I was fifteen when I lost my father. He did not die, not physically, but he was lost nonetheless. I remember the day like it was yesterday; it was cold, and dreary. And as I left the home of the most abusive man I had ever known, I felt nothing. He was behind a wall of glass, his hand up in a half-wave and his tired eyes staring me down, a look of defeat on his pale face, as the uber driver started up the car and drove off. That was the last time I saw my father, and for all intents and purposes, he is dead. My mother raised me by herself from then on, even if she had basically already been doing so since I was four years old, which was when my parents divorced. She endured heavy challenges. She worked long hours and most of the time, unless I stayed multiple hours after school ended, I had to walk home. It was an hour walk each way, and I happily did the walk because I knew we could not afford an uber everyday, and where I lived, there were no good public transportation systems. I did not buy school supplies unless absolutely needed, and when we went grocery shopping, we did not buy anything other than the necessities. But I know I was able to buy the needed school supplies and have dinner on my plate because of my mother. I was privileged enough to have a roof over my head, and even when we did experience a bout of homelessness, she made sure that we had food to eat. My mother is my hero. She made me want to work hard, and has shown me that hard work is worth it. She is the reason I have high expectations for myself, and is the reason why I am currently involved in so many volunteer opportunities, not just on my college campus, but outside of it. Her support and reassurance are some of the sole reasons I believed in myself enough to pursue not only a degree in Psychology, but to pursue a future in the healthcare field. She made me believe that I was put on this planet to help others, and that if I tried hard enough, I could do just that. She made me believe that despite our circumstances, despite our differences, we can change the world. We can be the beacon of hope and light that we once wished the stars for, because if we work hard enough, we can become the stars.

For the past two or so years I have been helping my mother and brother navigate their mental health journeys. About two years ago, my brother was diagnosed with leukemia. Since then, my mother has had to witness her child go through chemo and various other cancer treatments, and my brother has had to physically and mentally deal with his cancer. At my university, the University of New Mexico, I have volunteered at Agora, the campus warm-line. During my time volunteering at Agora, I learned many invaluable tools that have helped me navigate how to speak to and comfort my mother and brother, both of whom have and are going through tremendous amounts of stress. I have also learned many different ways to deal with stress and life changes through my time majoring in Psychology. Because of the wonderful opportunity I had to volunteer at Agora, and my privilege to be able to study Psychology, I have already had the chance to use my studies and volunteering experience to emotionally support others around me. I know that the more I learn, the more I study, and the more I volunteer, I will be able to help the people I love in better ways. I will also be able to better support the people I work with, and random strangers I see or interact with on a daily basis. Because the more I learn, the more I realize just how wonderfully complex the human mind is, and how beautifully unique every single person seems to be. But despite this obvious uniqueness, humans share a common want: kindness. And if I can be a part of that common thread and be a beacon of that kindness, then I will feel like I am doing my job as a fellow human being to those around me.