In my community, homelessness is a persistent and visible issue, yet too often ignored. Seeing individuals struggle with basic needs like hygiene, clothing, and shelter deeply impacted me. I felt a strong sense of responsibility to take action, especially when I learned about Roof Above, a local homeless shelter providing essential support to those experiencing housing insecurity. I knew I couldn’t solve homelessness alone—but I could do something meaningful to ease its burden. Motivated by compassion and a desire to make a tangible impact, I decided to organize a supplies drive for Roof Above. I began by reaching out to my personal and school networks—teachers, classmates, local churches, and even small businesses—asking for donations of hygiene products, socks, blankets, and non-perishable food. It started small, but through persistent outreach and coordination, I gained the support of several community members who shared my passion. I created flyers, promoted the drive on social media, and coordinated drop-off points to make giving as accessible as possible. So far, the drive has resulted in over a hundred donated items that were delivered directly to Roof Above, where they were distributed to residents in need. Beyond the donations, I believe one of the most important accomplishments was sparking awareness and empathy in those who contributed. Many expressed a desire to stay involved and asked how they could continue helping. Looking forward, I hope to expand this effort into a recurring community initiative. I plan to establish partnerships with local businesses and faith-based organizations to hold seasonal drives, especially during extreme weather months. I also want to involve more youth by speaking at schools and encouraging student-led volunteer efforts. This experience taught me the power of networking and how one person’s initiative can unite a community around a cause that truly matters.

Freshman year, coming back from COVID-19, I struggled with severe social anxiety. After being isolated for a year and a half, I had lost all of my ability to socialize or communicate with others. If you had seen me in sixth grade, you would have never believed it was the same person. The girl who once had a thriving social life and close friends now had no one. I became the epitome of isolation, unsure of how to form connections with anyone around me. On the first day of school, I cried as my dad dropped me off at the front of the school. He told me I needed to be strong, but I couldn't hold back the tears. They ran down my face as I felt a pit in my stomach. My palms were sweaty, my breathing was shallow— I was terrified. For the first few weeks, I had no friends. I only spoke when spoken to, and I ate my lunch in the bathroom. I followed this routine for two months until one of my teachers offered to let me eat with her. Her simple act of kindness had a lasting impact on my life. I dreaded school every day. All I wanted was to have friends. I wanted to be able to go to football games, hang out at the mall on Saturdays, and have people to spend time with. But I had no one. My weekends consisted of watching documentaries with my mom and being in bed by 9, reading a book. I longed to have friends, and every day I tried my hardest. But the voice in the back of my head told me I wasn't good enough. I had so much to say, but I said nothing at all. Eventually, I started going to therapy for my social anxiety. My therapist had me write down a list of my anxious thoughts and internal conflicts. That night, I sat down with a pencil and started the list: - Fear of judgment - Avoiding big gatherings and crowds - Lack of confidence - Missing many opportunities - Overthinking everything - Avoiding eye contact - Feeling misunderstood - Feeling exhausted after being around people This list stared at me, and over the subsequent eight sessions, my therapist and I worked through each of these thoughts and fears. Slowly, I started to heal my anxiety and began making efforts to talk to more people. I eventually started making friends at school, and while I may not have many, I now have quality friends instead of quantity. Pursuing a college degree is essential because I want to become the best version of myself and reach my full potential. I’ve spent so much of my life feeling held back by anxiety, but I’ve come to realize that it’s not just about overcoming challenges it’s about learning from them. My experiences have shaped who I am today and taught me the importance of resilience, patience, and self-compassion. As I continue this journey, I know I’ll face new obstacles, but I also know I have the strength to face them head-on.

I opened the present with pink and white polka dots. Beneath the finely tied bow and crisp paper was a white lab coat. I pulled the coat out of the packaging and neatly put the pink bow on the pile of wrapping beside me. I thanked my mom and dad and put on the white lab coat. The following days after this, I played doctor with my stuffed animals. Poking and prodding them while I came up with their diagnosis. At that moment, surrounded by stuffed patients and childhood curiosity, I knew I wanted to work in healthcare. For as long as I could remember, I would play doctor with my toys and subject my parents to play with me. I loved watching Doc Mcstuffins, and anything related to doctors or health care intrigued me. When I got to high school, I joined the Academy of Health Sciences and dedicated my studies to science and health care. I jumped at every opportunity that arose. One of my most influential moments was my internship at a physical therapy clinic. I bonded with the patients and became a stepping stone in each patient's journey to healing. I was beyond grateful to have this experience, and it filled me with nothing but fulfillment. I decided to major in physical therapy because of my wonderful experience. Once I reach my career goals, I will advocate for one particular area of healthcare to make a difference in society. After being exposed to the plethora of difficulties in health care, one of the most vital things that has stood out to me is advocating for access to reliable, affordable, and safe health care for individuals in lower-income households or communities. Once I secure my job in my desired field, one of my goals is to keep advocating and be the voice for these individuals as I have first seen this issue within my community. I worked with an individual who had a bad knee for 6 years, and he did not get provided the correct treatment because of his lower income. He could not afford the cost of physical therapy because he did not have health insurance, and he was not able to pay out of pocket. No person should have to live in pain and anguish because healthcare costs an arm and a leg. My goal is to make a positive impact on the healthcare system by establishing programs and organizations that promote better access to healthcare. I also aim to create initiatives that provide basic healthcare services to those in need, thereby eliminating the fear of not being able to afford healthcare. These programs will be designed to cater to the specific needs of [target population or community], ensuring that everyone has access to essential healthcare services without having to sacrifice other necessities.

There were no interviews or training manuals, just silent expectations woven into every glance. Every "your strong" or "your siblings look up to you, Piper," I carried my mental health and depression-like an invisible identity within my mind. Hold it together and stay strong. I was the dependable one at school, an overachiever at work, and a polite and capable person. On paper, I was doing everything right. I had a good job and good grades. The suitable extracurricular activities, and I had the praise of those around me. However, no one saw the cracks beneath the surface of the tears that would run down my face in the comfort of my showers or the late hours of the night. I started having panic attacks in middle school. I remember one particularly when I was sitting in the back of the class. The walls felt like they were closing in, and my breathing was shallow. My heart raced, and I tried to focus on the whiteboard as my teacher wrote the warm-up for that day. I was okay. That is what I always did: I pretended. Being the first and oldest daughter of 5 meant no room for weakness. I had a reputation and standard to which I needed to hold myself. The anxiety and depression ate at me every day. I remember the countless late nights spent staring at the ceiling, pondering my existence. I would go to school with dark circles under my eyes, and then I would clock into work with a smile on my face. I would power through the thought days even though my mind was unraveling. I told myself it was not that bad and I could handle it. Eventually, the mask I helped, and my persona started to slip. I could no longer fake it, and the most minor things would send me into a spiral. A bad grade, a bad shift at work, a disappointed look, and the pressure no longer motivated me. It was suffocating me. I used to pray to God to take me peacefully in my sleep because I could never inflict that pain on my loved ones. I realized I did not want It to end; I just wanted to feel at peace with myself and my mind. Getting help was not easy. It felt like I was failing everyone around me. However, getting therapy did not make me weak, or so I thought. It saved me and gave me the space to be me- and not the version everyone expected. It taught me that strength is not about perfection but rather about choosing to heal even when it feels selfish. Through therapy and healing, I was able to see the world differently. I realized how many of us are out there carrying invisible weights. I began recognizing the quiet battles in others and meeting people with more grace and patience. My relationships became more profound and more accurate. I started having conversations that mattered not just about grades or jobs but about what it meant to be okay. My goal now is to work in healthcare, where I can be the person I needed back then—someone who sees beyond the surface and understands that high-functioning doesn't mean healthy. I want to create space for people like me—the ones who look like they have it all together but quietly break inside. Mental health didn't ruin me. It revealed me. It made me softer, stronger, and more driven. It reminded me that I'm more than the roles I've been given—I am someone worth showing up for, even when the world expects me to disappear behind a smile. Being the first daughter taught me how to survive. My mental health journey taught me how to live.

I am pursuing a career in health care with an intent to pursue a career in physical therapy. I want to impact people's lives through my job and work in healthcare. Since I was a freshman, I have been on a healthcare-focused track, taking courses that have prepared me for the foundations of the sciences needed to work in healthcare. Over time, I have fallen in love with healthcare because of my love of science and its power to change lives. I am excited to turn this passion into a career. However, I want to play a role in improving our healthcare system. One major issue that has stood out is the lack of access to quality healthcare in lower-income communities. Creating justice and equality within the healthcare system will be one of my main priorities when I am given the chance. Throughout high school, I have worked on projects and volunteered in ways that focus on making healthcare more accessible. One of my most significant accomplishments was a pitch that I presented to an organization by Delta Dental known as Bridging the Dental Gap. This project aimed to allow lower-income communities better access to dental care. We could do this through a business pitch, a product, or a nonprofit pitch idea. I won third place for my idea, which focused on an affordable science back product that detects cavities and enamel erosion by using the mouth's acidity. My goal was to help monitor their dental health without needing expensive visits to the dentist or unnecessary visits. This project opened my eyes to the many barriers people face when getting basic care, like teeth cleaning. It has motivated me to push for solutions that make healthcare more equitable and accessible. To me, justice in healthcare means ensuring everyone has access to safe, reliable, and affordable treatment regardless of income, race, or background. Health care in the United States should not be a privilege but a fundamental human right. Justice also means advocating for those who might not have the means or resources for them. If I am granted help with my education, my goal is to get my doctorate and create a program to assist organizations in helping people. This has been one of my main goals, as I have had friends and family members who have not been able to get safe access to healthcare for life-threatening issues with their health.

From sixth grade into the middle of seventh grade, I was a wonderfully happy and social middle schooler. I had a large friend group and could have even been considered one of the popular girls. However, when COVID-19 hit, everything changed. The world shut down, and so did my social life. I went from being surrounded by friends to being isolated in my house 24/7 for almost two years. My dad was extremely skeptical about the virus and refused to let us get vaccinated. He also didn’t want us leaving the house at all, believing it was the safest choice. But for me, it wasn’t safe—it was suffocating. During this time, I developed severe social anxiety, depression, and an overwhelming sense of loneliness that would alter the trajectory of my life. Most 12- and 13-year-olds thrive on friendships and social interactions, but I was cut off from the world. My once vibrant personality faded, and I lost all sense of who I was. If I could go back, I would hug my 13-year-old self and tell her it was going to be okay. But at the time, I didn’t believe it. I didn’t want to live. I would go to sleep wishing I wouldn’t wake up and wake up praying for the pain to stop. I vividly remember begging God to take my life because I was too afraid to do it myself—I didn’t want to hurt my family, but I didn’t want to exist either. As my mental health declined, so did my grades. I had no motivation to get out of bed for days on end. My parents tried to support me, but they didn’t understand the concept of mental health. My dad, in particular, believed that a healthy diet and exercise would cure my depression. “It’s all in your head, Piper. You need to stop,” he would say. His words echoed in my mind, and I began to question myself. Was this all just in my head? Was I making it worse? But no matter how hard I tried to "fix" myself, the panic attacks continued. I spent countless nights waking up in cold sweats, unable to breathe, my body shaking with anxiety. But I hid it all from my parents, afraid they would see my struggles as a sign of weakness or humiliation. When the world finally settled and schools reopened, I thought things would get better—but they didn’t. I had forgotten how to be social. I didn’t know how to make friends anymore. Every day, my mind whispered, “You’re not good enough.” For the first few months of freshman year, I ate alone in the bathroom. I dreaded school, knowing I would spend the day feeling invisible. I couldn’t make it through without crying or visiting my counselor’s office. But then, I got help. Therapy gave me the tools to understand myself, and I slowly began rebuilding my confidence. I started pushing through the anxiety and taking small steps forward. It wasn’t easy, but it was worth it. Looking back, I realize that I am so much stronger than I ever thought I could be. My struggles do not define me, but they have shaped me into someone who is resilient, compassionate, and determined. Now, as I move forward with my education, I want to use my experiences to help others. Whether through physical therapy or mental health advocacy, I want to be the person I needed when I was younger.

For me, success is not categorized by good grades, being financially well off, or having materialistic things. Success means showing up for myself every single day. Success means having a career I love and pursuing a degree in something that brings me fulfillment and excites me to wake up every day. I have realized that everything in my life I have to want so badly that it is the only thing that motivates me. My dad, uncle, and grandpa are all brilliant men who attended Ivy League schools like Dartmouth and Harvard. They all created a life and name for themselves. They all had great careers and the nice cars they dreamed of. However, one thing lacking in their life is happiness and genuine joy. They might have the money and assets to show their hard work and dedication to their careers and businesses; however, they are all unhappy in the end. My father chose his career and work over being a part of my life and his family. Looking at the successful people in my family, I see the sacrifices they've made for their careers. The one thing they all share is a lack of happiness and precious moments with their family. This has taught me that while a career and financial stability are important, they should not come at the cost of personal relationships. My happiness will not be defined by my income, but by my passion and enthusiasm for my work, setting me apart from the successful people in my family. I have found my passion in healthcare, particularly in physical therapy. Through internships and real-world research, I've realized that this is my dream career. I can't wait to graduate and start practicing in this field. My future, to me, looks like success, even if it may not fit the traditional definition of success. With each interaction I had with the patients at this clinic, I learned their short-term and long-term goals. Each person who enters a physical therapy clinic helped me realize they all have success stories. Each one of them has put in the effort to reach their health goals, and to me, this was moving and encouraging. Knowing I played a part in supporting their journey made me feel rewarded and successful. Celebrating your success is terrific, but celebrating other people's successes is much more meaningful. My choice to pursue a career in physical therapy will allow me to share people's success with them, which is essential to me. This scholarship will play a crucial role in funding my education, an investment I am dedicated to financing on my own as I strive to reach my aspirations. With this opportunity, I aim to build a fulfilling and successful life that empowers me to offer support and guidance to others. My primary career goal is to make a meaningful impact in the lives of those around me, providing them with the resources and encouragement they need to pursue their dreams—whether those dreams are monumental or modest. By lifting others, I hope to contribute to a community where success is achievable for everyone. This scholarship will help fund my education, which I am currently working to pay for on my own to achieve my goals. This opportunity will enable me to build a successful life to help and support others ultimately. My main career objective is to make a positive difference in the lives of others, providing them with the support they need to achieve their own goals, regardless of their size.

Freshman year of high school was one of the most challenging times of my life. After spending the last three years as a COVID student, I returned to an unfamiliar world. Once social and thriving, I suddenly found myself struggling to make friends and adapt. On my first day of school, I made no friends, ate lunch in the bathroom, and continued this cycle for the remainder of the year. Eventually, I became close with my biology teacher, and she let me eat lunch in her classroom—an act of kindness that I will remember forever. The typical high school experience—football games, parties, and hangouts—was not mine. Instead, my days were filled with anxiety, loneliness, and the constant fear of being unseen. But things slowly started to change. During my sophomore year, I met a few teachers who made me excited to come to school. They checked in on me, talked to me, and, most importantly, made me feel like I mattered. With the support of these incredible educators, I was able to grow into the person I am today. At the time, I wasn’t sure what I was passionate about. But with no social distractions, I threw myself into my academics. As part of my school’s Health Science Academy, I was required to complete an internship, but despite my persistent networking and effort, I struggled to secure one. Finally, a physical therapy clinic in Charlotte accepted me. Even though it meant commuting 45 minutes after school every day, I was determined to make it work. At first, I was nervous, but I quickly learned the day-to-day operations of the clinic. Most of the patients were older, and I formed strong bonds with many of them. One patient, Jane, impacted me the most. She was wheelchair-bound and worked tirelessly each session to walk on her own. Week after week, she tried—only to be met with failure. But she never gave up. I made it my mission to encourage and support her in every way I could. In my final week at the clinic, her resilience finally paid off—Jane stood on her own. Knowing that I played a small role in her journey was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. It opened my eyes to how physical therapy is about more than just healing the body—it’s about restoring confidence, independence, and hope. Too often, people take their mobility for granted, but I’ve seen firsthand how devastating it is to lose it. That is why I have chosen to dedicate my life to helping people regain their strength—physically, mentally, and emotionally. The struggles I faced in high school, the perseverance I developed, and the experiences I gained have all led me to this career path. I am working tirelessly to achieve my goal, and I know that with the same determination that carried me through my hardest years, I will succeed.

Most people's parents divorce at younger or older ages when you have moved out, but no one talks about your parents divorcing when you are 16 and going through the most hormonal and scary time of your teenage years. First kisses and first cars, sweet 16's not for me. My years of being 16 years old were filled with divorce lawyers, custody battles, and instability. I was going through one of the most challenging times, emotionally and physically, being a 16-year-old girl in a high school, learning to navigate friendships and school-life balance. To give a bit more background, my mom was my best friend, my rock, and my biggest supporter growing up. When I discovered the secret beneath the surface of my parents' seemingly perfect marriage, my whole world came crashing down, and I would never be the same. In December of my sophomore year, my mom started acting differently, being more reactive than usual, which was not typical for her. She started going out for hours and would be on the phone at strange hours. Her behavior struck me as odd. However, I did not pay much attention to it. One day after school, she left her MacBook open, and a notification from an unknown number kept popping up. I knew at the moment I should not have been snooping; however, I opened her MacBook and realized, from the chain of flirtatious messages, that she had been cheating on my dad. This discovery made me sweat at the palms, and my heart beat outside my chest. I did not think it could get any worse until I realized who she was having an affair with: My childhood best friend's dad. I was astonished by this. Not only was she cheating, I thought to myself, but with my best friend's dad? In retrospect, this is a bit humorous now that the trauma has settled, but how was this possible? For weeks, I wrestled with this secret, scared If I told anyone, I would be in trouble. I pondered my thoughts for weeks, having anxious night sweats and constant stomachaches. Soon, my dad would find out, and when my dad found out, something inside of me would never be the same, seeing my dad break down in tears. My parents had been married 25 years and had five kids, and I remember my dad telling me. "Everything I have worked for, for my wife, kids, and family, is gone." Knowing my life and family would never be the same scared me. My mom moved out shortly after the discovery and went to "work on herself." My family, who I had lived with for 16 years, was now just a figure in my imagination, a distant memory. After this, for a long and unmemorable period, all my parents did was argue and fight about being co-parents. My mom hurt me so much. The pain and betrayal were unspeakable. I was not mad at my mom for growing out of love and wanting a divorce; I was hurt by the way she went about it. Because of my mom's actions, I felt as though I could trust no one around me. How could I ever trust anyone if my best friend and mom could lie to me for so long? Eventually, we habitually went to my mom's one week and my dad's the next. Packing up my whole room and everything I owned to go from house to house made me feel constantly unstable, and I continually lived out of my suitcase. I always had a lingering feeling in the back of my mind that everyone around me was lying to me. I did not trust anyone because of this experince, whether it was my parents, significant other, a teacher, or a friend. My mom having an affair deeply instilled a fear of being hurt and lied to, which significantly affected my relationships. I was constantly scared of every person who told me they loved me or I mattered. I thought they were maliciously lying to me. Having friends and relationships as a 16-year-old girl is difficult enough to trust, but having my trust issues heightened my emotions and fear constantly. I would accuse people of lying to me over the most minor things because of my deeply rooted fear. Eventually, I started therapy, and this process has changed me for the better. I have learned to cope with the trauma of my parents and the infidelity in my life. One thing my therapist said that stuck with me was, "Once trust is broken, it can take a long time to heal." This helped me realize that even though I did not get cheated on, my heart still needed to heal just as much as anyone's.