I always did the same thing whenever I fell into a depressive and anxious state of mind. I'd refuse so many things that I would do in my daily life; I refused to eat, leave my bed, wash up, and talk to other people. It was a consistent pattern each time, and I know I am not the only one that has this same pattern. On days that I feel more motivated, I'd start each day with a stretch. Throughout the day, I'd take breaks and keep my body moving to stay more alert. It finally clicked; when I was depressed, I'm physically stagnant. I learnt the importance of movement on the human mind in this way. I always endorse movement to the people around me. Whenever I saw my mother stressed out about work, I'd tell her to stop for a second and to copy my movements. Whenever I meet up with a childhood friend of mine to catch up, instead of sitting at a cafe, we'd rant while walking around a park. Being able to move isn't costly. Of course, there are people that aren't able to do so. It's easy to encourage it on social media. It can reach so many people and if a person is unable to do one thing, a simple swipe can lead them into a movement they can do. Being able to post a multitude of videos can ensure people of different types of physical ability can participate in moving.

My boat was sinking. There was a time in my life when I thought the entire world was against me. I believed that the strained relationship between my parents was because of me. In the middle of the night, I'd wake up to the sound of keys jingling and a door shutting. My father would drag me out of bed into the car to help him find my mother, overcome with anger and betrayal. The house that I would come home to wasn't a home. It didn't feel like a home. The air was suffocating, the silence was deafening, and our daily dinners together was pure tension. I looked forward to waking up in the morning, because I'd be able to take the journey to school and escape the family that lost its familiar feeling. I felt alone. The holes in my boat allowed the water around me to come in, slowly sinking it as it came. My family is a religious family. We didn't call it a religion, but rather a relationship with God. Church on Sundays and Fridays and involved in different ministries, a big portion of my life was spent with God and the church. My pastor would always proclaim the healing properties of God, that being healthy is our God-given right. I would sit there and ponder, "If God wants us to be healthy, then why does my family live like this? This isn't healthy." I'd sit in the sanctuary of the church, heart full of bitterness and anger. I cried out to God; I told Him that when I go to sleep tonight, to take me home with Him. I didn't want to be in this family anymore. I didn't once believe that things would slowly ease up, that I'd wake up the next day excited to see my parents sitting together, watching TV. I didn't believe that one bit. I would mindlessly scroll on Instagram to escape the reality I lived in; that was the entire point of social media and entertainment anyways. In technical jargon, my algorithm that Instagram curated for me led me to a specific reel about the presence of God. I don't think it was just the algorithm that led me there, though. God works in mysterious ways, and the presence of that reel was one of it. The creator of that reel answered a question about shame: the shame that came with being from a broken family. This shame doesn't come from God, but from Satan, and Satan comes to steal, kill, and destroy. That was exactly what Satan was doing in my life; stealing my joy, killing my will to live, and destroying my family. My God is not a condemning God. Satan plants things in my life: shame, anger, bitterness. That's not coming from God. If it's not coming from God, I don't need to accept it. Why would I? The God that provides, the God that heals, the God that gives and takes away, it's all a part of His plan. So why would I, knowing that the things I had experienced, accept what the devil gives, when I don't need to? It didn't click in my head right away. It took a few days for those words to sink into my life, but once it did, it felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. The water that was surrounding and drowning me, it evaporated. Sure, there were still a few holes left in my boat, but coming to God in my most vulnerable state, fixed it.

My dream career is to become a physician, and that journey has multiple steps that need to be thoroughly planned out. My first step is to finish my undergraduate degree, which I'm one semester away from completing. Thankfully, I'm able to pay the remaining tuition out of pocket after scholarships. After undergrad, I plan to apply to a masters program. I'm in the process of this application, with only the need to acquire a letter of recommendation from a professor or physician. To ask for this letter, I've been consistently attending my favorite professors' academic hours to build a more intimate relationship with her so she would be able to vouch for my academic and hard-working personality. After attending my masters program, I plan to apply to medical school, which is a long and exhausting process, spanning around 10-13 months long. In the empty months of waiting, I would be working a clinical job at a dialysis clinic as a technician. I would also continue volunteering at the food pantry that I'm currently volunteering at, and pursue other passion projects I have in mind. I would be continuing my research at the Center of Translational Research and Education, left off during my undergraduate years, as well. Once accepted into a medical school, I'd apply to the HPSP program, which is given by the Army or Air Force branch of the U.S. military. An acceptance into the HPSP program would allow me to study in medical school without worrying about money, because they pay tuition, help with housing, and supply a stipend monthly. After medical school, because I applied into the HPSP program, I would have to work in a military hospital for around 4-7 years, starting my career as a physician. There are a lot of "ifs" and "buts" that come along with this plan. What if I don't get accepted into a masters program before my application to medical school? What if I cannot continue my research after I finish my masters program? There is always something to do if a plan fails; I'd branch out with what I currently have in that moment. If I do not get accepted into a masters program, I would continue to work in a hospital and volunteer at the food pantry to continue to supplement my application into medical school. I would, then, apply to medical school the next cycle. If I could not continue my undergraduate research, I would reach out to professors and doctors that I have already established a connection and relationship to, and find a different research opportunity through them. Throughout the years, I am bound to branch off from the plan that I have set since I was a freshman in high school. Perhaps I get married, move to a different city, or find another hobby that interest me to the point of starting a small business. However, these different changes in my career plan can be written into the journey. I can't plan for everything and execute it exactly how I imagined, so learning to adapt when things don't go my way is a lesson I'll continue to live through throughout my life.

My favorite aspect of Minecraft has been, and will always be, functionally decorating the area around the house, or terraforming. I'm not a fan of building the house or mining for material, but decorating and adding onto the base will always have my heart. Terraforming an area to turn it into a field of wheat and adding a small waterfall in it, creating a farm full of animals that is easily accessible, creating whimsical ways to add lighting and texture in the areas around the house, and adding personality and flavor to an entrance of a mine or the portal to the Nether is incredibly satisfying to me. I don't like building the house because I don't want to get all technical with how wide and long a specific room should be, and I don't like mining because I am scared of the dark. But with terraforming, I can see the progress. I watch the development of the area from bland, to tasteful right in front of my eyes. I don't need to plan or map out an area for my projects; I can just build wherever I want if there is space. If there is no space, I can always create it. When I explore, I love knowing that I am close to my base by watching the transition from the natural Minecraft world to a world touched by whatever inspiration I had at that time.

"You can win the battle, but you'll never win the war." There are struggles in my teenage years that I had to claw my way through to survive, but realizing that at the end of it all, it'll be something that I will regret for years to come will haunt me forever. Looking back, having known that some problems I encountered were so easily fixable but perceived to be overly complicated, it adds a few cents to the debt I carry for myself in my head. Eventually, all these pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters start to add up and weighs me down. There were an abundant number of battles I went through while I was a teenager, ranging from typical teenage angst to experiences that no one should ever go through. The lyric that I chose came from Olivia Rodrigo's song titled "pretty isn't pretty". The song captures the feeling of never being enough; not being pretty enough, not being skinny enough, not being popular enough, etc. The way that I wanted to be perceived by others and the way that I perceived myself differed so much that once I had overcome the battle in my head, I still doubt its authenticity. I've reached the milestone that I had set for myself previously and I hesitate to believe that I deserve it. To a younger version of me, if she had known that I've already won the battle she was wrestling with at the time, she would've been ecstatic. Unfortunately, that's not how it feels like to me; it doesn't feel like I won. It feels like I've become a fraud. My past still haunts me. I may be pretty now, but I was ugly back then and that's how some people will continue to perceive me. I may have good grades now, but that low exam score will continue to stain my record. I may be out of a relationship that made me cry myself to sleep every night, but I carry that trauma into a new relationship. "You can win the battle, but you'll never win the war" has an in-depth meaning to it. There are things that everyone will struggle with while going through one of the most emotional times of their lives. There are things that happen in their teenage years that will continue to happen and haunt people past this age. For me, I've won many battles, but even now, I question if I'll ever win that war.

I deserve this scholarship because I did terrible in my chemistry class and failed the first two exams. From staying up late putting my effort into a different class (or game), I did terrible on my first exam. All my worries flew away when I stayed up late playing video games all night and before I knew it, I did worse on my next exam. Summer school is expensive. My academic goals are to do so well in my biology oriented class that my teachers have no other choice but to give me an A and make me their assistant so I can be better than everybody else in that class. I like being the best in biology, but not chemistry. Biology is better than chemistry. One of my first obstacles when I started going to college was food. There were so many food options around my school. Being in college allowed for more time to travel, too. I could go some train stops down and get some good dumplings or walk across the street and get some tacos. I fixed this terrible predicament by downloading a spinner wheel app that chooses where to eat for me.

I've been struggling with depression for as long as my brain allows me to remember. It was a struggle getting out of bed and finishing my tasks given to me because everything felt so heavy and I simply couldn't gather the energy to put energy into doing something. Setting small, yet achievable, goals gave me that rush that allowed me to continue working on my assignments and chores, rewarding myself, and writing to-do lists to give myself the pleasure of physically seeing a task is completed motivated me to become more responsible. It helped me open my eyes, get out of bed, pull the blanket over my pillows, and get ready for the day. I am still slowly changing my mindset about how I go about my day, albeit it may seem weird to others. I have to text my friend to share the momentarily sliver of joy I found when I stepped outside and threw a worm back into the dirt so no one would step on it.always feel like there are people staring holes into the back of my head and the way I managed to somewhat cope with this feeling is to pin a sock to the back of my shirt because now I know that if people are looking at me, they’re looking at something I put on myself and not something I can’t control. I realized that healing can only come from within. No one is going to heal you, but they may encourage it. That first step is the most difficult step, but no matter how big that step is, the first step is still a step. If my methods are showing results, no matter how fantastically bizarre they may be, then I'll stick to it.

I don’t think I have depression. There’s nothing wrong with having it, I just don’t believe that how I see the world is severe enough to be called depression. Growing up, my mom always told me that depression wasn’t real, that it was just in your head. She was partially right, it is in my head, but it spread like a wildfire throughout my body, affecting my mind, my strength, and the people around me. It was hard setting goals for myself because it would either become an addictive rush of energy completing them or it would be a negative cycle in which I don’t reach my goals and it pushes me deeper into a hole I believe I dug myself into. Maintaining relationships was difficult because I felt as if they truly didn’t want me there or that I couldn’t conjure the effort into talking to them. Soon enough, I couldn’t get out of bed in fear that something worse would happen and because of this, I didn't get to escape that negative cycle. I’ve thought about it and I’ve come up with a solution that works for me, although I don’t know how long it’ll last. Setting small, yet achievable, goals gave me that rush that allowed me to continue working on my assignments and chores, rewarding myself, and writing to-do lists to give myself the pleasure of physically seeing a task is completed motivated me to become more responsible. It helped me open my eyes, get out of bed, pull the blanket over my pillows, and get ready for the day. I am still slowly changing my mindset about how I go about my day, albeit it may seem weird to others. I have to text my friend to share the momentarily sliver of joy I found when I stepped outside and threw a worm back into the dirt so no one would step on it. I have to feed my pet chickens because I know no one else would do it the way my chickens like to be fed. I always feel like there are people staring holes into the back of my head and the way I managed to somewhat cope with this feeling is to pin a sock to the back of my shirt because now I know that if people are looking at me, they’re looking at something I put on myself and not something I can’t control. I realized that sometimes, the only available help is yourself. That first step is the most difficult step, but no matter how big that step is, the first step is still a step. If my methods are showing results, no matter how fantastically bizarre they may be, then I'll stick to it.