I considered myself a “chill” kid. Slightly anxious, decently awkward, but relatively stable and laidback. I was a good student and adored by parents and teachers alike. I knew mental illness existed, but I felt untouched by the epidemic yet academically interested in the field of psychology. My mom suffered with depressive symptoms, but not to any severe extent. During my senior year of high school, however, my life and my stability were destroyed. In January 2021, my mom began exhibiting symptoms of a manic and psychotic episode. At the time, her Bipolar Disorder was unknown to me, and my brilliant father was dumbfounded. We lost ourselves to her episode; I could not focus on school and he could not focus on his work. Her manic episode drove her to violent outbreaks, and she was eventually hospitalized involuntarily. Eventually the smoke cleared, and I started to look into colleges. My dad booked a flight for my mom and me, and we toured a couple colleges up north. But during that two-day trip, my dad commit suicide in our home. He was the best man, the best person, I could’ve hoped to know. He was brilliant, thoughtful, and truly inspiring to any person dedicating to learning or improving the world. He was the calm within our storm of a family, and I never imagined him not being in my life. He quite literally seemed immortal. From that day, April 12, to the end of summer. I do not really remember speaking. I know people came over to see me, but I did not know how to contribute to any conversation. I was numb and in constant agony. That pain is a pain I wish upon no one, but unfortunately too many people experience it. To cope with this unprecedented grief, I started using marijuana and ended up in some kind of psychosis – like mother, like daughter. Coincidentally, my mom was in the psychiatric hospital once again. I remained in college while simultaneously seeing two therapists and seeking psychiatry. Then the Spring came, and so did a dark depression. I lost my connection to my therapists and sought no help. I constantly thought of ending my own life. I was worthless, in my eyes. I ended a romantic relationship and found myself again briefly, but then the depression returned. I engaged in self-harm and avoided every relationship in my life. I didn’t register for classes for the next semester because I did not think I would be alive. I withdrew from my classes and considered dropping out. But I refused to lose my life in the same manner that I lost my dad. I saw how his death hurt the people around him, and I could not let myself cause that contagious harm. In the summer between semesters, I sought out psychiatry and therapy once again. I started exercising and engaging in small tasks that would improve my stability. I found my personality and worth again, which is not an easy feat. I finished my last semester of college – a semester earlier than the typical track. Through all of my mental struggles, I mainted academic honors for all 7 semesters, earned scholarships, wrote my own curriculum, and pioneered a capstone project in art for wellness. It has been 7 months since that summer, and I have never been more confident in my ability to handle my life and my mind. At the end of this month, I will be moving to Chicago to start working as a child welfare specialist in a foster care agency, and will later be attending graduate school to earn a dual master’s degree in Art Therapy and Counseling. In the interview for the graduate program, the interviewer asked me “how will you manage your own wellbeing during school?” – and it was the easiest question to answer. I will continue to engage in psychiatry and therapy. I recently signed up for a National Alliance on Mental Illness support group for adults who have loved ones with mental illness. Eventually I also plan to find grief-related support groups. I have realized that I cannot rely fully on myself, so I abandoned my obnoxious individuality complex. I lean on my friends, my family, and my mentors. I feel as if I’ve been adopted by those around me, and could list countless parental figures in my life. I feel grateful to be alive every day and I feel grateful for everyone who exists in the little life of mine. I mourn those I’ve lost and I mourn everyone who has lost themselves to mental illness. I will dedicate my entire existence to preventing the continued loss of life to this epidemic, and I will sure as h*ll make my parents proud.

On March 7, 2021, my parents sang happy birthday to me in our kitchen. The only difference between that year and years prior, however, was that my mom was singing from a landline in the psychiatric hospital, having been involuntarily committed for a manic episode. Just about one month later, my dad commit suicide in our home. That time period etched itself into the wiring of my brain, eternally marking the worst events of my life. To this day, I often feel like an adult orphan, attempting to navigate young adulthood without the influence or guidance of parental figures. But more often I think of my parents, who both have lost their lives – to some extent – to their mental conditions. As I write this paper, my mom is residing in-patient in the same psychiatric facility she stayed in four years ago. These experiences have fueled my passion for mental health care and advocacy. I could not imagine tailoring my academic or professional career to any other issue. In my daily life I consider the mental health of everyone in my social circle, and I ensure that I am constantly checking in on those I feel need attention. In my academic career, I wrote my own curriculum in “Art Therapy Practices and Family Dynamics” at the University of Maryland, integrating my peripheral passions in art and sociology with clinical and counseling psychology. I graduated early with academic honors and earned a scholarship award in excellent creativity. Professionally, I have served numerous roles in education, art, and research. In my educational roles, I learn how to accommodate the intellectual needs of children and adults, fine-tuning curriculums so that different learning styles are addressed. In the arts I’ve created original paintings and drawings, providing a diverse cast of customers with art that is meaningful and personal to them. I’ve integrated art and education as well, designing my own course in “Art for Wellness” to demonstrate how adults can integrate artistic mediums into their own self-care regime. In my research roles, I’ve conducted meticulous tasks to further the progress of studies that investigate the effect of socio-economic factors on young students’ psychology. I have pursued every opportunity in front of me to make myself as educated and informed as possible in my career. Recently I was accepted into a dual-degree master’s program in Art Therapy and Counseling, providing me with the honor to deepen my understanding of treatment for those dealing with their own mental health. I plan to dedicate my future to instilling a sense of power and autonomy within my clients, reducing the morbidity of mental illness in our country. I will work in public healthcare settings in Chicago to provide previously unaddressed communities with access to these forms of treatment. My parents’ lives serve as the foundation of my career, and I will make sure that others do not lose themselves or their loved ones to their mental health.

On the brink of adulthood, I dealt with the most severe episodes of mental health I could fathom. My mom, who dealt with undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder, exhibited a manic episode that harmed herself and those close to her. As a result, she was forced into a series of hospitalizations that continue to this day. At the same time, my dad dealt with a depressive episode - unbeknownst to me. A month after my 18th birthday, my dad passed away by suicide; forever representing the worst event of my lifetime. My dad is the most brilliant man I know. I knew it when he was alive and I know it still. I truly believe he was in the same tier as renowned geniuses, he just did not seek attention or notoriety for it. After attending law school, he worked on presidential campaigns and eventually headed a law firm and lobbied to decriminalize policies. He was a rather quiet person, so I learned by constantly asking him questions about current events, politics, writing, and the legal system. I will eternally mourn the loss of this relationship in my life, but that did not stop me from learning on my own. I began college just months after my dad's death, but graduated a semester early with a 3.7 GPA. I earned dean's scholarship for the maximum duration, and received a scholarship for excellent creativity during my last semester. I am now on track to pursue a dual master's degree in Counseling and Art Therapy, with an eventual goal of working as an Art Therapist in public healthcare settings, such as psychiatric hospitals or detention centers. Mental health is a large and vague concept, but my goals are specific. I want to de-stigmatize talks of suicide and depression so that voices like my dad's can be heard and not suppressed out of fear of consequence. I want to target low-income and marginalized communities that may not have knowledge of mental health conditions and likely do not have the funds to address their own sufferings. I want to research and create alternative solutions to mental health care that do not require long-term medication and henceforth potential adverse side effects. I want to publish my findings in a manner that is accessible to all, not just those with access to exclusive research. I want to demonstrate to all that mental health conditions do not have to stand as an end to joy, optimism, or in some cases, life. This scholarship would aid me in pursuing these goals, while honoring the life of my father, who inspires me to live and to pursue learning for the entirety of my lifetime.

On the brink of adulthood, I dealt with the most severe episodes of mental health I could fathom. My mom, who dealt with undiagnosed Bipolar Disorder, exhibited a manic episode that harmed herself and those close to her. As a result, she was forced into a series of hospitalizations that continue to this day. At the same time, my dad dealt with a depressive episode - unbeknownst to me. A month after my 18th birthday, my dad passed away by suicide; forever representing the worst event of my lifetime. While I have been a student of psychology since my sophomore year of high school, the mental health of my family, and subsequently myself, pushed me to pursue an individualized degree at my university; I independently designed a curriculum that involved sociology, family sciences, psychology, and studio art. I am now on track to pursue a dual master's degree in Counseling and Art Therapy, with an eventual goal of working as an Art Therapist in public healthcare settings, such as psychiatric hospitals or detention centers. Mental health is a large and vague concept, but my goals are specific. I want to de-stigmatize talks of suicide and depression so that voices like my dad's can be heard and not suppressed out of fear of consequence. I want to target low-income and marginalized communities that may not have knowledge of mental health conditions and likely do not have the funds to address their own sufferings. I want to research and create alternative solutions to mental health care that do not require long-term medication and henceforth potential adverse side effects. I want to publish my findings in a manner that is accessible to all, not just those with access to exclusive research. I want to demonstrate to all that mental health conditions do not have to stand as an end to joy, optimism, or in some cases, life. This scholarship would aid me in pursuing these goals, while honoring the life of my father, who inspires me to live and to pursue learning for the entirety of my lifetime.