Caregiving has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. As the oldest sibling, I naturally stepped into a second-parent role. I cooked meals, helped with homework, made sure my siblings were dressed and safe, and just tried to be someone they could count on. While other kids were focused on hanging out or going out, I was focused on making sure everyone at home was okay. It wasn’t always easy, but it shaped who I am. I’ve always been the one to show up when things get hard. One of the first times I really understood what it meant to care for someone was when my grandma started to get sick. She passed away in 2017 from stomach cancer, but even before that, she had started showing signs of dementia. I was still a teenager, going to school during the day and helping take care of her at home. I would make her food, remind her of things she forgot, and just sit with her when she seemed lost. That time taught me that caring isn’t always about doing something big. Sometimes it’s just being there. It taught me patience, and that presence alone can be powerful. That experience—and the way I had always cared for my siblings—is what pushed me into healthcare. I became a CNA, and later I worked as a phlebotomist in the emergency room. I’ve worked on a lot of different units—oncology, ICU, neuro trauma, general med, labor and delivery—and in every single one, I’ve carried those early lessons with me. I’m not afraid to sit with someone who’s crying, to advocate when a patient feels ignored, or to pay attention to the small things that make people feel human. Being a caregiver made me strong. It made me emotionally aware. It taught me to lead with compassion. But it also opened my eyes to how many people don’t get the care they deserve—especially those in low-income communities. That’s why I chose nursing. I don’t just want to treat symptoms. I want to support the full person, especially families who’ve carried invisible burdens for years. This scholarship would mean a lot. I’m balancing hospital shifts while going to school full-time, and it’s hard. Sometimes I’m just trying to make it through the week. Getting this support would take some pressure off, and let me give more energy to what really matters—learning, growing, and being there for my future patients. More than anything, this scholarship would be proof that everything I’ve gone through matters. That all the nights I stayed up taking care of others, all the work I’ve put in, and all the love I’ve given hasn’t gone unnoticed. I’m not just chasing a career. I’m walking in my purpose—and I’m not stopping.

When I was a kid, I used to wrap my Barbie dolls in toilet paper and pretend they were patients. I didn’t know what I was doing at the time—I was just playing. But looking back, I realize that was the start of something real. I come from a place where access to good healthcare isn’t easy. Growing up in a single-parent home and being a first-generation college student, I’ve always had to figure things out on my own. Nothing has ever come easy, but one thing I’ve never let go of is my dream to become a nurse. My path hasn’t been perfect. In fact, I had to step away from nursing school once. A lot was going on in my personal life, and it hit me hard. I wasn’t okay. I felt like I let myself down—and everyone else, too. But after some time to heal and think, I realized I still wanted this. I still needed this. So I made the decision to start over. I transferred schools, picked myself back up, and reminded myself why I started in the first place: I want to help people who don’t always get the care they deserve. People like me and the ones I grew up with. To support myself, I started working in healthcare. I spent three years as a phlebotomist, then became a CNA. I’ve worked with cancer patients, held the hands of dying elders, and helped people who couldn’t speak for themselves. These jobs weren’t just paychecks—they taught me how to really care for people. How to be gentle when things are chaotic. How to listen without assuming. How to show up, even when I’m tired. Balancing work, school, and bills has been a challenge. I’ve had to make tough choices—like buying groceries instead of a textbook, or working overnight before an early class. But I keep going because I know this isn’t just about me. It’s for the people coming after me. For the kids in my neighborhood who think they can’t make it. I want them to see that you don’t have to be born into the perfect situation to make a difference. This scholarship would help me more than I can explain. It would take some of the weight off and let me put more energy into school instead of worrying about how I’m going to pay for it all. It would be a sign that someone sees my effort and believes in what I’m trying to do. And I promise I won’t take that for granted. In the future, I want to work in public health or as a community nurse. I want to be in neighborhoods like the one I came from, teaching people how to take care of their health and making sure they have someone who listens. I believe everyone deserves that. This isn’t just a dream for me. It’s personal. And no matter what, I’m going to keep showing up.