For most of my 28 years, mental illness has felt like something I needed to wrangle. Sometimes I held the reins tightly. Other times, it took over every part of my life. My mental health struggles began after I experienced sexual abuse as a child. I did not yet have the language to explain what had happened to me, but my mind and body understood that I was no longer safe. I started therapy in third grade and was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. By middle school, I was suicidal. During high school, I experienced multiple inpatient hospitalizations. Mental illness affected nearly every part of my childhood and young adulthood. It shaped my relationships, my confidence, my physical health, and my education. Even the treatments meant to help me sometimes created new struggles. One medication caused my PCOS symptoms to become severe, and I gained approximately 120 pounds in six months. The physical changes were difficult enough, but they also intensified the depression and shame I was already carrying. School became both an escape and another place where my mental illness had control. My OCD turned achievement into perfectionism. I would stay awake for hours rereading, rewriting, and worrying that nothing I did was good enough. Success did not always feel rewarding. Sometimes, it only felt like temporary relief from the fear of failure. My doctors also believe that spending so many years in a constant state of fight or flight contributed to the development of my autoimmune disease. Healing did not happen through one breakthrough or one perfect medication. It took years of intense therapy, journaling, self-advocacy, incorrect diagnoses, medication changes, and searching for doctors who were willing to truly listen. I had to learn that advocating for myself was not being difficult. It was necessary. Today, I manage diagnosed complex PTSD, depression, and OCD. They are still part of my life, but they no longer make every decision for me. I now work full time while pursuing my business degree at Drexel University. Returning to school as an adult has required discipline, resilience, and a willingness to keep going even when my mind tells me I am not capable. I am proud of my academic success, but I am even prouder that I have learned to pursue excellence without allowing perfectionism to destroy me. During my darkest moments, I did not always have a powerful reason to stay. Some days, survival was as small as thinking, “My cat will need someone to refill the water bowl.” On other days, it was as big as realizing, “I want to live.” Both reasons mattered. Mental illness has made my path harder, but it has also shown me how strong a person can become through the simple act of continuing. This is still an uphill battle, but I am here. I have handled every day that once felt impossible, and I will keep handling the days ahead.

I don't think loving something means it has to come easily. In fact, I used to hate math. Growing up, I was drawn to psychology, writing, art, and anything creative. Math felt rigid. There wasn't much room for interpretation or emotion, and for a long time, I convinced myself that it simply wasn't for me. As I got older, I realized I had misunderstood what it means to love something. Love isn't always enjoyment. Sometimes it's admiration. It's dedication. It's respecting something enough to appreciate its value, even when it doesn't come naturally. The more I learned about the world, the more I realized that math was quietly hiding beneath so many of the things I already loved. The symmetry of a face. The proportions that make a painting feel balanced. The geometry behind architecture. The patterns woven throughout nature. Even makeup artistry, something I've spent years studying, relies on angles, ratios, and balance to create harmony. Math isn't the opposite of beauty. It's often the blueprint that makes beauty possible. That realization completely changed my perspective. I still don't always love solving equations, but I deeply appreciate what math represents. It teaches patience, discipline, and logical thinking. It reminds us that the most beautiful outcomes are often built on structure we never see. Behind every breathtaking building, incredible work of art, technological breakthrough, or natural wonder is a framework that mathematics helped create. I think that's why math deserves so much admiration. It asks us to trust the process. To work through problems one step at a time. To accept that there may be multiple ways to arrive at the same solution. Those lessons extend far beyond the classroom. Math may never have been my easiest subject, but perhaps that's exactly why I value it so much. It challenged the way I think, helped me recognize the connection between logic and creativity, and taught me that love isn't reserved for the things that come naturally. Sometimes the deepest appreciation comes from learning to see beauty in something you once struggled to understand.

When I was younger, I believed successful people followed straight paths. They chose a major, graduated, started a career, and never looked back. Every time my own life took an unexpected turn, I thought I had somehow wandered off course. It took me years to realize that a path can fork without ending. I began my college journey at John Jay College because I was fascinated by forensic psychology. I loved understanding people and why they think the way they do. But as time went on, I found myself drawn toward a different passion. I made the difficult decision to leave college and move to New York City permanently to pursue an esthetics license. Soon after, I continued my education at Makeup Designory, where I studied special effects makeup alongside incredibly talented artists. Leaving college was terrifying. It felt like I was abandoning the path I was supposed to follow. Friends were continuing toward their degrees while I was chasing a dream that looked completely different. At the time, I questioned whether I was making the biggest mistake of my life. Then COVID arrived. Almost overnight, the beauty industry slowed to a standstill. The future I had spent years building suddenly felt uncertain. Once again, I found myself standing at another fork in the road, wondering where I was supposed to go next. If someone had told me then that I would one day build a career at Lockheed Martin, I would have laughed. Today, I have been with Lockheed Martin for six years, growing through multiple roles before becoming an Facilities Database Specialist. Working alongside talented engineers, project managers, and business professionals introduced me to an entirely new world, one I never knew I would love. That experience inspired me to return to school, and I am now pursuing my Bachelor of Science in Business Administration at Drexel University with the goal of moving into engineering management. Looking back, I realize none of those chapters were mistakes. John Jay taught me empathy and curiosity. Esthetics and makeup school taught me creativity, discipline, and the confidence to pursue something I loved. Lockheed Martin taught me resilience and introduced me to opportunities I never knew existed. Returning to college has taught me that growth does not have a deadline. My journey has also required sacrifice. I work full time while attending school full time, paying for my education out of pocket while balancing a mortgage, everyday expenses, and the rising cost of living. My husband and I have even postponed starting our family until I complete my degree because we know this investment will create greater opportunities for our future. None of those sacrifices have changed my commitment to finishing what I started. What gives me an advantage over other applicants is not that I have always known where I was going. It is that I have learned to trust the journey, even when I cannot see the destination. Every unexpected turn has made me more adaptable, more compassionate, and more willing to embrace opportunities that others might overlook. Today, I am grateful for every redirection. Every decision I questioned. Every chapter I once believed was a mistake. They never took me away from my path. They were my path. I used to believe that success belonged to the people who never changed direction. Now I know that sometimes the most meaningful destinations are found because we had the courage to follow the road when it forked. That lesson will stay with me long after I earn my degree, and it will continue to shape the leader, the learner, and the person I am still becoming.

My long-term goal is to move into engineering management, combining my business education with my experience working in a technical corporate environment. I currently work full time at Lockheed Martin while pursuing my Bachelor of Science in Business Administration at Drexel University. My path has not been traditional, but each step has helped me build the foundation I need to become a strong, people-focused leader. My plan has three main parts: complete my degree, continue gaining professional experience, and prepare for leadership opportunities. First, I am focused on finishing my BSBA at Drexel while maintaining strong academic performance. Since I work full time, my schedule requires careful planning. Each semester, I review my course load, tuition costs, work responsibilities, and personal commitments before registering. I plan my assignments around my work calendar, use evenings and weekends for coursework, and budget ahead so I can continue paying for school without taking on unnecessary debt. Financially, tuition is the largest obstacle in my plan. I pay for school out of pocket while also managing normal adult expenses, including a mortgage and the rising cost of living. My remaining degree costs are estimated to be around $24,000, though the final amount may be lower depending on course requirements and fees. My goal is to reduce that amount through scholarships, employer support when available, careful budgeting, and payment plans. Any scholarship funding would directly lower my tuition burden and allow me to stay focused on completing my degree instead of delaying classes for financial reasons. The second part of my plan is gaining experience in the field I want to grow in. At Lockheed Martin, I have built experience in facilities, planning, data, IT, and project support. My current role allows me to work with systems, processes, and cross-functional teams, which are all important skills for engineering management. I plan to continue seeking projects that strengthen my communication, problem-solving, and leadership abilities. I also want to learn from managers around me by observing how they lead teams, handle conflict, manage priorities, and make decisions under pressure. The third part of my plan is preparing myself for the next step after graduation. Once I complete my degree, I plan to pursue roles that move me closer to engineering management, such as project management, operations, or technical business management positions. I also plan to continue building my professional network within Lockheed Martin, seek mentorship from leaders in engineering and operations, and pursue any relevant training or certifications that would make me a stronger candidate. Joe Gilroy’s motto, “Plan Your Work, Work Your Plan,” reflects the way I am approaching my future. My goal is ambitious, but it is not vague. I know what degree I need, what experience I need to build, what financial obstacles I need to manage, and what steps I need to take next. I am not waiting for the perfect circumstances. I am working full time, going to school full time, budgeting carefully, and building my future one semester and one opportunity at a time.

I've always been a little difficult to categorize. Growing up, I was friends with just about every group. One day I'd be with the honors students, the next with the athletes, then I'd spend lunch with the theater kids or the students who never quite seemed to fit anywhere else. I was outgoing, loved meeting new people, and could find common ground with almost anyone. Ironically, because I fit in almost everywhere, I never felt like I completely belonged anywhere. The in-between became my 'place'. For a long time, I thought I needed to pick one version of myself. Everyone else seemed to have a label. They were the artists, the musicians, the athletes, or the academics. Meanwhile, I loved things that didn't seem to belong together. I was fascinated by psychology and business, but I also loved makeup, skincare, and special effects artistry. I could spend hours reading about Victorian history, wandering through old cemeteries, or listening to ghost stories just as happily as I could spend an afternoon planting a vibrant garden, planning a trip or learning a new skill. People would ask, "So what are you into?" and I never had just one answer. As I got older, that only became more obvious. I originally studied forensic psychology at college, but quickly realized that wasn't the path for me. Then I earned my esthetics license, completed a special effects makeup program, worked in luxury cosmetics until COVID-19 caused me to lose my job. Eventually I found myself working full time at Lockheed Martin while pursuing my business degree at Drexel University. Looking at my path, it probably seems random. Disjointed. All over the place. To me, it makes perfect sense. Every experience has introduced me to people I never would have met otherwise. I've learned something valuable from every chapter of my life, even the ones that didn't go according to plan. As hard as I tried to plan my future, plans change, people grow, and learning how to adapt is crucial. That's where my personal philosophy comes from: say yes to opportunities and approach life with curiosity instead of judgment. I never want to dismiss an experience simply because it doesn't fit the picture I imagined for myself. For a long time, I was disappointed in myself for not knowing my direction, for not having a clear identity, a clear label. Eventually, I realized that being multifaceted wasn't something I needed to fix. It became one of my greatest strengths. Since I never felt confined to one group, I learned how to connect with people from every walk of life. I enjoy hearing people's stories, understanding different perspectives, and finding common ground where others might only see differences. Whether I'm talking with coworkers, classmates, or complete strangers, I've found that genuine curiosity builds meaningful connections. Looking back, I don't wish I had fit neatly into one box. Never having a single group to call my own encouraged me to create a life that reflects every part of who I am instead of only the parts that make sense together. It has given me the confidence to chase unexpected opportunities, embrace unconventional interests, and appreciate that people are far more complex than the labels we give them. If my "awkward" thing is anything, it's that I've never been just one thing. I hope I never am. The most interesting people I've met are the ones who refuse to be defined by a single category, and that's exactly the kind of person I strive to be.

If you had met me during some of the hardest years of my life, you probably would have thought I was doing just fine. I smiled. I got good grades. I laughed with my friends. From the outside, I looked like someone who had everything under control. Behind that smile, I was struggling with severe depression and obsessive compulsive disorder. Throughout high school, I missed months of school because of my mental health. I spent so much energy convincing everyone around me that I was okay that I forgot how to ask for help myself. Eventually, I reached a point where I was suicidal and was admitted to an inpatient psychiatric hospital. That experience changed my life, but not in the way most people expect. What stayed with me most was realizing how invisible mental illness can be. The people around me were not uncaring. They simply did not know. I had become so good at pretending I was okay that no one realized how desperately I needed someone to ask, "How are you, really?" That question has become one of the most important parts of my life. Mental health matters to me as a student because I know how many people are silently carrying burdens that no one else can see. College is already demanding. Add financial stress, work, family responsibilities, or mental illness, and it can quickly become overwhelming. I understand that feeling because I live it every day. I work full time while earning my degree, pay for school out of pocket, and balance the same responsibilities that many adult students carry. There are days when the pressure feels overwhelming, but my experiences have taught me that struggling does not mean failing. It means being human. The biggest way I advocate for mental health is through the way I treat people. I believe advocacy begins long before a crisis. It starts with noticing when someone seems different. It starts with asking one more question instead of accepting "I'm fine." It starts with creating spaces where people know they can speak honestly without fear of being judged. That philosophy has followed me everywhere. At work, I have built friendships with coworkers who know they can come to me when life feels heavy. Sometimes we talk about work. Sometimes we talk about anxiety, grief, relationships, or simply getting through a difficult week. I never underestimate those conversations because I know firsthand how much they can matter. One person choosing to listen can make someone feel less alone. I also choose to be open about my own journey when it can help someone else. Mental illness is often surrounded by shame, and I want people to know that asking for help is never something to be embarrassed by. Recovery is not linear, and healing does not erase the difficult days. It gives you the tools to keep moving forward through them. My experiences have given me a purpose I never expected. I cannot change what I went through, but I can help create a world where fewer people feel like they have to suffer in silence. If someone walks away from a conversation with me feeling seen, understood, or hopeful, then I have made the kind of impact that matters most.

The values that guide my life were born from some of the darkest moments I've ever experienced. They taught me that kindness is never wasted, that everyone is fighting a battle you cannot see, and that one genuine conversation can change someone's life. I am pursuing my Bachelor of Science in Business Administration at Drexel University because I want to build a career centered around people. I want to be the kind of leader who remembers that behind every employee is a person with a family, struggles, dreams, and a life that exists outside of work. For years, I became an expert at looking okay. Throughout high school, I missed months of school because I was battling severe depression and obsessive compulsive disorder. Even then, I smiled. I still worried about getting good grades and making people believe everything was fine. I thought asking for help meant I had failed. Eventually, I reached a point where I was suicidal and was admitted to an inpatient psychiatric hospital. Looking back, the hardest part was not feeling depressed. It was feeling invisible. The people around me saw someone who seemed happy, motivated, and successful. Very few people knew how much I was hurting. That same pressure followed me into college. I convinced myself I had to be perfect, and when I couldn't live up to the impossible expectations I had created, I walked away. I pursued my dream of becoming a licensed esthetician, believing I had finally found my path. Then COVID changed everything. Overnight, the career I had worked toward disappeared, and I found myself rebuilding my future from the beginning all over again. These experiences completely changed the way I see other people. I have become deeply passionate about mental health advocacy because I know how easy it is to hide behind a smile. The people who look like they have everything together are often the ones carrying the heaviest burdens. Because of that, I make it a point to check in with people. I ask how they are really doing, and I stay long enough to hear the answer. If the answer feels superficial, I make sure I ask the questions. Make them feel seen. That mindset has naturally carried into my career. Some of my closest friendships have grown from the workplace, and I have become someone my coworkers turn to when life feels overwhelming. Sometimes they need advice. Sometimes they just need someone to listen. I never take that trust for granted because I remember wishing I had someone who would have done the same for me. I cannot fix every problem, but I can make sure the people around me never feel like they have to carry those problems alone. Today, I am working full time while putting myself through school because I believe this degree will allow me to make an even greater impact. The financial burden is significant, and my husband and I have postponed starting a family until I finish my education because we simply cannot afford both. Even with those sacrifices, I know I am finally exactly where I am supposed to be. My goal is not simply to succeed in business. I want to help build workplaces where compassion is part of the culture, where people feel safe asking for help, and where someone who is quietly struggling knows there is at least one person who will notice. I know firsthand how much that can matter because I have lived the difference one caring person can make.

When people picture a college student, they often imagine someone whose biggest responsibility is making it to class on time. My experience has looked very different. I work full-time as a Facilities Database Analyst at Lockheed Martin while pursuing my bachelor's degree full-time. Although this scholarship is intended for students working part-time, my reality has been balancing a forty-hour+ workweek with a full course load because it is the only way I can afford to continue my education. Every week is a constant exercise in time management, discipline, and sacrifice. My path to college has not been traditional. After high school, I left college after one semester to earn my esthetics license. I wanted to build a career doing something I loved. Not long after I entered the industry, the COVID-19 pandemic brought everything to a halt. Like so many others, I had to completely rethink my future. I pivoted into the corporate world, eventually finding a career at Lockheed Martin, but I quickly realized that if I wanted long-term opportunities, I needed to finish the degree I had put on hold. Returning to school as an older student has been rewarding, but it has also been incredibly challenging. Life doesn't pause because I have assignments due. Over the past few years, I bought my first home, accepted new positions that required relocating, planned a wedding, got married, and tried to build a life with my husband—all while working full-time and taking classes. My husband and I have even made the difficult decision to postpone starting our family until I complete my degree because I want to give our future children the stability and opportunities this education will provide. There were countless nights when I logged off work only to spend the next several hours writing papers or studying until the wee hours of the morning, knowing my alarm would ring before sunrise. The most difficult season came while planning my wedding. What should have been one of the happiest times of my life often felt like another deadline to manage. Instead of enjoying the excitement, I was squeezing homework into weekends, completing assignments during lunch breaks, and studying after vendor meetings. Even my honeymoon wasn't truly a break. I found myself thinking about upcoming assignments, planning my coursework, and completing deadlines in the hotel room instead of being fully present. I sacrificed time with family, missed celebrations with friends, and turned down opportunities to simply relax because there was always another project waiting. Despite working for a respected company, the rising cost of living and inflation have made earning my degree even more difficult. Paying for school entirely out of pocket while managing a mortgage, everyday expenses, and tuition has required careful budgeting and difficult choices. There are moments when it feels overwhelming, but giving up has never been an option. The sacrifices have been significant, but so have the rewards. Maintaining a 3.96 GPA and earning straight A's while working full-time has proven to me that perseverance matters more than having the perfect circumstances. This experience has taught me resilience, discipline, and how to keep moving forward even when life feels overwhelming. Every late night, every missed gathering, and every milestone I've delayed is an investment in the future I am building. My goal is to create opportunities that weren't available to me before and to build a stable future for myself and my family. I know the sacrifices I'm making today will be worth it, and that belief is what keeps me going.

My dad saved my life. That is not a figure of speech. He quite literally stopped me from taking my own life. I was 17 years old and constantly competing with myself. I needed the best grades, the best college acceptance letters, the best performance at work, and the best version of myself at all times. Eventually, the pressure became too much. After years of struggling with depression, I decided that an October night in 2015 would be my last. I had already made up my mind. Looking back, my memories from that night are hazy, but there is one thing I remember clearly: my dad walking through the door. I still remember the look on his face. He immediately pulled me into his arms, calmed me down, and stayed with me while I cried. The next day, he found the best inpatient treatment available and drove me there himself. The facility was not the right place for me, and my dad knew it. He fought for my release, advocated for me, and made sure I left with a plan that included therapy four times a week. He never stopped looking for solutions. He never stopped showing up. Now, at 28 years old, I am finally pursuing the college degree I put on hold for so many years. Depression stole time from me, but it never stole my future. My dad made sure of that. Throughout my life, he has been my biggest advocate. He has fought for me when I could not fight for myself and reminded me of my worth when I could not see it. My dad is a first-generation Italian American whose parents immigrated from Naples and Calabria. He grew up in a family of seven children and experienced more hardship than most people realize. He lost two brothers to addiction and depression while they were still in their early thirties. Despite those challenges, he built an incredible career through hard work and determination, starting in the mailroom at Lockheed Martin and retiring last year as a director. Growing up, he taught my sisters and me that hard work opens doors. More importantly, he showed us what resilience, loyalty, and family look like. Some of my favorite memories are the simplest ones. He called me “Nan” because I could not pronounce Natalie when I was little. I was named after him (his name is Natale) and that nickname became something special between us. He would sneak me out for secret ice cream dates, even though my mom was trying to limit my sweets. I was always so excited to spend time with my dad that I would accidentally tell her every time. Even now, I am still his little Nan. My dad brought me into this world, but more importantly, he helped me stay in it. The person I am today, the student I am becoming, and the future I am building all exist because of him. I was fortunate enough to be named after him, and carrying his name is one of the greatest honors of my life.