I am interested in sonography because I grew up always having ultrasounds done for one reason or the next. I remember craning my neck to try and see what sonographers were looking at, and even when they would point it out to me I still could never see it. I found it fascinating then, just as I do now, that by placing some jelly on someone's abdomen and moving a wand around we can see images of what is happening inside the body. I want to learn the intricate details of what makes up our bodies, and how everything works. Growing up, I wanted as many babies as I could have. I had the motherly, nurturing instinct and I even played with dolls until I was in middle school because I wished so badly I could be grown up enough to have my own. However, as someone who has struggled with anxiety from the time I was seven and depression from the time I was 12, being a mother has made me wary. I noticed the shift in my motherly and nurturing instinct when I was 14, around the time my depression was at its peak. I didn’t want anything to do with babies anymore, and I couldn’t stand to even look at one. Some don’t believe mental illness and trauma change a person, but I can say it does. Now, at 20, I hop back and forth; “Do I want them again?”, but I’m too scared of giving those innocent babies what I have: mental and lifelong chronic illnesses. So, I have decided that even though I can't have my own, I want to work as an obstetric sonographer to see as many babies as possible. I get to share the excitement of finding out it's a boy or a girl, just as sometimes I wish I was able to experience it. That is the number one reason I want to work in sonography. I believe that being a sonographer does not only mean that I will be looking at babies all day but the possibility to help create a perfect moment for the expecting parents who are itching to know if it's a boy or girl, or to be someone’s ally when they need one because they aren't sure what to do. To be there for them, show them empathy and compassion, and be someone to lean on, I feel a sense of purpose and fulfillment to have that ability. I have an incredible opportunity to make a difference in the lives of my patients, their families, and the community. To achieve my goal of getting a degree in sonography, I had to switch my major from Biology to Diagnostic Medical Sonography. I was given a new academic advisor and we are working together to get me caught up as quickly as possible with my new classes so I can apply for the program on time. Due to the program being selective, I have to maintain a certain GPA and certain grades in these classes. This will take a lot of study time that I don't have because when I'm not in classes I am at work. However, I have carved time for studying and found ways to make it work this far, and I intend to keep making it work for the last two years. If I don't make it work, I won't graduate on time, and it's more money being spent on retaking classes I didn't pass when I'm already paying for college on my own. To reach my goal, I will do whatever it takes.

“Just wait. Just hold on until April”. The bitter cold slapped me in the face and out of my thoughts as I walked back to my dorm building, luggage dragging behind me across ice and frozen snow. I was relieved to be back, but I would always miss the warmth Florida had given me. As I unpacked I saw his name pop up on my screen. His text read, “Do you want to meet at the library later?”. I nervously sat with my roommate on the library's third floor writing scholarship applications. I knew who he was, but we never had formally met. As I sat anxiously, she had no idea how nervous I was. I couldn’t keep still or focus, and then, there he was. The room was hot, stuffy, and quiet. We had chosen the quietest room with a fireplace in hopes of getting work done. Our efforts, however, proved futile. We talked as quietly as we could for hours about anything and everything. He asked about my trip to Florida, and I asked about him in return. He eventually asked me back to his dorm room, and without hesitation, I agreed. We talked and watched movies until 7 am, never had I clicked with anyone so fast, felt so comfortable sharing the darkest parts of my story, or felt a magnetic force between someone before. He fit me like a missing puzzle piece, and I finally had been made whole. The next day, we didn’t separate. We went out to Panda Express and were together for the whole day, and he slept over at my dorm. From the first night we met I knew he was the reason I was inclined to wait until April ever since that previous December. It was in April when he asked me to be his girlfriend after spending almost every day and night together. The 1989 (Taylor’s Version) Album has a few songs that resonate with me for a few different reasons, but the one song that stands out to me the most is You Are In Love. This song resonates with me so much because of the following lyrics from the first verse and the chorus: and your shoulders brush No proof, one touch, but you felt enough You can hear it in the silence (Silence), silence (Silence), you You can feel it on the way home (Way home), way home (Way home), you That first night I felt it on the walk to his place. The air was cold but I couldn’t feel it when he talked. I was entranced. As we watched movies he kept finding ways to inch closer and closer to me on his bed, hoping I wouldn’t notice, but I did. Eventually, our shoulders brushed and not only could I hear it in our silence, but I could feel it in the air surrounding us. In the second verse, the lyrics that remind me of him are: Morning, his place, burnt toast, Sunday / You keep his shirt, he keeps his word / And for once, you let go of your fears and your ghosts We woke up and got food, within a week I got his shirt, and within time I let my walls crumble down. The second song that would be on my 2023 soundtrack would be Out Of The Woods. It reminds me of how he helped pull me out of that dark, twisted, and scary place my mental health had put me in. Because of him, “Are we out of the woods yet?” can finally be answered. That answer is yes.

To look at the world through lens A is to look at it, enjoy it, and see it through bright colors and opportunity. However, if you were to look at the world using lens B it may look dull, grey, and diminishing. To me, when I was actively struggling with my mental illness with no help whatsoever all I saw was a world that seemed hopeless to live in. I no longer saw the brightness that the world had to offer, but instead, I saw only pain, and darkness, and felt the fear of being swallowed up by the earth, and never feeling the warmth again. Before I got the help and support that I now have I used to full-heartedly believe that I was nothing special, people were far worse off than me, and the battle going on inside my head was something so insignificant and minuscule I didn't need the proper help that I thankfully ended up receiving. I don't believe my mental health is important; I know it is. I know the battles I have faced and that they are similar to what other people face and have faced. The ones who struggle with their mental health I like to think of as some of the strongest. The stigma around mental health is so suffocating, and the battle against your mind is in my opinion one of the harshest, but the most silent. Adding both of those together creates the worst concoction that sadly takes too many lives, while almost taking mine. Everyone's mental health is important because, to the ones who deal with it, it is the loudest battle, that takes place in one's head, which is ironic. After all, it's so silent no one else would know it's even there. It's like ringing a cowbell in a coat closet as loud as you can over and over again. That's how it felt to be in my head before treatment. It felt neverending, it consumed me, and my entire life. After receiving the treatment I needed that constant banging in my head has diminished. The color of my world is coming back, and the air doesn't feel so suffocating. I am slowly starting to be able to see things through lens A instead of lens B and it feels so good to see the world as I used to when I was a child and so carefree. I have made it a point in my life to maintain my mental wellness and keep my mental health in check, even when it slips and I have a bad mental health day. To accomplish this I make sure to get plenty of rest, drink plenty of water, and find creative outlets to release some of my big emotions when my mental health has declined. For example, painting, journaling, reading, or even just sitting in a quiet room listening to the sounds of my fish tanks has proven to be extremely therapeutic and helps to regulate my emotions significantly. I constantly remind myself that the way I feel isn't for forever, like I used to think when I was 13. While it may feel like forever, this will too pass. I try to remember the quote I found in sixth grade that has never left my side. "Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain."-Vivian Greene.

College in itself is exciting to me. I get the opportunity to learn and grow into the person I want to be, while also getting to meet new friends and others along the way. To me, a healthy life, body, and soul is achieved and maintained when your mental, physical, and emotional health or the top priority. When one or more of these is not properly cared for, you become imbalanced, which can affect your day-to-day life and relationships with others. While it is vital that your mental, physical, and emotional health stay prioritized and healthy throughout your life, it is especially true for college students. One of the best first steps a student can make is finding a routine that works for them and that prioritizes their sleep. College students are known to be up all night and rely on caffeine to help get them through late-night study sessions or the day after their late night. Sleep can even be challenging to prioritize due to hectic schedules, whether it be academic, work, sports-related, or even social. In turn, because they are not prioritizing their sleep, they are not catching their much-needed Z's, and their brains are not at optimal function, leading to poor academic performance, anxiety, stress, and bad eating habits. While it is difficult at the start, finding that routine and grounding yourself in it is the best way to be successful both academically and in maintaining your health. It works for me, and I bet it works for others. You would think being on a college campus and having to either bike or walk everywhere would prove to be efficient in keeping in shape and getting enough physical exercise throughout your day-to-day life, but it sadly does not work that way. To stay healthy you need physical activity as well as good eating habits, which a lot of college students lack for a variety of reasons. However, it is critical to maintain a healthy and fit lifestyle. A regular exercise routine should be established and prioritized in your week, especially during periods of high stress. I found that on weekends, getting out and walking on campus and feeling the air and warm sun on my face at the start of the semester helped to ground me and keep my mental health in check while also giving me good exercise. During the periods I was highly stressed I would do a quick ten or fifteen-minute workout on the days I knew I wouldn't be able to hit a gym and have an in-depth workout session. I found that those helped release my pent-up stress, but not only that, my anger, sadness, or it just plainly helped to make me feel good. Exercise is not only beneficial for your physical health but your mental health as well. College can take its toll on anyone and their mental and emotional health. It's important to have a trusted professor, family member, friend, or even a group of friends that you feel you are safely able to confide in when needed. The stress of deadlines, exams, or additional external factors can weigh a person down and affect mental well-being, along with academic performance. I discovered that when my mental health was on a decline it was beneficial when I read, talked to someone, completed some physical activity, journaling, or even simply a walk outside. Taking time to cleanse the mind can maintain an effective impact on mental well-being. When all three, physical, mental, and emotional health, are balanced and prioritized it will create healthy habits that will last a lifetime.

I look at myself in the mirror and wonder where I've gone. I look so withered away by how much weight I've lost. My skin looks grey, my eyes deeply shaded by dark circles, and I simply want to know where the girl who used to have a passion and love for life has gone. My diagnosis of Crohn's disease killed my love for life, but I was determined to take the journey and find it again. To me, healthy life is being healthy emotionally, mentally, and physically balanced. It's essential that each of those three are well balanced, or else that imbalance can drag you down. Growing up, I was a typical kid who enjoyed my sweets, but I also enjoyed eating the foods my body needed to be healthy. I was a happy child and active in and out of school sports. Throughout my childhood, I was balanced. However, my physical, mental, and emotional health eventually began declining once I reached middle school. During that time, my depression and anxiety spiked. I was constantly anxious, and my depression made me feel like I was carrying 50-pound weights. By the end of eighth grade, I noticed a change in my physical health. I had grown out of liking sports due to my anxiety and fear of not being good enough, and I had gained weight. Throughout my freshman year of high school, I started developing symptoms related to my Crohn's disease. I ignored them, hoping they would go away, but those symptoms only worsened, and I started to deteriorate. Once I reached the start of sophomore year, I had lost a substantial amount of weight, my symptoms were intensifying, and one of my best friends even said I didn't look like myself, that I looked "grey." During this time, my emotional and mental health declined severely. I looked and felt like a shell of who I used to be, and I just wanted to get better, to look and feel normal again. Now in college, I think back to the pamphlet I was given in the hospital about all of the foods I should avoid and why, and what foods were "safe," but since every Crohn's patient is different to "find what works for me." But for someone with Crohn's, every meal can be a source of stress because we don't know when or why a flare-up will occur, it can even happen eating one of our "safe" foods. Welcoming these changes in my life over the past few years hasn't been easy. I had to give up a ton of the foods I loved and find what foods would hurt me or what foods were safe. It was discouraging, and countless times I found myself begging God to make it stop, to take the pain away. Being out of remission feels like you're fighting an immensely strong water current that is snaking its cold, strong arm from the bottom of the depths and attempting to drag you under, crush you, make you miserable, and dehumanize you. But, I don't want to let it win. Every day I wake up with a new sense of hope that today will be better. I eat my safe foods, more healthy than "unhealthy" foods, exercise a few days a week, and keep my stress levels low, which can be difficult in college. I also make certain to stay on top of my water intake and keep good sleeping habits. These changes have helped me get to and remain in remission, even in college.

Growing up, as a good majority of children do, I hated math. No, I loathed math with every fiber of my being. To me, math was the monster living under my bed. Math was the dark and eery shadow that lurked behind every dark corner. Following me and waiting for the day it could eat me and swallow me whole. I never had a good relationship with math. It's like my brain and the math concepts were terrible roommates who never got along with anything. That is until I got to college. I went into college mentally preparing for the worst. Math had never been my strong suit, and I knew I was destined to fail every math class I was going to take before I even stepped foot on that campus. However, just weeks in, my freshman-year algebra professor changed my perspective on everything. She taught in a way that finally made sense to me. It was like finding the missing key to the locked door, or Prince Charming finding Cinderella. Her ways of teaching had me finding the missing pieces and making connections. Before, I dreaded the idea of attending math class every single year since third grade, and now, I was excited to go and see her and learn. She slowly became my favorite teacher, and eventually, I started to love math. Now, going into my sophomore year of college I find myself excited to step foot in a math classroom. It's almost jarring to me to see how much I have changed with my new-found relationship with math. I now love learning it because it's like a puzzle. As a child and even into my younger teen years I loved puzzles, and I was extremely good at putting them together. Math to me is just little puzzles that create one giant puzzle, like when you have to learn a simple math concept first before being able to move on and understand the bigger concept. To me, math is important because if not every, it is used in almost every profession, and is even needed as a basic skill. While this "basic" skill can become more and more complex, it's important to learn it because it helps apply and shape our day-to-day lives. Learning math helps us to make sense of the world around us, improves our cognitive and problem-solving skills, strengthens reasoning and critical thinking, and helps us think analytically about the world and develop logical reasoning. It is so much more important than some people think. The brain is like a muscle. When people work out they are doing it to gain bigger muscles. Personally, I love working out and seeing my muscles progress. So, when we learn math, we have to treat it as such and work out our brains to be able to develop this skill. This is just another reason why I love learning math.

Starting high school is never easy for anyone. Transitioning from middle school, where I was at the top of the school food chain to right back onto the bottom of a different one wasn't easy for me. I went into high school with only a select few friends that could be counted off on one hand, debilitating self-esteem, and without knowing, a debilitating body. I started noticing the changes, not just the slowness in which my body was failing me, but in other areas. I gained a few new friends, but my mental health was getting worse. My body was slowly failing me, and while I had those few close friends I felt so isolated, alone, and like I didn't belong anywhere. It seemed as though everyone was finding their groups, but I was still an outsider to everyone. Sophomore year is when everything came to light. I remember the searing pain coursing through my veins, my muscles, and every last particle of my body. Numerous emergency room visits and doctors proved to no avail, that is, until one. She became my gastrointestinal specialist for years and her involvement in helping me treat my illness is something I will forever be grateful for. Developing Crohn's Disease at the end of my freshman year of high school and dealing with its attacks on me at the start of my sophomore year changed my way of life. It started to make high school even harder. Where I had already felt out of place and isolated, feeling like I didn't belong anywhere, it made me feel as though I was an outcast, a freak. No one else seemed to have this disease, and I questioned every day why it had to be me. I became angry and would take it out on my family, friends, and my boyfriend at the time. I always felt terrible when I would do that, but I couldn't stop. I tried writing, journaling, screaming, and anything that would help me relieve some of the anger that was so pent up in my body it was starting to turn to stone, to remain there forever. One day I found a TikTok video made by a runner. She was detailing her experiences with it, and the benefits it gave her. The one that stuck with me was when she said it gave her a way to release her emotions. She would run and run and run until she couldn't anymore. I considered the idea, but I talked myself out of trying seeing as I labeled myself as "not a runner". One day, I got so angry it was the only thing I could think to do. So I ran and ran. After my run, I felt so light and airy, almost like a feather. I felt the release she was talking about, and I knew I had found my way to release those pent-up emotions, including my aggression. I eventually started running after school for fun and couldn't go a day without it. My emotions felt more regulated, my body was able to get into remission with help from constant exercise, and I found my passion. I love running because it is a way for me to find release and regulate my emotions, clear my head of my constant ADHD thoughts that go a hundred miles a minute and the bonus of keeping my body from going to war with itself. I played soccer in high school, and that helped me to stay healthy, mentally and physically, and do something I love every day. Running gave me my life back.

Snow is interesting, isn't it? Not one snowflake is the exact same, and once it melts it leaves no trace that it was ever there, a part of the world. That's how I feel about myself and the world around me. You hear that everyone is different, that there are no two people the exact same. There is always going to be some distinction that makes someone different. I feel as though if I were to be the snowflake that melted away and was no longer a part of this earth I would leave no trace, never to be remembered that I was the snowflake who rested in the spot that I did. In my family, I'm the youngest of four siblings. While I may not look like them and they all look like each other, each of my siblings is so different. When I look at them I see parts of who I am. I see softspokenness and determination in myself the way my oldest sister has it. I'm told I'm starting to be like my second oldest sister more and more every day. We both have the instinct to protect, attack and fight whatever might hurt our family, but my favorite attribute that we share is the hearts that are too big for our bodies. Lastly, my brother and I both share a gentle nature, quiet, and simple. But no matter what makes me similar to them I will always be different in the aspect of my mental health. That has always been the biggest identifier to me that I wasn't normal. It's the one thing that sets me apart from them more than our looks. At the age of nine, I knew something wasn't right. I was constantly nervous, anxious about the what if's, always planning escape routes and what I would do if XYZ happened. I wasn't carefree like a nine-year-old should be. Being introduced to others it was always "she's really shy" or "she's just really quiet". I thought my anxiety was just being shy and quiet, I didn't know that's not how being shy was supposed to feel. I recognized my depression at only twelve years old but chose to remain silent for the fear I would be scrutinized, saying others have it worse, I'm just being dramatic, everyone is sad stop saying you’re depressed for attention. I figured I would grow out of it as I got older, and I wouldn't feel the constant tug of war on my brain. Growing up it only seemed to get worse. It felt like a weed plunging its roots deep into me, tangling and constricting my brain and thoughts. I didn't feel safe in my own mind. I wished for the day I would wake up and my brain would be quiet, just for one day. Eventually, my mom noticed. She had me evaluated and my results were positive, I have anxiety and depression. It was news to her, but I knew I had anxiety at just nine years old, and depression at just twelve. What did hurt the most was the confirmation my brain was sick, and never going to get better. However, being put on my medication has changed my life immensely. It's the only way to quiet my brain and to make me feel like I'm living, not just existing. Struggling with my own mental health has helped me to recognize when someone else needs help, or just someone to talk to. No matter what, I always make sure to be there for people struggling, as I know how isolating it can feel.

Typically when children are little they love candy. They go crazy for it, even. The rush they get when they eat their favorite sugary snack is almost sometimes too much to bare for their little bodies. I myself used to be that way. However, as we get older things tend to change. We change. We develop a different liking for the taste of something. I never thought my everchanging tastebuds would one day crave what I call grown-up candy, or for what it really is: Prozac. Being in middle school can be hard enough for anyone, but what can make it especially difficult is not knowing what is going on inside your own head and wondering why you think like this. Why can’t I be normal? Is this even normal? What even is normal? I woke up every morning fearing my own thoughts, and fearing someone would find out about them. If people found out then that meant you were doing it for attention, you were just sad, or it wasn’t that serious and you were being overdramatic. I kept that mentality and pushed aside my feelings for years because I feared being viewed that way. Not only that but how could I explain to someone all of the loud screaming going on around me in my own head, the one place that should be safe from others? How could I explain that my own brain was trying to kill me, telling me that I should be dead, and trying to get me to go through with it? No one would be able to understand what it was like in my head to the extent I did unless they took it from me to try it on like a hat, just to give it back when they were done and could see how messed up I am. I knew no one would know how to help me, no one would understand what it was like constantly battling your own self, and because of that, I kept it inside. Growing up I was always called “quiet” and “shy”, which continued even until my teen years. I thought the chronic anxiety I woke up with every day was just because I was quiet and shy. I thought it was normal. I thought everything was normal, but deep down I knew something was wrong. I knew I needed help, I was just scared of drowning deeper in my own self if no one believed me, which made the depression weigh twenty times heavier. This went on for years until I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew I would die without some sort of relief. That relief came in the form of Prozac, and once it started working it was like putting glasses on and seeing the world clearly for the first time. The bad thoughts and constant anguish subsided, and I felt like I was a living person, living in the world instead of just existing in time. Everyone could see the difference it made in me. Seeking out help has helped me to create a stronger relationship with my mom. She was the one I told when I wanted help, and she never once discouraged the idea. She made the appointment with my doctor the next day and got me in as soon as possible to get evaluated. Not only has my relationship with my mother improved and changed for the better, but my beliefs have changed as well. For years, from the time I was 11 until 18, I believed I was overreacting about my own mental health. I never thought it was that serious, I was being a baby, and overdramatic, and other people have it way worse. I felt like I shouldn’t be allowed to feel the way I do. However, now I know mental health can affect anyone, for any reason, and sometimes for no reason at all. As for my career aspirations, I am planning on working in a field that is based on helping others. While it isn’t to help mentally, or in a way related to mental health, it is the field of genetic counseling, and I am able to help parents or expecting parents. I believe that the part of me that’s always wanted this job knew I needed to help people in a way, maybe not the way I was helped, but to offer some sort of sympathetic shoulder to cry on. After hearing firsthand, the negative experience that a teacher had with a genetic counselor I knew I needed to be the one who offered sympathy instead of an icy stare and cold heart. While my journey with my mental health is forever going to hit high hills and low valleys I know it's not the end like I did when I was younger. It has given me a story to tell, and hopefully inspire others to not give up, to seek out the help they need, and that everything is going to be okay.

I remember the feeling of standing in the living room when I started to feel hot, and when the room began to spin. I thought this couldn’t be happening, we had my dad and stepmom's wedding to go to. Then nausea hit, my vision blurred, I could no longer see, and I had to crawl to the bathroom and hope I could find it. While the whole ordeal took maybe three minutes from start to finish, it sure felt like forever. It proceeded to happen again and again, so my blood levels were checked. I was anemic and vitamin D deficient. My primary care doctor assumed it was due to it being winter and heavy periods. She prescribed me iron tablets and vitamin D pills to take. Everything leveled out until my sophomore year of high school. During the end of summer, heading into my sophomore year, I started experiencing immense pain, diarrhea, and bloody stools regularly. The frequent loss of blood depleted iron and vitamin levels in my body once again. I became anemic, I was extremely fatigued, and started losing weight without trying. I was scheduled for an endoscopy and colonoscopy, where it came back as being diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease, a chronic inflammatory bowel disease. While spending a week in the hospital I was paired with a GI specialist who would get me on the right track. Adjusting to life with an inflammatory bowel disease was a strenuous process that took a toll on me mentally, and of course physically. I was constantly stressed and overwhelmed trying to learn about my chronic illness, treatment options, and finding safe foods. I spent hours hoping that this would be the day I go into remission and if it wasn’t how long it would be until I do, if this medication would work for me, let alone how my body would react. I was terrified we would never find something that would work and we would run out of treatment options. These only added to my anxiety as I was often anxiously pondering the what-ifs. A lot of my time for the first few months was spent in the bathroom, trying to find foods I can eat without feeling the wrath of my own body later, monthly infusions, or doctor appointments. Then the reactions started. I couldn’t eat without the fear of getting violently sick. I remember the first time it happened. I remember throwing up so much that the green-tinted stomach acid had become the only thing that came up for hours. While we assumed it was a stomach bug it was actually my body’s way of telling us I was developing antibodies against my infusion medication, I was out of remission, and I would need to be started on Humira pen injections along with immunosuppressant medication. Now, three years later, I still go in and out of remission. In the times it gets bad It feels like I’m experiencing a never-ending cycle of hatred from the world, and from my own body. However, I look back on the girl who would have rather died than continue to struggle with this never-ending shadow that follows her around. I would pray to God to let me die on the days it was treacherous. Now, I keep pushing forward. Having this illness has taught me so many lessons: to keep fighting, I am stronger than I think, lessons on perseverance, and has taught me that my illness is not me, and I am not defined by it, but it helps make me who I am instead.

“Why does it take a life ending to learn how to cherish each day? Why must we wait until we run out of time to start to accomplish all that we dreamed, when once we had all the time in the world? Why don’t we look at the person we love the most like it’s the last time we will ever see them? Because if we did, life would be so vibrant. Life would be so truly and completely lived.”. This is a quote from one of my favorite books I have ever read, A Thousand Boy Kisses by Tillie Cole. While shattering my heart as I read this book, it gave me a lesson for life, a lesson everyone should hear and should live by. There are far too many times people say they will do something later, that they have tomorrow, "next time", or the rest of their lives, but that day never arrives. Life is swept out from under their feet and they never even saw it coming. As cliche as it is, this book taught me to live as if my life will end tomorrow. Not only that, this book has taught me about loving others. While living a life that if it ended tomorrow I could say I'm proud of and lived fully, it also reminded me to love others like their life will end tomorrow. Growing up I was always said to have a heart too big for my body. I'm too nice, too caring, and too loving. But maybe that's what the world needs. I have believed for the past few years with every fiber of my being that I was put on this earth for one reason: to love. In every friend group I find myself in I'm always the healer, the giver, or the therapist friend. I am always there for whoever needs me. I could be crying alone in my room and I get a text from someone needing me and I will wipe my tears and be there for them in any way they need. No matter what they have done to wrong me or hurt me, no matter what anyone, friend or not, has done to me I would be there. I think this book is a great reminder to be the one who loves someone. You don't know how they feel and when their life will end.

Your teenage years, especially when they’re in college, are typically for trying to figure out who you are. It’s where you make friends, lose them, and find out who you feel you are meant to be. Not only that, but your teenage years come with relationships, new opportunities, and even some hard lessons to learn. This year I learned some of the hardest lessons ever, while also being thrown into the college atmosphere for my freshman year which brings a whole new world of change and lessons all by itself. At just fifteen years old, I met the boy who would have my heart for the next two and a half years. We celebrated birthdays, holidays, and everything that we could together. We were each other’s best friends and there was nothing he did not know about me. He was the only one who knew everything about me, what made me tick, what upset me the most, what would make me feel better, and what made me exactly who I am. He was there for every hardship, every bad day, and every single one of the good times. Unfortunately, just before our 3rd anniversary, I lost my best friend, the day after I moved into my college dorm. He was the only one who knew I didn’t want to leave home. For anyone else who asked if I was excited about college, I put on a smile and said how excited I was. He had been the only one who had seen the tears and fear of leaving home and going to college. The day after moving in and settling into this new environment was the day I lost my other half. I already felt vulnerable and exposed in this new place I didn’t want to call home. Now, without the one person who knew how to make everything better, I felt it was all over. Nothing was going to go right this year without my person by my side to help me. However, time does wonders. Because of being in a committed and long-term relationship from the age of fifteen up until I was eighteen, I never had the experience to grow and find who I was outside of my girlfriend status. We grew together, and not as separate people, and I believe that was a partial cause of the demise of our relationship. The sudden change of a breakup and being brand new to a college campus brought on a new opportunity. Through these abrupt changes, I have met some of the best people I would not have met otherwise. I have shifted and grown into a new person, and have learned to enjoy new experiences without having someone by my side. My perspective on many things, along with learning how to live independently has been the biggest change I have gone through this year, and I am thankful for it all. What I have learned through my journey of self-discovery is how to live independently, and enjoy things as my own person, rather than having to share and grow with someone else. I have also learned how to enjoy these new experiences solo rather than wishing he was still here to grow with me, instead of growing next to me. Not only that, but I have also learned lessons on how I should treat my next relationship, along with what I should and should not tolerate. I hope we both have learned lessons from our relationship and use them to better ourselves and our futures, because I know I have and will continue to.

It is said that the number six can represent stability, harmony, and unconditional love. At just six weeks old when I got him in sixth grade, he had six letters in his name, he was with me for six years and passed away in June, the year's sixth month. I did not know it then, but It was fate that he was to be mine; his name was Cooper and he was the only stability and unconditional love I felt for the six years he was alive. Cooper was mine, in heart and soul. I was the one he had chosen, and I believe wholeheartedly that he was sent to save me. I think for the time he was Earthbound he was helping to prepare me for my new life which he would one day not be a part of. His role in my life was to get me through the hardest times of my life and deliver me safely to the other side, where things would be better. Ironic is it not, that once he was delivered over the rainbow bridge he would be safe as well from his demons. He had an untreatable brain tumor we would later find out which caused his anxiety and behavioral issues. Despite that, he was my best friend, and will always remain my best friend. He was the one that stood by me when I had no one else, just as I had done for him. When my anxiety and depression attempted to drown me, it was like he knew to stay close. While I fought this internal battle I never understood, he brought a bright light where my world had grown very dark. He made the sirens inside my head grow quieter. When I was fifteen and got my Crohn's Disease diagnosis he was there. During the Covid-19 pandemic, I was ripped from my normal life, and while losing my school and my friends, he was the only one in my life that remained constant. The summer he died I was hardly home. The day he left me was the day when I felt my heart and soul go through an incinerator. One year later, I can still feel my heart and soul rip apart when I think about him. I will forever be grateful to him for keeping me here and giving me my purpose. He taught me happiness, and how to love life again when I no longer thought I could. He also taught me how to live without him. Cooper brought me stability by never leaving my side, and he brought me harmony. On the days when my demons were screaming and the world was loud, he brought the stillness as if I was listening to a wave hitting the shore. Lastly, he gave me unconditional love. Even after getting upset and yelling at him, locking him out of my room, and taking the time he wanted to have with me for granted, he always loved me and chose me. That is what I love the most about Cooper, his unconditional love. Cooper’s role in my life was to help me learn to love life again and get me to a point where I could live. He pulled me out of those years of suffering, he departed when his work was done, and when he knew I would be okay. And that is precisely what happened. Today, I am okay. He delivered me, and I am finally in a good place, just like he knew I would be.

Because I am someone who experiences anxiety and self-doubt, there was no doubt that this question was hard for me to think of an answer for. As my adult life starts to begin it has been even more difficult, especially having to think about my future, and how I am going to get there. How drastically my life is going to change due to the fact I have chosen to go to a college almost two hours away from my home. The quality I admire deeply about myself is my sensitivity and the caring heart that is too big for my body. It has been hard to accept the fact I tend to struggle with leaving things behind and starting a new chapter. I am a very sentimental person, and the littlest thing can be hard for me to give up. However, I have come to see the silver lining with a quality like this. Not everyone has moved over ten times in their eighteen years of being alive, and not everyone has had to give up a lot of things because of that. Having sensitivity at the level I have it comes with a good sense of empathy. I feel as though hold a lot of emotions heavily in my heart. Just thinking about moving away and starting a new life yet again makes me a little happy but sad. It sometimes gets to the point I want to cry. Something else not everyone has is empathy or a lot of good memories. I love that we have memories and that we can think back on them and remember something that made us smile or cry happy tears. Not many people get the chance to have that and I love that I get to and have the opportunity to admire this about myself. Because of this quality, and knowing that after all of the hardships I have endured, such as having a broken family, moving over ten times, having to leave opportunities and things I loved behind, and chronic illness diagnosis it is amazing to me that I am capable to harbor this much love in my heart and share it with others. I believe that the life that is being laid out in front of me will be one filled with love. The goals I have for my life and future career are going to have more rough days than good. But I know because of my soft heart and a huge sense of empathy that it will help me. Having all of these qualities have helped me decide to pursue my career in genetic counseling. A great trait to have in genetic counseling is empathy. I know I will be delivering bad news almost every day multiple times a day, and the great amount of sensitivity and empathy I have stored in my body helps me to believe that I can succeed and provide a sense of comfort for the patients. I know containing this trait will help me to be able to connect to my patients on another level. I hope to provide my patients with as much love and comfort as possible. Overall, I know this quality will help me in the future. Because of my sensitivity, I can be sentimental toward patients going through times of distress. I hope someday I can make someone's day just by them feeling understood and cared about. That is truly all that matters to me, that they feel seen and valid. I feel called to bring love into this world and I dream I can make a change.

One day one of my teachers asked me what it is that I wanted to do for a future career. I told him that I wanted to be a genetic counselor. Genetics has always fascinated me and I was so relieved to have learned of this field. He told me about his daughter who had passed away. He told me that they had needed to visit with many genetic specialists and genetic counselors and how a lot of them seemed cold. They seemed closed off and showed no empathy or sympathy for their situation. Being a genetic counselor is no joke. You will be mostly delivering bad news instead of the good that the family is hoping for. I want to be the change. I want to be remembered by the families I provide services to as someone who was not stone cold but was a shoulder for them to cry on. I want to show them I am their ally, and show empathy and compassion. My teacher said that the specific counselors they saw seemed to have no compassion, or at least never showed it. The way I look at it is I want to relieve some of their pain. I do not want to add to it, like a snowball. Eventually, the weight will become too much for them and I want to help lift some of the burdens. Since genetic counseling can be such a tough job mentally I want to pinpoint all of the obstacles early. Those obstacles can include becoming mentally drained or even becoming depressed. I want to take all of the appropriate measures I can to educate myself on what I could feel, the family's feelings, and how to recognize when I may need help myself. To not run into some of those obstacles, I want to prepare myself on finding outlets to help me when I may be dealing with big emotions or when those emotions are too much for me to take on alone. Not only could it mentally affect me in many different ways, but being a woman thrown into a sea of a male-dominated fields, such as STEM, can be discouraging. While a senior in high school I took a sociology course. In one of my research papers, I wrote about women in STEM and the discrepancy between women to men in science. While writing that paper I learned of a few different reasons why there could be such a gap. Some examples include gender stereotypes that start when we are children and even in school. Young girls are steered to a care-orientated education and young boys are steered to STEM. That's not to say their education changes as a young child, all of the children are learning the same thing, but they are steered in a way that they see that they would have a better handle on things if they are pushed into care-orientated fields. A second example is looking at it through a sociological lens. It is supported through the "Big Three" ideas. These “Big Three” ideas include conflict theory, functionalism, and symbolic interactions. While there is not enough word space to go into great detail, there is a connection sociologically. If we break that black and white lens there would be a huge shift and it eventually would lead to a less male-dominated field. Not backing down and learning to flourish in a male-dominated field such as STEM is one way to beat this obstacle. I feel a sense of worth knowing I am going into a STEM field and I know I will thrive.

Typically when children are little they love candy. They go crazy for it. However, I always liked fruit better. While I was still picky about what fruits I liked I knew what I liked and what I wanted to eat. It started with kiwi. I loved it, but one day I developed a severe allergic reaction and could longer eat that fruit anymore. As I grew up my family and I learned that I could not eat certain things due to dairy or MSG in the food at a hibachi restaurant. As I got older things got harder. I learned of more foods I could no longer eat, or that I had to eat very rarely and in a small quantity otherwise I risked being sick. Now, as if it is somehow impossible it has gotten worse. I have added more foods that I need to avoid eating regularly and in small quantities, but due to a Crohn's Disease diagnosis when I was only fifteen it makes my eating habits harder. I have gotten to the point that when I find foods that do not upset my stomach I stick with them for days, weeks, and even months. Every day I will eat the same things to stay healthy and not feel sick. However, it is still hard to do even that since my body will one day decide that a category of food that it once allowed in without hesitation is now bad and causes me to be sick. It is a constant and ever-changing battle. It is a routine that I have to learn and a battle to add foods back in and or take them out again. Because of my diagnosis and food sensitivities, I have decided to take a career in genetics. While those are not the only reasons they do play a role as I am curious to find out if genetics can play a role in my illness or food sensitivities as a whole. It makes me excited for the future thinking about finding a link between genetics and my illness or food sensitivities. Being awarded this scholarship would mean so much to me. I come from a single-parent household and will be paying for college by myself. Only being awarded two scholarships out of a hundred I have applied to has been discouraging, but I know I will never get to achieve my dreams if I get discouraged and give up. I am going to keep pushing forward and I will be working two jobs in college to help pay for my college expenses. Any scholarship of any amount I will be awarded in the future will touch me from the bottom of my heart and help me to pay for my college expenses and not accrue so much student debt. I hope that when I graduate from college and graduate school I can have won scholarships along the way and because of winning them I will be able to pay my debt off and still live within my means without having to sacrifice too much. I also hope that I in general will not have a mountain of debt. I feel as though winning this scholarship would help to give me a jump start on my future career and future life working in genetics.

While the concept of using a printer has been around for a long time it is not that aspect that baffles me. It is more of the idea of connecting it to your smartphone to have it print whatever you want it to print and there it is on paper. That to this day just does not connect the dots in my head. But there is one thing about printing that takes it to the next level. One invention that I constantly find hard to wrap my head around is the act of 3-D printing, which was created by Chuck Hull. What is 3-D printing? 3-D printing can as also be known as additive manufacturing, and it is a method of creating a three-dimensional object layer-by-layer using a computer-created design. Not only that, but it involves layering materials, like plastics, composites, or bio-materials to create objects that range in shape, size, rigidity, and color. That to me is something I just cannot comprehend. It is like math for me, I just do not understand it. I think it is fascinating that we have come so far in the technological advances that we are able to do something like this. It can open the door for so many new opportunities for a variety of different reasons. The idea that we can take an image and print that image in 3-D, and it has all of the color, texture, and sizing of what it is supposed to be is nothing short of brilliant. As of this year, I will be majoring in Biomedical Sciences to one day enter the STEM field as a genetic counselor, and maybe one day as a geneticist. Even as a young child genetics have always fascinated me. It was like a magnetic pull between me and the idea of studying and working with genetics. A few years ago I got a chronic illness diagnosis. I have Crohn's Disease and while it has not been proven what causes it, I want to one day work in the STEM-related field of genetics and science so I can one day work or aid in finding the source or at least a connection. I would even love it if it came out that there was no genetic connection because then it could provide a sense of closure for me and a sense of getting one step closer. I hope to use my abilities in researching Crohn's Disease and finding connections or no connections between variables. Advocacy is also important to me and I am hoping that I can show other people who struggle with this illness that anything is possible. Any career you want is possible no matter the obstacles. Being a genetic counselor will most often than not be me delivering bad news. However, I want to be someone who can try and provide the family with resources and hope, depending on what the results come back as their child or children can still have a quality of life. Personally, after getting my diagnosis, I never believed I could live a good life. Now, I do not feel that way. I know what I can be capable of and I want to deliver that same message to others.

In the eighteen years that I have been living, I can conclude that I have moved ten times all throughout one state. That can provide a sense of yearning for a person. Yearning for a place to call home. In those ten moves from house to house, I moved schools 4 times. Being a senior student at once again a new high school, where all of the others have grown up with each other, can be daunting and secluding. I went weeks without making a friend or hardly talking to anyone or being spoken to. I thought once again this is how it is going to go, a whole school year without friends. Until one day the other new girl talked to me. She said we should be friends, and I agreed. We bonded over a few different things, but the main one was reading. Reading had always been a large part of my life and always left a big impact. I loved reading growing up, it was a way to escape. I was such an avid reader I was grade levels ahead of the others and reading to the younger classes at just seven years old. Everything changed when I started moving a lot. I lost that passion and the love I had for it. Until my senior year. Reading is something I do daily now. I started that first week in my new high school and have not stopped. Reading brought me one of my best friends, who has left a lasting impact on me, along with everything I got to do because of my love and passion for reading along the way. Not only do I have an immense love for reading, but I share that love with soccer too. My siblings grew up playing for a few years, and I had always wanted to play my whole life. Moving so many times never brought me the opportunity to be able to be involved in a lot of sports, clubs, or other activities. Finally, in my senior year, I got to get firsthand experience of what I had been missing. It was tough at first. I was completely new at the sport and the others had played either all of their lives or at least the year before. I wanted to quit, I was made to feel less than, stupid even when I did not understand a command or I could not pass the ball without chipping. I did not quit though. My coach talked me out of it and he was one of the best coaches ever. I eventually grew into the sport and learned the ins and the outs, as you do with anything. My team became what I was yearning for so many years: a home. Those girls, the ones who stuck by me and helped me to learn and encouraged me, made me feel at home and at peace. They became my best friends and we all grew closer because of it. I wish I could play just one more season with them, but I will never take for granted the one season I did get. The impact that my one soccer season has left on me is indescribable. It taught me about not only soccer, but that home is not just a bunch of materials sealed together to create a house. Home can be a person. My new best friend. And home can be a team.

Just six weeks old when I got him in sixth grade, six letters in his name, six years alive, and passing away in the year's sixth month. He was a six-week-old puppy when we found him for sale. It was fate that he was to be mine; his name was Cooper. How ironic is it that the number six represents stability, harmony, and unconditional love? That's exactly what Cooper brought to me. He was the only stability and unconditional love I felt for the six years he was alive. Cooper was mine, in heart and soul. I was the one who he chose, just as I chose him. I begged to have him, and once it was final we learned that he was just six weeks old when we picked him up. Too soon for him to be taken from his mother, but I am grateful every day I got those two extra weeks with him. Now, living after he has been ripped from me, I replay every possible day with him, and never will I regret those two extra weeks of puppy cries, late nights, and messes he made. When I started a new middle school in sixth grade I started struggling in so many ways due to being thrown into a sea of hundreds of other kids. I developed an anxiety disorder, and mentally I was struggling the worst. It was hard to acclimate, make friends, and settle into a new routine. I was good at keeping it hidden from everyone. But from one life I could never hide this inward battle: his. He brought me a bright light when my world had grown very dark. He made the noises of constant battle inside my head quieter, and he made the constant anxiety diminish. I felt safe with this less than ten pounds ball of fur, and he made my dark upside-down world turn right side up again. He was mine, and I am his. During my darkest days in middle school, he was there, during my Crohn's Disease diagnosis he was there, during the Covid-19 pandemic when I was ripped from my school and friends, he was the only one who stayed constant, and when I started a new school for the fourth time, he was there for me every day when I got home. I went the whole year not making any friends and every day he was the one who was there for me. He was my one true friend in life, and always will be. He was always there for me, and he knew when I especially needed it. I was the first one he greeted when my family came home. I was the one he slept with and laid with every night. He was the one who was there when I cried. He always knew when I needed him the most. On the days when I struggled with my mental health the worst, it was like he knew my thoughts. The days I wished to end my mental battles and considered suicide were the days he somehow knew to never leave my side. He always knew, and I will forever be grateful for him. He kept me going, and he gave me a purpose. Eventually, he helped to bring me out of it. I started thinking that way less and less. He changed my life in so many ways. He taught me happiness and responsibility, how to love again when I didn't think I could and taught me to put myself out there. He also taught me how to live without him. The summer he died I was hardly home. Every time I was away I dreamt of getting to walk in the front door and see him running for me and yelling his name as I knelt to hug him. One day, while I was away for a week, I got a call saying he was in a dog fight. The vet suspected he had a tumor from birth in his brain that we would not be able to take out or treat. She found it best to have to put him down. The day he left me was the day when I felt my heart and soul go through a shredder. One year later and I can still feel my heart and soul rip apart when I think about him. The summer I lost him was the summer I was going to my last new high school. I was devastated he would not be there to help me. I eventually started living as I used to. I did new things and thought about him as I did them. I played soccer and was more outspoken. I advocated for my mental health and got on the right track to start putting it first. Through his death, I have blossomed and learned lessons in ways I would never have. I believe he helped prepare me for my final year of high school, and my year of changes. Cooper brought me stability by never leaving my side. He also brought me harmony. On the days when my demons were screaming and the world was a loud shrieking, buzzing noise he brought the stillness as if I was listening to a wave hitting the shore. And lastly, my sweet boy gave me unconditional love. Even after getting upset and yelling at him, locking him out of my room, and taking the time he wanted to have with me for granted, he always loved me and chose me. I just wish I always chose him. This is why I love dogs. They are so loyal no matter what. That is what I loved most about Cooper, his unconditional love. One hundred to one thousand words will never be enough to describe how much I love him, nor will it ever be enough to scrape the surface of his impact on me. He is worth so much more than that, but for now, it will be enough.

Just six weeks old when I got him in sixth grade, six letters in the name, six years alive, and passing away in the year's sixth month. He was a Boston Terrier six-week-old puppy when we found him for sale. It was fate that he was to be mine; his name was Cooper. Cooper was mine, in heart and soul. I was the one who he chose, just as I chose him. I begged my mother for him, and once she finally agreed we learned that he was just six weeks old when we picked him up. Too soon for him to be taken from his mother, but I am grateful every day I got those two extra weeks with him. Now, living after he has been ripped from me, I replay every possible day with him, and never will I regret those two extra weeks of puppy cries, late nights, and messes he made. I started middle school in sixth grade and was struggling in so many ways. I had just moved to a new school and being thrown into a sea of hundreds of other kids was petrifying to me. I developed an anxiety disorder, and mentally I was struggling the worst. It was hard to acclimate and make friends, to settle into a new routine, and I was good at keeping it hidden from everyone. But from one life I could never hide this inward battle: his. Every day I woke up excited to see him, went to school excited to go home, and went home excited to once again be in his presence. He brought out a bright light when my world had grown dim. He made the buzzing noises of constant battle inside my head quieter, and he made the constant anxiety diminish. I felt safe with this less than ten pounds ball of fur, and he made my dark upside-down world turn right side up again. One of my favorite stories of him is when I was visiting my father for the weekend. He was still too small to go up the stairs, and my mother had sent me a picture of him looking up them, with his two front paws on the first step. She told me she asked him, "Where's Riley?" and he had run to the stairs where she snapped a picture as he tried to get up and cried for me. That day changed me in a way I would never understand until later. He was mine, and I was his. During my darkest days in middle school, he was there, during my Crohn's Disease diagnosis he was there, during the Covid-19 pandemic when I was ripped from my school and friends, he was the only one who stayed constant, and when I started a new school for the fourth time, he was there for me every day when I got home. I went the whole year not making any friends and every day he was the one who was there for me. He was my one true friend in life, and always will be. He was always there for me, and he knew when I especially needed it. I was the first one he greeted when my family came home. I was the one he slept with and laid with every night. He was the one who was there when I cried. He always knew when I needed him the most. On the days when I struggled with my mental health the worst, it was like he knew my thoughts. The days I wished to end my mental battles and considered suicide were the days he somehow knew to never leave my side. He always knew, and I will forever be grateful for him. He kept me going, and he gave me a purpose. Eventually, things started to turn around and I was not in that headspace anymore. He helped to bring me out of it. I started thinking that way less and less. He changed my life in so many ways. He taught me to keep going. He taught me happiness and responsibility. He taught me how to love again when I didn't think I could. He taught me to put myself out there. And he taught me how to live without him. The summer he died I was hardly home. Every time I was away I dreamt of getting to walk in the front door and see him running for me and yelling his name as I knelt to hug him. One day, while I was away for a week, I got a call saying he was in a dog fight. The vet suspected he had a tumor from birth in his brain that we would not be able to take out or treat. She found it best to have to put him down. The day he left me was the day when I felt my heart and soul go through a shredder. One year later and I can still feel my heart and soul rip apart when I think about him. The summer I lost him was the summer I was going to my last new high school. I was devastated he would not be there to help me. I eventually started living as I used to. I did new things and thought about him as I did them. I played soccer and was more outspoken. I advocated for my mental health and got on the right track to start putting it first. Through his death, I have blossomed and learned lessons in ways I never would have. I believe he helped prepare me for my final year of high school, and my year of changes. One hundred to one thousand words will never be enough to describe how much I loved him, nor will it ever be enough to scrape the surface of the impact he made on me. He is worth so much more than that, but for now, it will be good enough.

Being diagnosed with a chronic illness has shaped my life in many different ways. However, one of the most important ways it has shaped me is I now am more concerned and careful when it comes to my health. A struggle involving Crohn's Disease, which is what I was diagnosed with at just fifteen, is the malabsorption of nutrients from the foods you eat. I must maintain a healthy lifestyle so I can absorb as many nutrients as I possibly can, and if I do not, that can cause deficiencies, such as vitamin d and iron, which I struggle with maintaining because of the illness. Another reason maintaining a healthy lifestyle is important to me is because not only does it make my body feel good, but it also helps keep me in check. The simplest change in my diet can throw off my whole balance, and cause me to falter with my remission. Personally, when I come out of remission and a flare-up appears it is very hard to get back in. Knowing what foods I can eat and my body accepts instead of rejects, which happen to be a lot of healthier foods, is very informative and helps to keep my health in check. Lastly, a healthy lifestyle is important to me because of my family's history of many different health problems and concerns. Not only do I believe eating healthy is important, but I also believe staying fit is important too and it is an important part of living a healthy lifestyle. I have found that working out also helps keep my body in check and good health, especially with my condition. Working out also keeps my mental health in check, while also helping to reassure me that I am lowering my chances of any health conditions that may also arise that are in my family history.

I went from being a happy-go-lucky kid to a 15-year-old with a life of hospital visits and stays, pain here and pain there, being poked and prodded. Infusions which turned into failed infusions, weekly Humira pen injections, vitamin and iron deficiencies, and immunosuppressants. Let's try this, now let's try that, hoping one day it'll be the step in the right direction that leads to peace and remission, something someone with Crohn's Disease dreams of. Going on three years after the initial diagnosis and things are still tough. It jumps from okay for a day or two, and then symptoms ambush me. Blood tests are routine, and I fear every time the results come back in that my inflammation markers will be high in space again, which means new tests and possibly new medications to be put on. I have learned every day will come with its own challenges and to just get through them is the best I can do. Getting an autoimmune disease diagnosis at such a young age has taught me a lot, and I'm a little thankful for it and for what it has taught me. Being at the ripe old age of 15 can be hard for anyone for a number of reasons. For me, while all my other friends were worried about boys, makeup, sports, and who knows what else, I was worried about getting into remission and winning this battle happening inside my own body. That has to be the hardest part for me to comprehend. That war isn't between two physical countries, but between my own body. I had already struggled with my self-image for years at this point, and that was like a stab to the gut. It hurt me and turned me into a crumpled mess, one who hid from the world. I would think daily about how if my own body hated me so much, why shouldn't I hate myself just as equally or even more? Now, at 18, I am stronger, and hold what I find valuable teachings and lessons because of this diagnosis. It has mentally shaped me, made me stronger and taught me perseverance. I am no longer in that headspace and have a brighter outlook on life. There are bad days, as always, however, but I remember to keep pushing forward. I also like to remember my life goals of being a genetic counselor, and eventually leveling up to a geneticist, and that right there is how I turn my struggle into strength. How I strengthen myself is by pushing myself to keep going when I want to give up the most, and remember how if I give up, there will be no hope of the future I have painted for myself. There will be no hope of me getting to research genetics and finding a link between Crohn's Disease and our genetics, or that there is officially none. I would rather find out if there is no direct link to our genetics and Crohn's Disease than let there be the unknown. A dark, misty and foggy abyss waiting to be explored. If I didn't keep trekking through this dark, twisted, monster-infested swamp of a disease, then I wouldn't be able to advocate for others. I want to be a voice and inspire. I want to inspire other young people, especially teens, who are struggling with living with this new life-changing find. What strengthens me is the thought of this never shaping into reality, and that saddens me. I want to be a voice. I want to advocate for others and fight our bodily war together.

If I were to be asked this question a few years ago when I was 14 years old, I would not have been able to give you an answer. Little did I know, being diagnosed at 15 with a chronic illness would jump start a whole new way of thinking and learning. Being diagnosed with Crohn's Disease was something I was fearing, so when I had woken up from a procedure that confirmed my illness, it threw me into a such a loud, dark world. The darkness I experienced was loud, almost like a giant, buzzing mosquito. The buzzing would buzz so loud in my ears saying “You're no longer enough”, “You aren't normal anymore”, and “You can't do anything anymore”. Getting to a point where I am now recognizing those aren't true, and getting me back on track health wise, has been a very long, tiring road. However, I would never have gotten to this point if I hadn't been stubborn and not given up, and continued to persevere through any obstacle thrown my way. What I value most about myself is learning to be stubborn and persevere. While there are days I struggle and absolutely hate this disease and want to give up, I do find myself grateful for the diagnosis. Not many people learn valuable life lessons and teachings so early in life. If I had not become diagnosed with this condition, I believe I wouldn't have been able to learn this deep of a level of perseverance had I lived a “normal” teenage life. One that didn't consist of hospital visits and failed infusions. Or weekly injections and vitamin and iron supplements. Having this quality be such a big part of me and considering it part of my identity, I feel as though I have a jump start in life. Not only did I have to learn perseverance, having this illness has taught me on how to let things go. I feel as though because of me learning this so young, I am ahead of the Game of Life. I will find it easier to get through adult obstacles and find it easier to let things that don't matter as much go. To see the bigger picture, and to let go anything that isn't of any importance. My even more developed stubbornness will also push me in my fight to keep going and not give up. I will fight for what I want in life and will be able to stick up for myself. I won't let an illness define me and continue to learn that someone who is described as “normal” has actually never existed, nor will exist. No one is normal, and that's okay. I feel as though that is something people dive too much into. Everyone is different, and this just happens to make me extra distinguished. Learning to accept this will help me in my fight to not let this get to me and keep fighting. Overall, I believe having these qualities has prepared me for life more than the average person, especially learning these lessons so young. I'm excited about the future, and excited to see how well I continued to develop these qualities.

Growing up in a very small community, everyone knew everyone. So, because of that, when anyone or any family needed help of any kind, they were offered almost instantly, and we as a community banded together to help in any way we could. I remember when a family who had just moved there had a house fire. The next day, everyone was banding together to help out this family, and it is something that I was a part of that I will never forget. I know it made them feel loved, and their gratitude was unmatched. It's important for people to be involved in their community for reasons just like this. It makes others feel not alone and that they matter. Not only that, but it helps show people there is still good in the world, and all in all makes everyone feel good. It can teach selflessness to younger generations, and shape their future in ways where they help and are involved in their communities because they WANT to be, they want to help and show others they care. Much of this world has become a sense of “What can I benefit from doing this?” and not acting just out of the kindness of our own hearts and desire to help. How I plan to help my community in the future is to actually work on being close with those in my community, whether it be where I live, my place of work, or any other opportunity I see where I can help. In any way I can, I want to offer assistance, and I feel as though in my future career of genetic counseling I will be able to do that. Some of what I will be explaining to my patients will be hard, and I want to make sure I grow my sense of empathy and sympathy in everywhere I can. I don't want to be one of those counselors that is stone-cold. I have heard personal experience stories of people going through that, and it saddens me that they weren't offered any sympathy or empathy for an especially difficult time in their life. Furthermore, I want to be a source of that and offer a form of comfort, even if it is a small one.

At 11, I wanted to be a paleontologist. I have always been interested in traveling and fossils, especially the idea of getting to travel to find and dig up fossils! However, there was always something in the back of my mind: genetics. I had a double life. I would tell everyone I met my plans of paleontology, but deep in my heart I also wanted to find a field of work where I could study and learn about DNA and genetics. At 14 that wish was granted by my freshman biology teacher. The two words she spoke stopped me dead in my tracks. As soon as she said “genetic counselors” it was as if the world stopped spinning. Everything was quiet. The classroom was buzzing with conversation, but I did not hear a word of it. When I was little, I wished every day that I could have a remote to stop time, and on that day I was granted one. I went home that afternoon and snatched my computer, typing the keys as quickly as I could. There it was. The definition of what I had been longing for my whole life. Genetic counseling is when the individual's or family's risk for a variety of inherited conditions, such as birth defects and genetic disorders, are assessed. While I have never been sure on why DNA and genetics have fascinated me my entire life, I know why they fascinate me even more now. Being diagnosed with Crohn's Disease and being told that scientists are not sure why it's caused has made me more interested. The possibility of it being genetic and finally having a proper answer would take the millions of pounds of weight off my shoulders, just as I know it would do the same for so many more people as well. Eventually, I want to obtain my PhD and be labeled a geneticist and hopefully conduct my own research in my spare time on why Crohn's Disease occurs. Because of my CD diagnosis, it has created an even bigger need to fulfill my career choice than ever before. When I was young, I was a very avid reader. I was always grade levels ahead and my vocabulary was very widespread. I stopped around the time I got thrown into the sea of middle school, and all of that was taken away slowly. Now, in my senior year of high school, I am proud of getting back into reading. It has provided an escape for me, and taught me many things. For example, two things that I have learned from my favorite book, “The Song of Achilles”, is to never give up and to never let my pride get in the way. Throughout the story, the two main characters never gave up on each other, and in the end they got what they wanted. However, one of them also let their pride stand in the way, and it cost them dearly. In another book called “One of Us Is Next”, the sequel to “One of Us Is Lying”, it taught me that I do not need to do everything on my own, and getting help is not a bad thing. In one part of the story, one of the main characters is having a cancer scare, and she doesn't want to tell anyone out of fear. Eventually, she does, and it turns out she is perfectly healthy. Reading this has taught me that no matter the outcome, it is better to have a support system and receive help, than to let it fester and become something problematic.

Somewhere out there, maybe in a galaxy, my favorite scientific discovery is one that, sadly, has yet to happen. I'm hoping for it's crash landing on Earth to happen soon. It's almost a silent illness, only it's ravishing inside of people who struggle with it. On the outside they seem fine, but on the inside there is war going on between their own body. So, to pick a real scientific discovery, I have to pick the discovering of Crohn's Disease. I struggle with this illness and everyday hope to wake up to news of "There's a cure!", but I have given up on that happening in my lifetime. However, there is someone I think of when asked about this question that is not me. It's my step mother. She developed this illness back when she was in her 20's, and doctors had no idea what was wrong with her. They had no idea how to treat her and the symptoms that come with it. Thankfully, it has now been about 20-ish years since her ordeal and she is now finally content knowing her diagnosis. I'm grateful for this scientific discovery because I know how much I struggled to finally be in remission while on medication, and how much discomfort and pain and the overall "I don't know why, but I don't feel good" phase of this was. I couldn't imagine, nor do I ever want to live it, how it was back then for her. Now knowing, dealing with symptoms that cause a war within your own body. I'm hoping the next discovery for this disease is a cure, or at least another medication that is better than all the rest. If it weren't for this discovery, I, along with so many other people would be struggling in ways unimaginable.

"She's so shy". I heard it constantly. For years that's exactly what I was. "She's very quiet." "She doesn't talk much." Even as a high school senior I m still constantly reminded of my meekness. Or is that truly exactly what I am? Is that really my personality? I first noticed, I mean really noticed, in sixth grade. Instead of just my face flushing a bright tomato red and a quickened heart beat when I was eight years old whenever I was called on or required to give a presentation. I kept those symptoms, but I started realizing my focus had shifted. Some days all I could focus on would be the what if's and the bad things that COULD happen. By the time I was in eighth grade it had worsened. I was constantly fearful, sometimes I didn't even know what about. My mind was, and still is, constantly on play, feeling like a whirlpool, sucking me in and not letting me escape. It feels suffocating and draining. I am always thinking about something, most of the time negative, and feeling like everything is buzzing by at 100 miles per hour. Now as a senior, and in a new high school, I found it the hardest to cope. I had never told anyone this, not even my mother. After always hearing the excuse of me just being shy that's exactly what I thought it was. I thought I just had a bad case of shyness that my siblings hadn't seemed to inherit. Around the same time, in sixth grade, I started to notice a mood shift. By seventh grade I was surrounded by my peers who didn't understand how someone with depression really felt, and they were self diagnosing themselves. Because of this there were a lot of people who would judge those who claimed to have depression and I didn't want to speak up and be scrutinized, nor did I want to be tested. I didn't want to put stress on my mother and I didn't want to worry her. Now, as a senior, I have finally been tested and diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and potentially depression. Upon this diagnosis my mother was hurt and upset. She blamed herself for not noticing sooner when in actuality I got good at hiding it and lying about it. That hurt my relationship with her as I should have told her sooner. Career wise it has made me never want a big speaking role in front of a massive amount of people. That's what I know for sure. My whole expereience with this diagnosis in which that I should have spoken up about sooner and gotten diagnosed has helped me want to de-stigmatize mental health. At first I was ashamed, I felt alone and no one would ever understand. It has also helped my realize, while I may have been shy, how I have been feeling is NOT normal and it should be spoken up about sooner. It's also helped me realized I need to reach out to trusted people in my lives. Many people can and should be helped and we need to help others feel safe enough to do that. So many people feel so alone and that no one understands them, or ever will, and take their own life. It mental health was de-stigmatized the rates would be so much lower.

"She's so shy". I heard it constantly. For years that's exactly what I was. "She's very quiet." "She doesn't talk much." Even as a high school senior I m still constantly reminded of my meekness. Or is that truly exactly what I am? Is that really my personality? I first noticed, I mean really noticed, in sixth grade. Instead of just my face flushing a bright tomato red and a quickened heart beat when I was eight years old whenever I was called on or required to give a presentation. I kept those symptoms, but I started realizing my focus had shifted. Some days all I could focus on would be the what if's and the bad things that COULD happen. By the time I was in eighth grade it had worsened. I was constantly fearful, sometimes I didn't even know what about. My mind was, and still is, constantly on play, feeling like a whirlpool, sucking me in and not letting me escape. It feels suffocating and draining. I am always thinking about something, most of the time negative, and feeling like everything is buzzing by at 100 miles per hour. Now as a senior, and in a new high school, I found it the hardest to cope. I had never told anyone this, not even my mother. After always hearing the excuse of me just being shy that's exactly what I thought it was. I thought I just had a bad case of shyness that my siblings hadn't seemed to inherit. Around the same time, in sixth grade, I started to notice a mood shift. By seventh grade I was surrounded by my peers who didn't understand how someone with depression really felt, and they were self diagnosing themselves. Because of this there were a lot of people who would judge those who claimed to have depression and I didn't want to speak up and be scrutinized, nor did I want to be tested. I didn't want to put stress on my mother and I didn't want to worry her. Now, as a senior, I have finally been tested and diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and potentially depression. Upon this diagnosis my mother was hurt and upset. She blamed herself for not noticing sooner when in actuality I got good at hiding it and lying about it. That hurt my relationship with her as I should have told her sooner. Career wise it has made me never want a big speaking role in front of a massive amount of people. That's what I know for sure. My whole expereience with this diagnosis in which that I should have spoken up about sooner and gotten diagnosed has helped me want to de-stigmatize mental health. At first I was ashamed, I felt alone and no one would ever understand. It has also helped my realize, while I may have been shy, how I have been feeling is NOT normal and it should be spoken up about sooner. It's also helped me realized I need to reach out to trusted people in my lives. Many people can and should be helped and we need to help others feel safe enough to do that. So many people feel so alone and that no one understands them, or ever will, and take their own life. It mental health was de-stigmatized the rates would be so much lower.

The painting with words, suspenses and cliffhangers, the stories being created and told as if they are a biography of someone. Unnerving and thrilling and head over heals romance. Genre upon genre I love them all. Some even becoming so exciting and morphing into page turners you almost need popcorn, like at a movie. Reading. Reading is definitely my favorite hobby. It always provides an escape, and a chance to be free. If I were to have a bad day and I can just disappear, to get lost, in a good way, in a world not my own, it helping me to forget. Reading to me is a decompressor needed after a long day at school, or finally finishing the mountain of homework that was assigned. It's a way for me to relax or even just something to do so I'm not sitting on my phone. I had loved reading so much as a younger kid and always had a strong vocabulary and was always reading grade levels ahead. When that stopped, and the older I got, I stopped reading unless required in school. I lost my peace, my other worlds, and a way to decompress, and instead living on my phone or other technology for time passers. My vocabulary dwindled and I was no longer great at English like I once was. Now, back in my senior year of high school I have found my passion again. I feel as though reading has brought color back into my life and the world around me. Before then it was the same things and routines everyday. Grey. Dull. Unchanging and unexciting. Now, I look forward to getting after school activites done so I can read and follow the story in whichever way it's to turn next, and once it's over I can't wait to start a new story, ambush a new world in which I will be allowed to watch and stalk through, as though I'm a ghost, unseen. Reading will always be reccommended by me to others. I have first hand experience with it, creating a big difference in my life, not just by adding color back in, but my vocabulary, my grades, and my understanding in English has greatly improved in just the span from August to February. I love reading for the twists and turns and for the new world it gives me, the ambush of color that drips like paint in my new life I put back together like a puzzle. It’s my favorite hobby, and I can’t see myself giving it up again.

Educating yourself. I feel as though there are a lot of people out there who think they know what it's like to have a mental health disorder or struggle with mental health in general. For example, a lot of people believe they know how it feels to have depression, or OCD. They think depression is just something they can snap out of or "get over" when that is not the case at all. People who struggle with OCD struggle so much more than what people think. They think it's just "being organized" and when something is out of place it drives them crazy. While it really may drive them crazy, that is not what having OCD is about. If everyone educated themselves about mental health then we could also be more open to helping others, whether it's just listening or trying to help. Educating yourself on the topics of mental health can also erase the stigma that comes with it. Listening and being there for someone who needs to talk about their mental health can help as well, and when someone is educated on what the person goes through then they can understand more of their internal struggle with whatever it may be, which can allow for a deeper connection and more meaningful conversation.

My favorite book at the moment is called "The Silent Patient" by Alex Michaelides. It's a story about a woman who kills her husband and then goes silent for years. She refuses to talk to absolutely anyone. "The Silent Patient" is my favorite book because of the fact that the book keeps you guessing. Why did she kill her husband? Why won't she talk? It also just doesn't follow the woman, Alicia. It follows her psychotherapist, Theo, and his personal life. Another reason I love this book is because it goes back and forth between now and the present. It follows Theo and his personal life, while also switching back to a journal Alicia kept and that helps to explain everything up to why she killed her husband. The last reason I love "The Silent Patient" is because of the ending. The plot twist and cliffhanger is what really sold me on the book, and something I never expected. While I don't usually enjoy cliffhangers this ended in a way you could most likely guess what happened, but could still keep you guessing. That's why I love this book, and that is why at this moment it is my favorite.