I cannot recall exactly how old I was when I read "Turtles All the Way Down" for the first time, but I can recall the moment I realized that I had never felt more seen than I had while reading a young adult novel written by a man who is about thirty years older than I am. Still, I can remember the quotes I have written in my phone's notepad app that finally provided me with the words to describe the mental barriers I encounter every day. In middle school, I began experiencing severe anxiety. I would be thrown into spirals of overthinking and become unable to communicate with others, much less explain what was happening to me. I had a vague concept of anxiety, but I did not realize that it was the source of my struggles. Reading "Turtles All the Way Down" was the first time I ever realized there was a term to describe the little voice in the back of my mind, the overwhelming feelings I could not explain to anyone else. The book’s protagonist, Aza Holmes, is constantly thrown into spirals of anxiety and panic attacks at the mercy of her mind - the same attacks I was experiencing constantly. After I finally found a way to communicate my affliction with others, I was finally able to break down the barricade within my mind: the mental block that prevented me from being able to finish my school work, connect with others, and receive adequate assistance for my struggles. I constantly find new ways that "Turtles All the Way Down" connects to my personal identity. As I grow older, my connection with Aza grows stronger. Although I still resonate with Aza's struggles to control her thoughts, I now see myself even more in her struggle to live up to the expectations of others while failing to meet the expectations she has set for herself. My attempts to verbalize this struggle pale in comparison to the synopsis printed on my well-worn copy: "Aza is trying. She is trying to be a good daughter, a good friend, a good student... while also living within the ever-tightening spiral of her own thoughts." In my experiences with mental health, I find that my background of being considered academically and artistically gifted made it significantly more difficult to admit to myself that I was struggling. I tended to attach my self-worth to my grades and performance in extracurricular activities, particularly my classical piano studies. Whenever I struggled with an assignment, received a subpar test score, or had difficulty learning a new piece, I experienced significant anxiety about my GPA, musical ability, and how my parents would react if they saw that my performance did not meet the high standards they held for me. I believed that if I told someone that my grades were faltering because I could not concentrate due to my frequent panic attacks and anxious spirals, or that I would sit paralyzed by fear while staring at my piano for hours, they would think less of me and judge me for not having the same success I once did. Even today, I struggle with my fear of beginning difficult tasks because I do not believe I will perform to the absolute highest standards. As I continue to learn how I can best manage my anxiety, I have observed that many other high-achieving students and artists have gone through similar experiences with their mental health, especially the belief that they would be looked down upon if they told others that they were struggling. Although I have made it to the brighter side of my troubles with anxiety, every day presents new challenges and barriers that will only grow larger as I progress into adulthood. I am always working to improve myself, and I hope to help others who struggle with mental health but do not have the words or confidence to describe their issues to others. Mental health is essential for everyone, but I would most like to raise awareness among high-achieving high school and college students, especially those pursuing the arts. I have found that sharing my story with others helps people verbalize their mental health concerns or understand what those around them are struggling with. After completing my studies, I hope to work in arts administration, particularly with organizations focusing on community engagement. My dream role is to work with the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s Youth Orchestra of Los Angeles program, which provides free music education to underserved communities throughout Los Angeles, and be the trusted resource and role model that I desperately needed as a young teen. If even one person can find the words to describe their struggles due to my efforts, it will be enough for me.

They say it takes a village to raise a child; sometimes, it is incredibly easy to identify the person who built your village. For the first sixteen years of my life, my grandfather drove me to every extracurricular activity I wanted to attend, no matter the time or place, a privilege I took for granted. I did not realize the dedication it takes to be the person driving until I had to bring my brother to all of his extracurricular activities, but I did it without question because I knew my parents relied on me. Throughout my life, my parents have ironed the importance of hard work and dedication into my mind; both had to pay their way through school as members of large families, dedicating their lives to ensuring their children would have the opportunity to do anything they put their minds to. No one embodies the meaning of hard work more than my grandfather did, and nobody is as humble about their role as a cornerstone in their community as he was. During his career, he worked incredibly hard to provide for his family of seven. On September 11th, 2001, my grandfather was working on the George Washington Bridge in New York City when the World Trade Center was attacked, and due to their expertise in metallurgy, my grandfather and his ironworker brethren were asked to visit Ground Zero to assist in the investigation of the attacks. My grandfather, a former National Guardsman, was incredibly proud to serve his country in its hour of need, regardless of the dangers that lay in the ruins of the Twin Towers. Even in retirement, my grandfather never stopped working; he did more before noon than most people did all day, maintaining his beloved house and helping his children whenever they asked. Despite his active lifestyle, the horrors of 9/11 came back to haunt my grandfather when he was diagnosed with mouth cancer, attributed to his exposure to chemicals at Ground Zero over a decade before. Thankfully, treatment was successful, though surgeons removed the majority of his tongue and replaced it with a skin graft. My grandfather maintained his community and familial involvement after treatment, taking on a delivery route for our local paper and always making time to spend with his grandchildren. Still, he never fully recovered from his battle with cancer. When he passed suddenly in January 2025, nearly a decade after his initial diagnosis, the line at his viewing was so long that it wrapped around the building; the funeral home had to open the doors early to relieve the traffic. Today, Dunmore High School awards a scholarship in my grandfather’s name to graduating seniors pursuing the trades, maintaining his legacy of giving back to the community he loved so dearly. It is a privilege to be his granddaughter. I miss him dearly, but his loss taught me the true value of community and the purpose of building a world for future generations. I am far from a tradesman; I am currently earning a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Stage Management, and I intend to begin a Master of Legal Studies this Fall, but I cannot wait to use my career to do good. After finishing my studies, I hope to work in arts administration, particularly with the LA Phil’s Youth Orchestra Los Angeles program, which provides free music education to underserved communities. My ultimate dream is to develop an internship program that allows local students to play an active role in the administrative side of the performing arts, giving back to the community that I love so dearly.

I have played piano for as long as I can remember. Nothing comes as naturally or feels as fulfilling as sitting down at a bench to start working on a new piece. I have read music for nearly as long as I have read English. Music is intertwined throughout my life in ways words cannot describe. It is not shocking, then, when I explain that a Bluetooth page turner pedal most inspires me about how technology can make the world a better place. Though simplistic and unassuming, these page turners exemplify how technology can accommodate anyone, anywhere, for whatever they need. Technology plays a key role in allowing people with disabilities to live to their full potential, from screen readers and closed captions to physical devices that interact with phones, tablets, and computers. Assistive technology benefits everyone, whether someone requires assistance with daily tasks or just needs a bit of extra help to make their life easier. Page turners are the epitome of such an idea: something as mundane as turning a page on digital sheet music can be a life-changing accommodation to a person with a physical disability that prevents them from using a touchscreen. A Bluetooth page turner allows musicians to devote their entire focus to the piece they are playing, removing the need to worry about finding an acquaintance to turn pages for them or figure out when there are breaks in the music that will allow the performer to use a free hand. Thanks to the Bluetooth page turner, the musician has less to worry about, which improves the quality of their performance and increases the enjoyment of the audience. When life is easier for one person, the quality of life improves for everyone.

For many, college is incredibly stressful, but it doesn't have to be. The first step of maintaining physical and mental health as a student is to know your limits and take time for yourself, but this is easier said than done. Throughout my life, I have struggled to prioritize my health and wellness amidst academic and extracurricular commitments. Worried about letting others down, I would internalize my struggles and sacrifice my mental and physical health to maintain a packed schedule comprised of many activities, volunteer hours, and rigorous classes. My lifestyle was unsustainable, but I didn't stop overwhelming myself in every area of my life until my junior year of high school, when my mind could no longer withstand the pressure I had placed upon myself. During the fall of my junior year, I became involved in numerous activities and programs reflective of my passions and goals for the future, including a full-time internship, participation in my local school district's marching band, a part-time job, and rigorous preparation for a classical piano recital at Carnegie Hall. The commitments made towards these endeavors, combined with the high-volume academic workload I had assumed, eventually stretched me to my limit. I was unable to handle the time commitments of my activities and academics. Unwilling to disappoint any of those to whom I had promised my time, I chose to sacrifice my academic success over my other responsibilities. However, as I gained leadership roles in my extracurriculars, I soon began to struggle with balancing my activities, even as academics took a back seat. In my quest to avoid disappointing anyone, I let down everyone who depended on me, including myself. My academics suffered the most, and in my attempts to regain my footing and raise my grades before the end of the school year, I had to drop many activities. Although I assumed those I had let down would be upset with me for the impact it had on them, my teachers and friends were more concerned about the fact that I had prioritized everyone's needs but my own. My experience during my junior year had a lasting impact, both positive and negative; though my grades suffered, I learned a fundamental lesson about how to say "no" when I cannot handle additional commitments, whether they be academic or extracurricular. My knowledge of personal boundaries was invaluable during my transition to college, and whilst I saw my friends struggle to balance college-level coursework and the enhanced requirements of college clubs and activities, I was able to understand my limits. Today, I am highly involved on campus at the University of Southern California. I actively participate in and contribute to campus life as a member of the USC Trojan Marching Band, an Admitted Student Outreach Volunteer for the School of Dramatic Arts, a Research Assistant for the Annenberg Inclusion Initiative, and the Social Media Chair for the Sack of Troy, USC's parody newspaper. Still, I always make sure to take time for myself; I build at least one day with as few classes as possible into my academic schedule so I can focus on recharging and catching up on assignments for classes and clubs. I leave myself an hour before bed to unwind, read a book, and relax, creating a consistent sleep schedule that leaves me feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day when I wake up in the morning. Although my road to self-care was lengthy, I am grateful for the experiences that led to my appreciation of my mental and physical health. I hope other high-achieving students can do the same.