I used to think recovery was an impossible feat. Sure, others were capable of achieving it, but I was destined to die before I turned 21 and just viewed my life as lost potential. Instead, I ended up getting (and staying) clean at 21. Over the past 8 1/2 years, life and recovery have changed and meant different things at different times. Today, above all things, it means peace. I have peace within myself and about myself. My emotions were always such a driving force for anything that I did- good or bad. Recovery has taught me how to sit with those emotions, experience them for what they are, and also know that they will always pass. The highest highs and the lowest lows do not last forever. When I am low, this serves as motivation to hang on for the next bright light. When I feel elated, I am reminded the remain humble and appreciative of all that I have. The peace I have found within recovery allows me to know myself, be compassionate with myself, and love myself. I value my life today and see my potential to make a difference in people's lives with my future career. I want to be able to spread the peace I have found and help others achieve the same.

I was woken up by the police at 2:00 am. They said "we're sorry to tell you, but your father has passed away." I was 21 years old and living in a halfway house with 13 months of sobriety under my belt. My first instinct was to run, scream, and cry. I was overridden with the heaviest, most complicated form of grief. Growing up, I was always daddy's girl. I looked like my dad, played roller hockey to please my dad- he brought me fishing and we shared endless laughs. When I was about 11, I began to realize my dad's withdrawal from the family. The sharp stench on his breath. The nights on the couch. The fights with my mom. I realized my father was an alcoholic. It tore our relationship apart. When my own addiction began, he saw right through my lies for the trouble that was really brewing. I pulled away from him even more because of it. At some point during my active addiction, my dad stopped drinking. He became the one who always showed up for me. Every rehab center I went to, he would visit. He would bring my favorite childhood food (pierogi) and we would talk about everything and nothing. He never missed a visiting day. To have him pass away felt like a crime. A life of recovery together was taken away so quickly, I never got the chance to fully appreciate our new relationship. However, I realized within a few days after his passing that despite the immense pain I felt, not once did I feel like getting high. It was then that I knew that no matter what happened to me or in my life, I would not allow it to drive me back to a life of drugs. I wouldn't allow myself to have stayed clean and sober for his death and then dishonor his memory by having something else drive me back. His death caused my to focus on living a happy and beautiful life and put up the brutal fight against my addiction. I got clean on October 4, 2014 and my father passed away on November 9, 2015. Not every moment has been perfectly happy, but the one thing I have always done right is stay true to my fight and have not relapsed since. My father's death still hurts to this day. However, the comfort I find is in his memory and relate it to my new life. Every life event is painful, but the pain is slightly less when I remember he is still watching, still proud, and still supporting me from his new home in this universe.

My addiction was a monstrosity that I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. After spending my adolescence searching for happiness, I found drugs and thought I had found relief. Instead, I found pain, lies, sickness, and grief. Every single of my "I'll never...." came true after some time. I entered my first detox center in 2013 and although I was sold on the idea that recovery was possible, I was 19 and not ready to give it up just yet. What followed was about a year and a half of getting my loved one's hopes up, just to relapse and have them crumble time and time again. On October 5, 2014, I was 20 years old, and my life changed forever. I had been homeless for a few weeks- wandering the streets in shoes that were too small for me, terrified to sleep anywhere, and had slipped into a drug induced psychosis. I came to getting arrested (for the second time in one week). The officers told me I was waving my arms in the air and seemed out of my mind. When asked if I wanted to be released or have an ambulance called, I had a moment of clarity and reached out for help one last time. By the grace of God, I haven't used since that date. I went into the hospital, completed 3 months of rehab, and spent 13 months in a halfway house, followed by 3 years of sober living. In my time of recovery, I have managed to mend my relationships with my family. My mom trusts me and can leave her wallet out around me. My sister can sleep soundly at night knowing I am safe. I spent some time as a nanny caring for infants, and was able to share with the parents my truth and they accepted me for who I was. I started going back to school in 2019 for nursing. My goal is to graduate with my bachelor's in nursing and psychology and continue my education to become a psychiatric nurse practitioner. When I was in the hospital the last time, the nurses and clinicians made the biggest impact to remind me of my humanity and that I am deserving of compassion. As I mentioned, my shoes were entirely too small. I had huge, throbbing blisters on my feet. The first few days I slept so soundly due to my lack of sleep previously, and the only thing that woke me up was the nurses changing my bandages. It was the nurses that helped me brush out, and eventually cut, the matted hair due to lack of showering. It was the nurses that shared their hopes and beliefs for me. They told me they could see my potential before I even realized it was there. I wish to use my education to become someone else's hope and light at a time they are at their lowest.

Juggling school, work, and being a parent is a task I never envisioned for myself. Sometimes it's really difficult to not get frustrated for not going to school sooner or finishing before kids were part of the picture. My mom went back to school when I was about 11 years old and most of what I remember is being told to stay quiet so she can study and feeling like her school was more important than I was. I vow everyday to not let my two step daughters feel that way. They're 9 and 10 and although I may have not carried them to term, I love them with every ounce of my being. They are with my partner and I from Wednesday to Sunday and I do my best to squeeze in as many classes and studying into the time frame they aren't with us. However, they do see me studying and putting in hard work and effort into my classes. I put an emphasis on my hard work to show them what perseverance and dedication can do. Our oldest, Payton, has an ADHD diagnosis and both girls have their struggles with school. I try so hard to ensure I set a healthy example of being able to achieve educational goals and overcome hardships. I also put in even more effort to make sure they never feel ignored and always feel my love and care. Achieving my end career goal of a psychiatric nurse pracitioner would be without a doubt a highlight in my life. As mentioned before, I do myself to set an example for these girls that hard work pays off and dreams can be achieved. I also currently work a full time job and a part time job in order to ensure that their needs and wants (to a degree) can be fulfilled. I dream of the day my schedule is less packed with obligations and having more freedom to spend with them.

1. I don't deserve this scholarship. Honestly, I'm not even a college student. I spend my free time applying to scholarships to waste the time of reviewers. 2. My goal is to become a billionaire by working as a traveling clown. All I want to do is travel the world with a suitcase of make up, funny clothes, and maybe a pet tiger. 3. One time I was at the store and was trying to hunt down almond milk. To my surprise, there was no almond milk in sight. The shelves were completely empty. But, I remembered I had an empty container at home still. So, I bought regular milk and just filled up the almond milk container with it.