As I read the description, I felt like my story was already shared in that of Sheri Rosser. Similar to Sheri's heartbreaking story, I was tuned out when I advocated for myself, and this led to being misdiagnosed, inappropriately medicated, addicted, and neglected by the same mental health professionals who were convinced I was irredeemable. My fight to be here today was a story that I don't think anyone who hasn't faced the reality of the broken mental health system could ever truly fathom. I had struggled my whole life with ADHD and depression. As a child, I was tormented at school, and on occasion, I came home to abuse by my angry and vengeful great-grandmother. My family moved to Florida when I was 11, and I met and fell in love with a boy at 13 years old. My parents met when they were 14, and amassed an empire and 5 children as they built a life together, so naturally, I thought I was following in their footsteps. After two turbulent years of loving him and feeling like I had what my parents had, my first love committed suicide one month before my 16th birthday. The loss affected me significantly, and I spent over a decade just trying to survive. I was baker acted more than 5 times and spent a grand total of almost a complete year in inpatient facilities, over the course of a 5-year span, as my family and friends desperately tried to save my life. I wanted to die, and I had it planned out. I was ready to do whatever it took to release myself from the pain and suffering I felt powerless to overcome. After my first love died, and even before, I had suffered over 50 losses of friends, family, and acquaintances, and the emotional toll was heavier than I could carry. The depression and the post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) took away my ability to remember any of the positive things I had experienced in my life. I only knew that I was suffering, in pain, and felt as though I would spend the rest of my life trying to exist for the people who love me, rather than living the life I had hoped to live. Love was the hardest for me after his death. As I got close to men, I ran away out of fear of having to survive their possible loss. If I saw any signs that any person whom I loved might die, I avoided them to preserve the shred of sanity I was confident kept me going. At moments, I could remember a time when I thought I would be a doctor or an astronaut. I know that I once believed in my future when I was still ignorant of the effect of depression and PTSD, but that was also the same moment when I remember feeling as though my future after these things emerged was only a dark void from which I would never escape. I know now that my strongest belief at that time was that life was impossible to live, and death was the only way to escape from living in the black hole I had come to know. In 2019, the exhausting and seemingly hopeless healing journey led me to Bali, Indonesia where I finally set myself free. I came home alive, and ready to take back my life and build a true understanding of what trauma did to me, and how I got passed it. COVID gave me the excuse to go back to school. When people ask me today how I overcame the monumental suffering I survived, my answer is that I don't know yet, but I will find out. Like Sheri, myself, and so many others, we all suffer merciless tortures that are so well-hidden that we don't even know how they came to be. We fight so hard that we are stronger than any warrior, yet we don't get the glory of knowing that every victory was noticed and celebrated. Many believe that awareness is the first step to overcoming, but survivors aren't always aware of the details of how they survived or when the shift occurred, nor can they make sense of their survival story to others who cannot imagine or fathom the dire situation they were once in. This is the reason I plan to study trauma, suicidality, and what is happening within our brains, thoughts, feelings, behaviors, and environments that could lead to unlocking the mysteries of overcoming and reinventing our lives after trauma manifests. No one in the world should ever have to face the demons inside alone nor should they have to look at themselves in the mirror knowing that it is only a matter of time before the person staring back at them in their reflection, will be the same person who takes their life, and breaks the hearts of the people who love them. My mission in life is to be the name no one will soon forget for the rest of human existence as the researcher who understands and treats suicidality, trauma, and complicated grief. I will change this world using my own experiences, and I am willing to bet anything that my research will impact the research of dementia, depression, anxiety, and beyond. I am so sorry for the loss of your mother. My heart aches for you, your family, and the impossible pain she must have felt before she left. I may not have known her, but I know her in my heart, and it is her and those like her that I will fight the most powerful and courageous fight of finding real answers and treatments that will work and give us all a life worth living. Whether you choose to support me or not, I deeply appreciate what you are doing. I will leave you with this song I wrote in my darkest time, because music is how I fought back: https://soundcloud.com/nikimaria/my-memories?utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

When I was 16 years old, my first boyfriend and the first boy I ever loved, committed suicide and I spent over a decade trying to survive how bad it hurt me. Mental health, specifically suicide, became both a trigger and a curious obsession for me as I matured. I wanted to know the reason why a seemingly happy, outgoing, and loving 17-year-old boy felt so hopeless that he felt taking his life was easier. This life-changing experience stole my innocence, my sense of safety, my understanding of love and relationships, and my joy. As a child, I struggled with attention deficit hyperactive disorder (ADHD), but it was left untreated most of my life. When I began therapy following the suicide of my boyfriend, the psychologist explained to my mom that she was diagnosing me with type 1 bipolar disorder. I remember that upon leaving that appointment, I began researching bipolar disorder, and started defending myself to the psychologist, expressing that it didn't fit my symptoms at all. Rather than giving me the benefit of the doubt, she recommended to my mom that I be placed in a mental hospital to be observed by a team of clinicians. As I expressed my pain in the group sessions, the weight of my psychologist's diagnosis stuck with me, and I was placed on heavy medication that made the internal suffering worse, and I was unable to ask for support feeling like jello with no thoughts or emotions. It was shocking when they considered sending me home and gave my mom instructions to feed me this concoction every day to prevent me from having episodes. This was the first time I ever wanted to die, and I carefully considered taking my own life. Thankfully, my mom saw how I was not even a person anymore, and she removed the medication and took me to another therapist. In my mid-twenties, still suffering tremendously with complicated grief, nightmares, flashbacks, hypervigilance, and the newest symptom of crippling anxiety and panic attacks, I started aggressively seeking support to turn my life around. It was then that my understanding of why people commit suicide became a reality because I couldn't help but feel that my own suffering had no end in sight. After a decade since I lost my first love, I still felt as though every day was just a game of surviving, and nothing in life was exciting, joyful, or inspiring anymore, I was simply existing. In December of 2016, I began experiencing pain in my abdomen that doctors could not explain. I was prescribed medication to manage the pain while they ran tests and attempted to find the source of the unrelenting pain. As time went on, the pain medication became my new escape from my suffering, and I felt like I was finally taking a break from carrying the suffering. In mid-2017, my parents staged an intervention out of concern for how the medication was affecting my health, my relationships, and my future. They worried that how I saw and understood the world through my pain and suffering would eventually lead me to either take my own life or accidentally overdose just to stop the suffering. I eventually agreed to go to an inpatient rehab facility. At the facility, I was immediately diagnosed with opioid dependence disorder, but within two weeks, I was rediagnosed with complicated post-traumatic stress disorder (C-PTSD), ADHD, and Major Depression Disorder (MDD). I was placed in a group for exposure therapy and began to work on my grief. Next, I found a partial hospitalization program near home to continue my healing, and eventually, I went to another inpatient setting that specialized in trauma recovery, which set me back significantly. The effort felt wasted when I suddenly became completely depressed and the PTSD symptoms began to reemerge around 2019 following a nasty heartbreak from a 6-year relationship. After being baker acted for the 5th time in my life, I begged the police officer to just let me do what I needed to do. As I explained the inner turmoil, one of the officers told me that my unique understanding of the pain and suffering could prevent someone else from committing suicide and I may even be able to assist those suffering from complicated trauma if I would only be willing to recognize my incredible knowledge. Soon after this experience, I sought treatment options that didn't use the same approach as the inpatient facilities in America. In 2019, I traveled to Bali, Indonesia, and Hong Kong, China to try something new to save my own life. I made a deal with my mom that I would go, and if I came home still suffering, she would agree to let me go in peace. Though I knew she didn't want to lose me, she had faith in me, and the place I was going. Not only did the alternative retreats save my life, but I came home to COVID lockdowns, and instead of committing suicide, I pushed myself through my bachelor's degree in psychology with a nearly perfect GPA and received incredible recognition for my efforts. My unequivocal purpose in this life is to study, prevent, inspire, innovate and treat those who are suffering from trauma and suicidality. In pursuit of this purpose, I plan to be a leading researcher in solving the mysteries within the brain structures, thoughts, behaviors, feelings, and environments of those who suffer as I did for most of my life. If I had never experienced the suicide of my first love and the loss of my sanity, I would have never understood how mental health can cripple a person's identity, goals, relationships, and understanding of the world. It is for this reason that I will be a name that will change the way we understand, process, and treat trauma.

"Why do people commiy suicide?," I have asked myself most of my life. When I was 16 years old, my first love committed suicide, followed by many friends, and from that moment forward, I needed answers. I questioned it all; why do we love others and then they choose to die? Why do people commit suicide when they have someone who loves them? Was my love not enough? Was any love enough? Years later, now a single mom, I pushed to get my associate’s degree. I felt overwhelmed by the task of mothering, working, and school. Becoming a mother was supposed to make me stronger, but after job losses while trying to be the parent forced to leave work every time my son needed a parent, I soon learned that I was only stronger when I didn’t want more for myself. For years, I didn't push the boundaries, I simply became the victim of the woman-ness, mother-ness, and less-than-ness I felt in comparison to my ambitionless husband. I couldn't ignore that I was a passionately curious person, and I knew I had a spark in me that I was struggling to burn while I tried to be the good wife and mother. My ex-husband and I didn't have much, but we weren't struggling bad enough for him to support my education. I was young, and dreamed that life would change, yet I felt so insignificant and powerless. Years later, now divorced with two kids, I continued asking, "Why do people commit suicide?" On a mission for answers, I found journals describing various ideas and I found gaps in research. I found news articles about various people who committed suicide. I remembered all the facts I know of the lives of those I loved that committed suicide, and began to create a complex list of questions that I would ask all suicide victims if I could. I began to see my purpose in these questions. The doctor of trauma research is the reason for my existence. I found myself instinctively knowing the answers, yet I needed proof. After some reflection, I enrolled in college to learn about research, psychology, and all the ways suicide and trauma have been examined so I can take on the challenge of finding a way to stop the rising death toll of suicide. What interests me about STEAM is that it gives me the freedom to find an answer rather than waiting for one or settling for none. It provides the groundwork for solving the mysteries of elusive facts; like the interaction of trauma on thinking patterns, or why people choose to end their lives. Going back to school is a fulfillment of my passion for answers and my work will impact those who might commit suicide without a researcher like me willing to fight for their lives. I will leave you with this journal entry I wrote in the wake of the suicides I survived. “I don’t want to die, but I can’t figure out how life works anymore. What can I do now? I am pondering a final goodbye, while life is expecting my participation, and I am exhausted. For today, I chose life, but when will my choice be taken from me? When will my warrior fail to rescue me? When will the desperation creep up and slaughter my warrior? No matter how much I don’t want to die, I may not be able to stop it. Perhaps that is the secret to why he died? Either way, I must know why he died before I lose my life too.”

I am currently working on a Bachelor's degree in cognitive psychology. This is a passion of mine that I have pursued since I was 11 years old and I was diagnosed incorrectly with bipolar disorder. For years I was told I had a condition that I didn't have. I studied the brain of a bipolar patient on my own using a dial-up internet connection on a cheap computer my parents were given since we were too poor at the time to buy a good one. I know there is a lot of information we still don't know about the brain, which is similar to the lack of knowledge we have about the ocean, but I know that earning my degree and continuing my education until I hold a doctorate will help me take the years of research and admiration for the functionality of the brain and formulate a hypothesis to change lives on big subjects; such as autism, bipolar disorder, and Alzymeirs. If I won this grant, it would help me cover some of the expenses of my college education as I aim for a goal of attaining my doctorate. Two of my favorite quotes, that I feel as though I could have written myself, are: "Anyone who stops learning is old — whether this happens at twenty or at eighty. Anyone who keeps on learning not only remains young but becomes constantly more valuable — regardless of physical capacity." - Henry Ford and "I have no special talent. I am only passionately curious." - Albert Einstein

As a single mom, I juggle caring for my children and pursuing my degree (and everything else) by being diligent in my time management efforts. I have schedules and room within my schedules to accommodate issues that arise along the way. I make ends meet by working 40+ hours a week at my job and freelance work if available. The thought to drop out isn't an option, and I do not allow the "give-up" mentality to enter my mind. I believe this is because my life has shown me where I belong in the mental health research field and I know I have the personal experience, the capability, and the determination to solve problems that would otherwise continue to elude human understanding. What motivates me is when I see my two awesome children and realize they are watching me, waiting for me to show them that nothing is impossible. They believe I am the strongest person in the world, and failure isn't an option when you are someone's superhero. My teenager is struggling in Middle School and he says, "Mom, it's just so hard to keep all A's. School is so hard." I show him my grades in college (which are all A's) and it develops the hustler in him to work harder to prove that he believes in himself and he can do as good or better than me. The most challenging part about attending school with little ones is that my youngest son, who was diagnosed with Autism in 2017, was recently diagnosed with epilepsy. Every day is a new challenge and sometimes I often cry to myself because I don't know where his life will take him or if he will be able to have the advantages I and his brother have. While this challenge causes me a lot of pain, it also promotes my drive to succeed because my baby needs my help. Maybe I will be able to understand Autism and epilepsy so I can develop treatments and possibly cures for his condition. The most rewarding, and most humbling part about attending school as a single mom is leading by example for my tiny humans and being the first in my family to achieve a degree higher than an associate's. I have spent a lot of my life making mistakes, doing things wrong, and giving my parents every reason to excommunicate me, yet they never did. They believed in me when I didn't believe in myself and they showed me in everything they did to lift me up when I was broken and couldn't find the strength to move. My favorite moments with my boys is our family dinners where we giggle and share silly stories about life. They light up as they make references to fart jokes, and I crack up watching them laugh so hard tears start filling their little eyes. While I personally do not love to talk about the bodily functions that young boys feel compelled to discuss, the moment they smile I find so much happiness that I know this is where I belong. My dreams are to become a researcher of cognitive psychology and I see myself heading up some of the most difficult and controversial research studies in the field. Right now, I am enrolled at Keiser Universities Psychology Bachelor's program working 20+ hours a week at school to maintain a 4.0 and learn as much as I can. I also began writing a blog about the subjects I am learning in school to help me stay focused and share my passion for the field of psychology. Winning this scholarship would eliminate the financial burdens to my future due to the number of loans I have needed to and will need to take in order to complete all degree programs. Every little bit counts, and I want to be able to send my children to college without having to worry about the debt I will be in and how it will impact their college choices and experiences. Furthermore, I am the type of person who would multiply any opportunity I am given, so I will somehow use this win to share the experience and how important it is for people to contribute to the betterment of all students; be it a single mom or any potentially disadvantaged student circumstance. The most amazing thing I have learned in my life is that you cannot inspire passion in another person who doesn't see a reason to be passionate in the first place, but if you should see the passion, and you can feel and truly understand their excitement, reward it in your own way because their passion can change the world. I do hope you see my passion, determination, and how important my children are to my success and goals in this short paper and I want to say that regardless of whether I am selected, mine is a name you will hear in the future when I develop cutting edge treatments and cures for major mental health and brain disorders because I will never give up.