For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, yet always teetering on a corner, seeming predetermined to shatter. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a 14-year-old kid who openly struggled for the past five years with mental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Initially, I expected my stay to be like other treatments I had received, a reminder of all that I was not. Someone smarter, stronger, thinner, and better equipped for self-sufficiency. Instead, I was met with compassion I had never experienced in my four years of treatment. Every nurse I interacted with managed to make every child on the floor feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I left the ward standing on solid ground. By the end of my hospitalization, it began to sink in how privileged I was to have survived. For the first time, I wondered how many future doctors and nurses never lived long enough to see the outside of a hospital. I realized then that I survived for a reason: to show anyone struggling that there is a world that needs them to stay. I want to make an impact on others in a way that affirms their dignity and proves there is a greater opportunity beyond their struggles. From that point, I chose to dedicate my life to public service. A few months later, I was offered my first opportunity to enact that dedication with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and their first annual, weeklong summer camp My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. Yet there came a point when I asked myself why I was there. Who was it truly for? I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of being there, rather than saying someone should. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities, replicating the kindness given to me just months prior. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is value in work supporting both the mental and physical state of those we care for. These few days allowed me to experience a small amount of that work firsthand, eternally changing the way I viewed life itself. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been gifted the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I have reinvigorated my ambition. All that I have endured has shown me how profound the impact of one’s choices can be on others when we choose to be kind and to honor someone else’s struggles with just a small amount of time. My decision to pursue health care has always and will always be based on the principle of non-maleficence. I will do no harm and spend every day making at least one person feel a bit more human again.

For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, yet always teetering on a corner, seeming predetermined to shatter. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a 14-year-old kid who openly struggled for the past five years with mental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Initially, I expected my stay to be like other treatments I had received, a reminder of all that I was not. Someone smarter, stronger, thinner, and better equipped for self-sufficiency. Instead, I was met with compassion I had never experienced in my four years of treatment. Every nurse I interacted with managed to make every child on the floor feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I left the ward standing on solid ground. By the end of my hospitalization, it began to sink in how privileged I was to have survived. For the first time, I wondered how many future doctors and nurses never lived long enough to see the outside of a hospital. I realized then that I survived for a reason: to show anyone struggling that there is a world that needs them to stay. I want to make an impact on others in a way that affirms their dignity and proves there is a greater opportunity beyond their struggles. From that point, I chose to dedicate my life to public service. A few months later, I was offered my first opportunity to enact that dedication with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and their first annual, weeklong summer camp My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. Yet there came a point when I asked myself why I was there. Who was it truly for? I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of being there, rather than saying someone should. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities, replicating the kindness given to me just months prior. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is value in work supporting both the mental and physical state of those we care for. These few days allowed me to experience a small amount of that work firsthand, eternally changing the way I viewed life itself. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been gifted the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I have reinvigorated my ambition. All that I have endured has shown me how profound the impact of one’s choices can be on others when we choose to be kind and to honor someone else’s struggles with just a small amount of time. My decision to pursue health care has always and will always be based on the principle of non-maleficence. I will do no harm and spend every day making at least one person feel a bit more human again.

For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, yet always teetering on a corner, seeming predetermined to shatter. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a 14-year-old kid who openly struggled for the past five years with mental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Initially, I expected my stay to be like other treatments I had received, a reminder of all that I was not. Someone smarter, stronger, thinner, and better equipped for self-sufficiency. Instead, I was met with compassion I had never experienced in my four years of treatment. Every nurse I interacted with managed to make every child on the floor feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I left the ward standing on solid ground. By the end of my hospitalization, it began to sink in how privileged I was to have survived. For the first time, I wondered how many future doctors and nurses never lived long enough to see the outside of a hospital. I realized then that I survived for a reason: to show anyone struggling that there is a world that needs them to stay. I want to make an impact on others in a way that affirms their dignity and proves there is a greater opportunity beyond their struggles. From that point, I chose to dedicate my life to public service. A few months later, I was offered my first opportunity to enact that dedication with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and their first annual, weeklong summer camp My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. Yet there came a point that I asked myself why I was there. Who was it truly for? I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of being there, rather than saying someone should. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities, replicating the kindness given to me just months prior. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is value in work supporting both the mental and physical state of those we care for. These few days allowed me to experience a small amount of that work firsthand, eternally changing the way I viewed life itself. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been gifted the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I have reinvigorated my ambition. All that I have endured has shown me how profound the impact of one’s choices can be on others when we choose to be kind and to honor someone else’s struggles with just a small amount of time. My decision to pursue health care has always and will always be based on the principle of non-maleficence. I will do no harm and spend every day making at least one person feel a bit more human again.

For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, yet always teetering on a corner, prepared to shatter. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a 14-year-old kid who openly struggled for the past five years with mental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Initially, I expected my stay to be like other treatments I had received, a reminder of all that I was not. Someone smarter, stronger, thinner, and better equipped for self-sufficiency. Instead, I was met with compassion I had never experienced in my four years of treatment. Every nurse I interacted with managed to make every child on the floor feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I left the ward standing on solid ground. By the end of my hospitalization, it began to sink in how privileged I was to have survived. For the first time, I wondered how many future doctors and nurses never lived long enough to see the other side. I realized then that I survived for a reason: to show anyone struggling that there is a world that wants them to stay. I want to make an impact on others in a way that affirms their dignity, showing that someone is sees them and not just their situation. From that point, I chose to dedicate my life to public service. A few months later, I was offered my first opportunity to enact that dedication with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and the first year of their weeklong summer camp. My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. Yet there came a point that I asked myself why I was there. Who was it truly for? I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of making someone feel heard, even for a moment. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities, replicating the kindness given to me just months prior. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is value in work supporting both the mental and physical state of those we care for. This scholarship would fund my continuation of this work, feeding the ever-growing need for compassionate healthcare workers. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been gifted the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I have reinvigorated my ambition. All that I have endured has shown me how profound the impact of one’s choices can be on others when we choose to be kind and to honor someone else’s struggles with just a small amount of time. My decision to pursue health care has always and will always be based on the principle of non-maleficence. I will do no harm and spend every day making at least one person feel a bit more human again.

For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, yet always teetering on a corner, prepared to shatter. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a 14-year-old kid who openly struggled for the past five years with mental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Initially, I expected my stay to be like other treatments I had received, a reminder of all that I was not. Someone smarter, stronger, thinner, and better equipped for self-sufficiency. Instead, I was met with compassion I had never experienced in my four years of treatment. Every nurse I interacted with managed to make every child on the floor feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I left the ward standing on solid ground. By the end of my hospitalization, it began to sink in how privileged I was to have survived. For the first time, I wondered how many future doctors and nurses never lived long enough to see the other side. I realized then that I survived for a reason: to show anyone struggling that there is a world that wants them to stay. I want to make an impact on others in a way that affirms their dignity, showing that someone is sees them and not just their situation. From that point, I chose to dedicate my life to public service. A few months later, I was offered my first opportunity to enact that dedication with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and the first year of their weeklong summer camp. My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. Yet there came a point that I asked myself why I was there. Who was it truly for? I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of making someone feel heard, even for a moment. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities, replicating the kindness given to me just months prior. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is value in work supporting both the mental and physical state of those we care for. These few days allowed me to experience a small amount of that work firsthand, eternally changing the way I viewed life itself. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been gifted the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I have reinvigorated my ambition. All that I have endured has shown me how profound the impact of one’s choices can be on others when we choose to be kind and to honor someone else’s struggles with just a small amount of time. My decision to pursue health care has always and will always be based on the principle of non-maleficence. I will do no harm and spend every day making at least one person feel a bit more human again.

For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, yet always teetering on a corner, prepared to shatter. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a 14-year-old kid who openly struggled for the past five years with mental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Initially, I expected my stay to be like other treatments I had received, a reminder of all that I was not. Someone smarter, stronger, thinner, and better equipped for self-sufficiency. Instead, I was met with compassion I had never experienced in my four years of treatment. Every nurse I interacted with managed to make every child on the floor feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I left the ward standing on solid ground. By the end of my hospitalization, it began to sink in how privileged I was to have survived. For the first time, I wondered how many future doctors and nurses never lived long enough to see the other side. I realized then that I survived for a reason: to show anyone struggling that there is a world that wants them to stay. I want to make an impact on others in a way that affirms their dignity, showing that someone is sees them and not just their situation. From that point, I chose to dedicate my life to public service. A few months later, I was offered my first opportunity to enact that dedication with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and the first year of their weeklong summer camp. My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. Yet there came a point that I asked myself why I was there. Who was it truly for? I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of making someone feel heard, even for a moment. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities, replicating the kindness given to me just months prior. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is value in work supporting both the mental and physical state of those we care for. This scholarship would fund my continuation of this work, feeding the ever-growing need for compassionate healthcare workers. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been gifted the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I have reinvigorated my ambition. All that I have endured has shown me how profound the impact of one’s choices can be on others when we choose to be kind and to honor someone else’s struggles with just a small amount of time. My decision to pursue health care has always and will always be based on the principle of non-maleficence. I will do no harm and spend every day making at least one person feel a bit more human again.

For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, yet always teetering on a corner, prepared to shatter. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a 14-year-old kid who openly struggled for the past five years with mental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Initially, I expected my stay to be like other treatments I had received, a reminder of all that I was not. Someone smarter, stronger, thinner, and better equipped for self-sufficiency. Instead, I was met with compassion I had never experienced in my four years of treatment. Every nurse I interacted with managed to make every child on the floor feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I left the ward standing on solid ground. By the end of my hospitalization, it began to sink in how privileged I was to have survived. For the first time, I wondered how many future doctors and nurses never lived long enough to see the other side. I realized then that I survived for a reason: to show anyone struggling that there is a world that wants them to stay. I want to make an impact on others in a way that affirms their dignity, showing that someone is sees them and not just their situation. From that point, I chose to dedicate my life to public service. A few months later, I was offered my first opportunity to enact that dedication with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and the first year of their weeklong summer camp. My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. Yet there came a point that I asked myself why I was there. Who was it truly for? I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of making someone feel heard, even for a moment. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities, replicating the kindness given to me just months prior. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is value in work supporting both the mental and physical state of those we care for. This scholarship would fund my continuation of this work, feeding the ever-growing need for compassionate healthcare workers. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been gifted the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I have reinvigorated my ambition. All that I have endured has shown me how profound the impact of one’s choices can be on others when we choose to be kind and to honor someone else’s struggles with just a small amount of time. My decision to pursue health care has always and will always be based on the principle of non-maleficence. I will do no harm and spend every day making at least one person feel a bit more human again.

For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, but I was always teetering on a corner, prepared to shatter at any moment. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a freshly 14-year-old kid who had not so quietly struggled for the past five years with mental and parental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Despite choosing to be admitted, I expected my stay to be like the other care I had received, continuously reminding me of all that I could not be. Someone smarter, stronger, and better equipped to withstand their own mind. Instead, I was met with a level of dignity I had never experienced in all my years of treatment. Every nurse on that floor managed to make every child admitted feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I no longer felt breakable. By the end of my hospitalization, something unlocked in me. In processing the treatment I had received, it settled in my privilege to walk into a hospital and ask for help. I realized then that I want to aid others in their healing. I want to make an impact on others in a way that feels dignified, showing someone is truly seeing their personhood and not just their situation. A few months later, I was offered an opportunity to do that same work with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and the first iteration of their weeklong summer camp. My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. However, I wavered. Due to my mental struggles, I am well-versed in the feeling that those around me view me as something combustible. I felt that in the air of every client I assisted, the exact feeling of being treated as if they were fragile, which I, myself, despised. It was at that point that I asked myself why I was there and whether it was self-serving. I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of making someone feel heard, even for a moment. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is substantive value to not just the physical but also the mental state of those we care for. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been given the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I was able to reinvigorate my ambition. I will continue to withstand my circumstances. All that I have endured has shown me how profound the impact of one’s choices can be on others when they choose to be kind. My decision to pursue health care has always and will always be based on the principle of non-maleficence. I will do no harm and spend every day making at least one person feel a bit more human again.

For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, but I was always teetering on a corner, prepared to shatter at any moment. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a freshly 14-year-old kid who had not so quietly struggled for the past five years with mental and parental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Despite choosing to be admitted, I expected my stay to be like the other care I had received, continuously reminding me of all that I could not be. Someone smarter, stronger, and better equipped to withstand their own mind. Instead, I was met with a level of dignity I had never experienced in all my years of treatment. Every nurse on that floor managed to make every child admitted feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I no longer felt breakable. By the end of my hospitalization, something unlocked in me. In processing the treatment I had received, it settled in my privilege to walk into a hospital and ask for help. I realized then that I want to aid others in their healing. I want to make an impact on others in a way that feels dignified, showing someone is truly seeing their personhood and not just their situation. A few months later, I was offered an opportunity to do that same work with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and the first iteration of their weeklong summer camp. My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. However, I wavered. Due to my mental struggles, I am well-versed in the feeling that those around me view me as something combustible. I felt that in the air of every client I assisted, the exact feeling of being treated as if they were fragile, which I, myself, despised. It was at that point that I asked myself why I was there and whether it was self-serving. I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of making someone feel heard, even for a moment. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is substantive value to not just the physical but also the mental state of those we care for. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been given the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I was able to reinvigorate my ambition and continue to withstand my circumstances. I have a dream to create a legacy of dedication similar to Ms. Monk's. Receiving this scholarship will help me turn this into a reality. My decision to pursue health care has always and will always be based on the principle of non-maleficence. I will do no harm and spend every day making at least one person feel a bit more human again.

For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, but I was always teetering on a corner, prepared to shatter at any moment. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a freshly 14-year-old kid who had not so quietly struggled for the past five years with mental and parental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Despite choosing to be admitted, I expected my stay to be like the other care I had received, continuously reminding me of all that I could not be. Someone smarter, stronger, and better equipped to withstand their own mind. Instead, I was met with a level of dignity I had never experienced in all my years of treatment. Every nurse on that floor managed to make every child admitted feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I no longer felt breakable. By the end of my hospitalization, something unlocked in me. In processing the treatment I had received, it settled in my privilege to walk into a hospital and ask for help. I realized then that I want to aid others in their healing. I want to make an impact on others in a way that feels dignified, showing someone is truly seeing their personhood and not just their situation. A few months later, I was offered an opportunity to do that same work with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and the first iteration of their weeklong summer camp. My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. However, I wavered. Due to my mental struggles, I am well-versed in the feeling that those around me view me as something combustible. I felt that in the air of every client I assisted, the exact feeling of being treated as if they were fragile, which I, myself, despised. It was at that point that I asked myself why I was there and whether it was self-serving. I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of making someone feel heard, even for a moment. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is substantive value to not just the physical but also the mental state of those we care for. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been given the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I was able to reinvigorate my ambition. I will continue to withstand my circumstances. All that I have endured has shown me how profound the impact of one’s choices can be on others when they choose to be kind. My decision to pursue health care has always and will always be based on the principle of non-maleficence. I will do no harm and spend every day making at least one person feel a bit more human again.

For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, but I was always teetering on a corner, prepared to shatter at any moment. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a freshly 14-year-old kid who had not so quietly struggled for the past five years with mental and parental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Despite choosing to be admitted, I expected my stay to be like the other care I had received, continuously reminding me of all that I could not be. Someone smarter, stronger, and better equipped to withstand their own mind. Instead, I was met with a level of dignity I had never experienced in all my years of treatment. Every nurse on that floor managed to make every child admitted feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I no longer felt breakable. By the end of my hospitalization, something unlocked in me. In processing the treatment I had received, it settled in my privilege to walk into a hospital and ask for help. I realized then that I want to aid others in their healing. I want to make an impact on others in a way that feels dignified, showing someone is truly seeing their personhood and not just their situation. A few months later, I was offered an opportunity to do that same work with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and the first iteration of their weeklong summer camp. My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. However, I wavered. Due to my mental struggles, I am well-versed in the feeling that those around me view me as something combustible. I felt that in the air of every client I assisted, the exact feeling of being treated as if they were fragile, which I, myself, despised. It was at that point that I asked myself why I was there and whether it was self-serving. I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of making someone feel heard, even for a moment. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is substantive value to not just the physical but also the mental state of those we care for. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been given the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I was able to reinvigorate my ambition. I will continue to withstand my circumstances. All that I have endured has shown me how profound the impact of one’s choices can be on others when they choose to be kind. My decision to pursue health care has always and will always be based on the principle of non-maleficence. I will do no harm and spend every day making at least one person feel a bit more human again.

For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, but I was always teetering on a corner, prepared to shatter at any moment. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a freshly 14-year-old kid who had not so quietly struggled for the past five years with mental and parental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Despite choosing to be admitted, I expected my stay to be like the other care I had received, continuously reminding me of all that I could not be. Someone smarter, stronger, and better equipped to withstand their own mind. Instead, I was met with a level of dignity I had never experienced in all my years of treatment. Every nurse on that floor managed to make every child admitted feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I no longer felt breakable. By the end of my hospitalization, something unlocked in me. In processing the treatment I had received, it settled in my privilege to walk into a hospital and ask for help. I realized then that I want to aid others in their healing. I want to make an impact on others in a way that feels dignified, showing someone is truly seeing their personhood and not just their situation. A few months later, I was offered an opportunity to do that same work with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and the first iteration of their weeklong summer camp. My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. However, I wavered. Due to my mental struggles, I am well-versed in the feeling that those around me view me as something combustible. I felt that in the air of every client I assisted, the exact feeling of being treated as if they were fragile, which I, myself, despised. It was at that point that I asked myself why I was there and whether it was self-serving. I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of making someone feel heard, even for a moment. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is substantive value to not just the physical but also the mental state of those we care for. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been given the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I was able to reinvigorate my ambition. I will continue to withstand my circumstances. All that I have endured has shown me how profound the impact of one’s choices can be on others when they choose to be kind. My decision to pursue health care has always and will always be based on the principle of non-maleficence. I will do no harm and spend every day making at least one person feel a bit more human again.

For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, but I was always teetering on a corner, prepared to shatter at any moment. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a freshly 14-year-old kid who had not so quietly struggled for the past five years with mental and parental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Despite choosing to be admitted, I expected my stay to be like the other care I had received, continuously reminding me of all that I could not be. Someone smarter, stronger, thinner, and better equipped to withstand their own mind. Instead, I was met with a level of dignity I had never experienced in all my years of treatment. Every nurse on that floor managed to make every child on that floor feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I no longer felt breakable. By the end of my hospitalization, something unlocked in me. In processing the treatment I had received, it settled in my privilege to walk into a hospital and ask for help. I realized then that I want to aid others in their healing. I want to make an impact on others in a way that feels dignified, showing someone is truly seeing their personhood and not just their situation. A few months later, I was offered an opportunity to do that same work with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and the first iteration of their weeklong summer camp. My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. However, I wavered. Due to my mental struggles, I am well versed in the feeling that those around me view me as something unprecedented and combustible. I felt that in the air of every client I assisted, the exact feeling of being treated as if they were fragile, which I, myself, despised. It was at that point that I asked myself why I was there and whether it was self-serving. I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language to communicate with clients. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of making someone feel heard and alleviating their isolation, even for a moment. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities, replicating the kindness given to me just months prior. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is substantive value to not just the physical but also the mental state of those we care for. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been given the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I was able to reinvigorate my ambition. I will continue to withstand my circumstances. All that I have endured has shown me how profound the impact of one’s choices can be on others when they choose to be kind and to honor someone else’s struggles with just a small amount of our time.

For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, but I was always teetering on a corner, prepared to shatter at any moment. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a freshly 14-year-old kid who had not so quietly struggled for the past five years with mental and parental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Despite choosing to be admitted, I expected my stay to be like the other care I had received, continuously reminding me of all that I could not be. Someone smarter, stronger, thinner, and better equipped to withstand their own mind. Instead, I was met with a level of dignity I had never experienced in all my years of treatment. Every nurse on that floor managed to make every child on that floor feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I no longer felt breakable. By the end of my hospitalization, something unlocked in me. In processing the treatment I had received, it settled in my privilege to walk into a hospital and ask for help. I realized then that I want to aid others in their healing. I want to make an impact on others in a way that feels dignified, showing someone is truly seeing their personhood and not just their situation. A few months later, I was offered an opportunity to do that same work with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and the first iteration of their weeklong summer camp. My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. However, I wavered. Due to my mental struggles, I am well versed in the feeling that those around me view me as something unprecedented and combustible. I felt that in the air of every client I assisted, the exact feeling of being treated as if they were fragile, which I, myself, despised. It was at that point that I asked myself why I was there and whether it was self-serving. I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language to communicate with clients. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of making someone feel heard and alleviating their isolation, even for a moment. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities, replicating the kindness given to me just months prior. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is substantive value to not just the physical but also the mental state of those we care for. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been given the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I was able to reinvigorate my ambition. I will continue to withstand my circumstances. All that I have endured has shown me how profound the impact of one’s choices can be on others when they choose to be kind and to honor someone else’s struggles with just a small amount of our time.

For the majority of my life, I was a china cup. Intricate and curated, but I was always teetering on a corner, prepared to shatter at any moment. In January of 2024, I was voluntarily hospitalized for suicidal ideation. There is no gentle way to put it. I was a freshly 14-year-old kid who had not so quietly struggled for the past five years with mental and parental issues far bigger than I was old enough to comprehend. Despite choosing to be admitted, I expected my stay to be like the other care I had received, continuously reminding me of all that I could not be. Someone smarter, stronger, thinner, and better equipped to withstand their own mind. Instead, I was met with a level of dignity I had never experienced in all my years of treatment. Every nurse on that floor managed to make every child on that floor feel human again. It was due to their guidance that I no longer felt breakable. By the end of my hospitalization, something unlocked in me. In processing the treatment I had received, it settled in my privilege to walk into a hospital and ask for help. I realized then that I want to aid others in their healing. I want to make an impact on others in a way that feels dignified, showing someone is truly seeing their personhood and not just their situation. A few months later, I was offered an opportunity to do that same work with Family Services Foundation, a disability care organization, and the first iteration of their weeklong summer camp. My experience as a camp counselor at FSF further solidified that serving the public is how I will spend the rest of my life. Something as simple as sitting poolside with a client took nothing out of my day, but it made the entire week for someone else. However, I wavered. Due to my mental struggles, I am well versed in the feeling that those around me view me as something unprecedented and combustible. I felt that in the air of every client I assisted, the exact feeling of being treated as if they were fragile, which I, myself, despised. It was at that point that I asked myself why I was there and whether it was self-serving. I could be out with friends, vacationing, or simply staying home, but I chose to be there. I chose to stay up into the early hours of the night practicing sign language to communicate with clients. I chose to hold the hands of a client who was overjoyed to simply make a new friend. I chose to be there because I loved every second of making someone feel heard and alleviating their isolation, even for a moment. In a world led by individualism, I had the privilege to spend almost 200 hours assisting individuals who struggled with severe disabilities, replicating the kindness given to me just months prior. I truly believe the world has an obligation to care for one another. There is substantive value to not just the physical but also the mental state of those we care for. My hospitalization was my life's lowest point, yet I have now been given the benefit of perspective. Having been both client and caretaker, I was able to reinvigorate my ambition. I will continue to withstand my circumstances. All that I have endured has shown me how profound the impact of one’s choices can be on others when they choose to be kind and to honor someone else’s struggles with just a small amount of our time.

Alopecia areata affects aproximatly 0.1% of children under the age of ten. As far as I can remember, I have been one of those children. The world has found itself fascinated by the ways in which society ostracizes those who confuse it and how quickly said confusion morphs into cruelty. Yet the rawest cruelty is found in complete indifference, and having begun to lose my hair at age 2 and fully balding by age 7, the cruelty of indifference is not new to me. I often felt like a disease in my own right, seeing how others treaded my presence with caution on the off chance they chose to at all. For 15 years, I craved normalcy and carried the emptiness left by its absence. Silence can fill that void and convince you it's soothing while it quietly corrupts you. Between elementary and high school, I would attempt suicide 3 times. During my freshman year of high school in January 2024, I spent two weeks in a pediatric psych ward following my third battle with suicidal ideation. Staring into the hospital mirror, I finally saw myself—not an alien or a shadow, but who I truly was. Despite everything, I held onto a part of myself that endured. This part was volunteered, performed, and organized. They earned respect from those who they swore saw directly through them. I realized that if I kept hiding, there would be nothing left to hide. That day, I promised to give myself the oxygen I needed to move forward and, above all, let go. A few months later, while volunteering at a summer camp for adults with disabilities, I found my oxygen. I would move on by caring for my community with the dignity I wished someone had shown me. At the same time, I had committed to shedding my shame by putting myself out in the ways that had first connected to me. I refused to continue putting my own hand to my chest and bar myself from something brilliant. Today I have performed for hundreds, raised donations for women in need, and committed myself to a career in nursing.

Alopecia areata affects aproximatly 0.1% of children under the age of ten. As far as I can remember, I have been one of those children. The world has found itself fascinated by the ways in which society ostracizes those who confuse it and how quickly said confusion morphs into cruelty. Yet the rawest cruelty is found in complete indifference, and having begun to lose my hair at age 2 and fully balding by age 7, the cruelty of indifference is not new to me. I often felt like a disease in my own right, seeing how others treaded my presence with caution on the off chance they chose to at all. For 15 years, I craved normalcy and carried the emptiness left by its absence. Silence can fill that void and convince you it's soothing. In January 2024, I spent two weeks in a pediatric psych ward. Staring into the hospital mirror, I finally saw myself—not an alien or a shadow, but who I truly was. Despite everything, I held onto a part of myself that endured. This part volunteered, performed, and organized. They earned respect from those who they swore saw directly through them. I realized that if I kept hiding, there would be nothing left to hide. That day, I promised to give myself the oxygen I needed to move forward and, above all, let go. A few months later, while volunteering at a summer camp for adults with disabilities, I found my oxygen. I would move on by caring for my community with the dignity I wished someone had shown me. At the same time, I had committed to shedding my shame by putting myself out in the ways that had first connected to me. I refused to continue putting my own hand to my chest and bar myself from something brilliant. Today I have performed for hundreds, raised donations for women in need, and committed myself to a career in nursing. If I could speak to even one person who has faced a circumstance similar to mine, I would beg them to first find their oxygen. Find yourself in the things you care for most and hold on because, with time, both will blossom. Second, to let go. Everyone is out running something, and most are still hurting. If you can find anything to bring peace to yourself, do it and allow yourself the opportunity to truly look in the mirror.