When I was 12 years old, I was prescribed the generic form of Prozac. I had many therapists and child psychologists throughout childhood, and it still felt like I could not get my head in order. I always felt self-conscious and isolated due to my depression and anxiety. While it was an open topic within my household, I still felt tremendous pressure to be the best in almost everything I did, and yet it still did not feel like it was enough. I maintained myself through high school through extracurricular activities (Honors Society, track and field, high school and club soccer, cross country, swimming). Still, when I got to college, things changed for me. It all came to a head my sophomore year: I was on the track team, in a bad relationship, living in a terrible situation with three other roommates, living in a different state than my entire family, and I was not consistent with my antidepressants, only taking them when I felt I needed them and stopping the second I felt better, making me feel manic and even more out of control. I vividly remember sitting on my futon bed with a handful of my antidepressants and thinking, "this is as good as it is going to get," while also wondering how long it would take anyone to notice I was gone. Something needed to change because I could not go on living with the anxiety attacks and the suicidal thoughts. My family encouraged me to apply to be a resident assistant on campus, and that was the first time I realized I was not alone. Getting the training to talk to young adults about their mental health and how they were feeling changed me, and I soon realized that while I was feeling alone, so many others felt the same way. I found myself in the campus Wellness Peer Advisory Council through the RA position. I got more training on youth mental health first-aid, motivational interviewing, and active bystander awareness training, among others. The first 20 years of my life were filled with self-hatred and stress to be the best, to look the best, but inside I was hurting. I would sabotage every relationship and friendship because I could never feel normal, but in my 20th year, I fully understood my purpose: to help people. To listen to people. To understand people. Out of the deepest, darkest parts of my heart, I was able to make something beautiful and meaningful, if only just for myself. While I have my degree in English, I realized my passion in my first semester of nursing school at the University of New Mexico. The idea that I can help people who felt the same way or had the same experiences I did gets me out of bed in the morning. Now I am learning tools that can save someone's life, physically and emotionally. And it makes me realize all of the suicidal thoughts I have lived through and moments of self-doubt, tears, and anxiety attacks. I now feel liberated. As I step into the next semester, and hopefully this next career, I carry my depression on my shoulder, but it no longer feels heavy because I know I can change how others think about themselves and their mental health because I have lived through that, too. Thank you for taking the time to read my story and thank you for your consideration.