My battle with mental health first started as a closeted teenager. I was raised in a household with strong religious convictions, one of them being that homosexual behavior was morally wrong. This discord between my identity and my family’s beliefs threw me into personal crisis. I knew that if I were to come out, my family would never accept me for who I was. Despite that fact, I couldn’t change who I was. As the pressure from this conflict continued to build up inside me, I fell into depression. I stayed up late into the night, slept into the afternoons, and withdrew from friends and family. Eventually, my mother noticed my change in behavior. She insisted that I tell her what was wrong, reassuring me that she would understand whatever I said next. At that moment, I knew the secret had to come out. Once the words left my mouth, everything changed. Neither of my parents understood. Not only that, but they were convinced it was their duty to help me see the light. Religion became an inescapable, suffocating presence in my life. At first, I resisted my parents’ efforts to change me, and we fought frequently. But over time, the constant rejection and pressure ate away at my self-worth. I became quiet and subdued, sinking further into depression. My parents interpreted this as a sign of victory, and somewhat relaxed the intensity of their holy war. Over the next five years, I laid low, presenting the image of a perfect child in church and at school. But privately, I struggled with thoughts of self-harm and suicidal ideation. The only thought that kept me alive during that difficult time was hope for a better future. I spent my days dreaming of leaving home, living authentically, and finally feeling happy. Eventually, life gave me the break I had been waiting for. College presented the perfect opportunity to take control of my life. I jumped at the chance to attend an out-of-state school, and at the age of eighteen, I moved halfway across the country to New York. There, I found my community. Suddenly, I was surrounded by people who not only accepted me as I was, but who recognized that being queer was only one part of my personhood. The support I found at school gave me the confidence I needed to stop pining for my parents’ approval, and in March of 2016, I came out to them a second time. Their reaction was almost identical to the first time I had come out, only this time, I wasn’t under their roof. In an attempt to maintain control, they threatened to cut off financial support for my education. However, I had prepared for this possibility by securing on-campus positions that provided housing and stipends throughout the year. In spite of the tense relationship with my parents during my college years, my newfound freedom made college one of the best experiences of my life. As graduation approached, I worried about how I would be able to stay independent. I knew that my best shot would be to have a job offer lined up for right after graduation. So, when the company I was interning with in my senior year offered me a full-time position upon graduating, I accepted without a second thought. But soon after starting, I realized that I had made a mistake. I was so focused on securing a position that I completely neglected to consider other aspects of a successful job search, such as what I really wanted to do for my career. I spent every day at work trying to blend in with colleagues who were passionate about creating energy-efficient buildings, but as hard as I tried, I just didn’t feel the same passion they did. The longer this went on, the more the incongruence began to wear on me. To cope with the persistent sense of discontent I felt, I started drinking. The occasional drink after work turned into one every day, then two, then three. I desperately wanted to quit my job, but I needed the financial independence that it provided. I was trapped in a downward spiral. When the COVID-19 pandemic hit New York, things began to change. With everyone working from home, the lines which had formerly separated work and home life began to blur. There were now increased expectations to quickly respond to work communications, even during non-standard business hours. After a few months, I had had enough. Work took up too much of my waking hours for it to be a never-ending source of misery. I arranged to live with extended family who were supportive of my identity, and that Friday, I gave my two weeks’ notice. Quitting gave me the fresh start I needed, both with my career and personal life. I’ve since realized that I want to work in a field where I can help people lead happier, healthier lives. This past fall, I took my first steps in that direction by applying for bioengineering graduate programs. I’ve also seen a dramatic improvement in my own physical and mental health since leaving my old job. I cut my alcohol consumption by more than half and have started a regular meditation and exercise routine. Spending more time with extended family has also made me realize that even though my parents don’t support me, there are still people in my family who love and care for me exactly as I am. I used to think my struggle with mental health would be confined to my coming out experience, but I’ve come to find that mental health is an integral part of overall well-being. I’ve realized that the best way to care for myself is to recognize unhealthy behavior, develop positive coping mechanisms, and above all, take responsibility for creating the future I want to see. As long as I’m happy with the life that I’ve made for myself, no one can bring me down.

I opened the door, relieved to be home after another draining day. Like clockwork, I began my nightly de-stressing routine, calling a friend to complain about work while I poured myself a drink. I just needed to make it to the end of each week and bide my time until I could quit. The only thought that kept me going was knowing that my lease ended in a few months. By then, I planned to have left my company, hopefully with a new job that would provide the sense of career fulfillment I was missing. Then the world turned upside down. The COVID-19 pandemic hit New York City in full force by March, and my company sent everyone to work from home indefinitely. With the economy now in turmoil and companies freezing hiring, I realized that securing a new position before my lease ended in April was becoming more and more unlikely. I had already told my landlord that I wouldn’t be renewing my lease, but with the new economic uncertainty, I no longer felt comfortable following through with my plan. Fortunately, my landlord agreed to renew my lease on a month-to-month basis. Defeated, I resigned myself to remaining in my current position until the economy improved enough to find another opportunity. At first, working from home helped alleviate many of my work stressors. Now that my hour-long commute was gone, I was sleeping more and eating healthier meals. Being out of the office also meant not having to constantly fake enthusiasm for the job in front of my coworkers, who were all incredibly passionate about our company mission to improve buildings’ environmental sustainability. However, as lockdown dragged on, the pressure at work began to build up again. I tried to push through the difficulties, but as my mental health took a turn for the worse, I reached my breaking point. Staying was no longer worth it. I arranged to stay with my aunt in Colorado until I got back on my feet with a new job, and gave my two weeks’ notice the next day. Finally, I was free. When I landed in Colorado in June, I was full of hope, expecting to have a job offer soon. The economy had improved somewhat with summer approaching, and I had all the time in the world to focus on my job search. I knew I wanted to pursue a career in the medical device industry, so I started networking and applying for countless openings. I received several interview invitations, but kept falling short of securing an offer. With summer turning to fall, I began to doubt whether I had made the right decision. Instead of finding the career fulfillment I was hoping for, I was becoming desperate for any career at all. Soon after, I received a piece of advice that changed the direction my life was taking. When I told a friend about my predicament, he suggested that I apply to graduate schools. Although I had wanted to gain industry experience first, I realized he was right. Graduate school would be a good option to facilitate my career transition if my job search continued to leave me empty-handed. Not only was graduate education highly valued in the medical device industry, but having an advanced degree in bioengineering would likely open new doors for me. From then on, I focused all my attention on perfecting my applications to schools that I felt would provide the most opportunities to make a successful career change. After a long period of waiting, I got the news I had been hoping for. This spring, I was accepted to my first-choice program, UC Berkeley’s Master of Engineering. Since committing to UC Berkeley, I have felt more optimistic about the future, and am already seeing new opportunities emerge. This summer, I will be taking my first steps into the medical device industry as a Quality Engineering Intern for 3D Systems Healthcare. Having this internship experience would never have been possible if I hadn’t applied for graduate schools last fall. As I’ve reflected on my 2020 experiences, I’ve realized that the challenges I faced were a tremendous source of personal development. Being out of work gave me the space to reflect on what I really needed from my career. Because of this, I am more deeply committed to starting a career in medical devices. I also learned that life doesn’t always go according to plan. However, adapting and persevering through the challenges can reveal different paths leading to the same end goal. These lessons have helped me develop a greater sense of perspective, which will help me to remain calm and confident as I confront the next set of obstacles in my pursuit of a brighter future.