time, I learned that not everyone has access to care like I did. Many young people I know were left to suffer with their mental health because of circumstances out of their control. Some friends’ supportive parents lacked insurance or the ability to pay, so they went without treatment. Other friends have parents who were part of the reason they needed mental health attention. Some did not accept their child’s sexuality or were mentally abusive themselves. In any case, my peers were old enough to know they were struggling, know that they needed help, had asked for and were denied help, yet being minors couldn’t receive help on their own. I find it unacceptable to leave teens to struggle. I witnessed the worst outcome of neglected mental health care when I lost a very close friend to suicide. I often find myself wondering if he would still be here had he had access to care. As a result, I have decided to become a mental health therapist within the public school system for school-age children. My immediate goal is to help struggling students in difficult times to keep going, even when they feel like they can’t. I want to be available, a resource, and a safe space for all kids in distress. My long-term goal is to change the system of care altogether. I plan to create and implement a K-12 program that will teach kids what our mental health is and how to attend to our needs, having students learn this daily alongside their math and reading. Depth and context will be added as they progress in age and grade level. Here, healthy coping mechanisms will be learned before facing the inevitable stressors of life. It is my vision that the next generation of kids will have their needs understood and met much better than previous generations, regardless of their ability to pay.

Anxiously I asked my mom if she was going to die. When she explained to me that she was diagnosed with breast cancer I was only in third grade. She assured me that she would be just fine after she completed chemotherapy. And she was. I was in sixth grade when her cancer returned, this time to her brain and throughout her body. This time I understood more; and this time, despite my best efforts, I couldn’t cope on my own. Having been adopted from Guatemala, I was already struggling with the loss of my first mother. It was too overwhelming to think of losing my forever mom. One day I crumbled into tears in my mom’s arms, confessing my worries. She asked if I wanted help. I said yes. Thankfully, my parents were incredibly supportive and determined, and I was able to get professional therapy where I could process and learn the skills I needed to thrive. However, getting this care was no easy feat. Being from a smaller community, finding a mental health professional was an added struggle when I was already struggling. Options were limited and demand was high in my town with only a couple of practicing therapists. I waited for months before we finally utilized telehealth to be treated by a therapist in a larger city. Despite my delayed start, I came to realize how lucky I was to receive treatment at all. Many of my struggling friends have had to go without treatment. Among the reasons were their parents being uninsured or underinsured and unable to afford it, they simply didn’t believe their child truly needed help, or they had their own negative opinions on therapy. In another, my gay friend’s mother could not accept her sexuality, and emotionally and verbally abused them leaving them feeling worthless with nowhere to turn. Being teenagers, my peers were old enough to know they needed help with their mental health, but as minors were not old enough to get the help for themselves. Left untreated my friends have self-harmed, some by cutting, some by turning to drugs. Sadly, I’ve coped with the worst outcome from denied therapy when I lost my friend to suicide. So often I think about how Aidan’s life mattered and wonder if he would still be here if he had access to mental health care, and how completely unjust all of this is. For all of these reasons, I am choosing to pursue a career in psychology. I want to become a mental health therapist for children and adolescents. Not only this, my ambition is to develop a program to remove barriers to treatment and normalize mental health care in the public school setting. At present, most schools operate in a reactive environment. Learning how to take care of your mental health isn’t openly offered until a problem is identified. Techniques to cope with stress, anxiety and depression, such common conditions, aren’t preemptively taught. I believe teaching healthy habits for mental care should start at the beginning of a child’s education in Kindergarten, adding depth, detail and skills as they progress in grade level. Starting young would help remove negative stigma when conditions eventually arise. My vision is to have daily dedicated time during the school day to practice mental health coping mechanisms, coupled with no-cost individual therapy as needed. I wish I had something like this available to me when my friends and I needed it. My passion is helping people and I am committed to helping the next generation have their needs understood and met much better than previous ones.

Walking into one of her elementary schools, my future self leads a program she developed to teach students about the importance of mental health care, providing education, skills, practice, and individual therapy which helps to create a prepared and self-empowered future generation.

When I was first diagnosed with debilitating chronic pain at age 13, the first thing I did was online research, and honestly, that just scared me more than I already was. My screen became filled with people just like me, only older, who were saying that life seemed to get worse with age. I started to feel like my fate was going to be the same as theirs, my entire life filled with pain and misery. My mom comforted and encouraged me, saying I had the power to control my own future. I so desperately wanted to believe her, but I didn’t. I wanted to give it my best effort though, and I worked hard to get to where I am today. In time, and with the help of physical and mental therapists, I was able to find the balance that helped me. It took a lot of doctors, a well-managed schedule, and some experimenting to find what works best for me. I had to learn to advocate for myself. Before, I was somewhat stubborn and embarrassed and tried to push through in an effort to keep up and appear “normal”. This would inevitably trigger a pain flare, often lasting for days. Now, I give myself the respect I deserve, able to ask for help when I need it, and will take breaks when I need them. This allows me to preserve my energy and continue longer throughout my day, with less likelihood of ruining the next. I also have started to use mobility aids when I need them, especially for covering distances or when long periods of standing are required. Above all, having a positive outlook keeps me focused on the good surrounding me. I have learned so much about my character because of my condition. I am strong, persistent, caring, and worthy. I now understand what a true friend is, one who is patient and will slow down with me. I have learned to appreciate all the little things in life. With my disability, tomorrow’s energy and strength are not promised, so I’ve begun to find happiness in all of my good days. Importantly, I have learned that I have a great sense of humor. The ability to laugh at myself, and to find joy in the simplest of things is my greatest asset in maintaining control over my life. Lastly, I learned that if you want something, the world doesn’t just hand it to you. You have to work for it. I have worked continually on myself and give so much credit to my therapist. All of this has helped me immensely to continue living my best life with chronic pain. Realizing the importance and value of good mental health hygiene has led me to my chosen career path. I am enrolled in Stetson University where I will study to become a mental health therapist for children and adolescents. I know what I needed when I was younger, and being from a small town, the options were limited. It took time to find my therapist and I had to utilize telehealth as she was located in a larger city further away. There is a shortage of therapists presently and the need for them keeps growing. My ambition is to work in the public school setting where mental health care will be taught beginning in kindergarten, every day, and continuing every year. I want kids to have a toolbox of skills for when stressful times arise. It is my greatest hope that the next generation has their mental needs met better than any that came before it.

The first time my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer I was 8 years old and fairly clueless. It was stage 1. She lost her hair and experienced some pain but before we knew it, she was ringing the bell, celebrating being cancer-free. The second time, I was 12 and much more aware. This time I understood what was happening. I remember my mom’s unrelenting headaches. I remember my dad taking her to the ER, being gone for hours, then bursting through the door telling me I had to quickly pack a bag to stay with my aunt. I remember the panic on my dad’s face. I remember laying in my mom’s hospital bed crying, having learned her breast cancer returned and spread throughout her body. I remember worrying myself sick during her brain surgery. Most of all, I remember seeing my mom truly sick, and thinking I was going to lose her. My mom is my best friend, my biggest supporter, my favorite person, and seeing her in hospital beds and in pain was terrifying for me. I struggled so much at this time. I thought that I should be more brave, more trusting, or have more faith. Instead, I was thinking about how I couldn’t get by without her. I tried to hide my feelings, but my mom saw right through me and gently suggested professional help to cope with our situation. I realized that I needed and wanted it. The options were slim in my small town. Without much choice, we selected the therapist with the shortest wait, still 2 months out. While the therapist was kind and helped a little, my problems seemed to go beyond her skill set. I stuck it out for 2 years before we found a therapist available through telehealth from a larger city. She was able to provide me with coping skills that helped to ease my suffering. She truly listened and taught me so much that I wish I had learned years earlier. Now that I am 18 and have better mental health and hindsight, I can appreciate how much my mom’s cancer has impacted my life. Through the dark, there was positivity too. Looking back, I can see how my mom continued to smile and laugh. She wanted to make memories for me so we really started experiencing daily life to the fullest. She arranged trips between chemo sessions and hosted game nights with friends. She took me to Guatemala, my birth country, where she taught me to care for others less fortunate. She was not merely surviving, she was LIVING. My mom’s favorite motto, You Only Live Once, has become mine too. My teen years were filled with anxiety, depression, and pain. With therapy and my mom’s example, I learned that I cannot miss any more life being stuck in that dark place. I have to take care of my mental health and live in the present every day. This time in my life has shaped me into the person I am today and shown me how I want to continue to live my life in the future. My journey to receiving therapy made me aware of the shortage of well-trained professionals. My experiences have led me to study psychology and become a mental health therapist in the public school system. My vision is to teach all children the importance of mental health and help them build a coping mechanism toolkit so they have skills they need before inevitable situations arise. I want kids to know how to ask for help and know that help will be provided.

Nothing can prepare you for “the call”. When I answered my phone and learned my friend took his life at 15 I was devastated and I still feel his loss every day. Living in rural West Virginia, I wonder if he had had better access to care, would he still be here? Being from a smaller community, finding a mental health professional is an added struggle when one is already struggling. I know from my own bouts with mental health how difficult it is to find someone who meets your needs. Options are limited and demand is high in communities where only a couple of therapists are available. Waitlists can be months long. That’s months of suffering, before even beginning treatment. I also know many others who battle with receiving mental health care at all. I have friends who are old enough to know they need help, but being minors are not old enough to get it for themselves. They have made it clear they wanted care for their mental state via a therapist or medication, but have been denied by their parents. Either their parents hold negative beliefs about mental health care or they simply can’t afford care, being uninsured or underinsured. I know several kids who have self-harmed and/or abused drugs in their battle with untreated mental health. Taking all of this into account has really made me want to change the field of mental health care. I believe mental health care should be accessible to all people, especially kids. I believe teaching healthy habits for mental care should start at a very young age and to all children. Generally speaking, learning how to take care of your mental health isn’t openly offered until a problem is identified. Techniques to cope with stress, anxiety, and depression, such common conditions, aren’t preemptively taught. My goal in life is to change this and normalize this care as part of everyone’s growing life. By teaching what our mental health is and how to attend to our needs in elementary school, and having students learn this alongside their math and reading, kids will be more prepared when conditions arise. By learning age-appropriate content that expands as the children age, students can graduate with much better mental health. I will begin my studies in psychology at Stetson University this fall. I want to become a well-trained mental health professional that is available to kids in the public school environment, no matter their circumstances. I want to both know and teach the signs of illness or struggles. I want to understand where the limits lie with getting a kid help without parental consent. I want to learn and understand the law to advocate for minors who need help but aren’t getting it. I want to normalize teaching children about their rights, giving them a foundation to build on. I want to teach children how to communicate their needs and provide extra resources to help those who struggle with this. In the long run, believe this benefits our society as a whole. I hope that the next generation of kids will have their needs understood and met much better than previous generations. It is my greatest hope that the outcome of this will be a kinder school environment with a great reduction in bullying, school shootings, and less violence in this country in general. My dreams are not far-fetched. I believe in myself and my ambitions!

There is nothing that can prepare you for the pain of getting THE call, hearing the unexpected words “he’s gone.” I met Aidan at my church camp in 6th grade. He made friends easily with everyone, making us laugh with his Kermit the Frog impression. Everyone loved being around him for his silliness, but I saw Aidan and felt the warmth of his light. Aidan was a kind and gentle soul. Every June we reunited at Camp Luther, our friendship stronger than ever even after the time apart. We had an unspoken connection and I loved him the most. At the end of the week, we hugged our goodbyes. I didn’t know it would be the last time I would ever see him. On July 9th, 2020, my best friend from camp called me. She said that Aidan was in the hospital. She didn’t know why, so we prayed for him that night, and the next. But then, she sent me a screenshot from another friend’s Snapchat story. “Rest in peace” was the caption with a picture of Aidan. Slowly, more posts started rolling in. Then it came, THE call. “It’s real,” she said, “he committed suicide on Monday and they had him on life support, but he’s gone.” I’ve never cried more than I cried that night, the physical pain was as torturous as my thoughts were. “He’s only 15! How is he really gone forever?! Why?! What did I miss? Was there anything I could have done?” My mom held me together as I crumbled into pieces. Eventually, I was able to drag myself out of bed. I didn’t want to, but I knew I had to. I thought of him so often, some days were more painful than others. In time I got used to him not being here. Two years later I was finally back at Camp. I had flashbacks of seeing him in certain places and I could feel him with me again. It was during this week I received the details about what had happened that night. And though he had made his decision to end his life, in his last moments he wrote for us to live for him. To have as many adventures as we could even though he wouldn’t be there to experience them with us. He always wanted people to be happy, even when he himself wasn’t. Though this was one of the most painful experiences of my life, I’ve learned from it. Adolescent depression and suicidal thoughts cannot be dismissed. Help is more difficult to get than it should be for teens, and it’s even more elusive in rural areas. Aidan is the reason for my chosen career path in Clinical Psychology. I want to be a mental health therapist so that I can be a resource and safe space for struggling kids. I want to help them keep going, even when they feel they can’t. My long-term goal is to change our system of mental health care altogether, from the presently reactive to a proactive model. I want to create and implement a K-12 program that will teach kids what our mental health is and how to attend to our needs, learning this daily and adding depth and context as they progress in age. Here healthy coping mechanisms will be learned for the inevitable stressors they will face. All kids will know where to go for help, and they will receive it without delay. By normalizing mental health access and education in all public schools, I envision a healthier society with less suffering for generations to come.

When I first agreed to make slime, I really didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I was 13 and returning to my birth country of Guatemala for the first time since my adoption. I wanted to go but was secretly anxious about the whole thing. We were going with a trusted “Travel with Purpose” group. Leceta, the agency planner, asked if I would like to share a craft with local kids. I immediately chose slime-making! This was a hobby of mine at the time, and it got me more excited for our trip. Leceta thought this was perfect. She shared that kids there didn’t have the resources to buy the ingredients. This would be a first for them. Learning this was my first stirring of compassion. I collected bottles of glue and contact solution and brought them with me. Then, at the Backyard School, an NGO that serves the impoverished San Bartolome community, I nervously stood on the makeshift stage with a translator to teach my method. Together we made a very fun mess while making the slime. I will never forget their smiles and squeals of laughter, as well as their pride showing me what they made! I’ll definitely never forget that I was the reason for those reactions. Seeing these children with skin like mine, realizing the life I could have had if not adopted, has kept me connected to the Backyard School program. Aiming to keep at-risk children in families and away from a life in gangs or on the streets, the Backyard School, running solely on donations, provides educational opportunities, feeding programs and bunk beds for children, resulting in their community being stronger and safer. Twice, so far, I have designed and sold t-shirts to provide funds for bunkbeds given to children who were sleeping on dirt floors. I was honored to help deliver and assemble some of these beds on a subsequent visit. Again, watching the joy as kids climbed into their new bed for the very first time and knowing they would sleep better made me well up with emotion, both happiness and pride, but also sadness at how much need and disparity there is in this world. This service has shaped the person I am today. At the time, I was full of self-doubt and didn’t think a 13-year-old girl could make any sort of difference in the world. But looking back, I realize in those moments, I was providing a world of difference for these individual children. I didn’t do these things to get anything in return, but I did inadvertently receive gratitude, self-reflection, and awareness. I’ve learned how valuable the simple gift of joy can be and how much we take education for granted here in the USA. I also realized I didn’t want this feeling to go away and that it’s in my nature to help people. I will remain involved with the Backyard School for the long term and am currently sponsoring a student’s education through them. As for my own future, I will keep making a difference in people’s lives. I want to become a psychologist providing therapy for children. I’ve had my own mental health struggles but have been lucky enough to get help. I have friends struggling currently and I lost a friend to suicide. Trauma is everywhere. My goal is to change the system, normalizing having dedicated therapists in every public school, teaching self-care just as we teach math and reading, and treating issues as they arise, free of charge. My dreams are not far-fetched. I believe in myself!

My friend took his life at 15 and I feel his loss every day. Living in rural West Virginia, I wonder if he had had better access to care, would he still be here? Being from a smaller community, finding a mental health professional is an added struggle when one is already struggling. I know from my own bouts with mental health how difficult it is to find someone who meets your needs. Options are limited and demand is high in communities where only a couple of therapists are available. Waitlists can be months long. That’s months of suffering, before even beginning treatment. I also know many others who battle with receiving mental health care at all. I have friends who are old enough to know what they need, but being minors are not old enough to get the help for themselves. They have made it very clear they wanted care for their mental state via a therapist or medication, but have been denied by their parents. This is either because of their parents’ negative beliefs about mental health care or because they simply can’t afford care, lack insurance or are underinsured. I know several kids who have self-harmed and/or abused drugs in their battle with untreated mental health. Taking all of this into account has really made me want to change the field of mental health care. I believe mental health care should be accessible to all people, especially kids, who collectively become the future of our nation. The diversity and uniqueness that exists amongst all students, even with progress towards acceptance, still isn’t celebrated and is often a source of self-doubt and bullying. I believe teaching healthy habits for mental care should start at a very young age and to all children. Generally speaking, learning how to take care of your mental health isn’t openly offered until a problem is identified. Techniques to cope with stress, anxiety and depression, such common conditions, aren’t preemptively taught. This shouldn’t be the case. I want to normalize this care as part of everyone’s growing life. By teaching what our mental health is and how to attend to our needs in elementary school, and having students learn this just as they do math and reading, we would remove the stigma when conditions arise. Just as we aim to get physical and dental check-ups on a routine basis, we need mental checkups routinely as well. A broken limb can’t be hidden, but painful mental ailments such as depression can be. Although invisible, they are no less important to treat. I will begin my studies in psychology at Stetson University this fall. I want to become a well-trained mental health professional that is available to kids in the public school environment, no matter their circumstances. I want to both know and teach the signs of illness or struggles. I want to understand where the limits lie with getting a kid help without parental consent. I want to learn and understand the law to advocate for minors who need help but aren’t getting it. Further, I want to lead other professionals in this method of care. I want to normalize teaching children about their rights, giving them a foundation to build on. I want to teach children how to communicate their needs and provide extra resources to help those who struggle with this. I believe this benefits our society as a whole, in the long run. I hope that the next generation of kids will have their needs understood and met much better than previous generations. It is my greatest hope that the outcome of this will be a kinder school environment with a great reduction in bullying and school shootings leading to less violence in the country in general. As the saying goes, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. My dreams are not far-fetched. I believe in myself and my ambitions!

I have spent a lot of long days in the hospital with my mom, and I credit Taylor Swift with getting me through them. Taylor’s music provided me with much-needed comfort during some very difficult times in the life of my family. My mom was diagnosed with stage 1 breast cancer in 2015, and while I was worried then, I was quite young and I didn’t really understand what was happening. I remember asking her if she was going to die. She said no, that it was sort of like having a broken bone but with a difficult treatment process, confident that she was going to be fine. I trusted her completely. She did the usual treatments, lost her hair, and a year later rang the bell when chemo was completed. We celebrated and moved on with life. But in 2019 when the cancer came back, metastasizing in her brain, liver, lungs and bones, I was considerably older and I had a much better grasp of reality. Not only did my mom need an emergency craniotomy, causing enough panic, but I was also now old enough to google. The odds of her living more than 5 years were slim. I began to spiral as the thought of losing my best friend was agonizing. On those nights that I stayed in the hospital by my mom’s side, I often turned to music. I stayed in the corner chair when the doctors would come in. I tried to tune their conversations out, focusing instead on Taylor’s words. It was easier for me to stay calm this way, with a sense that maybe if I couldn’t hear them then it wasn’t really happening and she wasn’t actually sick. Only she was. And it was very hard for me to come to terms with that. While I blocked out the sounds of the hospital, one song stuck out to me. It was from Taylor Swift’s recently released Lover album titled “Soon You’ll Get Better”. It felt like it was written just for us, my mom and me. In it, Taylor sings, “You make the best of a bad deal.” This line described my mom perfectly. Even facing brain surgery, painful chemotherapy, and gamma knife radiation, she always kept smiling, joking and laughing. Some I think she did for me, but it is just her nature, another thing I love about her. Taylor also sings: I hate to make this all about me. But who am I supposed to talk to? What am I supposed to do? If there’s no you? These were lyrics I could have written myself in this situation. This song gave me hope at a time when I thought it wasn’t possible. It gave me light in a world full of darkness. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone. It said everything I was feeling and gave me validation. I found comfort in this song then, and still do today. It is a reminder of how strong my mom was, and it reminds me to be grateful for her every day because I almost lost her yet she’s still here with me, surviving! She is my greatest inspiration, my biggest supporter, my best friend, and every time I listen to this song, I am filled with warmth. As I prepare to move several states away for college, this song will continue to serve as a comforting reminder of my mom and how strong she taught me to be even when life throws obstacles in my path. I feel fully prepared for the journey that awaits me.

My friend took his life at 15 and I feel his loss every day. Living in rural West Virginia, I wonder if he had had better access to care, would he still be here? Being from a smaller community, finding a mental health professional is an added struggle when one is already struggling. I know from my own bouts with mental health how difficult it is to find someone who meets your needs. Options are limited and demand is high in communities with only a couple of therapists available. Waitlists can be months long. That’s months of suffering, before even beginning treatment. I also know many others who battle with receiving mental health care at all. I have friends who are old enough to know what they need, but being minors are not old enough to get this help for themselves. They have made it very clear they wanted care for their mental state via a therapist or medication, but have been denied by their parents. This is either because of their parents’ negative beliefs about mental health care or because they simply can’t afford care, lack insurance or are underinsured. I know several kids who have self-harmed and/or abused drugs in their battle with untreated mental health. Taking all of this into account has made me want to change the field of mental health care. I believe mental health care should be accessible to all people, especially kids who will ultimately become the future of our nation. I believe teaching healthy habits for mental care should start at a very young age and to all children. Generally speaking, learning how to take care of your mental health isn’t openly offered until a problem is identified. Techniques to cope with stress, anxiety and depression, such common conditions, aren’t preemptively taught. This shouldn’t be the case. I want to normalize this care as part of everyone’s growing life. By teaching what our mental health is and how to attend to our needs in elementary school, and having students learn this just as they do math and reading, we would remove the stigma when conditions arise. Just as we aim to get physical and dental check-ups on a routine basis, we need mental checkups routinely as well. A broken limb can’t be hidden, but painful mental ailments such as depression can be. Although invisible, they are no less important to treat. I will begin my studies in psychology at Stetson University this fall. I want to become a well-trained mental health professional that is available to kids in the public school environment, no matter their circumstances. I want to both know and teach the signs of illness or struggles. I want to understand where the limits lie with getting a kid help without parental consent. I want to learn and understand the law to advocate for minors who need help but aren’t getting it. Further, I want to lead other professionals in this method of care. I hope that the next generation of kids will have their needs understood and met much better than previous generations. It is my greatest hope that the outcome of this will be a kinder school environment with a great reduction in bullying and school shootings and less violence in the country in general. As the saying goes, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. My dreams are not far-fetched. I believe in myself and my ambitions!

When I first agreed to make slime, I really didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I was 13 and returning to my birth country of Guatemala for the first time since my adoption. I wanted to go but was secretly anxious about the whole thing. We were going with a trusted “Travel with Purpose” group. Leceta, the agency planner, asked if I would like to share a craft with local kids. I immediately chose making slime! This was a hobby of mine at the time, and it got me more excited for our trip. Leceta thought this was perfect. She shared that kids there didn’t have the resources to buy the ingredients. This would be a first for them. Learning this was my first stirring of compassion. I collected bottles of glue and contact solution and brought them with me. Then, at the Backyard School, an NGO that serves the impoverished San Bartolome community, I nervously stood on the makeshift stage with a translator to teach my method. Together we made a very fun mess while making the slime. I will never forget their smiles and squeals of laughter, as well as their pride showing me what they made! I’ll definitely never forget that I was the reason for those reactions. Seeing these children with skin like mine, and realizing the life I could have had if not adopted, has kept me connected to the Backyard School program. Aiming to keep at-risk children in families and away from a life in gangs or on the streets, the Backyard School, running solely on donations, provides educational opportunities, feeding programs and bunk beds for children, resulting in their community being stronger and safer. Twice, so far, I have designed and sold t-shirts to provide funds for bunkbeds given to children who were sleeping on dirt floors. I was honored to help deliver and assemble some of these beds on a subsequent visit. Again, watching the joy as kids climbed into their new bed for the very first time and knowing they would sleep better made me well up with emotion, both happiness and pride, but also sadness at how much need and disparity there is in this world. This service has shaped the person I am today. At the time, I was full of self-doubt, and didn’t think a 13-year-old girl could make any sort of difference in the world. But looking back, I realize in those moments, I was providing a world of difference for these individual children. I didn’t do these things to get anything in return, but I did inadvertently receive gratitude, self-reflection and awareness. I’ve learned how valuable the simple gift of joy can be and how much we take education for granted here in the USA. I also realized I didn’t want this feeling to go away and that it’s in my nature to help people. I will remain involved with the Backyard School for the long term and am currently sponsoring a student’s education through them. As for my own future, I will keep making a difference in people’s lives. I want to become a psychologist providing therapy for children. I’ve had my own mental health struggles but have been lucky enough to get help. I have friends struggling currently and I lost a friend to suicide. Trauma is everywhere. My goal is to change the system, normalizing having dedicated therapists in every public school, teaching self-care just as we teach math and reading, and treating issues as they arise, free of charge. My dreams are not far-fetched. I believe in myself!

I have been in pain nearly every day for the last 7 years and learning how to navigate this life has been a difficult journey. Having Hashimoto’s Hypothyroidism, my immune system attacks my thyroid as if were a foreign matter. While we don’t fully understand the causes and effects, I also have Ehlers-Danlos Hypermobility and Fibromyalgia. It’s the “perfect storm” for pain. The side effects are plentiful and involve every facet of my life. Physically, the pain can be so immense, especially in my joints and back, that it incapacitates me. During my junior year, I missed the equivalent of 2 months of education due to pain and being confined to my bed. My sleep is disrupted by the pain, often unable to get quality rest. This leads to constant fatigue and poor concentration. My Hashimoto’s also affects me mentally. When the pain flares up I can become irritable and depressed. This disease can be lonely. It’s hard for my friends to understand that I am not “normal” like they are. I have to be judicious in considering social invitations, evaluating if the fun time is worth the consequential pain and lethargic recovery period. Sometimes, they stop inviting me. Having an autoimmune disease has changed the way I govern my life, and yes, as mentioned it can be sad, lonely, and painful. However, it has also given me a strong sense of awareness and appreciation for life and what I want from it. I am not the type to settle or accept defeat. I have worked very hard to be the best version of myself possible. I spent many hours in physical therapy strengthening my joints. I have regular sessions with my mental health therapist working on stress management and stacked-breathing techniques, as well as talking about my stressors to lessen their effects. I faithfully take my Synthroid and vitamin D and my thyroid hormone levels are monitored. Taking control of what I am able makes me feel less helpless. I strive to continue to improve with the hopes of less intense pain overall. I have a great appreciation for what I AM capable of accomplishing. What inadvertently helps me the most is focusing on other people. Being adopted from Guatemala, I’ve focused much of my attention on the life I could have had. The poverty in Guatemala is astounding. I cannot imagine being in pain without answers, without access to doctors or medicine. After visiting Guatemala on my first cultural trip at 13 years old, I became involved with the NGO The Backyard School (BYS) which provides help to residents of the San Bartolome community. Learning that it is not uncommon for children to sleep on dirt floors moved me to fundraise for BYS’s bunk bed project. Twice so far I have designed and sold t-shirts with proceeds going to funds for bunk beds. I was able to help deliver them on a subsequent trip, and the smiles on those kids’ faces will stay with me forever. Wanting a more personal connection, I also sponsored the education of one student by way of a Facebook birthday fundraiser. I had also the pleasure of teaching these children how to make slime. They knew what it was, but never had access to supplies. It was then that I learned then how important the gift of joy is. Helping others does not take my physical pain away, but the focus on spreading good into the world helps to balance my inner being- that part of me that isn’t the body but my mind and soul.

Being born in and adopted from Guatemala and then being raised in a rural, predominantly white community in West Virginia has sadly meant that I am no stranger to trauma. The feeling of loss of my biological family and of my culture, along with discriminatory micro-aggressive comments made in school such as “throw her back over the wall” led to not truly knowing how I fit in and really damaged my mental health. After my mom was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer, the fear of loss having been a constant in my life, this news pushed me to a point where I could no longer handle things on my own. Finding a qualified and helpful psychologist for adolescents in small town West Virginia was incredibly difficult. I waited months to see a professional, which as a young teen with what I didn’t yet know was adoption trauma was months too long. I believe a kid has to feel like they can trust this therapist behind the desk with their deepest thoughts, the ones best guarded, the source of their pain. If made to feel belittled or perhaps immature in any way, they will shut down and the rest is pointless. This unfortunately was my experience with the only local option accepting new patients at the time. The reality is that the demand is high and the options few. I continued to struggle. Thankfully I have a great support system at home and my mom did not settle for inadequate care for me. With her persistence, I finally was able to receive treatment through telehealth from a therapist who specialized in trauma at WVU. I was nervous after my first experience, but I felt her genuine care and respect from the beginning. For 2 years now I have worked with her on ways to destress, such as through diaphragmatic breathing, small exercises, or talking techniques. By talking with her and putting the tools she taught me in action, I am feeling more mentally balanced than ever before, and without the need for medication. However, I realize that not all have the support I have to talk things through or to help find a doctor in enough time. Because of this, their problems can become more intense leading to drastic outcomes. I lost a friend to suicide at 15 and I miss him every day. He did not have the supports he needed and all of his loved ones paid the price. Many others in my town turn to drugs. It is sad how many students I know at my school who have lost a parent to overdoses. Seeing them struggle without the people who should have been their biggest support saddens me, and makes me appreciate my support system even more. My experiences have led me to decide upon my career path in psychology. I will study to become a clinical psychologist for adolescents. Knowing what I needed in my most difficult period of life, I want to fill at least a small part of the void for struggling teens, and will utilize telemedicine to reach kids who need me in this or any other small community. I want to advocate for a proactive society to treat mental health with the priority it deserves for healthier lives, families, and futures. Sadly, we will never know if my friend could have made it with therapy. Earlier intervention and better access to treatment should be the norm and not the exception. My hope is that fewer friends and family have to have this same thought about their loved ones in the future.

My friend took his life at 15 and I feel his loss every day. Living in rural West Virginia, I wonder if he had had better access to care, would he still be here? Having good mental health is one of the most important things in life. It affects so much in not only your own but in others’ lives as well. Experiencing depression myself and watching loved ones struggle with mental illness, I understand how hard it is to overcome, and more resources for this constant struggle need to be available. Finding a qualified and helpful psychologist is incredibly difficult, and even more so in rural areas. Finding one for an adolescent is even harder. Being from a small town, I waited months to see a professional as a young teen with what I didn’t yet know was adoption trauma and then an adoptive mom who had just been diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer. The fear of loss was a theme throughout my life, and I had reached the point where I could no longer cope on my own. A kid has to feel like they can trust this person behind the desk with their deepest thoughts, the ones best guarded, the source of your pain. If made to feel belittled or perhaps immature in any way, they will shut down and the rest is pointless. The person I saw was not a good fit in this way. I also had to have a psychiatrist manage medication for me. I went to the only person in town accepting new patients, the demand being high and the options so few. This man in charge of determining if I was on the correct medication and at the right dose asked me very a handful of simple questions and silently waited my responses. I was very uncomfortable, my own awkwardness matching his. My single word answers were enough to get another 3-month prescription. Thankfully I have a great support system at home and my mom did not settle for inadequate care for me. I finally was able to receive treatment through telehealth from a doctor in the city near me and have been working with her on ways to destress, such as diaphragmatic breathing, small exercises, or talking techniques. And by talking with her and putting the tools she taught me in action, I have been feeling more mentally balanced than ever before, and without the need for medication. However, I realize that not many have the support I have both to talk things through or to help find a doctor in enough time. Because of this their problems become worse for themselves and their loved ones. No one should have to be harmed by their own thoughts and feelings. My friend committed suicide by gun. Many others in my town turn to drugs. It is sad how many students at my school have lost parents to overdoses. In college I will be studying to become a clinical psychologist for adolescents. Knowing what I needed in my most difficult period of life, I want to fill at least a small part of the void for struggling teens, and will utilize telemedicine to reach kids who need me in this or any other community. Sadly, we will never know if my friend could have made it with therapy. Earlier intervention and better access to treatment should be the norm and not the exception. My hope is that fewer friends and family have to have this same thought about their loved ones in the future.