Scholarship Essay: How My Mother’s Passing Shaped Me On March 3, 2022, my world changed forever. I was only 16 when my mother passed away, and her death left a hole in my life that I’m still learning how to live with. We didn’t have the perfect mother-daughter relationship. In fact, I spent most of my childhood yearning for a bond that never fully formed. But she was still my mother, and losing her felt like losing a part of myself. The hardest part is the last memory I have of her. She asked me for a hug and a kiss, and I said no. We had just argued, and I was still upset. I didn’t know that would be the last time I’d ever see her. I’ve carried that moment with me for years—blaming myself, wishing I could take it back, just to say “I love you” one more time. That regret has shaped me in ways I never expected. It taught me how fragile life is, how important forgiveness is, and how deeply words and actions matter. Her passing came just a month before I entered foster care. I was already dealing with abandonment, instability, and trauma, and losing my mother added another layer of pain. I didn’t get to have her by my side during high school. No prom together. No birthdays. No one to help me fill out college applications or celebrate my wins. I had to figure things out on my own, and that forced me to grow up fast. Now I’m 20 years old, and I’m proud of how far I’ve come. I’m a psychology major at Delaware State University, and I’m working toward becoming a clinical psychologist. I want to help others heal from trauma because I know what it feels like to carry pain that no one sees. My mother’s death didn’t just break me—it built me. It gave me a deeper understanding of grief, regret, and resilience. It taught me how to show up for others with compassion and patience. Her absence has made me more intentional. I don’t take relationships for granted. I speak love when I feel it. I forgive faster. I listen deeper. And I’ve made it my mission to create spaces where people feel safe to be vulnerable, to heal, and to grow. This scholarship would mean so much to me. Without family financial support, every expense falls on me. Winning this scholarship would help me stay focused on my education and begin saving for my future goals. I plan to open a transitional home called The Shepherd’s Children—a safe space for girls aging out of foster care. It will be a place of healing, structure, and love. A place that says, “You matter. You’re not alone.” I want to build what I never had. My mother’s passing shaped me into someone who fights for others. Someone who turns pain into purpose. Someone who believes that even in the darkest moments, there’s still light to be found. I carry her memory with me—not just in sadness, but in strength. And I’m determined to make her proud.

Being the first in my family to graduate high school and attend college is more than a milestone—it’s a mission. I carry the hopes of those who came before me and the responsibility to break cycles of trauma, poverty, and silence. My journey hasn’t been easy. I’ve faced abandonment, foster care, homelessness, and deep mental health struggles. But each challenge has shaped my purpose and fueled my passion for healing. As a psychology major, my goal is to earn a doctorate in clinical psychology and open my own practice. I want to specialize in trauma-informed care, especially for youth and women who feel unseen. My experiences have taught me what it means to suffer in silence, and I’m determined to be the kind of therapist who listens, understands, and empowers. Being a first-generation college student influences my career goals by reminding me that I’m paving a new path—not just for myself, but for others like me. I know what it’s like to feel lost, and I want to help others find their way. I also plan to open a transitional home called The Shepherd’s Children, a safe space for girls aging out of foster care. It will be a place of healing, structure, and love—everything I needed when I was younger. This scholarship would help me stay focused on my education and begin saving for my future goals. Without family financial support, every expense falls on me. Receiving this scholarship would be a step toward stability and a jumpstart toward building the legacy I envision. I’m not just chasing a career—I’m building a future rooted in purpose, compassion, and change. Being a first-generation student means I get to rewrite the story, and I’m doing it with intention and heart.

I am the first in my family to graduate from high school and the first to attend college. That sentence alone carries weight, because the road here was not easy. I’ve endured trauma that shaped me, challenged me, and ultimately pushed me to become someone who refuses to give up. My past is painful, but my future is full of purpose—and I’m determined to build something that not only heals me, but helps others heal too. I didn’t grow up with stability. I experienced abandonment throughout my life. At 13, I was raped. At 14, I was moved to a different state to live with my aunts, but after two years, they no longer wanted me. They dropped me off in Delaware with rocks in my duffle bag and left me there. That moment shattered my sense of safety. I turned to drinking and smoking to cope. I was depressed, angry, and lost. I went through multiple mental institutions and residential homes. At 16, I entered foster care. A month later, my mother passed away. That loss deepened my depression and triggered intense anxiety and bipolar episodes. I was homeless at 18. At 19, I was in an abusive relationship—physically and mentally. But I’m still here. I’m now a psychology major at Delaware State University, working toward my dream of becoming a clinical psychologist. My goal is to earn my doctorate and open my own practice where I can provide trauma-informed care to people who feel like no one understands them. I want to specialize in helping youth, especially those in foster care, because I know what it feels like to be tossed around, unheard, and unseen. I want to be the kind of therapist who listens deeply, who sees the whole person, and who helps others find their strength again. Beyond my private practice, I have a bigger dream: to open a transitional home called The Shepherd’s Children. This home will serve young girls and women in foster care who are about to age out or who are still navigating the system. It will be a safe space filled with love, structure, and healing. I want it to be the kind of place I needed when I was younger—a place that says, “You matter. You’re not alone. You have a future.” The Bright Lights Scholarship would be a huge help in making these dreams possible. As someone who doesn’t have financial support from family, every expense falls on me. This scholarship would help me cover the costs of tuition, books, and living essentials so I can stay focused on my education. It would also allow me to begin saving for my future goals—especially for the transitional home I plan to build. This scholarship isn’t just money to me; it’s a jumpstart toward a future that’s bigger than me. It’s an investment in someone who’s determined to turn pain into purpose. I’ve come a long way, and I still have a long way to go. But I’m committed to the journey. I’m committed to becoming a psychologist who brings light into dark places. I’m committed to building The Shepherd’s Children and creating a legacy of healing and hope. I’m committed to showing other young women that your past doesn’t define your future—and that you can rise, even when everything around you tells you to fall. Thank you for considering me for the Bright Lights Scholarship. I promise to carry this opportunity with honor, and to use it to shine light for others who are still finding their way

Mental Health Scholarship Essay I didn’t have a great childhood. I experienced abandonment, instability, and trauma from a young age. At 13, I was raped. At 14, I was moved to a different state to live with my aunts, but after about two years, they no longer wanted me. They dropped me off in Delaware with rocks in my duffle bag and left me there. That moment broke something in me. I felt discarded, like I didn’t matter. I started drinking and smoking to cope. I was depressed, angry, and lost. I went through multiple mental institutions and residential homes. At 16, I entered foster care. A month later, my mother passed away. That loss deepened my depression and triggered intense anxiety and bipolar episodes. I was homeless at 18. At 19, I was in an abusive relationship—physically and mentally. I’ve seen the darkest parts of life. But I’m still here. I’ve battled depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder for years. I’ve had moments where I didn’t think I’d make it. But I’ve learned how to fight for myself. I’ve learned how to sit with my pain, how to ask for help, and how to keep going. I’ve learned how to turn my story into strength. Now, I’m a psychology major at Delaware State University. I chose this path because I want to understand the mind, the pain, and the healing process—not just for myself, but for others. I’ve lived through trauma, and I know what it feels like to be invisible, unheard, and misunderstood. I also know what it takes to fight your way back. I’m still healing. I still have hard days. But I’ve grown into someone who can look back and say, “I made it through.” I’ve found ways to cope that don’t involve hurting myself. I’ve found peace in my faith, in writing poetry, and in helping others. Moving forward, I will support others by creating safe spaces for honest conversations. I plan to lead peer support groups, speak at youth events, and use my poetry and spoken word to raise awareness about mental health. I want to help people name what they’re going through and know they’re not alone. I want to be the person I needed when I was younger. I also want to advocate for better mental health resources, especially for youth in foster care and underserved communities. I know what it’s like to be placed in a system that doesn’t always see your pain. I want to change that. I want to use my education, my voice, and my lived experience to push for more compassion, more understanding, and more support. My mission is to break the stigma around mental health, especially in communities where silence is the norm. I want to help others feel safe enough to speak up, to ask for help, and to believe in their own healing. I want to show people that your past doesn’t define your future. I didn’t choose my pain, but I choose to use it—for healing, for hope, and for others who are still finding their way. I’m committed to being a light in dark places, and to reminding people that even when life feels impossible, there is still a reason to keep going.