I was eight years old when I witnessed a fight between my parents that ended in my father walking out on my family. I knew that their marriage was flawed- years of arguing and my father’s extended absences were enough for even my youngest brother to realize that there was something very wrong with their relationship. However, witnessing my father storm out our front door and drive off into the dusky afternoon pained me more than my broken elbow had, or the eight stitches I got in my chin ever did. This was a new type of hurt, one that lingered and ached, provoking a sense of emptiness I had never experienced. Even still, I carried my burdens alone, being unable to express my feelings to anyone around me. My mother busied herself with her work, never taking time to process her abandonment, leaving the rest of my family to battle with our emotions alone. My mother eventually remarried my stepfather, a wonderful man who acted as the "glue" for our disjointed family. However, his introduction to my life did little to erase my inner desire of longing to see and be with my biological father. I was desperate for my dad- a horrible, narcissistic, addict of a man who in my mind had become elevated to the position of a saint. I resented my mother and stepfather, and because I lacked an outlet to express my emotions, my young teenage self resorted to self-harm and restricting my meals. In my loss of control, I attempted to gain it back by physical harm. I was thirteen years old when my best friend broke down in tears, confessing that she was cutting her wrists out of desperation. I was fourteen years old when I overheard a classmate talking about her older sister’s eating disorder, and how she had been hospitalized for malnourishment. I was sixteen years old when I witnessed a co-worker answer a call that informed him his brother had taken his own life. I was seventeen years old when I held my best friend after he was bullied for his scars. Each of these moments acted as a time of reflection and consideration for my life and my future. Healthcare was my passion, I knew this, but I was unaware of how to help emotionally in times of need. In each of those moments, I felt helpless, unable to encourage, uplift, to fix any of the situations I was being presented with. After volunteer time at a local outpatient clinic, I was able to witness medical professionals acting as a support system for individuals struggling with emotional distress. Nurses and doctors who had dozens of patients to deal with took time out of their chaotic days to sit next to young women struggling with their appearance, or uplifting boys who felt helpless and unworthy. These interactions may not have impacted those healthcare providers, but they made every impact on those receiving their care. I strive to combine my support for mental health with my passion for healthcare by acting as a rock for people struggling in many of the ways I did, as every person matters far too much to fight their battles alone.

Attending all four years of high school at a small, private school meant that our graduation requirements were quite different than the public schools in Las Vegas. From the moment a new student stepped on campus, administrators and teachers made sure to remind them that graduation wasn’t just about getting decent grades, but actively engaging in our community- in the Las Vegas area and around the world. In late February of 2023, I was allowed to travel to Antigua, Guatemala, on one of my high school’s annual trips. This trip was led to assist several different hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After only a few hours of being surrounded by these individuals, my heart was touched by the intentionality and care provided by healthcare workers, which included nurses, physical therapists, and doctors. When speaking with the on-site staff at Hope for Home Ministries, an organization that acts as a foster home and health clinic for women, I was quickly made aware of the need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. Furthering my education past high school has been a long-term goal of mine for many years. As the daughter of a teacher and construction worker, I have been pushed to better myself in any way I can, which included attending a university that would provide me with the best education I could receive for my intended career path. However, over the past few months it became increasingly evident that I would need to take accountability for my debt, and committing to Baylor University came with the understanding that I would need outside financial assistance such as large student loans and scholarships. This scholarship would help me obtain my bachelor's degree with as minimal debt as possible, allowing me to choose a graduate program that best serves my interests in the field of Physical Therapy. As an aspiring doctor of physical therapy, my dream of attending more medically led trips to underprivileged countries and communities could become a reality, one that gives me motivation and purpose to continue my education to the best of my ability.

I was eight years old when I witnessed a fight between my parents that ended in my father walking out on my family. I knew that their marriage was flawed- years of arguing and my father’s extended absences were enough for even my youngest brother to realize that there was something very wrong with their relationship. However, witnessing my father storm out our front door and drive off into the dusky afternoon pained me more than my broken elbow had, or the eight stitches I got in my chin ever did. This was a new type of hurt, one that lingered and ached, provoking a sense of emptiness I had never experienced. Even still, I carried my burdens alone, being unable to express my feelings to anyone around me. My mother busied herself with her work, never taking time to process her abandonment, leaving the rest of my family to battle with our emotions alone. My mother eventually remarried my stepfather, a wonderful man who acted as the "glue" for our disjointed family. However, his introduction to my life did little to erase my inner desire of longing to see and be with my biological father. I was desperate for my dad- a horrible, narcissistic, addict of a man who in my mind had become elevated to the position of a saint. I resented my mother and stepfather, and because I lacked an outlet to express my emotions, my young teenage self resorted to self-harm and restricting my meals. In my loss of control, I attempted to gain it back by physical harm. I was thirteen years old when my best friend broke down in tears, confessing that she was cutting her wrists out of desperation. I was fourteen years old when I overheard a classmate talking about her older sister’s eating disorder, and how she had been hospitalized for malnourishment. I was sixteen years old when I witnessed a co-worker answer a call that informed him his brother had taken his own life. I was seventeen years old when I held my best friend after he was bullied for his scars. Each of these moments acted as a time of reflection and consideration for my life and my future. Healthcare was my passion, I knew this, but I was unaware of how to help emotionally in times of need. In each of those moments, I felt helpless, unable to encourage, uplift, to fix any of the situations I was being presented with. After volunteer time at a local outpatient clinic, I was able to witness medical professionals acting as a support system for individuals struggling with emotional distress. Nurses and doctors who had dozens of patients to deal with took time out of their chaotic days to sit next to young women struggling with their appearance, or uplifting boys who felt helpless and unworthy. These interactions may not have impacted those healthcare providers, but they made every impact on those receiving their care. I strive to combine my support for mental health with my passion for healthcare by acting as a rock for people struggling in many of the ways I did, as every person matters far too much to fight their battles alone.

Attending all four years of high school at a small, private school meant that our graduation requirements were quite different than the public schools in Las Vegas. From the moment a new student stepped on campus, administrators and teachers made sure to remind them that graduation wasn’t just about getting decent grades, but actively engaging in our community- in the Las Vegas area and around the world. In late February of 2023, I was given the opportunity to travel to Antigua, Guatemala, on one of my high school’s annual trips. This trip was led with the goal of assisting several different hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After only a few hours of being surrounded by these individuals, my heart was touched by the intentionality and care provided by healthcare workers, which included nurses, physical therapists, and doctors. When speaking with the on-site staff at Hope for Home Ministries, an organization that acts as a foster home and health clinic for women, I was quickly made aware of the need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. Furthering my education past high school has been a long-term goal of mine for many years. As the daughter of a teacher and construction worker, I have been pushed to better myself in any way I can, which included attending a university that would provide me with the best education I could receive for my intended career path. However, over the past few months it became increasingly evident that I would need to take accountability for my debt, and committing to Baylor University came with the understanding that I would need outside financial assistance such as large student loans and scholarships. This scholarship would help me obtain my bachelor's degree with as minimal debt as possible, allowing me to choose a graduate program that best serves my interests in the field of Physical Therapy. As an aspiring doctor of physical therapy, my dream of attending more medically led trips to underprivileged countries and communities could become a reality, one that gives me motivation and purpose to continue my education to the best of my ability.  Heavy metal music has been a part of my life since I was very young. Although my biological parents have been long since divorced, some of my earliest memories involve sitting in the back seat of my dad’s 1987 Ford pickup truck trying to understand the lyrics to his favorite artists. He would talk about Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden as if Tony Iommi and Bruce Dickinson were his best friends, and many life lessons were learned in the bed of that truck with Holy Diver by Dio playing in the background. Metal music will always be something that is a part of my life, as both nostalgia and pure enjoyment cause me to tune in to SiriusXM’s Liquid Metal station on my way to work or put on Spotify’s Metal Mix as I eat lunch. Metal music reminds me of my father and my promise to him that I would do all to the best of my ability, and I intend to keep that promise as I advance my education in the field of healthcare and emphasize the importance of global outreach.

I was eight years old when I witnessed a fight between my parents that ended in my father walking out on my family. I knew that their marriage was flawed- years of arguing and my father’s extended absences were enough for even my youngest brother to realize that there was something very wrong with their relationship. However, witnessing my father storm out our front door and drive off into the dusky afternoon pained me more than my broken elbow had, or the eight stitches I got in my chin ever did. This was a new type of hurt, one that lingered and ached, provoking a sense of emptiness I had never experienced. Even still, I carried my burdens alone, being unable to express my feelings to anyone around me. My mother busied herself with her work, never taking time to process her abandonment, leaving the rest of my family to battle with our emotions alone. My mother eventually remarried my stepfather, a wonderful man who acted as the "glue" for our disjointed family. However, his introduction to my life did little to erase my inner desire of longing to see and be with my biological father. I was desperate for my dad- a horrible, narcissistic, addict of a man who in my mind had become elevated to the position of a saint. I resented my mother and stepfather, and because I lacked an outlet to express my emotions, my young teenage self resorted to self-harm and restricting my meals. In my loss of control, I attempted to gain it back by physical harm. I was thirteen years old when my best friend broke down in tears, confessing that she was cutting her wrists out of desperation. I was fourteen years old when I overheard a classmate talking about her older sister’s eating disorder, and how she had been hospitalized for malnourishment. I was sixteen years old when I witnessed a co-worker answer a call that informed him his brother had taken his own life. I was seventeen years old when I held my best friend after he was bullied for his scars. Each of these moments acted as a time of reflection and consideration for my life and my future. Healthcare was my passion, I knew this, but I was unaware of how to help emotionally in times of need. In each of those moments, I felt helpless, unable to encourage, uplift, to fix any of the situations I was being presented with. After volunteer time at a local outpatient clinic, I was able to witness medical professionals acting as a support system for individuals struggling with emotional distress. Nurses and doctors who had dozens of patients to deal with took time out of their chaotic days to sit next to young women struggling with their appearance, or uplifting boys who felt helpless and unworthy. These interactions may not have impacted those healthcare providers, but they made every impact on those receiving their care. I strive to combine my support for mental health with my passion for healthcare by acting as a rock for people struggling in many of the ways I did, as every person matters far too much to fight their battles alone.

I was eight years old when I witnessed a fight between my parents that ended in my father walking out on my family. I knew that their marriage was flawed- years of arguing and my father’s extended absences were enough for even my youngest brother to realize that there was something very wrong with their relationship. However, witnessing my father storm out our front door and drive off into the dusky afternoon pained me more than my broken elbow had, or the eight stitches I got in my chin ever did. This was a new type of hurt, one that lingered and ached, provoking a sense of emptiness I had never experienced. Even still, I carried my burdens alone, being unable to express my feelings to anyone around me. My mother busied herself with her work, never taking time to process her abandonment, leaving the rest of my family to battle with our emotions alone. My mother eventually remarried my stepfather, a wonderful man who acted as the "glue" for our disjointed family. However, his introduction to my life did little to erase my inner desire of longing to see and be with my biological father. I was desperate for my dad- a horrible, narcissistic, addict of a man who in my mind had become elevated to the position of a saint. I resented my mother and stepfather, and because I lacked an outlet to express my emotions, my young teenage self resorted to self-harm and restricting my meals. In my loss of control, I attempted to gain it back by physical harm. I was thirteen years old when my best friend broke down in tears, confessing that she was cutting her wrists out of desperation. I was fourteen years old when I overheard a classmate talking about her older sister’s eating disorder, and how she had been hospitalized for malnourishment. I was sixteen years old when I witnessed a co-worker answer a call that informed him his brother had taken his own life. I was seventeen years old when I held my best friend after he was bullied for his scars. Each of these moments acted as a time of reflection and consideration for my life and my future. Healthcare was my passion, I knew this, but I was unaware of how to help emotionally in times of need. In each of those moments, I felt helpless, unable to encourage, uplift, to fix any of the situations I was being presented with. After volunteer time at a local outpatient clinic, I was able to witness medical professionals acting as a support system for individuals struggling with emotional distress. Nurses and doctors who had dozens of patients to deal with took time out of their chaotic days to sit next to young women struggling with their appearance, or uplifting boys who felt helpless and unworthy. These interactions may not have impacted those healthcare providers, but they made every impact on those receiving their care. I strive to combine my support for mental health with my passion for healthcare by acting as a rock for people struggling in many of the ways I did, as every person matters far too much to fight their battles alone.

The issue of affordability within the United States healthcare system remains a topic that I am incredibly moved by. Statistics show that one in every ten American citizens live their daily lives without health insurance- a risk many take because they simply cannot afford it or have no way of acquiring it. Over half of all citizens in the United States hold over ten thousand dollars worth of medical-related debt, and this number continues to climb as expenses rise and more jobs stop offering health insurance. It is for this reason that many professionals across the nation are beginning to be more accepting of value-based care, which is one of many ways the United States would be able to tackle the four trillion dollar debt related to medical expenses. Value-based care requires hospitals and providers to be paid based on the overall outcome of their work, improving the quality of life interests and dismantling the idea of paying medical professionals based on the number of procedures they perform or patients they see, which in turn benefits medical professionals and patients. As value-based care becomes more and more praised in our current healthcare system, we can tangibly see the changes that this system is having in the healthcare industry. When providers take more interest in their patients than numbers on a spreadsheet, it is proven to result in better patient health and encourage professional research and development. In the system of value-based care, innovation, and discovery are equally promoted as medical researchers seek new medicines and techniques meant to directly better the life of a patient, not the amount of money being funneled into a hospital or outpatient facility. Furthermore, the direct interest in patient health addresses and considers not only the immediate needs of a patient but also the social situations of that patient post-recovery. While it is true that value-based care will take a while to fully spread its influence across the hospital and healthcare system in the United States, the current research pushes me to accept value-based care and advocate for the inclusion of patient needs in medical decision-making. Doctors, surgeons, and other healthcare professionals should not be inclined to treat based on a paycheck but treat to truly assist a patients in their day-to-day lives. As our current healthcare system sits, we are missing an aspect of patient involvement, and out of all the flaws in our healthcare system, the problem of affordability is one that I would love to be involved with changing.

I was eight years old when I witnessed a fight between my parents that ended in my father walking out on my family. I knew that their marriage was flawed- years of arguing and my father’s extended absences were enough for even my youngest brother to realize that there was something very wrong with their relationship. However, witnessing my father storm out our front door and drive off into the dusky afternoon pained me more than my broken elbow had, or the eight stitches I got in my chin ever did. This was a new type of hurt, one that lingered and ached, provoking a sense of emptiness I had never experienced. Even still, I carried my burdens alone, being unable to express my feelings to anyone around me. My mother busied herself in her work, never taking time to process her own abandonment, leaving my siblings and I to handle our emotions alone. My mother eventually remarried my step-father, a wonderful addition to my family. However, his introduction to my life did not erase the feeling of longing for my biological father. I was desperate for my dad, that horrible, narcissistic, addict of a man who in my mind was elevated to a saint. I resented my mother and step-father, and because I lacked an outlet to express my emotions, my young teenage self resorted to self-harm and restricting my meals. In my loss of control, I attempted to gain it back by physical harm. I was thirteen years old when my best friend broke down in tears, confessing that she was cutting her wrists out of desperation. I was fourteen years old when I overheard a classmate talking about her older sister’s eating disorder, and how she had been hospitalized for malnourishment. I was sixteen years old when I witnessed a co-worker answer a call that informed him his best friend had taken his own life. I was seventeen years old when I held my best friend after he was made fun of for his scars. Each of these moments acted as a time of reflection and consideration for my life and my future. Healthcare was my passion, and being able to act as a medical support for individuals struggling with emotional distress will allow me to have an impact on the lives of those experiencing similar thoughts and actions as I did years ago.

In February of 2023, I was allowed to travel to Antigua, Guatemala, to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After over five days near these individuals, I developed intentional connections with each person I interacted with. Navigating both a language barrier and their physical or mental disabilities proved to be an easy task, as each passing moment I was granted to spend with them moved my heart closer and closer to theirs. Toward the end of my time in Guatemala, I was sitting with a young girl who had been diagnosed with cerebral palsy. We had spent over twelve total hours together, with me reading Dr. Seuse books in broken Spanish to her or accompanying her as she watched her favorite telenovela, all the while she lay next to me in her rickety hospital bed. That day was the last time I would have ever seen her, and I wept bitter tears when it was time for me to say my final goodbye. After what felt like hours of crying and convincing myself that I would somehow be able to get her on the plane back to America with me, I was jolted back to reality as a familiar hand clumsily brushed across my face- cold, unsteady, and small. With salty tears and mascara running down my face, I was stunned to see my young friend attempting to wipe the tears away from my eyes. Throughout my time in Guatemala, my heart was continually moved by both the intentionality and care provided by the medical staff and the overwhelming joy people diagnosed with seemingly terrible afflictions had for life. Their zeal for life appeared to outshine their physical or mental conditions, and with each person I met, I began to experience their joy creep into my life. When speaking with the on-site staff where I was volunteering, however, I recognized an overwhelming need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. My life has been radically changed since my time in Guatemala, and as every day passes, I am further convinced that a part of my heart belongs to volunteering with medical staff in third-world countries, where knowledge of proper treatment and training is limited. Whether my involvement is through donations or volunteer medical trips, I desire to provide an impact on these communities to spread awareness of mental or physical disability treatment and care.

In late February of 2023, I traveled to Antigua, Guatemala, to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After only a few hours of being surrounded by these individuals, my heart was touched by the intentionality and care provided by caretakers, which included nurses, physical therapists, and doctors. When speaking with the on-site staff at Hope for Home Ministries, an organization that acts as a foster home and health clinic for women, I was quickly made aware of the need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. During my time in Guatemala, I decided to pursue a career in the healthcare industry and recently committed to continuing my education at Baylor University for my undergraduate degree. Furthering my education past high school has been a long-term goal of mine for many years. As the daughter of a teacher and construction worker, I have been pushed to better myself in any way I can, which included attending a university that would provide me with the best education I could receive for my intended career path and future goals. Throughout my years in high school, I have focused on my academics to make my educational goal a reality, keeping a consistent 4.0-grade point average while taking dual credit classes and being a prominent member of the Lake Mead Christian Academy chapter of the National Honor Society. My work in the classroom has allowed me to enter my first year of college with over 40 transferable credits, cutting down the time I need to spend on my undergraduate degree and allowing me to obtain my master's degree even earlier. Outside the classroom, I have been continuously impacted by my community service experience, mission trips, and other volunteer work. My life has been radically changed since my time in Guatemala, and every day I am further convinced that a part of my heart belongs to volunteering with medical staff in third-world countries, where knowledge of proper treatment and training is limited. Whether my involvement is through donations or volunteer medical trips, I desire to impact these communities by spreading awareness of mental or physical disability treatment and care.

In late February of 2023 and 2024, I traveled to Antigua, Guatemala, on mission trips to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After only a few hours of being surrounded by these individuals, my heart was touched by the intentionality and care provided by caretakers, which included nurses, physical therapists, and doctors. When speaking with the on-site staff at Hope for Home Ministries, a Christian non-profit organization that acts as a foster home and health clinic for women, I was quickly made aware of the need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. During my time in Guatemala, I decided to pursue a career in the healthcare industry and recently committed to continuing my education at Baylor University for my undergraduate degree. Furthering my education past high school has been a long-term goal of mine for many years. As the daughter of a teacher and construction worker, I have been pushed to better myself in any way I can, which included attending a university that would provide me with the best education I could receive for my intended career path and future goals. Outside the classroom, I have been continuously impacted by my community service experience, mission trips, and other volunteer work. Many of my greatest accomplishments remain back in Guatemala, and spending intentional time and care with those individuals who cannot properly care for themselves is one experience I will never fail to be proud of. My life has been radically changed since my time in Guatemala, and every day I am further convinced that I am called to attend medical mission trips to third-world countries where knowledge of proper treatment and training is limited. Whether my involvement is through donations or volunteering on these medical trips through organizations such as Global Health Outreach, I desire to impact these communities by spreading awareness of mental or physical disability treatment and care.

In February of 2023, I was allowed to travel to Antigua, Guatemala, to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After over five days near these individuals, I developed intentional connections with each person I interacted with. Navigating both a language barrier and their physical or mental disabilities proved to be an easy task, as each passing moment I was granted to spend with them moved my heart closer and closer to theirs. Toward the end of my time in Guatemala, I was sitting with a young girl who had been diagnosed with cerebral palsy. We had spent over twelve total hours together, with me reading Dr. Seuse books in broken Spanish to her or accompanying her as she watched her favorite telenovela, all the while she lay next to me in her rickety hospital bed. That day was the last time I would have ever seen her, and I wept bitter tears when it was time for me to say my final goodbye. After what felt like hours of crying and convincing myself that I would somehow be able to get her on the plane back to America with me, I was jolted back to reality as a familiar hand clumsily brushed across my face- cold, unsteady, and small. With salty tears and mascara running down my face, I was stunned to see my young friend attempting to wipe the tears away from my eyes. Throughout my time in Guatemala, my heart was continually moved by both the intentionality and care provided by the medical staff and the overwhelming joy people diagnosed with seemingly terrible afflictions had for life. Their zeal for life appeared to outshine their physical or mental conditions, and with each person I met, I began to experience their joy creep into my life. When speaking with the on-site staff where I was volunteering, however, I recognized an overwhelming need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. My life has been radically changed since my time in Guatemala, and as every day passes, I am further convinced that a part of my heart belongs to volunteering with medical staff in third-world countries, where knowledge of proper treatment and training is limited. Whether my involvement is through donations or volunteer medical trips, I desire to provide an impact on these communities to spread awareness of mental or physical disability treatment and care.

In February of 2023, I was allowed to travel to Antigua, Guatemala, to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After over five days near these individuals, I developed intentional connections with each person I interacted with. Navigating both a language barrier and their physical or mental disabilities proved to be an easy task, as each passing moment I was granted to spend with them moved my heart closer and closer to theirs. Toward the end of my time in Guatemala, I was sitting with a young girl who had been diagnosed with cerebral palsy. We had spent over twelve total hours together, with me reading Dr. Seuse books in broken Spanish to her or accompanying her as she watched her favorite telenovela, all the while she lay next to me in her rickety hospital bed. That day was the last time I would have ever seen her, and I wept bitter tears when it was time for me to say my final goodbye. After what felt like hours of crying and convincing myself that I would somehow be able to get her on the plane back to America with me, I was jolted back to reality as a familiar hand clumsily brushed across my face- cold, unsteady, and small. With salty tears and mascara running down my face, I was stunned to see my young friend attempting to wipe the tears away from my eyes. Throughout my time in Guatemala, my heart was continually moved by both the intentionality and care provided by the medical staff and the overwhelming joy people diagnosed with seemingly terrible afflictions had for life. Their zeal for life appeared to outshine their physical or mental conditions, and with each person I met, I began to experience their joy creep into my life. When speaking with the on-site staff where I was volunteering, however, I recognized an overwhelming need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. My life has been radically changed since my time in Guatemala, and as every day passes, I am further convinced that a part of my heart belongs to volunteering with medical staff in third-world countries, where knowledge of proper treatment and training is limited. Whether my involvement is through donations or volunteer medical trips, I desire to provide an impact on these communities to spread awareness of mental or physical disability treatment and care.

In February of 2023, I was allowed to travel to Antigua, Guatemala, to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After over five days near these individuals, I developed intentional connections with each person I interacted with. Navigating both a language barrier and their physical or mental disabilities proved to be an easy task, as each passing moment I was granted to spend with them moved my heart closer and closer to theirs. Toward the end of my time in Guatemala, I was sitting with a young girl who had been diagnosed with cerebral palsy. We had spent over twelve total hours together, with me reading Dr. Seuse books in broken Spanish to her or accompanying her as she watched her favorite telenovela, all the while she lay next to me in her rickety hospital bed. That day was the last time I would have ever seen her, and I wept bitter tears when it was time for me to say my final goodbye. After what felt like hours of crying and convincing myself that I would somehow be able to get her on the plane back to America with me, I was jolted back to reality as a familiar hand clumsily brushed across my face- cold, unsteady, and small. With salty tears and mascara running down my face, I was stunned to see my young friend attempting to wipe the tears away from my eyes. Throughout my time in Guatemala, my heart was continually moved by both the intentionality and care provided by the medical staff and the overwhelming joy people diagnosed with seemingly terrible afflictions had for life. Their zeal for life appeared to outshine their physical or mental conditions, and with each person I met, I began to experience their joy creep into my life. When speaking with the on-site staff where I was volunteering, however, I recognized an overwhelming need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. My life has been radically changed since my time in Guatemala, and as every day passes, I am further convinced that a part of my heart belongs to volunteering with medical staff in third-world countries, where knowledge of proper treatment and training is limited. Whether my involvement is through donations or volunteer medical trips, I desire to provide an impact on these communities to spread awareness of mental or physical disability treatment and care.

As the intercom beeped loudly and the garbled voice on the other end of the phone demanded my presence in a conference room, all eyes snapped to me as I slowly gathered the belongings I had strewn about my cramped desk and crept out of the stuffy classroom. I could tell I was dragging my feet down the hall, dreading what was going to happen for the next half hour, except that half an hour would turn into an all-day therapy session in which I wanted no involvement. I knew what they wanting me for, I could picture some pencil of a woman with her iPad asking me question after question about how I was feeling, what home was like, how my siblings were handling the sudden loss of my father. The top of the stairs seemed like the gateway to my eternal prison, and as I steadied myself against the cold metal railing, my eyes found themselves staring back at my farmiliar self. My face, my hair, my stature, and even my expression were the spitting image of my father. I felt sick to my stomach, and tearing away my eyes I turned and fled to the conference room where I was summoned. Somehow, spending a few hours being tortured into discussing my feelings with a shrink felt easier than looking in a mirror, where all I would see was my dad staring back at me. banister My father abandoned our family when I was just eleven years old. As the oldest daughter of a now single mother, I picked up the responsibility of acting as a parent figure for my siblings. While my mother was hard at work being a principal of an elementary school, I became a tutor. When she was busy in the classroom as a teacher, I became a personal chef and chauffeur. Missing out on activities or gatherings because I had to look after my younger siblings became an average part of my life. Although it was tempted to be bitter and to blame, I understood that the sudden loss of my father was just as jarring to the rest of my family as it was for me. His symbolic death was raw and painful, just like any death is, and my mother had every right to grieve. Grace and kindness got me through those times when my siblings and I against the world, not a support system in sight. The times I could have spent in a self-pitying pile were instead spent in ensuring that my siblings were taken care of and that my mother was able to work without worrying about us. Those times were difficult, I cannot lie, but they were made much better by enjoying each moment as it came instead of wasting my time wrapped up in my circumstances.

In late February of 2023, I traveled to Antigua, Guatemala, to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After only a few hours of being surrounded by these individuals, my heart was touched by the intentionality and care provided by caretakers, which included nurses, physical therapists, and doctors. When speaking with the on-site staff at Hope for Home Ministries, an organization that acts as a foster home and health clinic for women, I was quickly made aware of the need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. Many organizations and hospitals I assisted had a specific outreach dedicated to women's health and wellness. Unfortunately, there are little to no resources readily available for women, especially when they are pregnant or postpartum. Nonprofit organizations such as Hope for Home Ministries invest much of their time and donations in pre-birth and post-birth care, as they have recognized this need for women's healthcare and have developed plans to train and equip individuals with knowledge and resources to care for mothers throughout the development of their pregnancy. Volunteering with these ministries and organizations allowed me to see this need firsthand, and I developed an interest in women's health and wellness, which has continued to grow since being home in America. During my time in Guatemala, I decided to pursue a career in the healthcare industry and recently committed to continuing my education at Baylor University for my undergraduate degree. Furthering my education past high school has been a long-term goal of mine for many years. As the daughter of a teacher and construction worker, I have been pushed to better myself in any way I can, which included attending a university that would provide me with the best education I could receive for my intended career path and future goals. Outside the classroom, I have been continuously impacted by my community service experience, mission trips, and other volunteer work. My life has been radically changed since my time in Guatemala, and every day I am further convinced that a part of my heart belongs to volunteering with medical staff in third-world countries, where knowledge of proper treatment and training is limited. Whether my involvement is through donations or volunteer medical trips, I desire to impact these communities by spreading awareness of mental or physical disability treatment and care.

In late February of 2023, I traveled to Antigua, Guatemala, to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After only a few hours of being surrounded by these individuals, my heart was touched by the intentionality and care provided by caretakers, which included nurses, physical therapists, and doctors. When speaking with the on-site staff at Hope for Home Ministries, an organization that acts as a foster home and health clinic for women, I was quickly made aware of the need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. Many organizations and hospitals I assisted had a specific outreach dedicated to women's health and wellness. Unfortunately, there are little to no resources readily available for women, especially when they are pregnant or postpartum. Nonprofit organizations such as Hope for Home Ministries invest much of their time and donations in pre-birth and post-birth care, as they have recognized this need for women's healthcare and have developed plans to train and equip individuals with knowledge and resources to care for mothers throughout the development of their pregnancy. Volunteering with these ministries and organizations allowed me to see this need firsthand, and I developed an interest in women's health and wellness, which has continued to grow since being home in America. During my time in Guatemala, I decided to pursue a career in the healthcare industry and recently committed to continuing my education at Baylor University for my undergraduate degree. Furthering my education past high school has been a long-term goal of mine for many years. As the daughter of a teacher and construction worker, I have been pushed to better myself in any way I can, which included attending a university that would provide me with the best education I could receive for my intended career path and future goals. Outside the classroom, I have been continuously impacted by my community service experience, mission trips, and other volunteer work. My life has been radically changed since my time in Guatemala, and every day I am further convinced that a part of my heart belongs to volunteering with medical staff in third-world countries, where knowledge of proper treatment and training is limited. Whether my involvement is through donations or volunteer medical trips, I desire to impact these communities by spreading awareness of mental or physical disability treatment and care.

As the intercom beeped loudly and the voice on the other end of the phone demanded my presence in a conference room, all eyes snapped to me as I slowly gathered my belongings and crept out of the classroom. I could tell I was dragging my feet down the hall, dreading what was going to happen for the next half hour; except that half an hour would turn into an all-day therapy session in which I wanted no involvement. I knew what they wanted me for, I could picture some pencil of a woman with her iPad asking me question after question, about how I was feeling, what home was like, how my siblings were handling the sudden loss of my father. The top of the stairs seemed like the gateway to my eternal prison, and as I steadied myself against the cold, metal banister my eyes found themselves staring back at my unkempt self. Everything about me mirrored the image of my father. I felt sick to my stomach, and tearing my eyes away I turned and fled to the conference room where I knew I was being summoned. Somehow, spending a few hours being tortured into discussing my feelings with some shrink felt easier than looking in a mirror, where all I would see was my father staring back at me. Loss is typically defined as the deprivation of someone or something by death. The emotions connected to the loss of a loved one by death bring about stress, grief, and emotional torment, even more so if what one experiences is abrupt. When I tell my story of grief, those listening typically assume that the absence of my father was similarly brought about by an unforeseen death, leaving us without closure or understanding. I suppose in a way they are right, except they often get one detail very wrong. The loss I experienced involving my father was unexpected, and it did leave my family and me without closure. We were left emotionally destroyed, wondering, “Why us? Why this family?”. The death of my father was not simply physical, however, but his death in our family was symbolic, as the sudden desertion of his life was just as raw, painful, and unplanned as many deaths are. In that conference room, I was confronted firsthand with my feelings of abandonment and loss. The woman sitting across from me was not who I expected, but a young, pleasant woman who took our time at my pace. Those few hours I was there did not heal my heart or magically fix my emotional affliction, but I exited that room with a different outlook than when I had walked in. Over the years following the loss of my father, I experienced emotional highs and lows as I fought to seek understanding and peace that I believed would cure me of my abandonment. What mattered most to me began to shift from pleasing others to discovering myself- my truths, my understanding, and my future. The transition from high school to college life has been especially difficult for me as I dwell on what my father has missed over the last seven years. As I look back on my accomplishments and experiences, I imagine what he would have felt watching me from the audience, witnessing my first day of high school, my first job interview, my first prom, and my final walk across the stage. Each time I find myself dwelling on my father, I remember how hard I fought to achieve acceptance and peace, without being obstructed by the limitations of abandonment and distress.

In February of 2023, I was allowed to travel to Antigua, Guatemala, to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After over five days near these individuals, I developed intentional connections with each person I interacted with. Navigating both a language barrier and their physical or mental disabilities proved to be an easy task, as each passing moment I was granted to spend with them moved my heart closer and closer to theirs. Toward the end of my time in Guatemala, I was sitting with a young girl who had been diagnosed with cerebral palsy. We had spent over twelve total hours together, with me reading Dr. Seuse books in broken Spanish to her or accompanying her as she watched her favorite telenovela, all the while she lay next to me in her rickety hospital bed. That day was the last time I would have ever seen her, and I wept bitter tears when it was time for me to say my final goodbye. After what felt like hours of crying and convincing myself that I would somehow be able to get her on the plane back to America with me, I was jolted back to reality as a familiar hand clumsily brushed across my face- cold, unsteady, and small. With salty tears and mascara running down my face, I was stunned to see my young friend attempting to wipe the tears away from my eyes. Throughout my time in Guatemala, my heart was continually moved by both the intentionality and care provided by the medical staff and the overwhelming joy people diagnosed with seemingly terrible afflictions had for life. Their zeal for life appeared to outshine their physical or mental conditions, and with each person I met, I began to experience their joy creep into my life. When speaking with the on-site staff where I was volunteering, however, I recognized an overwhelming need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. My life has been radically changed since my time in Guatemala, and as every day passes, I am further convinced that a part of my heart belongs to volunteering with medical staff in third-world countries, where knowledge of proper treatment and training is limited. Whether my involvement is through donations or volunteer medical trips, I desire to provide an impact on these communities to spread awareness of mental or physical disability treatment and care.

In late February of 2023, I was able to travel to Antigua, Guatemala, to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After only a few hours of being surrounded by these individuals, my heart was touched by the intentionality and care provided by caretakers, which included nurses, physical therapists, and doctors. When speaking with the on-site staff at Hope for Home Ministries, an organization that acts as a foster home and health clinic for women, I was quickly made aware of the need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. During my time in Guatemala, I decided to pursue a career in the healthcare industry and recently committed to continuing my education at Baylor University for my undergraduate degree. Furthering my education past high school has been a long-term goal of mine for many years. As the daughter of a teacher and construction worker, I have been pushed to better myself in any way I can, which included attending a university that would provide me with the best education I could receive for my intended career path. Throughout my years in high school, I have focused on my academics to make my educational goal a reality, keeping a consistent 4.0-grade point average while taking dual credit classes and being a prominent member of the Lake Mead Christian Academy chapter of the National Honor Society. My work in the classroom has allowed me to enter my first year of college with over 40 transferable credits, cutting down the time I need to spend on my undergraduate degree and allowing me to obtain my master's degree even earlier. Outside the classroom, I have been involved in community service, mission trips, and other volunteer work, as well as holding a job since my junior year of high school. Each activity I have involved myself in has allowed me to develop time management skills and manage a work-life balance, which is essential to the success of an individual in an environment such as a University. Throughout my senior year in high school, it became evident that I would be solely responsible for furthering my education and, in consequence, take accountability for my debt. Committing to Baylor University came with the understanding that I would need outside financial assistance, as attending a university that costs well over seventy-five thousand dollars a year was outside what I could reasonably afford. This scholarship would help me obtain my bachelor's degree, which would help me travel to underprivileged countries and engage in more medical mission trips and outreaches. Receiving this scholarship will allow me to pursue and achieve my educational goals so I can use my knowledge and skills to better the lives of those who are unable to access proper medical information themselves.

In February of 2023, I was allowed to travel to Antigua, Guatemala, to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After over five days near these individuals, I developed intentional connections with each person I interacted with. Navigating both a language barrier and their physical or mental disabilities proved to be an easy task, as each passing moment I was granted to spend with them moved my heart closer and closer to theirs. Toward the end of my time in Guatemala, I was sitting with a young girl who had been diagnosed with cerebral palsy. We had spent over twelve total hours together, with me reading Dr. Seuse books in broken Spanish to her or accompanying her as she watched her favorite telenovela, all the while she lay next to me in her rickety hospital bed. That day was the last time I would have ever seen her, and I wept bitter tears when it was time for me to say my final goodbye. After what felt like hours of crying and convincing myself that I would somehow be able to get her on the plane back to America with me, I was jolted back to reality as a familiar hand clumsily brushed across my face- cold, unsteady, and small. With salty tears and mascara running down my face, I was stunned to see my young friend attempting to wipe the tears away from my eyes. Throughout my time in Guatemala, my heart was continually moved by the medical staff's intentionality and care and the overwhelming joy people diagnosed with seemingly terrible afflictions had for life. Their zeal for life appeared to outshine their physical or mental conditions, and with each person I met, I began to experience their joy creep into my life. When speaking with the on-site staff where I was volunteering, however, I recognized an overwhelming need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. My greatest accomplishment and support system remains back in Guatemala, along with a piece of my heart. Spending intentional time and care with those individuals who cannot properly care for themselves is one experience I will never fail to be proud of. As my time in Guatemala has changed my perspective on my future career path, I will be forever grateful to the people who welcomed me and allowed me to experience true love for people.

In February of 2023, I was allowed to travel to Antigua, Guatemala, to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After over five days near these individuals, I developed intentional connections with each person I interacted with. Navigating both a language barrier and their physical or mental disabilities proved to be an easy task, as each passing moment I was granted to spend with them moved my heart closer and closer to theirs. Toward the end of my time in Guatemala, I was sitting with a young girl who had been diagnosed with cerebral palsy. We had spent over twelve total hours together, with me reading Dr. Seuse books in broken Spanish to her or accompanying her as she watched her favorite telenovela, all the while she lay next to me in her rickety hospital bed. That day was the last time I would have ever seen her, and I wept bitter tears when it was time for me to say my final goodbye. After what felt like hours of crying and convincing myself that I would somehow be able to get her on the plane back to America with me, I was jolted back to reality as a familiar hand clumsily brushed across my face- cold, unsteady, and small. With salty tears and mascara running down my face, I was stunned to see my young friend attempting to wipe the tears away from my eyes. Throughout my time in Guatemala, my heart was continually moved by both the intentionality and care provided by the medical staff and the overwhelming joy people diagnosed with seemingly terrible afflictions had for life. Their zeal for life appeared to outshine their physical or mental conditions, and with each person I met, I began to experience their joy creep into my life. When speaking with the on-site staff where I was volunteering, however, I recognized an overwhelming need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. My life has been radically changed since my time in Guatemala, and as every day passes, I am further convinced that a part of my heart belongs to volunteering with medical staff in third-world countries, where knowledge of proper treatment and training is limited. Whether my involvement is through donations or volunteer medical trips, I desire to provide an impact on these communities to spread awareness of mental or physical disability treatment and care.

In February of 2023, I was allowed to travel to Antigua, Guatemala, to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After over five days near these individuals, I developed intentional connections with each person I interacted with. Navigating both a language barrier and their physical or mental disabilities proved to be an easy task, as each passing moment I was granted to spend with them moved my heart closer and closer to theirs. Toward the end of my time in Guatemala, I was sitting with a young girl who had been diagnosed with cerebral palsy. We had spent over twelve total hours together, with me reading Dr. Seuse books in broken Spanish to her or accompanying her as she watched her favorite telenovela, all the while she lay next to me in her rickety hospital bed. That day was the last time I would have ever seen her, and I wept bitter tears when it was time for me to say my final goodbye. After what felt like hours of crying and convincing myself that I would somehow be able to get her on the plane back to America with me, I was jolted back to reality as a familiar hand clumsily brushed across my face- cold, unsteady, and small. With salty tears and mascara running down my face, I was stunned to see my young friend attempting to wipe the tears away from my eyes. Throughout my time in Guatemala, my heart was continually moved by both the intentionality and care provided by the medical staff and the overwhelming joy people diagnosed with seemingly terrible afflictions had for life. Their zeal for life appeared to outshine their physical or mental conditions, and with each person I met, I began to experience their joy creep into my life. When speaking with the on-site staff where I was volunteering, however, I recognized an overwhelming need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. My greatest accomplishments remain back in Guatemala, along with a piece of my heart. Spending intentional time and care with those individuals who cannot properly care for themselves is one experience I will never fail to be proud of. As my time in Guatemala has changed my perspective on my future career path, I will be forever grateful to the people who welcomed me and allowed me to experience true love for people.

In late February of 2023, I traveled to Antigua, Guatemala, to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After only a few hours of being surrounded by these individuals, my heart was touched by the intentionality and care provided by caretakers, which included nurses, physical therapists, and doctors. When speaking with the on-site staff at Hope for Home Ministries, an organization that acts as a foster home and health clinic for women, I was quickly made aware of the need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. During my time in Guatemala, I decided to pursue a career in the healthcare industry and recently committed to continuing my education at Baylor University for my undergraduate degree. Furthering my education past high school has been a long-term goal of mine for many years. As the daughter of a teacher and construction worker, I have been pushed to better myself in any way I can, which included attending a university that would provide me with the best education I could receive for my intended career path and future goals. Outside the classroom, I have been continuously impacted by my community service experience, mission trips, and other volunteer work. My life has been radically changed since my time in Guatemala, and every day I am further convinced that a part of my heart belongs to volunteering with medical staff in third-world countries, where knowledge of proper treatment and training is limited. Whether my involvement is through donations or volunteer medical trips, I desire to impact these communities by spreading awareness of mental or physical disability treatment and care.

In February of 2023, I was allowed to travel to Antigua, Guatemala, to assist several hospitals and homes created for mentally and physically disabled Guatemalans. After over five days near these individuals, I developed intentional connections with each person I interacted with. Navigating both a language barrier and their physical or mental disabilities proved to be an easy task, as each passing moment I was granted to spend with them moved my heart closer and closer to theirs. Toward the end of my time in Guatemala, I was sitting with a young girl who had been diagnosed with cerebral palsy. We had spent over twelve total hours together, with me reading Dr. Seuse books in broken Spanish to her or accompanying her as she watched her favorite telenovela, all the while she lay next to me in her rickety hospital bed. That day was the last time I would have ever seen her, and I wept bitter tears when it was time for me to say my final goodbye. After what felt like hours of crying and convincing myself that I would somehow be able to get her on the plane back to America with me, I was jolted back to reality as a familiar hand clumsily brushed across my face- cold, unsteady, and small. With salty tears and mascara running down my face, I was stunned to see my young friend attempting to wipe the tears away from my eyes. Throughout my time in Guatemala, my heart was continually moved by both the intentionality and care provided by the medical staff and the overwhelming joy people diagnosed with seemingly terrible afflictions had for life. Their zeal for life appeared to outshine their physical or mental conditions, and with each person I met, I began to experience their joy creep into my life. When speaking with the on-site staff where I was volunteering, however, I recognized an overwhelming need for well-trained individuals to share their knowledge of how to treat those affected by disorders such as cerebral palsy, shaken baby syndrome, and high fevers as infants. Upon arriving back in the United States, I began researching jobs that would allow me to further my knowledge of diseases and afflictions and then share it with those who need it most. My time in Guatemala has changed how I view my life and education, pushing me to better myself so I can improve the lives of those who do not have the resources to do so themselves. My life has been radically changed since my time in Guatemala, and as every day passes, I am further convinced that a part of my heart belongs to volunteering with medical staff in third-world countries, where knowledge of proper treatment and training is limited. Whether my involvement is through donations or volunteer medical trips, I desire to provide an impact on these communities to spread awareness of mental or physical disability treatment and care.

As the intercom beeped loudly and the garbled voice on the other end of the phone demanded my presence in a conference room, all eyes snapped to me as I slowly gathered the belongings I had strewn about my cramped desk and crept out of the stuffy classroom. I could tell I was dragging my feet down the hall, dreading what was going to happen for the next half hour; except that half an hour would turn into an all-day therapy session in which I wanted no involvement. I knew what they wanted me for, I could picture some pencil of a woman with her iPad asking me question after question, about how I was feeling, what home was like, how my siblings were handling the sudden loss of my father. The top of the stairs seemed like the gateway to my eternal prison, and as I steadied myself against the cold, metal banister my eyes found themselves staring back at my unkempt self. My face, my hair, my stature, and even my expression- all showed the spitting image of my father. I felt sick to my stomach, and tearing my eyes away I turned and fled to the conference room where I knew I was being summoned. Somehow, spending a few hours being tortured into discussing my feelings with some shrink felt easier than looking in a mirror, where all I would see was my dad staring back at me. Loss is typically defined as the deprivation of someone or something by death. The emotions connected to the loss of a loved one by death bring about stress, grief, and emotional torment, even more so if what one experiences is abrupt or without warning. When I tell my story of grief, those listening typically assume that the absence of my father was similarly brought about by an unforeseen death, leaving us without closure or understanding. I suppose in a way they are right, except they often get one detail very wrong. The loss I experienced involving my father was unexpected, and it did leave my family and me without closure. We were left emotionally destroyed, wondering, “Why us? Why this family?”. The death of my father was not simply physical, however, but his death in our family was symbolic, as the sudden desertion of his life was just as raw, painful, and unplanned as many deaths are. In that prison of a conference room, I was confronted firsthand with my inner feelings of abandonment and loss. The woman sitting across from me was not the thin owl I expected, but a young, pleasant woman who took our time at my pace. Those few hours I was there did not heal my heart or magically fix my emotional affliction, but I exited that room with a different outlook than when I had walked in. Over the years following the loss of my father, I experienced emotional highs and lows as I fought to seek understanding and peace that I believed would cure me of my abandonment. What mattered most to me began to shift from pleasing others to discovering myself- my truths, my understanding, and my future. The transition from high school to college life has been especially difficult for me as I dwell on what my father has missed over the last seven years. As I look back on my accomplishments, achievements, and experiences, I imagine what he would have felt watching me from the audience, witnessing my first day of high school, my first job interview, my first prom, and my final walk across the stage. Each time I find myself dwelling on my father, I remember how hard I fought to achieve acceptance and peace, without being obstructed by the limitations of abandonment and distress.