Growing up, I wanted to (in no particular order)be an artist, interior designer, fashion designer, teacher, business owner, and singer. In most of those careers, I heard how I wasn't suited well for it, or how difficult it would be, so I gave up on my dreams so fast. Sometimes, it wasn't because I wasn't suited for it but because my mother and sister weren't suited for it, so I might as well choose something else. My family was getting involved in my decisions more as I got older, telling me to settle and do something useful. Soon, I would even question if I was good enough in those fields that I would give up without the input of others even being involved. No one asked me what my dream was not really, no one but my friends. They would say, I helped them so much I should be a teacher, art instructor, or vocal professor. I was told that I have great signs of empathy and could be a great therapist, and my love and need of art could be seen through and through. So, now I am studying to be an art therapist, enjoying the new art mediums and techniques and embracing my new path going down the road. Even now, new friends I have met the last two years at State Fair Community College (SFCC) have talked to me and treated me as though I was their counselor. I haven't completely shaken off teaching; my desire to help stems further than just people's emotions and coping through situations. I am currently working as a work-study student tutor in SFCC's tutoring lab, I want to help however I can, even if it means living through someone else's Biology class experiences and not just my own. I have listened to what I can and cannot handle, I have been treated as the baby of my family with no opinion, and I have been told to settle and not keep going. I can handle what I tell myself I can. I am an adult who has had her own opinion for more than a decade. Finally, I will keep going however long my heart remains beating in my chest. I am worth my dreams, not because I am a woman, but because I am stubborn and still breathing; nothing will take me down ever again. No words, no taunts, because this is my life and those who love me will let me live it, dreams and all.

I had a hard time during my sophomore year of high school (2020-2021). COVID-19 was still happening, I was dealing with complicated social interactions, but most of all, I went through something very traumatic. I felt scared around all men, whether they were strangers or family friends, it didn’t matter. I couldn’t talk, didn’t even want to walk in the supermarket, and refused to go anywhere alone. Everything that happened on October 10th, 2020, wouldn’t leave my mind. I felt like my nervous system, my mind, my everything was betraying me. I tried and failed to feel safe, not at church, home, not even at school. The art room was the one safe place I thought would never go away. That man managed to take that from me, too. The only way to get my mind off everything was to completely think of nothing but homework, projects, and hiding what happened; only those things could distract me from my increased social anxiety. Coming to State Fair Community College, I didn’t think I could trust anyone. I would be completely isolated because, years later, I still can’t look or talk normally to a male I don’t know very well. Somehow, kind people found me, and I was blessed by the fact that I didn’t scare them away. They help me feel like I can do anything and like I am talented. Mostly, they make me feel like I am important no matter how other people made me feel in the past. I felt like a whole new person. A friend from high school I was recently reunited with told me I looked different. I asked what she meant, but she struggled to put it into words. Mainly, I seemed more open and healthier than I had before, and I owe it all to the relationships I had formed over the last two years. Not only did they help me, but they let me help them, too. In these last three semesters, they made me feel like I am on the right path to be an Art therapist. I want to continue my path at the University of Central Missouri and beyond. Unfortunately, I need help to continue my journey, and I was hoping you could help me. I want to help those who lived and fought through similar events to what I did. I want to teach them they are not alone, and though at times it may seem like no one is there to help them, they just need to wait a little longer. No one deserves to be alone, especially when going through hard times and traumatic moments. I know I will do whatever I can to help others, and to do that, I need your help too. Thank you, Reagan A Miller