I've always been an extremely curious person. I'm rarely satisfied with just knowing that something happens. I want to know why it happens, what is happening underneath it, and what makes one person respond completely differently than another. I'm the person who hears something interesting and then somehow ends up an hour later reading studies, listening to a podcast about it, or going down an entire research rabbit hole because one answer gave me five more questions. For a long time, one of the biggest questions in my life was addiction. My dad struggled with opioid addiction throughout my childhood. Even though I didn't live with him, I loved him and watched the cycle happen over and over again. There would be periods when he wanted to get better and times when I truly believed things were going to be different, but addiction always seemed to pull him back. Eventually, I lost my dad to an overdose when I was 17. At that age, I understood addiction mostly by what it did to the people around it. I understood the disappointment, instability, anger, hope, and grief. What I couldn't understand was why. Why could someone love their family and still make choices that hurt them? Why wasn't wanting to stop enough? Why could someone know exactly what they were risking and still go back? Years later, I found myself loving someone struggling with addiction again. Experiencing addiction in an adult relationship changed my understanding of it. I was no longer a kid trying to understand my dad. I could see much more clearly that two things could exist at once. Someone could genuinely love me and still hurt me because of their addiction. They could want a different life and still relapse. I could have empathy for the disease they were fighting while also recognizing the very real effect it was having on my own life. It also made me realize that addiction wasn't something that belonged to my childhood. It wasn't just something that had happened to my family. It was still here, affecting people I loved and families everywhere. I started reading about addiction, listening to podcasts, and learning about what was actually happening in the brain. I wanted to understand how opioids change brain chemistry, why cravings can overpower consequences, why relapse is so common, and how trauma and mental health intersect with substance use. The more I learned, the more I realized how inadequate it is to explain addiction as someone simply making bad choices. That curiosity helped push me toward something I had put off for years: going back to school. Today, at 34, I am an undergraduate student completing the science courses required for nursing. My goal is to become a registered nurse and eventually work in psychiatric mental health and addiction treatment. For the first time, I'm getting to study the science behind questions I've carried with me for most of my life. As a woman entering STEM, I want to bring more than my personal experience into this field. I want the scientific knowledge to understand what is happening biologically, but I don't want to lose sight of the human being experiencing it. I have never personally experienced addiction, so I would never pretend to know what it feels like from inside of it. I do know what it is like to spend years on the other side. I know what it is like to love someone, be angry with them, hope for them, set boundaries with them, and still understand that they are more than their addiction.

Becoming a mom at 19 changed the direction of my life completely. I remember bringing my daughter home from the hospital and realizing that I was responsible for this tiny person every single day from that point forward. There was no waiting until I had more money, felt more prepared, or figured out what I wanted to do with my life. I had to figure it out while raising her. I am 34 now, a single mom of two daughters, ages 14 and 9, and an undergraduate student working toward nursing. Going back to college in my 30s has been something I am incredibly proud of, but combining school with being a single parent is probably one of the hardest things I have ever done. The hardest part isn't necessarily the schoolwork itself. It is trying to give everything the attention it deserves at the same time. My classes don't stop because one of my daughters needs me, and being a mom doesn't stop because I have an exam the next morning. There are days when I go from class, to picking up my kids, to figuring out dinner, helping with whatever they need, cleaning up, and then sitting back down to study. Sometimes I feel like I am constantly deciding which important thing gets less of me that day. The financial side has been even harder. I grew up low-income, and financial instability is something I have experienced for most of my life. One of the biggest reasons I returned to school was because I don't want to continue living that way, and I don't want that to be the example my daughters grow up thinking is normal. The frustrating part is that getting an education is supposed to be my path out of financial instability, but I still have to financially survive long enough to finish it. As a single parent, I can't simply stop worrying about rent, groceries, transportation, school expenses, or everything my daughters need so I can focus on college. I also can't work unlimited hours because nursing prerequisites require a huge amount of my time and attention. It can feel like I'm trying to build our future while also doing everything I can to keep our present from falling apart. There have definitely been times when I have wondered if going back to school right now was realistic. But I also know why I started. My goal is to become a registered nurse and eventually work in psychiatric mental health and addiction treatment. Addiction affected my family growing up, including my dad, and losing him made me want to understand addiction beyond the damage it causes the people around it. The more I have learned about the brain, mental health, trauma, and addiction, the more certain I have become that this is where I belong. I want to be a nurse who understands that the person struggling in front of me is still a person, not a moral failure or a diagnosis. My daughters are also old enough now to actually see what it takes for me to get there. They see me studying. They hear me talk about exams. They have seen me get grades I'm proud of and grades I wish were better. I don't need them to see a perfect version of me. I think there is something more valuable in letting them see me struggle with something and continue anyway. Receiving this scholarship would relieve some of the financial pressure that makes staying in school so difficult. Two thousand dollars wouldn't just help pay an expense. It would give me more time to focus on school without feeling like every hour I spend studying is an hour I should have spent earning money. I used to feel behind because I became a mom so young and didn't take the same path as many people my age. I don't really look at it that way anymore. My path took longer, but I know exactly what I am working toward now. I want a career I care about, financial stability for my family, and for my daughters to grow up knowing that where you start does not have to determine where you end up.

My grandma was the person in my life who somehow always knew what we needed without us having to ask. Growing up, my home life was very chaotic, we didn't have much money and everyone in my house either struggled with mental health or addiction. My grandma was our stability. My mom, my brother, my sister and I saw her and talked to her multiple times a week, and she helped our family religiously. Sometimes that meant groceries, sometimes it meant taking us back-to-school shopping, and sometimes it was simply knowing there was one person we could always count on. I honestly don't know where we would have been without her. When I became a mom at 19, she became that person for me in an entirely new way. There were times when my daughter's father and I had almost no money, and I was embarrassed about how much I was struggling. I remember sitting at home with my baby one day eating old peanuts because they were one of the only things left in the cupboard. I never told my grandma things like that. I didn't have to. I would go to her house to “visit,” and somehow I would leave with a pound of ground beef, chicken, snacks, and a grocery bag full of things that would get us through another week. She never made me ask and never made me feel ashamed for needing help. When my daughter was around three, she had outgrown her crib and needed a toddler bed. I couldn't afford one. Then one day there was a knock on my apartment door. Target was delivering a toddler bed my grandma had bought for her without even telling me. That was just who she was. My daughter, born in 2012, was her first great-grandchild, and they became incredibly close. There was never judgment from my grandma about me becoming a mother so young. She just loved us. My daughter still cherishes the years she was able to spend with her. Then, in January 2019, my grandma went into the hospital for what I remember as a UTI. She developed sepsis and died. Sepsis didn't just take my grandma. My family lost someone who had quietly helped hold us together for most of our lives. My mom lost a major source of support. My siblings and I lost one of the safest and most consistent people from our childhood. My daughter lost a great-grandmother she was lucky enough to truly know and remember. Today, I'm a mom of two and an undergraduate student pursuing nursing. As I learn more about healthcare, I think differently about what my family experienced. A patient is never just a patient. There are people attached to that hospital bed who love them, depend on them, and may have their lives completely changed by what happens next. My grandma spent her life noticing when people needed help without making them feel ashamed for needing it. I can't change what happened to her, but as I work toward becoming a nurse, I hope I can carry that part of her with me.

Growing up, there was never really a question in my mind about whether my dad loved us. Even when he was homeless or staying in motels, we usually still saw him every week. I remember how he would light up when he saw his kids and immediately pull us into a hug. He was funny, affectionate, and the kind of person who cared about people even when his own life was falling apart. That was part of what made his opioid addiction so difficult for me to understand. As a kid, addiction seemed much simpler than I know it is now. I thought people used drugs because they wanted to, and if drugs were destroying your life and hurting the people you loved, you should be able to stop. My dad clearly loved us, so I couldn't make those two versions of him fit together. If he loved us this much, why couldn't he just stop? I think somewhere underneath that question was another one I didn't know how to ask yet: Why weren't we enough? My dad eventually passed away in 2009, when I was 17. One of the first things I remember learning after he died was that he still had pictures of all of us kids in his wallet. He even carried a picture of my little sister, who wasn't biologically his. It seems like such a small thing, but it has stayed with me. His addiction had taken so much from his life, but it hadn't taken away the fact that he saw us as his kids and loved us as his family. It wasn't until I was older, with kids and more life experience, that I really began learning about addiction and finally had the information I was missing as a child. I learned about physical dependence, withdrawal, and the way that drugs can affect the brain's reward and motivation systems. I began to understand addiction as a disease rather than a series of selfish decisions. That didn't erase what addiction did to our family. Understanding addiction doesn't mean pretending it doesn't hurt people. But it allowed me to hold two truths at once**:** I could acknowledge what his addiction took from us while finally having compassion for what it had taken from him, too. I became interested in what was actually happening in the brain scientifically and why addiction can have such a strong hold on someone, even when they want their life to be different. That interest is part of what led me to nursing and why I am pursuing a career as a Substance Use Disorder nurse. I think my experience with my dad will always affect the way I see people struggling with addiction. It's taught me that everyone has a story, no matter what part of life you are seeing in front of you. I can't change what addiction took from my dad or our family. But I can use what I understand now in the career I'm working toward. I know what it's like to love someone with an addiction and not understand why they can't just stop. I also know how much it changed things for me once I finally understood why. I want to take both that experience and what I learn in nursing with me when I'm caring for people like my dad and the families who love them.

Being a first-generation college student has meant learning that sometimes you do not know what you do not know. When I started college, I did not have a parent I could call and ask how financial aid worked, which classes I should take, or what I needed to do to eventually apply to a nursing program. I have learned a lot of it by asking questions, making mistakes, researching, meeting with advisors, and sometimes finding out about opportunities only because I happened to stumble across them. I am also doing this at 34 while raising two daughters. My path here has been anything but straightforward. My grandmother took custody of my siblings and me when I was young, and my father passed away in a car accident when I was 17. I went to cosmetology school, built a career, and eventually started my own vintage resale business. For years, college felt like something that belonged to a different version of life than the one I was living. Eventually, I realized I did not want fear about starting over to make the decision for me. I returned to school because I want to become a nurse and eventually work in psychiatric mental health. I am especially interested in trauma, mental illness, and addiction because I know how much a person's experiences can shape their life, and how often people are judged for their behavior without anyone stopping to understand what is underneath it. Going back to school has required sacrifices that my classmates may never see. I balance classes and studying with raising my daughters, working, paying our bills, and trying to create enough financial stability to keep going. There are nights when I am studying science while also thinking about rent, groceries, schedules, and what needs to happen the next morning. Sometimes the hardest part of college is not the coursework. It is creating enough room in your life to be a student at all. But being first-generation has also come to mean something I did not expect. I may not have had someone ahead of me showing me how to do this, but my daughters will. They see me studying. They see me struggle with classes and go back anyway. They see that at 34, their mom decided she was allowed to want something bigger for her life and work for it. My dream is to become a psychiatric nurse, create long-term stability for my family, and use my education to care for people during some of the most vulnerable moments of their lives. A $5,000 scholarship would give me something incredibly valuable: breathing room. It would allow me to spend less time worrying about how I will keep school financially possible and more time becoming the nurse I have worked so hard to become. Being first-generation means I have had to figure out the path as I walk it. But it also means my daughters will not have to start from the same place I did.

The impact I want to make starts with something I wish more people understood: there is usually a story behind the part of someone that is easiest to judge. I am 34 years old, a mom of two daughters, and a college student pursuing nursing with the goal of eventually working in psychiatric mental health. My path to college has not been traditional or easy. I am raising my daughters while going to school, working, and constantly trying to figure out how to make all of the pieces fit financially. There have been plenty of moments when continuing my education would have been much easier to put off. But I also know exactly why I am here. I want to work with people affected by trauma, mental illness, and addiction because I have seen how quickly people can be reduced to the worst thing they have done, the way they are coping, or a diagnosis attached to their name. We often ask, “Why would someone do that?” before we ask what happened to them. My own experiences have made that distinction important to me. I was separated from my father when my grandmother took custody of my siblings and me. Just as I began adjusting to a completely different life, my father died in a car accident when I was 17. For a long time, grief was something I carried while life continued moving around me. There was no pause button while I figured it out. As I have gotten older, I have realized how much those experiences shaped the way I see other people. I know what it feels like when the outside of someone's life does not explain everything happening underneath it. That is why I want to become the kind of nurse who looks beyond a chart, a diagnosis, or a difficult moment and sees the person standing in front of me. My education is giving me the science and clinical skills to do that well, but it is also giving me a way to turn my experiences into something useful. As a psychiatric nurse, I want patients to feel like they can tell the truth about what they are experiencing without immediately feeling ashamed or judged. I want families to understand mental health and addiction better, because knowledge can change the way we respond to people we love. Eventually, I want my impact to extend beyond individual patients. I hope to advocate for better access to trauma-informed mental health care, particularly for families who are already struggling financially. When someone is barely keeping up with rent, childcare, food, work, or school, getting mental health care should not become another impossible thing they have to figure out. My daughters are also a huge part of why I keep going. They are watching me build this life in real time, including the hard parts. I hope they learn from watching me that starting later does not mean you missed your chance, and that where your story begins does not have to determine where it ends. I cannot change everything that happened before I got here. But I can decide what I build from it. I want my education to create stability for my family and allow me to give other people something equally important: the chance to be understood, cared for, and seen as more than the hardest chapter of their story.

The biggest challenge isn’t learning anatomy or chemistry. That part is defiantly apart of the challenge but the biggest thing was sitting in a classroom after fourteen years wondering if everyone else belonged there more than I did. When I walked back onto a college campus at 33 years old, I felt completely out of place. Most of my classmates had graduated high school only a few years earlier. They were worried about finals and weekend plans. I was worried about school drop-offs, rent, doctor's appointments, and making sure my daughters had everything they needed before I even opened a textbook. For years, school just didn't feel like it belonged in my life. There was always something that needed my attention first. Another bill. Another responsibility. Another reason to tell myself, "Maybe next year." Eventually, I realized that if I kept waiting for life to slow down, I might be waiting forever. At some point, I had to stop waiting for the perfect time and decide that I was worth investing in too. The hardest part wasn't returning to school. It was believing I deserved to be there. There were days I'd look around the classroom and wonder if I had waited too long. Most of my classmates were just beginning adulthood while I had already spent years raising my daughters and building a life around them. For a while, I felt like I was behind everyone else. Then I realized something important: I wasn't behind. I had just taken a different path to get there. The years I spent raising my daughters didn't take me away from my education. They gave me resilience, patience, discipline, and perspective that I carry with me into every class today. Returning to school has challenged me in ways I never expected. Living with ADHD means I have to work harder to stay organized and manage my time. As a single mom, life doesn't pause because I have an exam. Homework still has to be checked, dinner still has to be made, and there is always another responsibility waiting. I've learned to study in small moments whenever I can because there isn't always a quiet evening or an empty weekend. I was always afraid of my daughters getting older because it felt like time was going by too fast. But now, I honestly see it differently. It feels like we're learning and growing together. While they're going through school, I'm going through school too. They're watching me study, work hard, struggle, and keep going, and I hope that shows them that no matter where you are in life, it's never too late to go after something you want. If anything, I hope earning my degree alongside them teaches them that learning doesn't stop when you become an adult, it can be the beginning of a whole new chapter. I'm pursuing a nursing degree because I want to become a psychiatric mental health nurse. I want to care for people during some of the hardest moments of their lives because I know I can relate to all walks of life in different stages of life. I want to show my daughters that courage isn't about having the perfect plan. It's about deciding that your future is worth fighting for, no matter how late you think you're starting. Returning to school hasn't just changed my career path. It has changed the way I see myself. I no longer feel like someone who missed her chance. I finally feel like someone who found it.

The biggest challenge isn’t learning anatomy or chemistry. That part is definitely apart of the challenge, but the biggest thing was sitting in a classroom after fourteen years wondering if everyone else belonged there more than I did. When I walked back onto a college campus at 33 years old, I felt completely out of place. Most of my classmates had graduated high school only a few years earlier. Some of them were even in Running Start. Most of them just had school to focus on and I was worried about school drop-offs, rent, doctor's appointments, and making sure my daughters had everything they needed before I even opened a textbook. For years, school just didn't feel like it belonged in my life. There was always something that needed my attention first. Another bill. Another responsibility. Another reason to tell myself, "Maybe next year." Eventually, I realized that if I kept waiting for life to slow down, I might be waiting forever. At some point, I had to stop waiting for the perfect time and decide that I was worth investing in too. The hardest part wasn't returning to school. It was believing I deserved to be there. There were days I'd look around the classroom and wonder if I had waited too long. Most of my classmates were just beginning adulthood while I had already spent years raising my daughters and building a life around them. For a while, I felt like I was behind everyone else. Then I realized something important: I wasn't behind. I had just taken a different path to get there. The years I spent raising my daughters didn't take me away from my education. They gave me resilience, patience, discipline, and perspective that I carry with me into every class today. Returning to school has challenged me in ways I never expected. Living with ADHD means I have to work harder to stay organized and manage my time. As a single mom, life doesn't pause because I have an exam. Homework still has to be checked, dinner still has to be made, and there is always another responsibility waiting. I've learned to study in small moments whenever I can because there isn't always a quiet evening or an empty weekend. I was always afraid of my daughters getting older because it felt like time was going by too fast. But now, I honestly see it differently. It feels like we're learning and growing together. While they're going through school, I'm going through school too. They're watching me study, work hard, struggle, and keep going, and I hope that shows them that no matter where you are in life, it's never too late to go after something you want. If anything, I hope earning my degree alongside them teaches them that learning doesn't stop when you become an adult, it can be the beginning of a whole new chapter. I'm pursuing a nursing degree because I want to become a psychiatric mental health nurse. I want to care for people during some of the hardest moments of their lives because I know I can relate to all walks of life in different stages of life. I want to show my daughters that courage isn't about having the perfect plan. It's about deciding that your future is worth fighting for, no matter how late you think you're starting. Returning to school hasn't just changed my career path. It has changed the way I see myself. I no longer feel like someone who missed her chance. I finally feel like someone who found it.

Some people discover nursing because of one defining moment. Mine was shaped by years of watching addiction, and mental health affect the people I loved. I grew up watching my dad struggle with opioid addiction. As a child, I did not fully understand what addiction was, but I understood the fear, uncertainty, and heartbreak that came with it. Losing him to an overdose changed the course of my life. It taught me that addiction does not only affect the person living with it. It affects parents, children, partners, and entire families. Years later, I found myself facing many of those same emotions while supporting someone I loved through addiction. Those experiences did not make me bitter. They gave me a deep desire to understand the people behind the disease. I have learned that everyone has a story, and no one should be defined by the hardest chapter of their life. Addiction, mental illness, trauma, and grief are often misunderstood, and I want to be the kind of nurse who sees the whole person instead of just a diagnosis. My goal is to become a psychiatric mental health nurse because I know how life changing compassionate care can be. Sometimes the greatest gift a healthcare provider can offer is making someone feel seen, heard, and worthy of hope. My journey to nursing has not been a straight path. I became a mom at a young age, and for many years my daughters came first. Going back to school as an adult was one of the hardest and best decisions I have ever made. As a first generation college student, there were moments when I questioned whether I belonged, but every semester has reminded me that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. Returning to school has also shown my daughters that dreams do not have an expiration date. No matter how long it takes, you can always choose to build a better future. One thing that has surprised me is how much I genuinely love learning. I have always been the person who asks why. If I hear something interesting, I cannot help but research it until I understand it. Whether I am learning about the brain, psychology, addiction, or human behavior, I love understanding how everything connects. That curiosity is one of the reasons nursing feels like the perfect fit for me. There will always be something new to learn, and I hope I never stop asking questions. Outside of nursing, I spend a lot of my free time exploring garage sales and estate sales. What started as a way to make extra money through vintage clothing has become something much more meaningful. Some of my favorite moments are talking with people from older generations as they share the stories behind the pieces they are selling. Sometimes it is the dress they wore on their first date, a jacket that belonged to a loved one, or a collection that has been in the family for decades. Those conversations have taught me that every person and every item carries a story. When I find a new home for a vintage piece, I do not see it as replacing its past. I see it as giving that story another chance to be appreciated by someone new. I think that perspective naturally carries over into the way I see people. Everyone deserves to be seen beyond what is on the surface, and everyone deserves the opportunity for a new chapter. As I continue my education, I hope to combine my personal experiences with the knowledge I gain in nursing school to make a meaningful difference in the lives of my future patients and their families. My past has given me empathy. My education is giving me the skills to help others. Together they are shaping the nurse I have always hoped to become. Nursing is more than the career I chose. It is where every part of my life has found purpose.

Becoming a single mother at 19 changed the direction of my life before I ever stepped into a college classroom. I remember bringing my daughter home and realizing that everything had changed overnight. While many people my age were focused on college, careers, and figuring out their futures, I was learning how to care for a newborn and adjust to a life I had not expected. I loved my daughter more than anything, but I also remember lying awake at night realizing there was no pause button. I had someone depending on me, and I knew I had to find a way forward. Being a young mother forced me to grow up quickly. My education has never been my only responsibility. Every class I take has to fit around raising two daughters, working, running a small vintage business, and making sure our bills are paid. There have been times when I have questioned whether I could continue, especially while balancing school with the responsibilities of everyday life. But I have learned that resilience is not about having everything figured out. It is about continuing to show up, even when things are difficult. For a long time, I felt like I was behind compared to people my age. While others were building careers and pursuing higher education, I was focused on raising my children, creating stability, and simply making it through each stage of life. Looking back now, I realize those years taught me things I could not have learned anywhere else. I learned how to manage my time, solve problems, advocate for my children, and keep going when life felt overwhelming. Returning to school has changed the way I see myself. I spent years putting my own goals on hold because my priority was providing for my family. Walking back into a classroom as an adult and a mother has reminded me that it is never too late to build the future you want. My daughters have watched me study late at night, leave for class after dropping them off at school, and continue working toward something bigger. I hope they remember that more than anything else. I want them to see that hard work and perseverance can change the direction of your life. My experiences growing up also shaped the career I want to pursue. I witnessed instability, addiction, and financial hardship within my family. My father struggled with opioid addiction throughout my life, and although I did not live with him, I had a relationship with him and saw the impact his addiction had on him and the people who loved him. Losing him to an overdose was one of the hardest experiences of my life, but it also gave me a deeper understanding of how addiction affects entire families. After losing my father, I wanted to understand addiction beyond the pain it caused. I began learning about the science behind addiction, how substances change the brain, and why recovery can be such a difficult process. The more I learned, the more I realized I wanted to be part of the solution. I want to work with people who are struggling and remind them that they are still worthy of compassion, care, and support. I am working toward becoming a registered nurse with the long-term goal of becoming a psychiatric mental health nurse with a focus on addiction treatment. My experiences have shown me that healthcare is not just about treating symptoms; it is about understanding people and their stories. I want to be the kind of nurse who listens, meets patients where they are, and helps people feel seen instead of judged. I understand what it is like to love someone struggling with addiction and to hold onto hope even when things feel impossible. Earning my degree is about more than creating a better life for myself. It is about creating stability for my daughters and breaking cycles that have affected my family for generations. I want my children to grow up knowing that where you come from does not have to determine where you end up. I want them to see that education, determination, and hard work can create opportunities that once seemed impossible. This scholarship would help relieve some of the financial stress that comes with balancing school, childcare, and everyday expenses. It would allow me to focus more of my time and energy on my education and continue working toward becoming a nurse. More importantly, it would support my goal of using my experiences to help others who are facing difficult circumstances. My life did not go the way I originally planned, but becoming a mother gave me a purpose I never expected. The challenges I have faced have shaped my compassion, my determination, and the kind of nurse I hope to become. I am committed to creating a better future for my daughters, honoring my father’s memory through meaningful work, and using my education to help individuals and families who need someone willing to understand their story.

Ever since I can remember, I've been the person people came to. I've always been someone who wanted to help, listen, and be there when someone was struggling. Looking back, I think that's where my interest in nursing really began. I didn't grow up around perfect health or stability. I grew up around addiction, untreated trauma, and mental illness. At the time, those experiences just felt hard. Looking back now, they've taught me that no matter what someone is going through, they're still a person first. There is usually a reason behind why people are the way they are, even if we can't see it at first. That realization made me more curious than judgmental. I wanted to understand how our minds and bodies work, why addiction changes the brain, why trauma affects people differently, and why some people are able to heal while others continue to struggle. My first job was serving meals in a nursing home, where I was introduced to the healthcare environment and got to see how much the little things mattered. As I got older, every experience seemed to leave me with more questions than answers, and instead of accepting that, I wanted to learn more. That's what eventually brought me back to school and confirmed that nursing was the path I wanted to pursue. It may have taken me a little longer to figure out the path I wanted to take, but because of that, I know for certain this is where I want to be. Life didn't turn out exactly how I pictured it would. I became a mom at twenty, and a few years later I found myself navigating life as a divorced, single mom. When my girls were little, my focus wasn't on figuring out my career. It was on raising them, making ends meet, and giving them the best childhood I could. Looking back, I don't regret that for a second. Now that they're getting older, I've been able to focus on what I want to do with my own future. Going back to school has been one of the biggest accomplishments of my life because I know exactly why I'm doing it. No one in my family had gone through college before, so I've had to figure a lot of it out as I go. Balancing school while raising two daughters hasn't always been easy, but working toward my nursing degree has shown me that I'm capable of more than I ever gave myself credit for. Volunteering with adults who have developmental disabilities and mental health conditions reinforced that I genuinely enjoy connecting with people from all walks of life and meeting them where they are. My goal is to become a registered nurse and eventually work in psychiatric nursing. I've spent most of my life trying to understand why we think the way we do, why we struggle, and what helps us heal. I hope to make a positive impact by helping people feel seen, heard, and understood while also caring for them physically. Every day, my daughters inspire me to keep going. I hope they grow up knowing that life doesn't always go according to plan, but that doesn't mean you stop moving forward. If I can show them that while helping my patients through some of the hardest moments of their lives, I honestly can't imagine a more meaningful career.

Ever since I can remember, I've been the person people came to. I've always been someone who wanted to help, listen, and be there when someone was struggling. Looking back, I think that's where my interest in nursing really began. My first job was serving meals in a nursing home, where I was introduced to the healthcare environment and got to see how much the little things mattered. I didn't realize those experiences were shaping me. At the time, they just felt hard. Looking back now, they've taught me that no matter what someone is going through, they're still a person first. There is usually a reason why people are the way they are, even if we can't see it at first. That realization made me more curious than judgmental. I wanted to understand how our minds and bodies work, why addiction changes the brain, why trauma affects people differently, and why some people are able to heal while others continue to struggle. My first job was serving meals in a nursing home, where I was introduced to the healthcare environment and got to see how much the little things mattered. As I got older, every experience seemed to leave me with more questions than answers, and instead of accepting that, I wanted to learn more. That's what eventually brought me back to school and confirmed that nursing was the path I wanted to pursue. It may have taken me a little longer to figure out the path that I wanted to take, but because of that, I know for certain this is where I want to be in life. I've also dealt with ADHD, anxiety, and depression myself, and those things are still a part of my life. They've taught me that life isn't this perfect, magical thing that you eventually get to. There are always going to be hard times. I've realized it's more about how you move through those moments and learning to appreciate the little things in between. Those little moments are what make life meaningful. Going through my own struggles has helped me understand that everyone is fighting something, even if you can't see it. If I can help people physically while also helping them find hope and appreciate those little moments again, I think that would be an incredibly meaningful career. My goal is to become a registered nurse and eventually work in psychiatric nursing. More than anything, I want to keep learning about people. I've spent most of my life trying to understand why we think the way we do, why we struggle, and what helps us heal. If I get to spend my career helping people physically while reminding them there's still life to enjoy in the middle of hard things, I honestly can't imagine doing anything else.

Becoming a single mom at 20 changed the direction of my life way before I ever stepped into a college classroom. My education has never been my only responsibility. Every class I take has to fit around raising two daughters, running a small vintage business, working, and making sure our bills are paid. There have been semesters where I questioned if I could keep going, especially when I was paying nearly $3,000 a month in rent on my own, but quitting would have taught my girls the wrong lesson. Going back to school as an adult has shown me that success is not about having the easiest path. It is about continuing even when life would give you every reason to stop. My daughters have watched me study late at night, leave for class after dropping them off at school, and keep showing up even when I was exhausted. I hope they remember that more than anything else. I am working toward becoming a registered nurse with the long term goal of becoming a psychiatric mental health nurse. Mental health and addiction have affected my life in ways I never expected, and those experiences have given me a level of empathy that cannot be taught from a textbook. I want to be the nurse who listens without judgment, makes patients feel seen, and reminds them that their circumstances do not define their future. Earning this degree is about more than changing my own life. It is about creating stability for my daughters and showing them that it is never too late to build the future you want.

My dad wasn’t a perfect person, but he was my dad. He struggled with opioid addiction for most of my life, which meant our relationship was complicated. There were times he showed up, and times he didn’t. As a kid, I didn’t fully understand why things felt so inconsistent, I just knew I loved him and I wanted him to be okay. Addiction has a way of pulling someone in and changing everything around them, and even though I didn’t live with him, it still shaped my life in ways I didn’t realize until I got older. When I lost him to an overdose, it was one of those moments that doesn’t feel real at first. It’s not just grief, it’s confusion, anger, sadness, and a million unanswered questions all at once. And one of the hardest parts is that the loss feels complicated. You’re not just grieving the person, you’re grieving what could have been, what should have been, and the version of them you hoped they could become. Losing my dad changed the way I see the world. It made things feel less certain and a lot more fragile. It also affected how I saw myself. For a long time, I carried anxiety and emotional weight that I didn’t fully understand. Looking back now, I can see how much growing up around addiction and then losing him impacted my mental health, my relationships, and the way I handled stress. At the same time, that experience also shaped the direction of my life. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve wanted to understand more, not just what happened to my dad, but what people go through when they struggle with addiction and mental health. It’s one thing to hear about it from the outside, but it’s different when you’ve lived it, when you’ve watched someone you love get pulled into it and felt how it affects an entire family. That’s a big part of why I’m pursuing nursing, with a focus on mental health and addiction. I don’t want to just see people as their worst moments. I want to understand them as whole people, including their pain, their background, and what led them there. Losing my dad gave me a perspective that you can’t really learn from a textbook. It taught me empathy in a very real way. It also made me more aware of the kind of life I want to build. I’m a mom now, and that has changed everything. Losing a parent at a young age made me realize how much stability, presence, and emotional support matter. It made me more intentional about the kind of parent I want to be and the environment I want my kids to grow up in. I can’t change what happened in my past, but I can make sure I’m creating something different moving forward. My dad’s life and his struggles impacted me deeply, but so did losing him. It forced me to grow up, to reflect, and to decide what I was going to do with everything I’ve experienced. I could have let it hold me back, but instead it’s become part of what drives me. His story is not just something I carry, it’s something that motivates me to do better, to understand more, and to help others in situations like the one I lived through.

Most people think the hardest part of being a student and a single parent is time. And yeah, time is a big part of it, but honestly, it’s the mental load that gets you. It’s constantly thinking about everything at once. I can be sitting down trying to study, and at the same time I’m thinking about what we’re going to eat the next day, whether I paid everything on time, if my kids have what they need for school, and whether I’m actually doing enough in any area of my life. It’s like my brain never fully gets to be in one place. There’s no clean separation between “school” and “home.” It all overlaps. And the part people don’t really talk about is that there’s no backup plan. If I’m overwhelmed, tired, or stressed, I still have to show up. There’s no one to tag in. No one to say, “I’ve got it, take a break.” So you just… keep going. Even on the days where you feel like you’re running on empty. There have been nights where my kids are finally asleep, and I sit down to do homework, and I just stare at my laptop for a minute because I’m so mentally drained. But I still do it. Not perfectly, not always with full focus, but I do it anyway. That’s kind of what this whole experience has been like, showing up even when it’s not ideal. At the same time, being a mom is the reason I don’t quit. My kids might not understand everything I’m doing right now, but they see me trying. They see me going to school, figuring things out, and not giving up when things get hard. I didn’t grow up with a clear example of stability or what it looks like to build a future step by step, so for me, this is bigger than just getting a degree. I’m trying to change what my kids grow up seeing as normal. I’m currently working toward becoming a nurse, and I’m especially interested in mental health and addiction. That part of my life is personal. I’ve seen how deeply those things can affect people and families, and I don’t want to just understand it, I want to be part of helping people through it. I want to be someone who actually listens and sees the full picture, not just what’s on the surface. This scholarship would help in a very real, practical way. It would take some of the pressure off financially, which matters more than people realize. When you’re constantly thinking about money, it’s hard to fully focus on school. Even a little bit of relief makes a big difference. But more than that, it would give me a little breathing room. The ability to not feel like everything is always right on the edge. That kind of support makes it easier to stay consistent, and consistency is everything when you’re balancing this much. I’m not doing this perfectly, and I don’t think anyone really is. But I am doing it with intention. I’m building something more stable for my kids and for myself, even if it’s happening slowly. Being a single parent has forced me to grow up in ways I didn’t expect, but it’s also made me more focused and determined than I’ve ever been. This scholarship wouldn’t just support my education, it would support the life I’m actively trying to create, one where my kids don’t have to grow up in survival mode, and where I can finally turn everything I’ve been through into something meaningful.

Being a single mom while going to school isn’t just “busy,” it’s constant decision-making. Every day feels like I’m choosing between things that all matter. Time with my kids, studying, working, keeping up with bills, taking care of myself. There’s no off switch and no backup plan if I get overwhelmed. It’s just me figuring it out in real time. One of the hardest parts isn’t even the workload, it’s the mental weight of knowing that if something falls apart, it affects more than just me. There’s no one to split responsibilities with or step in when I need a break. Even simple things, like scheduling classes or studying for an exam, have to be built around my kids’ schedules. There are days where I’m trying to focus on school while also thinking about groceries, rent, or whether I’m doing enough as a parent. It’s a lot to carry at once. At the same time, being a mom is also the reason I keep going when things feel overwhelming. My kids are watching everything I do, whether I realize it or not. I didn’t grow up in an environment where education was strongly encouraged or modeled in a stable way, so for me, going to college is bigger than just getting a degree. It’s about changing what my kids grow up seeing as normal. I want them to see consistency, effort, and the idea that you can build something better, even if you didn’t start with it. What’s been the most fulfilling part of this journey is realizing that I’m capable of more than I thought. There have been so many moments where I’ve felt stretched thin, but I’ve still shown up. Whether that’s finishing assignments late at night, figuring out financial challenges, or continuing school during major life changes, I’ve proven to myself that I don’t quit easily. That’s something I’m really proud of, especially because I know my kids are learning that same resilience just by watching me. I’m currently pursuing a path in nursing, with a strong interest in mental health and addiction. My goal is not just financial stability, although that’s a huge part of it, but to do work that actually matters. I’ve seen firsthand how mental health and addiction can impact entire families, not just individuals. I want to be part of a system that helps people feel seen and supported, especially in situations where they often feel judged or overlooked. Education is my way of creating stability, not just for right now, but long term. It’s how I plan to provide a more secure life for my children, one where we’re not constantly in survival mode. It also gives me the opportunity to turn my experiences into something meaningful, instead of something that just held me back. Being a single mom has forced me to grow in ways I didn’t expect. It’s not easy, and I don’t try to pretend that it is. But it’s also made me more focused, more determined, and more aware of the kind of life I want to build. This scholarship would help take some of the financial pressure off so I can continue moving forward, not just for myself, but for my kids and the future I’m working toward every day.

Losing my dad to addiction is something that has shaped almost every part of who I am. He struggled with opioid use for most of my life, and even though I had a relationship with him, it was never stable or consistent. As a kid, I didn’t really understand what was happening, I just knew things felt unpredictable and heavy. Addiction has a way of taking over everything, not just the person struggling, but the people around them too. When I lost him to an overdose, it didn’t just feel like losing a parent, it felt like losing any chance of things ever being different. That kind of loss sticks with you. It changes how you see yourself, your relationships, and even your sense of safety in the world. For a long time, I carried a lot of anxiety, confusion, and self doubt without really knowing how to process it. Growing up around addiction and dysfunction made life feel unstable, and I think I got used to pushing my feelings down just to keep going. Looking back now, a lot of my behaviors make more sense, especially how I handled stress and relationships. Healing hasn’t been some perfect, peaceful journey. It’s been messy and very real. Journaling has been one of the biggest tools for me. It gives me a place to actually process what I’m feeling instead of bottling it up. Sometimes it’s not even structured, it’s just getting my thoughts out so they don’t stay stuck in my head. I’ve also had to learn how to slow myself down mentally, whether that’s through quiet time, reflection, or just stepping back when I feel overwhelmed. It’s not about doing it perfectly, it’s just about not ignoring what I’m feeling anymore. Going to school has honestly been part of my healing too. I’m working toward becoming a nurse, and I know I want to work in mental health or addiction. Losing my dad made me realize how misunderstood addiction is, and how much it impacts families, not just the person using. I want to be someone who actually sees people for what they’re going through instead of judging them. I know what it feels like to be on the other side of it, and that perspective matters. The people who have influenced me the most are the ones who showed me both what pain can do and what resilience looks like. My dad, even through his struggles, impacted the way I see the world and pushed me to want something different for my life. And my kids are a huge part of why I keep growing. Being a mom has made me more aware of the kind of environment I want to create, and it motivates me to break patterns instead of repeat them. My story isn’t just about loss, it’s about what I’ve chosen to do with it. I’ve had to learn how to face things I used to avoid, and I’m still working on it every day. This scholarship would help support not just my education, but the life I’m actively trying to build, one that is healthier, more stable, and more intentional than what I grew up in.

Growing up, college wasn’t something people really talked about in my family. No one sat down with me to explain how higher education worked or what kinds of careers were possible. Most of what I saw growing up was people just trying to get through life and pay the bills. Because of that, I stepped into adulthood pretty quickly and had to figure a lot of things out on my own. For a long time I’ve felt like I’ve been playing catch up financially compared to people who had more guidance earlier in life. I worked, raised my kids, and tried to build stability, but I also started to realize that if I wanted a different future for my family, I needed to take a different path. Going back to school was a big step for me. It wasn’t something that felt easy or obvious, but it felt important. Part of what pushed me toward healthcare came from my own life experiences. My father struggled with opioid addiction for most of my childhood, and I lost him to an overdose when I was seventeen. Losing him that way changed how I see addiction and mental health. I’ve seen how much pain it can cause not just for the person struggling, but for the people around them as well. As I got older, I started noticing how differently people talk about addiction compared to other health problems. When someone has cancer or heart disease, people usually respond with compassion and support. When someone struggles with addiction, the response is often blame or judgment. That never made sense to me. It made me realize how important it is to have healthcare providers who treat people with empathy and understanding. That is what led me to pursue nursing. What draws me to nursing is the human side of it. Nurses are often the people who spend the most time with patients and families. They notice things others might miss, advocate for patients, and help people through some of the hardest moments of their lives. That kind of care can make a huge difference. In the future, I hope to work in mental health or addiction care. I want to support people who are going through the kinds of struggles that affected my own family. I know how isolating addiction and mental illness can feel, and I want to be the kind of nurse who helps people feel respected, understood, and supported while they are trying to get better. Going back to school as a single mother has not always been easy. Balancing classes, work, and raising my daughters takes a lot of effort. But pursuing higher education means something bigger to me than just a job. It is my way of changing the direction of my life and creating more stability for my kids. I want my daughters to grow up seeing that it is possible to work toward something better, even if that path wasn’t always clear in the beginning. For me, becoming a nurse is not just about building a career. It is about using my experiences to help others and creating a future that looks different from the one I started with.

Mental health is important to me as a student because it directly affects how I learn, function, and persist, especially in environments that are demanding and often unforgiving. As a college student balancing rigorous coursework, financial stress, and parenting responsibilities, I’ve learned that academic success is not just about intelligence or effort. It’s about emotional regulation, support systems, and being mentally well enough to show up consistently. I live with anxiety and ADHD, and I am also in the process of understanding how neurodivergence has shaped my learning experiences. For much of my life, I believed struggling meant I wasn’t trying hard enough. It took time, education, and support to realize that mental health challenges are not personal failures. They are part of being human, and when they go unacknowledged, they quietly erode confidence, motivation, and self-worth. As a student, prioritizing mental health has allowed me to advocate for accommodations, build healthier study habits, and maintain a strong academic performance instead of burning out. Mental health also matters deeply to me because of my background. I grew up around adults who struggled with untreated mental illness and addiction, and I saw how stigma and silence made things worse. Those early experiences taught me that ignoring mental health doesn’t make problems disappear. It isolates people and delays support until crises occur. Carrying that understanding into my education has made me more compassionate toward myself and others. Advocacy, for me, doesn’t always look loud or public. It often looks practical and relational. In my school community, I openly talk about mental health with classmates, especially when people feel ashamed for struggling or falling behind. I normalize conversations about anxiety before exams, overwhelm during heavy course loads, and the reality that many students are juggling far more than academics. When peers ask for advice, I share resources like counseling services, disability support offices, and study strategies that accommodate different learning styles. At home, advocacy looks like modeling emotional awareness for my children. I talk openly about feelings, stress, and coping strategies, and I make sure they understand that asking for help is a strength, not a weakness. I want them to grow up seeing mental health as something to care for proactively, not something to hide. I also advocate by choosing a future career path rooted in mental health care. As a nursing student, I am intentionally learning how biology, psychology, and environment intersect. My long-term goal is to work in areas that support mental health and addiction recovery, where empathy and understanding are just as important as clinical skill. Mental health is important to me because it shapes how we learn, connect, and survive challenges. By speaking openly, supporting others, and refusing to perpetuate stigma, I contribute to a culture where students feel seen, supported, and capable of reaching their potential.

I am pursuing a degree in the mental health field because mental illness and addiction have shaped my life long before I ever stepped into a classroom. These were not distant concepts or statistics to me. They were people I loved. I grew up witnessing how untreated mental health conditions, combined with substance use, can quietly unravel lives while the systems meant to help often fall short or respond too late. From a young age, I saw how addiction is rarely just about substances. It is deeply tied to trauma, anxiety, depression, and a lack of consistent, compassionate support. Mental health and substance use disorders are often treated as separate problems, when in reality they are intertwined. When care is fragmented, people slip through the cracks. I’ve seen what happens when someone is labeled as “difficult,” “noncompliant,” or “beyond help,” rather than being understood as someone in pain. Those labels don’t heal anyone. They isolate them further. As I’ve grown older and become a parent, my perspective has sharpened. I’ve learned how critical early intervention, emotional safety, and trust are to long-term outcomes. I’ve also learned how intimidating and dehumanizing the mental health system can feel from the patient side. Long waitlists, rushed appointments, and providers who don’t take the time to listen can make people feel invisible at the very moment they need to be seen most. My goal in pursuing a career in mental health is to be part of the change that shifts care from reactive to preventative, and from judgment-based to relationship-based. I am particularly interested in working with individuals who are navigating both mental illness and addiction, because I believe meaningful recovery requires addressing both simultaneously. Treating one while ignoring the other only prolongs suffering. I plan to make a difference by leading with empathy, education, and advocacy. As a future mental health professional, I want to create environments where patients feel safe being honest, even when their stories are messy or uncomfortable. I want to be someone who listens closely, explains treatment options clearly, and recognizes that progress is rarely linear. Relapse or setbacks should not be seen as failure, but as signals that someone needs more support, not less. I also believe humanizing mental health care means acknowledging the role of trauma, social stressors, and systemic barriers. Access to care, financial instability, and stigma all influence outcomes. I intend to advocate for care models that integrate mental health, substance use treatment, and community resources rather than siloing them.

Mental health has shaped everything about how I see the world. It’s been a quiet thread running through my childhood, my relationships, and my understanding of myself. I grew up in a home where emotions ran deep but were rarely talked about in a healthy way. My father struggled with substance use disorder for most of his life. He was in and out of motels, out of reach, sometimes present and sometimes lost. He died from an overdose when I was seventeen. My mom, on the other hand, lived with extreme PTSD and high anxiety, much of it rooted in her own childhood trauma. Her nervous system was constantly in survival mode, which meant mine was too. From a young age, I was emotional, sensitive, and overwhelmed by the world. I cried easily. I had intense fears. I struggled to be away from my mom. I often felt like I was “too much” for everyone. Once I got to middle school teachers labeled me as high-risk, they would say things like "she just doesnt seem to show any interest." I was there every single say but I was so overwhelmed with everything going on at home and in my brain. I and at one point, even suggested I be homeschooled. I now know I was a child with undiagnosed ADHD and anxiety, reacting to a home environment that didn’t give me the structure, safety, or emotional regulation I needed. My symptoms weren’t the problem, they were a response to everything around me. Now as an adult, I understand how deeply mental health affects not just the person, but the entire family system. I’m a single mother to two daughters, and I think about it all the time—how my regulation becomes theirs, how my emotional awareness helps build theirs. I’ve worked hard to break cycles I inherited without choosing. I go to therapy. I take medication. I reflect and journal. I stay curious about my triggers instead of ashamed of them. It’s not always easy, but I am choosing awareness over avoidance every single day. My relationships have changed the more I’ve understood my own mental health. I’ve had to let go of people who weren’t safe for my healing. I’ve had to learn how to set boundaries, how to stop trying to fix people, and how to stop seeking chaos just because it’s familiar. I’ve also learned how to show up better, for my children, for friends, and even for strangers. Because I know how isolating it can feel to struggle silently, I’ve become the kind of person people come to when they need to be heard. I don’t always have the answers, but I’ve learned how to sit with someone in their pain without trying to rush them out of it. My experience with mental health has also directly shaped my future. I’m currently a pre-nursing student with plans to become a psychiatric-mental-health nurse. I want to work in behavioral health, addiction recovery, or trauma-informed care. I’ve seen how often people with mental illness are dismissed, misdiagnosed, or told to “try harder” when what they really need is compassion, stability, and professional support. I want to be part of the change. I want to create a safer space inside the healthcare system for people who are used to being misunderstood. Beyond just clinical work, I want to continue normalizing conversations about mental health wherever I go. I talk openly with my daughters about emotions and coping. We name our feelings out loud. We talk about hard days without shame. I’ve also supported friends through depression, panic attacks, and recovery from trauma. I believe that sharing our stories reduces shame and increases connection. I believe that vulnerability is strength. This scholarship matters to me because it honors not just those of us who have struggled, but those we’ve lost. I think often about how many people might still be here if mental health had been understood, accepted, and treated earlier. My dad might still be here. Many others like him might still be holding their kids, laughing, healing, and living a life beyond survival. That’s what this is about for me. It’s not just a career, it’s a calling. My journey with mental health has taught me to look deeper. It’s helped me grow into someone who listens without judgment and who believes that healing is always possible, even in the darkest moments. My goal is to carry that with me into every space I enter, as a nurse, as a mother, as a student, and as someone who knows how it feels to fight for your own peace and finally start to find it.

Mental health has shaped every part of my story, from the way I was raised to the way I raise my children now. I grew up in a home where trauma, addiction, and emotional instability were normal. My father struggled with substance use and passed away from an overdose when I was seventeen. My mother battled severe anxiety and PTSD that were never fully treated. As a child, I was highly emotional, easily overwhelmed, and often told I was too sensitive. Teachers labeled me a “high-risk” student. No one saw that I was dealing with undiagnosed ADHD, anxiety, and the effects of a chaotic home life. It took years to understand what I was going through. My mental health challenges followed me into adulthood, and even now, I continue working through anxiety, ADHD, and the lasting impact of early emotional stress. But therapy, medication, boundaries, and learning how to self-regulate have helped me reclaim my life. I’ve had to fight for stability, and I’m still learning every day, but I finally feel like I’m building something solid. Being a highly empathetic person and someone who is highly sensitive means I'm a deep thinker; I have also been through so many things that need to be untangled, and I'm still currently untangling them. Sometimes it makes it hard when you are trying to grow as a person and heal, and then also raise small children, but there is also something beautiful about showing them the difference between staying stuck and moving forwar,d no matter what. What keeps me going most is my role as a mom. I’m raising two daughters who are watching me closely. They’ve seen me go back to school, ask for help, and stay committed to healing. I want them to grow up emotionally safe, supported, and knowing that mental health matters. I want to be the one who breaks the pattern for good. I’m currently a pre-nursing student working toward my goal of becoming a psychiatric-mental-health nurse. I plan to work in behavioral health or addiction recovery, where I can offer trauma-informed care and hold space for people who feel misunderstood. I want to be the kind of nurse who helps people feel seen and reminds them that they aren’t broken. I’ve supported friends through panic attacks, helped loved ones explore therapy, and spoken honestly about my own struggles to reduce shame. In the future, I’ll continue raising awareness by showing up as both a professional and a human being with lived experience. I’ve been through it, and now I want to help others find a way through too, for themselves, and for the generations that follow.

Mental health has shaped nearly every part of my life. I grew up in a home where trauma, PTSD, and addiction were always present, but never talked about. My father struggled with substance use and died of an overdose when I was seventeen. My mother carried heavy emotional burdens from her past, and our home was full of instability. As a child, I didn’t understand what I was witnessing, but I felt it deeply. I cried easily, worried constantly, and often felt overwhelmed. I was later diagnosed with ADHD and anxiety, but long before the diagnosis, I was already navigating life with those challenges. Because of my past, I’ve always been the one friends and family turn to when they need someone to talk to. I know how to sit with people in pain without rushing them to feel better. I know how to listen without judgment. When people open up about depression, anxiety, or grief, I understand it from the inside. I believe that being open about my own struggles gives others permission to do the same. Now, as a pre-nursing student, I’m working toward becoming a psychiatric-mental-health nurse. I want to support people who are struggling with the same things I’ve seen destroy families. I want to create space in healthcare for compassion, honesty, and trauma-informed care. My goal is to work in addiction recovery or behavioral health, where I can help patients feel seen and supported, not shamed or dismissed. I want to be the difference, even if I'm just one person. If I know I can just help one person to not have to deal with anything alone, with no shame, just compassion and care, then I will feel fulfilled in this life. Mental health is just as important as physical health, but it is ignored more than addressed, especially in high-stress environments like hospitals and clinics, because you can't physically see it sometimes. There were times in my life that I just wished the things I had seen and carried could be seen on the outside by others, so that I didn't feel so alone in my own head. I want to be the kind of nurse who not only treats symptoms, but also sees the full person behind them. My life has taught me that emotional support can save someone, even when nothing else can. That’s what I want to give back.

Being a first-generation college student means becoming the blueprint when no one handed you one. It means figuring things out alone, learning words like “credit load” and “FAFSA,” and walking into spaces your family never had the chance to. For me, it also means breaking cycles, healing from what I grew up in, and building something stable and hopeful for my daughters. I’m currently working toward my associate degree in nursing, with the goal of becoming a psychiatric-mental-health nurse. My decision to go into this field comes from lived experience. I was raised around addiction, untreated PTSD, and emotional instability. My dad struggled with substance use and died of an overdose when I was seventeen. My mom carried deep trauma from her own past. There wasn’t a lot of structure in my childhood. I was always anxious, emotional, and easily overwhelmed. I struggled in school and was often misunderstood. Some teachers said I was high-risk or suggested I’d do better homeschooled. The truth is, I was just a kid carrying more than most people could see. I’ve had ADHD my whole life, but wasn’t properly diagnosed until adulthood. That made school especially hard. I didn’t know how to manage it, and I internalized the idea that I just wasn’t capable. For a long time, I believed that higher education wasn’t for people like me. Becoming a single mom changed everything. I knew I didn’t want my daughters to grow up in survival mode. I wanted them to see that we are allowed to dream big, even if we come from struggle. So I went back to school. Now, I study while they sleep, do homework in the car during their activities, and write essays late at night. One of my favorite memories recently was sitting at the dinner table with my oldest daughter, both of us making science flashcards. It hit me that I’m not just doing this for them, I’m doing it with them. It hasn’t been easy. Balancing parenting, school, and financial stress is overwhelming at times. I run a small resale business to make ends meet, and I rely on financial aid to cover tuition. Still, there are weeks when I’m barely staying above water. But I’ve learned that I can do hard things. I’ve learned how to advocate for myself, how to stay organized with my ADHD, and how to ask for support when I need it. This scholarship would make a real difference. It would help relieve some of the financial stress and allow me to focus more on my classes and on being present with my daughters. More than anything, it would be a reminder that people believe in first-generation students like me, who are trying to create something better from the ground up. Being first-generation isn’t just about being the first in your family to go to college. It’s about making sure you’re not the last.

As a single mother of two daughters, balancing college and parenting often feels like running two full-time jobs at once. I’m currently a pre-nursing student working toward my associate degree, with the goal of becoming a psychiatric-mental-health nurse. This dream has been years in the making, and now I’m finally in the middle of it, doing the hard work, even when it feels like everything is stacked against me. Balancing my education and family life takes an extreme amount of planning, flexibility, and emotional energy. I wake up early to pack lunches and get my girls off to school. I attend classes, complete labs, and study during the few quiet hours I have. Sometimes I take my homework with me to their activities or stay up late after they’ve gone to bed just to get everything done. The other night, my oldest daughter and I sat at the dinner table writing out science flashcards together, mine for chemistry, hers for middle school biology. In that moment, I realized that we aren’t just coexisting in this journey. We’re learning and growing side by side. I've struggled with ADHD my entire life. As a kid, I was constantly misunderstood. Teachers labeled me high-risk, and some even suggested I couldn’t succeed in a traditional classroom. I wasn’t misbehaving, I was overwhelmed, anxious, and carrying the emotional weight of growing up in a household affected by trauma, PTSD, and addiction. My father battled substance use disorder for most of my childhood and passed away from an overdose when I was seventeen. That loss shaped how I see the world and helped me realize that I wanted to work in mental health and addiction recovery. I want to be the nurse who listens, who understands, and who never treats someone like they’re beyond help. I’m also raising two daughters who are watching me closely. They see me at my desk doing homework, juggling appointments, and trying to make ends meet. I want them to know that even when life is hard, you can still fight for your future. I want to model resilience, not perfection. I’ve learned to use the same strategies I teach my kids, like setting timers, breaking tasks into steps, and creating visual reminders, to help myself stay focused and on track in college. I am not just earning a degree. I am showing my daughters how to rewrite a story. This scholarship would lift a massive weight off my shoulders. It would help me cover school expenses and household costs without falling behind or burning out. More importantly, it would allow me to continue focusing on both my education and my daughters with less fear about how I’ll afford everything. Financial stress is one of the biggest barriers I face, and this kind of support could be the difference between just getting by and truly moving forward. My goal is to finish nursing school, specialize in behavioral health, and eventually work in a clinical setting where I can help people who are struggling with the same issues that shaped my life. I want to be a source of empathy and care for others. But most of all, I want to show my children that even when the odds are stacked against you, you can still create something beautiful from the hardest parts of your story.

College isn’t easy for anyone, but doing it as a single mom feels exciting and constantly overwhelimg at the same time. I’m a pre-nursing student working toward my Associate of Nursing degree, with the goal of becoming a psychiatric-mental-health nurse. My path is rooted in lived experience. I grew up around addiction, mental illness, and emotional instability. My father struggled with substance use and passed away from an overdose when I was seventeen. I saw firsthand what happens when people don’t get the help they need. Now, I want to be the kind of nurse who stands in that gap, someone who listens, who understands trauma, and who offers care without judgment. School has always been a challenge for me. I’ve struggled with ADHD my entire life, long before I had a name for it. As a kid, I was labeled emotional, distracted, and “too much.” Some teachers said I would need to be homeschooled. Others called me high-risk. I wasn’t a bad kid, I was just overwhelmed, anxious, and trying to make sense of a chaotic home life while navigating a classroom that didn’t fit how I learned. Looking back, I realize I was struggling with things that sometimes teachers didnt even recognize, but not the story underneath. Now, as an adult, I’m reclaiming the part of school that once felt impossible. I’m proving to that younger version of myself that she was always capable, she just needed support. Being a single mom in school has stretched me more than anything else ever has. I’ve studied for exams after bedtime routines, wake up at 4 am, written essays from my phone in the car during activities, and found creative ways to get some income. There have been times when I wanted to quit out of exhaustion, but I always remind myself why I’m doing this, for my daughters, for stability, and for the future I refuse to give up on. The financial side of being a student-parent is a constant weight. I receive financial aid, but it only goes so far. I run a vintage clothing business to make extra income, but it’s unpredictable. Some months, I’m just trying to cover rent and keep the fridge full while still showing up to class. A scholarship like this would provide not just relief, but room to breathe. It would allow me to focus more on school, be more present with my kids, and protect the progress I’ve worked so hard for. After I earn my degree, I plan to continue into a BSN program and eventually work as a nurse in behavioral health or addiction recovery. I want to bring compassion to people who are often judged or overlooked. I want to challenge the stigma around mental health and help others heal in the ways I once needed. More than anything, I want my daughters to grow up knowing that their mom didn’t give up, even when it was hard. I want them to see that it’s possible to break cycles, to dream big, and to build a life that looks nothing like where you started. I want them to know that things in life will be hard and its not always rainbows and butterflies but that when the going gets tough, if you believe in yourself you can do anything including creating your own rainbows.

My decision to pursue a career in mental health comes from a place of personal experience and deep understanding. I grew up in a home surrounded by untreated mental illness, addiction, and trauma. My father struggled with opioid addiction and passed away when I was a teenager. My mother, who had intense PTSD and emotional instability, did her best to raise me, but it was a high-stress environment where I learned to stay alert, manage chaos, and suppress my own needs to keep the peace. Those early experiences shaped the way I see people. I have always been sensitive and emotionally tuned in to others, often feeling responsible for the emotional temperature in the room. For a long time I thought that was a weakness, but now I see it as one of my biggest strengths. I know what it feels like to be unseen, unheard, and misunderstood. That is why I want to be the kind of mental health provider who makes people feel safe, validated, and fully human. I plan to work with individuals facing substance use, trauma, and emotional dysregulation. My lived experience allows me to meet clients with compassion rather than judgment. I want to help others untangle the things they were never given the tools to cope with. If I could change one thing about the mental healthcare system, it would be to make trauma-informed care the standard, not a specialty. Too often, providers overlook the root causes of behavior, especially in people who come from high-stress environments, unstable households, or marginalized communities. Instead of asking what happened to someone, the system still too often asks, “What is wrong with you?” I believe every mental health professional should be trained to recognize how trauma impacts the brain, nervous system, and relationships. This includes understanding the link between trauma and substance use, emotional dysregulation, and self-sabotaging behaviors. It would reduce misdiagnosis, stigma, and shame. It would also allow people to receive care that actually feels safe, especially for those who have experienced invalidation or judgment in the past. As someone who grew up in a home affected by addiction and mental illness, I know what it feels like to have your pain misunderstood. Making trauma-informed care the foundation of mental health treatment would make space for more empathy, more trust, and real healing. It would shift the system from managing symptoms to truly helping people heal at the root. Teletherapy has been a lifeline for me. I am a full-time student, a single mother, and someone who has been working hard to heal from a childhood filled with trauma and instability. Therapy has helped me manage anxiety, process grief, and start to break patterns I once thought were permanent. But realistically, with my current schedule, I would not be able to attend in-person sessions. Teletherapy makes it possible for me to show up for myself in a way that fits into my life. Sometimes I take calls in my car between errands or while my kids are at school. Without that flexibility, I might not be getting support at all. One challenge, though, is that teletherapy can still feel too clinical or distant for some people. It takes effort to feel safe opening up through a screen. To improve this, I think providers should be trained in building connection virtually, just like they would in person. Sessions should feel like a conversation, not just an appointment. More diverse therapists, more flexible scheduling, and even more language support would make a big difference in helping underserved communities feel that therapy is truly for them too.

My decision to become a nurse is deeply personal. It comes from everything I have lived through and everything I want to change for others. I grew up around addiction and mental illness. My father struggled with opioid use disorder for most of his life, and he passed away when I was seventeen. Losing him was painful and complicated. I saw how people treated him differently because of his addiction. His pain was often misunderstood or ignored. He was more than his struggle, but not everyone could see that. That experience stayed with me. It made me want to become the kind of person who looks deeper. The kind of nurse who helps others feel seen, especially when they are at their lowest. The kind of caregiver who leads with compassion instead of judgment. I have always been sensitive and empathetic. For a long time I thought those traits made me weak, but now I see them as some of my greatest strengths. I feel things deeply. I pick up on what others are feeling, and I try to make people feel safe and understood. I have already lived through so much, and those experiences allow me to relate to people from all kinds of backgrounds. Whether someone is facing grief, trauma, addiction, or mental health challenges, I have the emotional capacity to meet them where they are. xTo me, the phrase “human touch” goes beyond physical contact. It means showing up for people with presence, empathy, and care. It means seeing someone as a full human being, not just as a patient or a chart. Human touch is what builds trust, creates connection, and reminds people that they matter. In healthcare, small moments can carry the most weight. Making eye contact, listening without interrupting, remembering someone’s name, explaining things in a way that makes them feel empowered rather than confused. These things may not seem like much, but they can completely change a patient’s experience. I believe the way you treat someone can be just as powerful as the treatment itself. I have been on the other side of care. I have been in rooms where I felt talked over, brushed off, or judged. And I have also experienced what it feels like when someone truly takes the time to understand me. That difference is something I will never forget. It is part of why I am drawn to nursing. I want to offer patients the kind of presence and patience that can help them feel safe and respected, especially in moments when they are scared or overwhelmed. For me, human touch also means showing up emotionally, not just physically. It means holding space for people who are grieving, struggling, or feeling lost. It means treating people with dignity, no matter what they are going through. As someone who is naturally empathetic, I believe this is where I shine. I pick up on unspoken needs. I am sensitive to energy and emotion, and I want every patient I care for to feel that they are not alone. In a time where the healthcare system can feel rushed and impersonal, human touch brings heart back into the equation. It reminds people that they are more than their diagnosis. I believe this kind of care is not only healing, but necessary. As a future nurse, I plan to lead with compassion, listen closely, and carry the human touch into every room I walk into. Now, as a single mother going to college, I feel more connected than ever to my purpose. Nursing is not just a career path for me. It is a calling. I want to use everything I have been through to help others feel less alone. I want to show up for people in the way I wish someone had shown up for my father. That is the kind of nurse I want to be.

Becoming a single mother changed everything for me. I had my kids at the age of 20 and I still had so much growing up to do. It shifted my priorities, my schedule, my energy, and eventually, my goals. I knew I wanted to build a better life for my daughters, and going back to school became part of that plan. But trying to return to college while raising two kids on my own has come with constant challenges. There is no backup plan or second income in my household. I manage everything, bills, meals, appointments, school drop-offs, emotional support, and now, my own college education. There are days I wake up before sunrise just to finish homework before my daughters get up, and nights where I stay up late studying after they fall asleep. Most of my studying happens at the kitchen table with noise in the background and snacks being requested every ten minutes. It is not perfect, but it is real life. Balancing motherhood and education is emotionally and physically exhausting. I have faced financial stress trying to cover tuition, rent, groceries, and other basics while only being able to work limited hours. I have had to pause, restart, and adjust more times than I can count. And yet, I keep showing up. I do it because I want my daughters to grow up seeing what perseverance looks like. I want them to know they are worth the effort it takes to build a stable future. This experience has shaped my values in a deeper way than I expected. I have learned to be patient with myself. I have learned how to ask for help and how to keep going even when no one is watching. I value education more than ever because I understand how much it can change the course of someone’s life. I am currently working toward a career in nursing, and my long-term goal is to work in a field where I can support others who are going through difficult chapters of their own. Receiving this scholarship would make a huge difference for me and my daughters. It would relieve financial pressure and give me more room to focus on school and parenting without feeling like I am constantly choosing between the two. More than anything, it would feel like someone believes in the future I am fighting for, and that kind of support means everything.

Growing up with a single mom shaped so much of who I am. She didn’t have anyone to fall back on, so she became everything at once. She worked hard, showed up, and tried to give us as much stability as she could. But it wasn’t always easy. She was still growing and healing herself while raising us. There were things she was working through, things from her own past, and that showed up in our home sometimes too. I know now how much she was carrying, even when she tried to protect us from it. There were times when life felt heavy. Money was tight, and I had to grow up fast. I learned to take care of myself early, and I picked up on everyone else’s needs because that’s just what you do when things feel unstable. I didn’t always feel like I could lean on anyone, so I became the one people could lean on instead. Even as a kid, I felt the pressure to keep things calm. That kind of emotional responsibility sticks with you. Some months we were eating waffles for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but we were fed. And somehow the next month, we had the most Christmas presents on the block. My mom always found a way to make magic happen, even when things were unpredictable. That mix of chaos and love shaped me in ways I’m still learning to understand. Now that I’m a single mom myself, I understand so much more. I see how hard it is to hold everything together when you’re still figuring yourself out too. I’m raising two daughters and going to school because I want to build a better life for us. I want to give them the kind of stability I didn’t always have growing up. But I’m also trying to break cycles, to be emotionally present, and to keep growing as a person, not just as a mom. I want them to know they’re safe, they’re seen, and they’re loved for exactly who they are. Everything I went through made me who I am. I’m resilient, empathetic, and motivated. I don’t give up easily. Being raised by a single mom taught me how to survive, but becoming one myself is teaching me how to lead with love, even when life feels overwhelming. This experience hasn’t just shaped me, it’s given me a reason to keep going and build something better for the future, for me and for them.

1. I was born into a world that felt heavy before I could even name the weight. My mother carried unresolved trauma and intense PTSD, and my father struggled with opioid addiction. I grew up witnessing the effects of untreated mental illness and substance use firsthand experiences that quietly shaped how I viewed people, pain, and healing. As a child, I was highly sensitive, often overwhelmed by emotions I didn’t know how to manage. But in hindsight, that sensitivity was never weakness, it was the start of my empathy. Now, I’m a single mother of two and a full-time student, working toward a future in nursing with a focus on mental health and addiction. I’ve learned how to hold space for others, even when I’m still healing myself. I’ve seen how powerful it is when people feel seen, and how damaging it is when they don’t. My values, compassion, honesty, and non-judgment, weren’t just taught; they were through lived experience. My passion for healthcare comes from knowing what it feels like to be overlooked, and I am choosing instead to be someone who notices, who listens, who helps. I’m not just studying health, I’m learning how to become the person I once needed. 2. To me, empathy means more than just understanding someone’s pain, it’s feeling with them. It’s the ability to pause your own perspective long enough to step inside someone else’s world, even when it’s unfamiliar or uncomfortable. And for someone pursuing a career in mental health and addiction nursing, that kind of emotional fluency isn’t optional, it’s essential. Empathy has shaped the way I move through the world because I’ve lived on both sides of it. I’ve seen what happens when people lack it, and I’ve felt the healing power of even one person choosing to offer it. Growing up around mental illness and addiction, I was often the kid in the waiting room, the one quietly watching while the adults around me unraveled. I saw my father battle opioids, often losing, and I watched my mother struggle to manage deep trauma while trying to raise children. Nobody ever asked how I was doing, but I noticed everything. And now I carry that awareness with me into every space I walk into. I believe empathy in healthcare means treating patients as full humans, not just diagnoses. It means asking the second question, the one beneath the surface, and being ready to hear the real answer. It means respecting each person’s autonomy while also knowing when to gently advocate for them. In addiction recovery especially, empathy can be the bridge between judgment and understanding. Many people battling substance use don’t need more shame, they need someone who believes in their capacity to change. In my future work as a nurse, I want to be that person. I want to be the one who stays calm when others might react, the one who knows how to hold space instead of filling it. I’ve had to learn how to manage my own nervous system so I don’t absorb the chaos around me. That self-regulation is part of how I’ll stay grounded in a human-centered lens, by knowing that I can’t pour from an empty cup, but I can offer something meaningful when I’m regulated and present. Human-centered care also means meeting people where they are. It’s remembering that a patient’s background, trauma history, culture, and lived experience all affect how they engage with care. I’ll make sure I’m not just treating symptoms,but noticing the way someone flinches when you speak too loud, or how they apologize before asking a question, tiny signs that tell you what someone’s been through without them having to say it out loud. My empathy was born from chaos, but I’ve turned it into one of my greatest tools. In healthcare, where people are often at their most vulnerable, that tool can be the difference between someone giving up or trying again. I plan to be the reason they try again.

For most of my life, I felt like I was walking through the world with a map that looked different from everyone else's. I was always sensitive to sound, overwhelmed by change, and deeply emotional, but I didn’t have a name for it. I was diagnosed with ADHD when I was younger, which made sense at the time, but it never fully explained how deeply I felt everything or how hard it was for me to navigate social dynamics. Being a woman made it even easier for my autism to go unnoticed. I learned how to mask early. I copied how other girls talked, smiled when I was supposed to, and worked hard to keep my sensory needs hidden. Everyone chalked my struggles up to ADHD, but I always felt like there was something more. Even after I started treating my ADHD, I was still exhausted, anxious, and overwhelmed in ways that didn’t make sense. I kept thinking, why am I still struggling so much if this is supposed to be under control? Getting diagnosed as autistic helped me look back on my life with more compassion. I now understand why group projects made me shut down, why certain textures or noises made me want to crawl out of my skin, and why I always felt like I was living life slightly off-beat. Instead of beating myself up for struggling, I’ve started honoring the way my brain works. I have also learned how strong I really am. I went back to school as a single mom, something that requires a lot of executive functioning and emotional regulation. Some days are harder than others, especially when I’m overstimulated or burned out from masking, but I’ve found ways to work with my brain instead of against it. I use structure, visual reminders, and lots of breaks to stay on track. I’ve also learned to advocate for myself in academic settings, asking for what I need instead of trying to tough it out silently. The best part is that I can now be a role model for my kids. I can show them that being different doesn’t mean being broken. It means you have to get creative sometimes, and it means you get to bring something unique into every space you walk into. My autism isn’t a flaw to fix. It’s a part of what makes me deeply empathetic, insightful, and passionate about mental health. I am currently working toward becoming a psychiatric nurse. I want to be the person that makes neurodivergent people feel safe, understood, and respected in medical spaces. I didn’t always feel that growing up, and I want to change that for others. Getting this scholarship would not only help me financially but also remind me that I belong in this field exactly as I am.

Growing up, I saw the impact of untreated mental illness and substance use in my own family. My father struggled with addiction and passed away when I was seventeen. My mother, who lived with severe PTSD, did her best to care for us, but our home was full of emotional chaos. I learned early on how to survive and take care of others, often stepping into a caregiving role long before I knew what the word really meant. I also became a mother at a young age. While my friends were figuring out who they were, I was trying to raise children while still growing up myself. It took an incredible amount of self-reflection and emotional work to break cycles I was raised in and become the kind of parent my kids deserved. Learning how to regulate my own emotions while helping them navigate theirs became my crash course in mental health. It was exhausting at times, but it also lit a fire in me to understand the reasons behind human behavior and emotional pain. Those experiences did not push me away from people. They made me want to help them more. I became the friend others came to when they were struggling. I volunteered with individuals who had developmental disabilities. I have always been the one to ask the deeper questions, to sit with someone in their hardest moments, and to believe that healing is possible. As a single mom of two, going back to school to pursue nursing has not been easy, but it has felt right. I want to show my kids that it is never too late to chase your calling and that even when life has knocked you down, you can get back up stronger. I am especially drawn to psychiatric and mental health nursing. I want to support people who feel misunderstood or left behind by the system and advocate for those who are struggling quietly. My life has taught me to listen without judgment, to hold space for pain, and to believe in second chances. Those are the same values I want to bring into nursing. Earning my RN and continuing on to become a psychiatric mental health nurse will allow me to turn my personal history into something powerful, a career where I can offer the care, compassion, and support that so many people, including my own family, needed but did not always get. I carry my story with me not as baggage, but as fuel. It is what drives me to keep going, even when the path is hard. Nursing is not just a career choice for me. It is a calling, shaped by every hardship I have faced and every lesson I have learned. With the support of scholarships like this one, I can keep building a better future not just for myself, but for the people I will care for and the children who are watching me lead the way.

Mental health has been a constant factor throughout my life, shaping both my struggles and my aspirations. Growing up in a household where addiction, trauma, and untreated mental illness were part of daily life, I saw firsthand the deep impact that mental health challenges can have on individuals and families. My father, who struggled with substance use, passed away from an overdose when I was a teenager. My mother lives with severe PTSD, and from a young age, I found myself trying to navigate not only my own emotions but also the emotional weight of my family environment. My own mental health challenges began early. I struggled with anxiety, depression, and ADHD, which often made school feel overwhelming and at times impossible. There were moments when I doubted whether I would ever pursue higher education, but I knew that I wanted to break the cycle I had grown up in. I wanted to understand mental health, not just from the perspective of someone who lived it, but as someone who could help others heal from it. As a single mother of two, my children are a constant reminder of why I keep pushing forward. Balancing parenting with school and financial stress has not been easy, but they are my greatest motivation to succeed. I want them to grow up knowing that it is possible to rise above difficult circumstances and create a life built on resilience, education, and compassion. When life has thrown challenges my way, my determination to create a better future for them, and to change the generational patterns I grew up with, has only grown stronger. This is why I am pursuing a nursing degree with the goal of becoming a psychiatric mental health nurse. My long-term vision is to work with trauma survivors, individuals facing addiction, and people who often feel unseen or unsupported by the healthcare system. I believe deeply in trauma-informed care and want to create spaces where people feel safe, heard, and validated. I am especially passionate about helping underrepresented communities, including low-income families and minority populations, who often face additional barriers to mental health care. As someone of Middle Eastern descent and a first-generation college student, I know what it feels like to grow up without seeing people like yourself represented in these spaces. This is one of the reasons I am determined to succeed. The fact that I am still pushing forward, despite everything life has thrown my way, is proof of how much I want to break generational cycles and create lasting change. Since returning to school, I have maintained a 4.0 GPA while completing. It has not been easy, but my perseverance reflects the depth of my commitment to this path. I know firsthand how isolating mental health struggles can be, and I want to be the kind of nurse who makes someone feel less alone during their darkest moments. This scholarship would not just help me as a student. It would help me as a mother who is determined to create a brighter future for her children while dedicating her career to helping others heal.

I believe I deserve this scholarship because I bring not only academic dedication but lived experience, resilience, and an unshakable drive to turn hardship into healing for both myself and others. I am a first-generation college student, a single mother, and a woman of Middle Eastern descent navigating higher education after growing up in a home impacted by addiction, trauma, and financial instability. I carry with me the weight of what I have endured, but also the strength it has built in me. While others may come from more traditional or stable paths, I have had to fight for every inch of progress, juggling parenting, school, and healing from generational cycles all at once. Since returning to college, I have maintained a 4.0 GPA while pursuing my associate degree. My long-term goal is to become a psychiatric mental health nurse focused on trauma-informed care, especially for underrepresented and underserved populations. I want to support those who feel unseen and unheard because I know exactly what that feels like. What sets me apart is my ability to turn pain into purpose and to bring empathy and understanding to spaces that need it most. I am not just trying to earn a degree. I am working to become someone my children can look up to and someone my future patients can trust. Receiving this scholarship would ease the financial burden and allow me to focus more energy on achieving my goals. It would also be an investment in someone who plans to pay it forward every step of the way. I believe I deserve this scholarship because I bring not only academic dedication but lived experience, resilience, and an unshakable drive to turn hardship into healing for both myself and others. I am a first-generation college student, a single mother, and a woman of Middle Eastern descent navigating higher education after growing up in a home impacted by addiction, trauma, and financial instability. I carry with me the weight of what I have endured, but also the strength it has built in me. While others may come from more traditional or stable paths, I have had to fight for every inch of progress, juggling parenting, school, and healing from generational cycles all at once. Since returning to college, I have maintained a 4.0 GPA while pursuing my associate degree and completing prerequisites for nursing. My long-term goal is to become a psychiatric mental health nurse focused on trauma-informed care, especially for underrepresented and underserved populations. I want to support those who feel unseen and unheard because I know exactly what that feels like. What sets me apart is my ability to turn pain into purpose and to bring empathy and understanding to spaces that need it most. I am not just trying to earn a degree. I am working to become someone my children can look up to and someone my future patients can trust. Receiving this scholarship would ease the financial burden and allow me to focus more energy on achieving my goals. It would also be an investment in someone who plans to pay it forward every step of the way. I believe I deserve this scholarship because I bring not only academic dedication but lived experience, resilience, and an unshakable drive to turn hardship into healing for both myself and others. I am a first-generation college student, a single mother, and a woman of Middle Eastern descent navigating higher education after growing up in a home impacted by addiction, trauma, and financial instability. I carry with me the weight of what I have endured, but also the strength it has built in me. While others may come from more traditional or stable paths, I have had to fight for every inch of progress, juggling parenting, school, and healing from generational cycles all at once. Since returning to college, I have maintained a 4.0 GPA while pursuing my associate degree and completing prerequisites for nursing. My long-term goal is to become a psychiatric mental health nurse focused on trauma-informed care, especially for underrepresented and underserved populations. I want to support those who feel unseen and unheard because I know exactly what that feels like. What sets me apart is my ability to turn pain into purpose and to bring empathy and understanding to spaces that need it most. I am not just trying to earn a degree. I am working to become someone my children can look up to and someone my future patients can trust. Receiving this scholarship would ease the financial burden and allow me to focus more energy on achieving my goals. It would also be an investment in someone who plans to pay it forward every step of the way. The fact that I am still I am living proof that even when life tries to knock you down again and again, you can still rise. Every step I take is fueled by my determination to break generational patterns and rewrite my story. I am not just hoping to succeed, I am working for it like my life depends on it, because in many ways, it does.

My experience with mental health has shaped nearly every part of who I am today. My beliefs, my relationships, and the path I am building toward my future career. Growing up, mental health was not something openly discussed in my home. My father, who struggled with addiction, passed away from an overdose when I was a teenager. My mother has lived for years with untreated PTSD. I did not have the language for what I was seeing as a child, but I knew it shaped the atmosphere in our home, filling it with survival, emotional turbulence, and silence around pain. As I got older, I began to experience my own mental health challenges, including anxiety, depression, and ADHD. At first, I felt isolated and confused, unsure why certain things felt harder for me or why my emotions often felt overwhelming. Over time, through therapy, education, and self-reflection, I realized that what I had been carrying was not just being sensitive or overthinking, as I had been told. It was the impact of trauma and neurodivergence. These realizations have profoundly influenced my beliefs. I now believe deeply in compassion, in seeing the full person and not just the label or behavior. I believe in the importance of trauma-informed care, not only in healthcare but also in families, schools, and communities. I believe that healing is possible, but only when people have access to resources, support, and a sense of safety. My mental health journey has also reshaped my relationships. I have learned how to set boundaries, how to ask for help, and how to show up more authentically with the people I care about. I have learned to choose relationships that are supportive and to step away from dynamics that are harmful. I understand now that connection thrives in spaces where honesty and vulnerability are met with respect, not judgment. Most of all, my experiences have shaped my career aspirations. I am currently pursuing a degree in nursing with the goal of becoming a psychiatric mental health nurse specializing in trauma-informed care. I want to work in mental health settings because I know what it is like to be on the other side: to be the person in the waiting room, the person carrying invisible wounds, the person who just needs someone to listen. I want to be a nurse who helps others feel seen, supported, and safe. I want to work especially with people from underrepresented and low-income backgrounds who too often face additional barriers to accessing care. My goal is to help break the cycle of silence and stigma around mental health and to be part of building a system where people do not have to suffer alone or in shame. Mental health has not just influenced my life. It has given me purpose. It has taught me resilience, empathy, and the importance of using my voice to help others. My hope is that by sharing what I have learned, I can help others find healing too.

I have been passionate about mental health for as long as I can remember, though at first, it was not something I chose. It was something I lived. Growing up in a household marked by addiction, trauma, and untreated mental illness shaped the way I saw the world. My father, who was Iranian, struggled with substance use and passed away from an overdose when I was a teenager. My mother lives with severe, untreated PTSD. As a young person, I dealt with my own battles with anxiety, depression, and ADHD, often feeling unsupported and misunderstood. For years, I witnessed firsthand how mental health struggles can impact individuals and families, especially in communities with limited resources or where cultural stigma keeps people from seeking help. These experiences did not push me away from the mental health field. They pulled me toward it. I want to be part of the movement that changes how we understand, talk about, and treat mental health, especially for people who feel invisible in the current system. My long-term career goal is to become a psychiatric mental health nurse with a focus on trauma-informed care. I am currently working toward my associate degree in nursing, and I plan to continue on to a bachelor’s and potentially a master’s degree so that I can deepen my knowledge and expand the ways I can serve others. I am particularly interested in working in underrepresented and underserved communities, where mental health care is often inaccessible or carries deep social stigma. As someone of Middle Eastern descent and from a low-income background, I am acutely aware of how cultural and systemic barriers can prevent people from accessing the care they need. In many minority communities, including my own, there are cultural expectations to handle struggles privately or to minimize mental health symptoms. I want to help change that narrative by becoming a professional who not only treats symptoms but also validates experiences, respects cultural identities, and advocates for greater equity in mental health care. In school, I have been intentional about shaping my education around this mission. I have maintained a 4.0 GPA in courses such as psychology, English, math, and anatomy, all while balancing the responsibilities of being a single mother to two children. This balancing act has strengthened my resilience, time management, and determination to keep moving forward even when it is hard. It has also made me deeply aware of the need for mental health professionals who understand what it means to navigate complex life challenges. My passion for diversity and inclusion comes not only from personal experience but also from the hope of helping others feel seen. Too often, people from minority or low-income backgrounds do not see themselves reflected in their health care providers or in mental health research. I want to help bridge that gap, whether through direct patient care, advocacy, or someday participating in research that centers marginalized voices. I believe that by combining my lived experiences, academic training, and passion for mental health, I can help create a more inclusive and compassionate system. I am committed to using my education and future career to uplift underrepresented communities, reduce stigma, and advocate for meaningful change in the field of mental health.

Over the past two semesters, I have made significant academic progress while balancing multiple responsibilities. Since returning to college, I have earned a 4.0 GPA and performed well in psychology, English, math, and anatomy. These courses have strengthened my communication, critical thinking, and understanding of human behavior, which are all essential for my future in psychiatric mental health nursing. While enrolled full-time, I have also been raising my two children as a single mother and running a small vintage resale business to help support us. Managing all of this has required determination and resilience, and I am proud of both my personal and academic growth. I am a female-identifying undergraduate student of Middle Eastern descent. My father was Iranian, and although I was born and raised in the United States, I carry that identity with deep pride. I had the opportunity to visit Iran when I was younger, and even though I was a child, it left a lasting impression on me. It gave me a stronger connection to my roots and helped shape how I see myself. Being Middle Eastern is something I am proud of, and I talk about it whenever I can, especially in spaces where our voices are underrepresented. Navigating life as a Middle Eastern woman today comes with challenges, including stereotypes and assumptions that can feel limiting. I have experienced these barriers, both directly and in the way others view my potential. One issue that connects many parts of my story is stigma. Whether it is around mental health, addiction, or being a Middle Eastern woman, I have felt the weight of silence and shame. These cultural and societal pressures can prevent people from getting the support they need. I want to be part of changing that. Through nursing, I hope to create spaces where people feel safe being vulnerable and supported in their healing. Breaking stigma is a critical step in building a more compassionate and equitable healthcare system. Although I am not majoring in political science, I believe mental health care is a powerful form of advocacy. I want to work with individuals who are often overlooked, especially those struggling with trauma, addiction, or emotional pain. As a future psychiatric mental health nurse, I plan to serve in communities where support is limited. My goal is to shift the stigma surrounding mental health and advocate for accessible, culturally sensitive care. This path is deeply personal. I grew up in a household shaped by trauma, mental illness, and substance use. My father passed away from an overdose when I was a teenager. My mother lives with untreated PTSD. I have faced my own struggles with anxiety, depression, and ADHD. These experiences gave me the empathy and purpose that now drive me. I want to be a steady, supportive presence for people navigating difficult moments. As a mother, I also want my children to see what it means to rise above hardship and chase something meaningful. Everything I do is not just for me, it is for them and for the future I want to help build. I hope to be a voice for people who have felt unseen and to help create a world where more women, especially those from Middle Eastern backgrounds, are represented in healthcare and leadership. My education is about more than earning a degree. It is about healing, advocacy, and creating a better future for the people I will care for and for the ones who will come after me.

I decided to pursue a career in nursing because I have seen what happens when people do not receive the care and support they need. I grew up surrounded by addiction, trauma, and mental illness. My father struggled with substance use for most of his life and passed away from an overdose when I was seventeen. My mother, who only completed the eighth grade, lives with severe PTSD and has battled mental health challenges for as long as I can remember. These experiences shaped me deeply and made mental health feel personal, not clinical. From a young age, I knew what it felt like to live in survival mode. I was the emotional caregiver in my home before I even understood what that meant. As I got older, I began experiencing my own mental health struggles, including anxiety, depression, and ADHD. These challenges often made school and relationships difficult, and I spent years feeling misunderstood and unsupported. It was only after I began my own healing journey that I realized how badly our system needs compassionate, trauma-informed care providers. That realization sparked something in me, and it is what led me to nursing. I am currently pursuing my associate degree in a pre-nursing program, with the long-term goal of becoming a psychiatric-mental health nurse. I want to work in mental health settings, especially with patients who are recovering from trauma or substance use. I feel called to this field because I understand it from the inside. I do not want to treat symptoms, I want to truly see people, support them, and help them feel safe in their most vulnerable moments. As a single mother of two, returning to school has not been easy. I balance parenting, studying, and managing a small vintage resale business to support my family. My financial situation is often uncertain, and I rely on careful budgeting just to stay afloat. Still, I show up every day with determination, not only for myself but for my children. They are my biggest motivation. I want them to grow up watching their mother pursue education, overcome adversity, and turn pain into purpose. I want to show them that their past does not define them and that they can build something better. What inspires me the most is knowing that even small acts of kindness and empathy can make a lasting impact. I remember moments when a nurse or therapist took the time to really listen to me or my family, and those moments stayed with me. I want to be that person for someone else. Nursing, for me, is more than a profession, it is a way to take everything I have been through and use it to help others feel less alone. I found this scholarship through the Bold.org platform.

1) Yes 2) What is your approximate total annual family income? Under $30,000 3) Please list the highest education level of each of your parent(s) and/or guardian(s) and their occupations. Mother: She did Complete the 8th grade, Father: High school in the middle east. Deceaced. My name is [Your Name], and I am a mother, a student, and a future psychiatric-mental health nurse. My path into healthcare was shaped by a lifetime of lived experience. I grew up in a household where addiction, trauma, and emotional instability were part of everyday life. My mother only completed the eighth grade and lives with untreated PTSD. My father battled substance use disorder for most of his life and died from an overdose when I was a teenager. These experiences left a lasting imprint on how I view mental health and what true support should look like. I have also faced my own challenges with anxiety, depression, and ADHD. These diagnoses shaped my academic journey and made navigating school more difficult at times. However, they also helped me develop resilience, compassion, and a deep desire to advocate for others facing similar struggles. I know what it feels like to be misunderstood, to go without the resources you need, and to feel lost in a system that is supposed to help. My goal is to become the kind of healthcare provider I needed growing up, one who sees the whole person and offers care that is rooted in empathy and understanding. Currently, I am enrolled in a pre-nursing program and completing the foundational courses required for nursing school. I plan to pursue an associate degree in nursing, with the long-term goal of becoming a psychiatric-mental health nurse. I am especially drawn to trauma-informed care and the connection between mental health and substance use. I want to work in communities where support is often limited and mental health is still stigmatized. My dream is to help people who feel invisible or broken understand that they are worthy of healing and support. As a single mother of two children, I have had to work incredibly hard to balance parenting, school, and financial responsibility. I also run a small vintage clothing resale business to help with basic expenses, although the income is inconsistent. While I’m proud of my ability to juggle it all, the truth is that the financial burden of school can be overwhelming. Scholarships like this one make a real difference. They allow me to stay focused on my goals without sacrificing my family’s stability. I come from a background where higher education was not always prioritized or even seen as possible. Returning to school as a mother has been both challenging and empowering. I want my children to grow up seeing education not as an obligation, but as an opportunity. I want them to know that no matter what you come from, it is possible to change your future. Becoming a nurse is not just a career goal. It is a way for me to break generational cycles and use my experience to uplift others. I am not just studying to pass exams. I am working to become a steady presence in the lives of people who need compassion, consistency, and care. I want to be a part of someone’s turning point, the moment they realize they are not alone.

The nursing industry interests me because it’s where compassion meets action. I’ve always felt drawn to helping others, especially those who are struggling or overlooked. For me, nursing isn’t just about medicine or procedures, it’s about human connection, healing, and advocacy. Growing up in a household affected by addiction, PTSD, and emotional trauma, I witnessed how much of a difference the right support can make. It showed me the gaps in our healthcare system but also inspired me to become part of the solution. One of my biggest goals as a future nurse is to work in the mental health field, particularly with vulnerable populations. I want to specialize in psychiatric nursing and serve communities where mental illness is often misunderstood or ignored. My hope is to help people feel seen, respected, and safe enough to begin healing. I also want to play a role in breaking the stigma surrounding mental health and make treatment more accessible for those who need it most. My personal experiences have played a huge role in shaping these goals. I’ve struggled with anxiety, depression, and ADHD for most of my life. Those challenges made school and relationships difficult at times, but they also gave me a deep sense of empathy and resilience. Becoming a mother pushed me to grow even more. Raising two children while pursuing higher education hasn’t been easy, but it’s one of my proudest accomplishments. It’s taught me how to stay grounded under pressure and remain focused on the future I want to create, not just for myself, but for them too. While I haven’t worked in a hospital yet, my lived experience has been its own kind of training. I’ve cared for family members during medical emergencies, sat in on countless appointments and therapy sessions growing up, and even advocated for loved ones in crisis. These moments helped me realize how important it is to have someone in the room who truly listens and advocates when others can’t. I’ve also taken anatomy, psychology, and other prerequisite courses that have deepened my understanding of both the body and the mind, and I’ve maintained a strong GPA while balancing school, work, and parenting. Every step I’ve taken so far has been leading me to this path. I’m not just choosing nursing as a career, I’m choosing it as a mission. My goal is to become the kind of nurse I once needed; calm, kind, and willing to sit with people in the hard moments. I may not have formal medical experience yet, but I bring a lifetime of heart, grit, and lived perspective to the table, and I’m ready to keep learning, growing, and giving back.

I’m pursuing a degree in the mental health field because I know what it’s like to grow up surrounded by untreated trauma, addiction, and emotional pain. These experiences didn’t push me away from this field. They pulled me toward it. I’ve seen what happens when people don’t get the help they need, and I’ve also seen the power of just one person showing up with compassion and understanding. As someone who lost a parent to addiction and was raised by a mother with severe PTSD, mental health has never been a distant issue for me. It has always been close to home. It shaped how I saw the world, how I coped, and how I related to others. It also shaped me in ways I am still working to understand. On top of what I witnessed growing up, I’ve also struggled with my own mental health. I developed anxiety at a young age and had a hard time regulating my emotions. I was an overly sensitive kid, always crying or overwhelmed, but never really knowing why. By the time I was a teenager, I was dealing with depression and had been diagnosed with ADHD. It took me years to even begin to understand myself, and I often felt like I was just “too much” for the world around me. I didn’t have the language to talk about what I was experiencing, and I didn’t always have the support I needed to process any of it. That feeling of being misunderstood followed me for a long time. Now that I’m older and on my own healing journey, I look back and see how many of my behaviors were shaped by survival. It makes me even more passionate about helping others who are dealing with similar struggles. There are so many people who walk around carrying invisible struggles, people who are trying their best but still feel like they’re falling short. I want to be a source of support for them. I want to be the kind of nurse who not only understands mental health clinically, but also emotionally and personally. My goal is to work directly with people facing mental health challenges, especially in underserved communities where stigma and limited resources make it even harder to get help. I want to be the person who creates a space where people feel safe, seen, and validated. I want to help people begin to unpack their pain and give them tools that I wish I had earlier in life. As a single mother of two, I’m also determined to break generational cycles. I want my children to grow up in a home where mental health is talked about openly and compassion is the default. Earning this degree and becoming a nurse is part of that vision. It’s about creating stability not just for myself, but for my family and the people I will serve in the future. I know I can’t fix everything, and I don’t expect to. But if I can be a steady presence in someone’s darkest moment, if I can help even one person feel less alone or more understood, then I will know I’ve made a difference. That’s why I’m here. That’s why I keep going.

My name is Nicole, and I’m a 32-year-old single mother of two, currently enrolled in a pre-nursing program. Returning to school at this stage in my life hasn’t been easy, especially while balancing parenting, financial stress, and healing from my own past. But choosing nursing has never been something I’ve questioned. I’ve always felt drawn to the role of the caregiver. What solidified my decision to become a nurse, specifically in the field of mental health and addiction recovery, was my own lived experience. I grew up in a household marked by instability. My father struggled with opioid addiction for most of his life, and although I loved him deeply, his addiction often kept him at a distance both physically and emotionally. He passed away when I was seventeen from a drug overdose. At the time, I didn’t fully understand the complexities of addiction. I just knew it hurt. As I got older and began to process everything I experienced as a child and teen, I realized how common stories like mine are and how misunderstood addiction still is. That realization lit a fire in me. I became passionate about mental health and the need for compassionate, trauma-informed care in our healthcare system. People struggling with addiction are often judged instead of helped, especially in medical settings. I want to change that. I want to be the nurse who makes someone feel seen and safe when they’re at their lowest. I want to work in psychiatric nursing or substance use recovery, offering both medical support and empathy to those who have been failed by the system. To prepare for this journey, I’ve thrown myself into my studies while also learning from my own healing process. I’ve taken psychology courses that explore how trauma, environment, and biology intertwine. I’ve also spent time in therapy myself, which has helped me reflect on the importance of emotional intelligence in healthcare. I know firsthand that healing is not linear, and that every patient has a story. I believe my background, combined with my deep sense of empathy and emotional resilience, will help me show up for people in a way that truly matters. Balancing school and parenting has taught me how to manage my time, prioritize under pressure, and advocate fiercely not just for my kids, but for myself and my goals. These aren’t just useful life skills; they’re exactly the qualities a good nurse needs. I’m determined to create a stable, loving future for my children, and part of that means becoming someone they can be proud of. I want them to see that breaking cycles is possible. Nursing is more than a job to me. It’s a calling to care, to comfort, to educate, and to advocate. I’m ready to dedicate myself to this path not just because I want a better future for my family, but because I want to be part of the change I so badly needed when I was younger.

Becoming a parent at 19 changed my life overnight. I thought I was ready, I loved my daughter so much, but bringing her home that first night, I just remember lying in bed, wide awake while she cried, realizing my entire life as I knew it had changed completely. While my friends were focused on college, social lives, and figuring out their futures, I was holding a newborn in my arms, realizing that my future was no longer just my own. The weight of responsibility hit me hard. I had a child depending on me, and there was no pause button. The uncertainty was overwhelming. Giving up was never an option for me, I learned to manage my time better, working early mornings and late shifts to provide for my daughter. I knew that I needed to give her the childhood I didn’t have, and that was my motivation every step of the way. It reminded me that every sacrifice was for something bigger than myself. Looking back, I realize those moments revealed strengths I didn’t know I had. Growing up in a dysfunctional household, I witnessed firsthand the struggles that come with instability, addiction, and financial hardship. These experiences shaped my understanding of resilience and the importance of creating a better future, not just for myself, but for my children. I refuse to let them grow up in the same cycle of struggle. I want them to see that, no matter the obstacles, education is a path to opportunity and change. Breaking the generational cycle is a driving force behind my decision to return to school as a single mother. I want to show my children that education can open doors to opportunities and provide a path to a brighter future. Coming from a background where higher education wasn’t always prioritized, I am determined to break that cycle and create a legacy of learning and achievement. I am determined to create a better life for my children, to show them that resilience and hard work can open doors, and to use my experiences to help others. My dad struggled with opioid addiction my entire life. I saw firsthand how it affected his life. Even though I didn’t live with him, I had a relationship with him and witnessed the ups and downs of his battle with addiction. No matter how much he wanted to get better, the addiction always pulled him back. Eventually, it took his life, he died of a drug overdose which is the case for a lot of families. Losing him was heartbreaking, but it also opened my eyes to how devastating addiction can be, not just for those struggling with it, but for the people who love them. I knew then that I wanted to be part of the fight against addiction. Watching my dad’s struggles, I wanted to understand addiction beyond just the personal pain it caused. I started researching the science behind it, learning how opioids alter brain chemistry and why recovery is so difficult. I'm constantly reading books and listening to podcasts on Addiction. The more I learned, the more I realized I wanted to be part of the solution. I want to be the kind of nurse who meets patients where they are, I haven't been in the addict position myself but always on the other side of it, hopefully giving a different perspective. Offering not just medical care but empathy. Someone who understands addiction not as a moral failing, but as a disease. Pursuing a career as an RN with an addiction treatment focus is more than just a job to me, it’s a mission. I know what it’s like to love someone struggling with addiction, to feel powerless but still hold onto hope. I want to be that hope for others. Whether it’s in a hospital, a rehab center, or a community outreach program, I want to be on the front lines, helping people take steps toward recovery. My experience growing up in that environment didn’t break me, it gave me a purpose. And now, I’m ready to turn that purpose into action. My primary focus is providing for my children while also striving to create a better future for our family through education. Covering tuition, school supplies, and childcare expenses, alongside daily living costs, requires careful budgeting and sacrifices. Despite these challenges, I am determined to succeed and set an example for my children about the value of perseverance and education. A scholarship would alleviate financial stress and allow me to dedicate more time and energy to my studies and my role as a parent. Becoming a young mother I have always felt behind in life compared to my peers and other people my age. Pursuing school wasn't always an option, just trying to survive being a single mom with two kids. The financial stress has always been a factor in everything in my life, from growing up the way I did to staying in an abusive relationship because I couldn't afford to live on my own. The financial stress I carry as a single mother often feels like a constant weight on my shoulders. It can be difficult to focus fully on my studies when I am constantly worrying about how to provide for my family. This scholarship would provide crucial relief from some of that stress, allowing me to focus more on my education and less on financial struggles. With this support, I would be able to dedicate more time and energy to my coursework, which would improve my academic performance and bring me closer to achieving my goal of becoming a registered nurse.

I had always thought about a healthcare career, but after high school, my focus shifted to raising my children. Providing for them became my top priority, and school always felt like something I would get to “one day". Life kept moving and it wasn’t until I was 32 that I had my aha moment, I realized that if I kept waiting for the “perfect” time, it might never come. I thought about everything I had been through, the strength I had built, and the passion I still had for helping others. That was when I knew it was time to finally go back to school and pursue nursing. Becoming a parent at 19 changed my life overnight. I thought I was ready, but that first night home with my daughter, as she cried and I lay wide awake, reality hit, my life was no longer just my own. While my friends focused on college and social lives, I was navigating sleepless nights and the weight of responsibility. It was overwhelming, but giving up was never an option. Motherhood taught me resilience, patience, and the ability to stay calm under pressure. Balancing work and parenting pushed me to become resourceful and compassionate, strengthening my desire to help others through difficult moments. Just as I had to show up for my daughter, I want to show up for patients when they need it most. Nursing isn’t just a career for me…it’s a path that aligns with the strength and empathy I’ve gained through my own experiences. My dad struggled with opioid addiction my entire life. I saw firsthand how it affected his life. Even though I didn’t live with him, I had a relationship with him and witnessed the ups and downs of his battle with addiction. No matter how much he wanted to get better, the addiction always pulled him back. Eventually, it took his life, he died of a drug overdose which is the case for a lot of families. Losing him was heartbreaking, but it also opened my eyes to how devastating addiction can be, not just for those struggling with it, but for the people who love them. I knew then that I wanted to be part of the fight against addiction. Watching my dad’s struggles, I wanted to understand addiction beyond just the personal pain it caused. I started researching the science behind it, learning how opioids alter brain chemistry and why recovery is so difficult. I'm constantly reading books and listening to podcasts on Addiction. The more I learned, the more I realized I wanted to be part of the solution. I want to be the kind of nurse who meets patients where they are, I haven't been in the addict position myself but always on the other side of it, hopefully giving a different perspective. Offering not just medical care but empathy. Someone who understands addiction not as a moral failing, but as a disease. Pursuing a career as an RN with an addiction treatment focus is more than just a job to me, it’s a mission. I know what it’s like to love someone struggling with addiction, to feel powerless but still hold onto hope. I want to be that hope for others. Whether it’s in a hospital, a rehab center, or a community outreach program, I want to be on the front lines, helping people take steps toward recovery. My experience growing up in that environment didn’t break me, it gave me a purpose. And now, I’m ready to turn that purpose into action.

Becoming a parent at 19 changed my life overnight. I thought I was ready, but that first night home with my daughter, as she cried and I lay wide awake, reality hit, my life was no longer just my own. While my friends focused on college and social lives, I was navigating sleepless nights and the weight of responsibility. It was overwhelming, but giving up was never an option. Motherhood taught me resilience, patience, and the ability to stay calm under pressure. I really believe these qualities that are essential in nursing. Balancing work and parenting pushed me to become resourceful and compassionate, strengthening my desire to help others through difficult moments. Just as I had to show up for my daughter, I want to show up for patients when they need it most. Nursing isn’t just a career for me…it’s a path that aligns with the strength and empathy I’ve gained through my own experiences. My dad struggled with opioid addiction my entire life. I saw firsthand how it affected his life. Even though I didn’t live with him, I had a relationship with him and witnessed the ups and downs of his battle with addiction. No matter how much he wanted to get better, the addiction always pulled him back. Eventually, it took his life, he died of a drug overdose which is the case for a lot of families. Losing him was heartbreaking, but it also opened my eyes to how devastating addiction can be, not just for those struggling with it, but for the people who love them. I knew then that I wanted to be part of the fight against addiction. Watching my dad’s struggles, I wanted to understand addiction beyond just the personal pain it caused. I started researching the science behind it, learning how opioids alter brain chemistry and why recovery is so difficult. I'm constantly reading books and listening to podcasts on Addiction. The more I learned, the more I realized I wanted to be part of the solution. I want to be the kind of nurse who meets patients where they are, I haven't been in the addict position myself but always on the other side of it, hopefully giving a different perspective. Offering not just medical care but empathy. Someone who understands addiction not as a moral failing, but as a disease. Pursuing a career as an RN with an addiction treatment focus is more than just a job to me, it’s a mission. I know what it’s like to love someone struggling with addiction, to feel powerless but still hold onto hope. I want to be that hope for others. Whether it’s in a hospital, a rehab center, or a community outreach program, I want to be on the front lines, helping people take steps toward recovery. My experience growing up in that environment didn’t break me, it gave me a purpose. And now, I’m ready to turn that purpose into action.

My dad struggled with opioid addiction my entire life. I saw firsthand how it affected his life. Even though I didn’t live with him, I had a relationship with him and witnessed the ups and downs of his battle with addiction. No matter how much he wanted to get better, the addiction always pulled him back. Eventually, it took his life, he died of a drug overdose which is the case for a lot of families. Losing him was heartbreaking, but it also opened my eyes to how devastating addiction can be, not just for those struggling with it, but for the people who love them. I knew then that I wanted to be part of the fight against addiction. Watching my dad’s struggles, I wanted to understand addiction beyond just the personal pain it caused. I started researching the science behind it, learning how opioids alter brain chemistry and why recovery is so difficult. I'm constantly reading books and listening to podcasts on Addiction. The more I learned, the more I realized I wanted to be part of the solution. I want to be the kind of nurse who meets patients where they are, I haven't been in the addict position myself but always on the other side of it, hopefully giving a different perspective. Offering not just medical care but empathy. Someone who understands addiction not as a moral failing, but as a disease. Pursuing a career as an RN with an addiction treatment focus is more than just a job to me, it’s a mission. I know what it’s like to love someone struggling with addiction, to feel powerless but still hold onto hope. I want to be that hope for others. Whether it’s in a hospital, a rehab center, or a community outreach program, I want to be on the front lines, helping people take steps toward recovery. My experience growing up in that environment didn’t break me, it gave me a purpose. And now, I’m ready to turn that purpose into action. Becoming a parent at 19 changed my life overnight. I thought I was ready, but that first night home with my daughter, as she cried and I lay wide awake, reality hit, my life was no longer just my own. While my friends focused on college and social lives, I was navigating sleepless nights and the weight of responsibility. It was overwhelming, but giving up was never an option. Motherhood taught me resilience, patience, and the ability to stay calm under pressure. I really believe these qualities that are essential in nursing. Balancing work and parenting pushed me to become resourceful and compassionate, strengthening my desire to help others through difficult moments. Just as I had to show up for my daughter, I want to show up for patients when they need it most. Nursing isn’t just a career for me…it’s a path that aligns with the strength and empathy I’ve gained through my own experiences.

Pursuing a career as an RN with an addiction treatment focus is more than just a job to me, it’s a mission. I know what it’s like to love someone struggling with addiction, to feel powerless but still hold onto hope. I want to be that hope for others. Whether it’s in a hospital, a rehab center, or a community outreach program, I want to be on the front lines, helping people take steps toward recovery. My experience growing up in that environment didn’t break me, it gave me a purpose. And now, I’m ready to turn that purpose into action. By becoming a nurse with a focus on addiction treatment, I will be able to give back to my community in a meaningful way. Many families are impacted by substance use, and I want to be a source of support and guidance for those struggling with addiction and recovery. Through compassionate care, education, and advocacy, I hope to break down the stigma surrounding addiction and help people access the resources they need. By using my personal experience to connect with patients and their families, I can contribute to a healthier, more informed, and more supportive community. Growing up, I saw how addiction can take over a person’s life. My dad struggled with opioid addiction, and I lost him to an overdose. Not only did I just lose my dad to addiction but I have also lost a few friends as well. Helping people as a career has always been a passion of mine and I know that I will be able to do that with the things I have gone through in my life. Those losses shaped me in ways I’m still understanding, but more than anything, it made me want to help people who are struggling. I want to be the kind of nurse who sees people beyond their addiction, who understands the weight of what they’re going through, and who treats them with the compassion they deserve. For me, education is my way of turning pain into purpose. It’s my way of building something better for my kids and ensuring they grow up knowing that no matter where you start, you can choose where you go. Breaking the generational cycle is also a driving force behind my decision to return to school as a single mother. I want to show my children that education can open doors to opportunities and provide a path to a brighter future. I know that nursing is a career choice that is still very much needed in these times and even more so coming from an empathetic standpoint and approach. I've always been someone who can read the room and really feel the emotions coming from other people and I know that would make me strong in this career. Coming from a background where higher education wasn’t always prioritized, I am determined to break that cycle and create a legacy of learning and achievement. Pursuing my degree is not just about personal growth; it’s about redefining what’s possible for my family and inspiring my children to aim higher, dream bigger, and believe in their potential.

Pursuing a career as an RN with an addiction treatment focus is more than just a job to me, it’s a mission. I know what it’s like to love someone struggling with addiction, to feel powerless but still hold onto hope. I want to be that hope for others. Whether it’s in a hospital, a rehab center, or a community outreach program, I want to be on the front lines, helping people take steps toward recovery. My experience growing up in that environment didn’t break me, it gave me a purpose. And now, I’m ready to turn that purpose into action. Growing up, I saw how addiction can take over a person’s life. My dad struggled with opioid addiction, and I lost him to an overdose. Not only did I just lose my dad to addiction but I have also lost a few friends as well. Helping people as a career has always been a passion of mine and I know that I will be able to do that with the things I have gone through in my life. Those losses shaped me in ways I’m still understanding, but more than anything, it made me want to help people who are struggling. I want to be the kind of nurse who sees people beyond their addiction, who understands the weight of what they’re going through, and who treats them with the compassion they deserve. For me, education is my way of turning pain into purpose. It’s my way of building something better for my kids and ensuring they grow up knowing that no matter where you start, you can choose where you go. Breaking the generational cycle is also a driving force behind my decision to return to school as a single mother. I want to show my children that education can open doors to opportunities and provide a path to a brighter future. I know that nursing is a career choice that is still very much needed in these times and even more so coming from an empathetic standpoint and approach. I've always been someone who can read the room and really feel the emotions coming from other people and I know that would make me strong in this career. Coming from a background where higher education wasn’t always prioritized, I am determined to break that cycle and create a legacy of learning and achievement. Pursuing my degree is not just about personal growth; it’s about redefining what’s possible for my family and inspiring my children to aim higher, dream bigger, and believe in their potential.

Breaking the generational mold is a driving force behind my decision to return to school as a single mother. I want to show my children that education can open doors to opportunities and provide a path to a brighter future. Coming from a background where higher education wasn’t always prioritized, I am determined to break that cycle and create a legacy of learning and achievement. Pursuing my degree is not just about personal growth; it’s about redefining what’s possible for my family and inspiring my children to aim higher, dream bigger, and believe in their potential. My dad struggled with opioid addiction my entire life. I saw firsthand how it affected his life. Even though I didn’t live with him, I had a relationship with him and witnessed the ups and downs of his battle with addiction. No matter how much he wanted to get better, the addiction always pulled him back. Eventually, it took his life, he died of a drug overdose which is the case for a lot of families. Losing him was heartbreaking, but it also opened my eyes to how devastating addiction can be, not just for those struggling with it, but for the people who love them. I knew then that I wanted to be part of the fight against addiction. Watching my dad’s struggles, I wanted to understand addiction beyond just the personal pain it caused. I started researching the science behind it, learning how opioids alter brain chemistry and why recovery is so difficult. Im constantly reading books and listening to podcasts on Addiction. The more I learned, the more I realized I wanted to be part of the solution. I want to be the kind of nurse who meets patients where they are, I haven't been in the addict position myself but always on the otherside of it, hopefully giving a different perspective. Offering not just medical care but empathy. Someone who understands addiction not as a moral failing, but as a disease. Pursuing a career as an RN with an addiction treatment focus is more than just a job to me, it’s a mission. I know what it’s like to love someone struggling with addiction, to feel powerless but still hold onto hope. I want to be that hope for others. Whether it’s in a hospital, a rehab center, or a community outreach program, I want to be on the front lines, helping people take steps toward recovery. My experience growing up in that environment didn’t break me, it gave me a purpose. And now, I’m ready to turn that purpose into action.

Breaking the generational mold is a driving force behind my decision to return to school as a single mom going into healthcare. I want to show my children that education can open doors to opportunities and provide a path to a brighter future. Coming from a background where higher education wasn’t always prioritized, I am determined to break that cycle and create a legacy of learning and achievement. Pursuing my degree is not just about personal growth, it’s about redefining what’s possible for my family and inspiring my children to aim higher, dream bigger, and believe in their potential. My dad struggled with opioid addiction my entire life. I saw firsthand how it affected his life. Even though I didn’t live with him, I had a relationship with him and witnessed the ups and downs of his battle with addiction. No matter how much he wanted to get better, the addiction always pulled him back. Eventually, it took his life, he died of a drug overdose which is the case for a lot of families. Losing him was heartbreaking, but it also opened my eyes to how devastating addiction can be, not just for those struggling with it, but for the people who love them. I knew then that I wanted to be part of the fight against addiction. Watching my dad’s struggles, I wanted to understand addiction beyond just the personal pain it caused. I started researching the science behind it, learning how opioids alter brain chemistry and why recovery is so difficult. I'm constantly reading books and listening to podcasts on Addiction. The more I learned, the more I realized I wanted to be part of the solution. I want to be the kind of nurse who meets patients where they are, I haven't been in the addict position myself but always on the other side of it, hopefully giving a different perspective. Offering not just medical care but empathy, someone who understands addiction not as a moral failing, but as a disease. Pursuing a career as an RN with an addiction treatment focus is more than just a job to me, it’s a mission. I know what it’s like to love someone struggling with addiction, to feel powerless but still hold onto hope. I want to be that hope for others. Whether it’s in a hospital, a rehab center, or a community outreach program, I want to be on the front lines, helping people take steps toward recovery. My experience growing up in that environment didn’t break me, it gave me a purpose. And now, I’m ready to turn that purpose into action.

My brain feels like I have 50 different browser tabs open at once. Having ADHD is not just about struggling to focus, it’s forgetting things even when I swear I won’t, it's getting overwhelmed by too many tasks, and having to work twice as hard to stay organized. In school, that can be frustrating, especially with deadlines and homework. But I’ve also learned that ADHD comes with its own strengths. I think fast, I adapt quickly, and I find creative ways to solve problems. For a long time, I would constantly beat myself up for not being able to do things "normally" as I would say but I have learned to lean into this as a superpower instead of fighting against it. I'm not perfect and I do still get frustrated with myself but I’ve learned to work with it. Breaking tasks into smaller steps, setting reminders for everything and I mean everything, and giving myself grace on the hard days. Managing ADHD while balancing school and motherhood isn’t always easy, but it’s taught me resilience, and that’s something I’ll carry with me forever. You can’t take care of others if you don’t take care of yourself first. Going back to school while raising two kids isn’t easy, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. My mental health plays a huge role in how I handle both school and life at home. When I’m in a good place mentally, I can focus, stay motivated, and be present for my kids. But when stress builds up which it does because I'm a human and everyday life happens EVERYDAY! It can feel overwhelming, but I’ve learned that taking care of my mental health isn’t optional. I have been through quite a few therapists in my 32 years on this earth but currently, I have one that I see weekly and she has helped me unpack and really break things down when I get overwhelmed. Another huge stress reliever for me is exercise. From running to weight training it's my way of meditation. Growing up, I saw firsthand how addiction affects families. My dad struggled with opioid addiction, and I lost him to an overdose. That experience shaped me in so many ways but has left me carrying a lot emotionally. Balancing school, motherhood, and my own healing has been tough at times, but I know that to be the best student, future nurse, and mom, I have to take care of myself, too.

My dad struggled with opioid addiction my entire life. I saw firsthand how it affected his life. Even though I didn’t live with him, I had a relationship with him and witnessed the ups and downs of his battle with addiction. No matter how much he wanted to get better, the addiction always pulled him back. Eventually, it took his life, he died of a drug overdose which is the case for a lot of families. Losing him was heartbreaking, but it also opened my eyes to how devastating addiction can be, not just for those struggling with it, but for the people who love them. I knew then that I wanted to be part of the fight against addiction. Watching my dad’s struggles, I wanted to understand addiction beyond just the personal pain it caused. I started researching the science behind it, learning how opioids alter brain chemistry and why recovery is so difficult. I'm constantly reading books and listening to podcasts on Addiction. The more I learned, the more I realized I wanted to be part of the solution. I want to be the kind of nurse who meets patients where they are, I haven't been in the addict position myself but always on the other side of it, hopefully giving a different perspective. Offering not just medical care but empathy. Someone who understands addiction not as a moral failing, but as a disease. Pursuing a career as an RN with an addiction treatment focus is more than just a job to me, it’s a mission. I know what it’s like to love someone struggling with addiction, to feel powerless but still hold onto hope. I want to be that hope for others. Whether it’s in a hospital, a rehab center, or a community outreach program, I want to be on the front lines, helping people take steps toward recovery. My experience growing up in that environment didn’t break me, it gave me a purpose. And now, I’m ready to turn that purpose into action. Breaking the generational mold is a driving force behind my decision to return to school as a single mother. I want to show my children that education can open doors to opportunities and provide a path to a brighter future. Coming from a background where higher education wasn’t always prioritized, I am determined to break that cycle and create a legacy of learning and achievement. Pursuing my degree is not just about personal growth; it’s about redefining what’s possible for my family and inspiring my children to aim higher, dream bigger, and believe in their potential.