My parents have always lived paycheck to paycheck, from one disaster to the next—especially since the divorce. There is no college fund or trust to bail me, just a laundry list of things to fix from the refrigerator to the caving roof, and paying for my school isn’t even in the top ten. A slew of bad decisions, overspending and unavoidable nightmares have left me to decide between mountains of college debt, even with 4.0 GPA, or life as a store greeter or bagger, scraping by in minimum wage. My econ class and a mentor for my elective program has taught me such much about budgeting—how to avoid accruing the mountains of debt drowning my mother and use credit cards properly. How to prepare for the worst because it’s sure to happen in life. How to save for my kids own future or their retirement from the beginning, so they aren’t saddled with the same struggle. I want the chance to do things right financially, and it’s starts now, with scholarships to help decrease some of debt as a pursue a college degree. Some amazing teachers have shown me what to do, now k just need a little help doing it.

Although I did my best to hide it from the people closest to me, I really struggled with depression and an associated eating disorder throughout most of high school. For me, getting ready for school every day, or just existing sometimes, had long included putting on my “happy” mask—this completely separate persona I had generated to show the world I was okay. It was this fabrication that talked and laughed with my friends every day, that smiled at concerned family members and told them I just wasn’t hungry or had a stomach bug. It was the lie I started telling the world from the second I opened my eyes each morning to the time I locked myself back in the safety of my room, where nobody was watching me in the darkness. But I still got up and put on that mask every day, rain or shine. It profoundly affected me and my life, making it so hard to get involved at school and connect with people, but it was just a small part of who I was. At my core, I was still the same dreamer I was when I was a little kid, a person who wanted great things for my life and was willing to put in the effort. And if that meant becoming a serial exhibitionist or dragging myself through hours of homework, I was going to try my absolute best to keep pushing—even as my depression pulled me farther into the depths, like cinderblocks tied to my ankles. But the pressure began to wear away at me as I reached new lows while trying to do more, and the once shallow cracks in the mask became vast, bottomless ravines that anyone could peer into—revealing more than even I cared to see. My dreams were now in danger and I couldn’t control the threat anymore, even if I wanted to, so I finally reached out and got the help I desperately needed with the support of my family. And it was the best decision I ever made. Life isn’t meant to be lived behind a mask, and I came out the other sides with the same dreams having learned it’s okay to ask for help sometimes.

Although I did my best to hide it from the people closest to me, I really struggled with depression and an associated eating disorder throughout most of high school. For me, getting ready for school every day, or just existing sometimes, had long included putting on my “happy” mask—this completely separate persona I had generated to show the world I was okay. It was this fabrication that talked and laughed with my friends every day, that smiled at concerned family members and told them I just wasn’t hungry or had a stomach bug. It was the lie I started telling the world from the second I opened my eyes each morning to the time I locked myself back in the safety of my room, where nobody was watching me in the darkness. But I still got up and put on that mask every day, rain or shine. It profoundly affected me and my life, making it so hard to get out and get involved, but it was just a small part of who I was. At my core, I was still the same dreamer I was when I was a little kid, a person who wanted great things for my life and was willing to put in the effort. And if that meant becoming a serial exhibitionist or dragging myself through hours of homework, I was going to try my absolute best to keep pushing—even as my depression pulled me farther into the depths, like cinderblocks tied to my ankles. But the pressure began to wear away at me as I reached new lows while trying to do more, and the once shallow cracks in the mask became vast, bottomless ravines that anyone could peer into—revealing more than even I cared to see. My dreams were now in danger and I couldn’t control the threat anymore, even if I wanted to, so I finally reached out and got the help I desperately needed with the support of my family. And it was the best decision I ever made. Life isn’t meant to be lived behind a mask, and I have come out the other side a stronger, more determined with the same dreams that propelled me through some of my darkest moments. But I also learned it’s okay to ask for help sometimes.

Teetering on the edge of change as high school is coming to an end, I am happy knowing the I am going to find my place in the world—that I am going to discover where I can help improve life in some way. I am confident I have the drive and work ethic to succeed once I find the passion I love. Now, all I have to do is find what I live to do. College will provide a great opportunity to search for this love, which appears to be animal science given the need for improved medical care I have seen in various parts of the world. I have thoroughly enjoyed my time studying animal science through the agriculture program at my high school but i have always wanted to learn more. I cannot wait to see what college has to teach me and this scholarship would go a long way towards helping me take this next step.

Scrolling through my YouTube feed--usually just full of animal fails or the ramblings of unhinged conspiracy theorists--I heard the mantra I now live by. "Embrace the suck". These three little words don't really seem to mean that much, but at that moment, coming from a now-retired army ranger who had just been to hell and back in ranger school, they really resonated. Though he only said it once, habitually almost, he didn't even need to explain what he meant. It was like he had said the magic trigger phrase that finally freed me from my lethargy, giving me the drive to overcome any obstacle in my wake. Though it's difficult to put this feeling into words, to me, it meant this: If you live your life hating the hard times, the work that makes you a better person or helps you reach your dreams, you are destined to quit, to give up when life is at its worst and your goal seems way beyond reach. But if look at these moments--this journey--as an opportunity to move forward and instead embrace them, you can push through and come out the end a better person, hopefully having achieved what you set out to do. Even in failure however, there is a lesson to be learned through the process and you can rest easy knowing you seized that opportunity and did your absolute best. After all, not everyone even gets the chance. Though they may seem cliche, it's these three words that have propelled me through so much in my life, from dozens of late night study sessions to mile twenty of a marathon I had naively signed up for. They even got me through the loss of my childhood home in freak tornado--a real rarity in Georgia--a car crash, and so many other moments I don't even want to mention. Those experiences were definitely terrible, don't get me wrong, but they represented a chance to grow and have let me achieve so much. So next time a challenge presents itself, embrace the suck. Don't run from it.