There was a point in college where I felt like I was constantly drowning. I was taking on too many classes, working part-time, and carrying the weight of personal struggles I didn’t fully understand. I thought pushing through it was a sign of strength, that if I kept going, didn’t complain, and stayed productive, I’d eventually feel better. But I didn’t. I started missing meals, isolating from friends, and losing motivation to do the things I loved. Even my body began to show signs: hair loss, insomnia, and constant fatigue. That’s when I realized I had to stop and face something I had been avoiding, my mental and emotional health. The first step was admitting I wasn’t okay. That felt scary at first. Growing up in an immigrant household, we didn’t really talk about mental health. We were taught to work hard, be grateful, and stay strong. But I was learning the hard way that strength isn’t about ignoring your pain, it’s about knowing when to take care of it. I made small but meaningful changes. I reached out to a school counselor and started talking about the things that were weighing me down, academic pressure, financial stress, and the guilt of not being “perfect” all the time. I also scaled back my course load and focused on healing, not just achieving. I began journaling, setting boundaries, and giving myself permission to rest without feeling lazy or unworthy. I reconnected with music, writing, and my cats, small things that reminded me who I was outside of grades or deadlines. That period of my life was not easy, but it taught me one of the most valuable lessons: I can’t show up for my future if I don’t show up for myself first. Now, when I think about my future, whether it’s in school, my career as a future healthcare provider, or simply living a full life, I know that sustainability matters more than perfection. I want to be someone who doesn’t just “succeed,” but thrives. I’ve learned how to advocate for myself, check in with my needs, and make space for rest. I’ve also become more compassionate toward others. So many people are silently struggling, just like I was, and I hope to carry that empathy with me into every classroom, workplace, and patient interaction I encounter. As I continue working toward my Biology degree and plan for PA school, I build self-care into my routine, not as an afterthought, but as a foundation. I schedule breaks between classes, drink water, eat intentionally, and talk to friends when things feel heavy. I’m still figuring it out, but I’m no longer pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. Making my mental and emotional health a priority changed my life. It taught me that survival isn’t the goal, healing is. Now, I carry that perspective with me in everything I do.

What inspires me to pursue a career in women's health isn't just personal, it's political, generational, and grounded in what I see happening around me every day. Across the United States women are losing their right to make choices about their own bodies. Girls who are assaulted or raped are being forced to carry pregnancies. Women are being denied access to basic reproductive care. It's not just a health crisis, it's a human rights crisis and witnessing this unfold has only made me more determined to become someone who can help, advocate, and listen. As the daughter of immigrants, I've seen firsthand how access to care can be shaped by fear, money, and cultural norms. The women in my life, my mom, my grandma, my aunties, rarely go to the hospital, even when they're in pain. Not because they don't value their health, but because medical bills feel like too much to take on. I've watched them push through fevers, ignore chronic symptoms, and choose rest over treatment just to keep working and keep the household running. These women are strong and selfless, but they shouldn't choose between taking care of themselves and paying the bills. That's why I want to focus specifically on women's health, especially for immigrant women and low-income families who are too often left behind by the healthcare system. I'm currently studying Biology and plan to become a Physician Assistant because I value to take time with patients, to listen deeply, and to work as part of a team, skills that are essential in building trust, especially with those who've historically been ignored or underserved. While the U.S. has some of the most advanced medical technology in the world, that doesn't mean care is accessible, especially not for women from low-income or immigrant backgrounds. In contrast, in the Philippines, where many of my relatives live, healthcare is often more community-based and affordable, but it also lacks resources, funding, and consistency. In both countries, women face different yet equally difficult barriers to care. Here in the U.S., it’s the cost of treatment, fear of judgment, or complicated insurance systems. In the Philippines, it’s often limited access to specialists or hospitals in rural areas. Seeing both systems made me realize how much work needs to be done, not just to advance medicine, but to make it truly reachable. My long-term goal is to work in community clinics or nonprofit organizations in the U.S. that provide accessible, affordable, and culturally competent care to women who need it most. I also hope to be involved in public health education and outreach, breaking down stigma, providing clear and respectful information, and helping immigrant women feel safe and empowered in medical spaces. One day, I hope to open my own private practice as a PA that focuses on serving low-income families and women who struggle to access traditional healthcare settings. I believe that cultural competence is just as important as medical training. Many immigrant women face language barriers, cultural stigma, or simply don’t feel safe in clinical environments. As someone who shares these roots, I want to bridge that gap. I want to provide care that respects their values, meets them where they are, and helps them feel empowered, not judged. Every woman, regardless of her background, income, or immigration status, deserves the right to make decisions about her own body and access quality care. I want to be part of the generation that makes that possible. And I’m ready to start that work, one patient, one conversation, and one act of care at a time.

As a student, I've always been curious about the relationship between happiness and external factors like social support, culture, and economics. While studying the World Happiness Report 2025, I was struck by several trends that challenged what I thought I knew about global well-being. Published by the University of Oxford's Wellbeing Research Centre, this report examines the happiness levels if countries worldwide based on data from the Gallup World Poll. After exploring the report, I discovered some surprising trends that changed my perspective on what truly contributes to happiness. One of the most eye-opening findings was the decline in happiness among young adults in regions traditionally associated with economic prosperity, such as North America and Western Europe. These areas, long viewed as the “happy” corners of the world due to their high standard of living, now report some of the lowest happiness levels among younger generations. This challenges the assumption that wealth and economic stability automatically lead to higher happiness. I had always believed that financial security directly contributed to well-being, but this shift highlights that factors like mental health struggles, social isolation, and the pressure to succeed can overshadow material advantages. The rankings for positive and negative emotions also revealed fascinating patterns. The countries at the top for positive emotions were largely from Latin America, Southeast Asia, and Africa, with Costa Rica, Mexico, and Indonesia leading the way. I was surprised to see these nations ranked so high, especially considering their varying economic conditions. It made me realize that cultural and social factors, such as close-knit communities and family bonds, are just as, if not more, important than financial prosperity in fostering positive emotions. In contrast, Afghanistan, which faces significant political instability, had the lowest levels of positive emotions and the highest levels of negative emotions. This stark contrast reinforced the idea that external conditions like political unrest can have a profound impact on emotional well-being. The most important takeaway from the report, however, was the emphasis on social support as a key factor in happiness. Countries with strong social networks, where individuals can rely on family and friends for support, tend to report higher happiness levels. This was a pivotal realization for me, as it highlighted the critical role of relationships in overall well-being. It made me reflect on the importance of nurturing connections with family, friends, and community to build emotional resilience. As I consider my own life moving forward, I understand that having a solid support system will be key to managing life’s ups and downs, and it’s something I need to prioritize. Looking ahead, the insights from this report will inform my approach to work-life balance. As I progress in my studies and eventually enter the workforce, I know that career success should not come at the expense of personal relationships. The report showed me that happiness is not just about financial success or professional achievement but about the strength of one’s connections with others. Moving forward, I will strive to maintain a balance between my academic and professional goals and my personal life, ensuring I don’t lose sight of the importance of relationships along the way. In conclusion, the World Happiness Report 2025 challenged my assumptions about what drives happiness. It made me realize that, while economic prosperity plays a role, it is the strength of social support networks that often has the greatest impact on well-being. These insights will guide me in my future endeavors, reminding me that true happiness comes from meaningful relationships, a supportive community, and a balanced life.