I am lost in the forest, captivated by the beauty of the trees around me. I feel the uneven ground beneath my feet and watch the clouds shapeshift above. Before I can drift deeper into wonder, a small voice interrupts me. “I won’t go any further,” Anna says, crossing her arms. “I’m too scared I’ll walk into a spider web.” I look at the 6-year-old I met an hour ago and reply, “I know spiders can be scary. I have a special eye that can spot webs if I look closely. I’ll stay with you the whole way.” This answer seems to satisfy her, as she nods and takes my hand. Throughout my life, I’ve worked hard to see the webs of connection that can be tricky to spot. This skill was especially valuable when writing, publishing, and sharing my children’s mental health book, "A Guide to Butterflies (In Your Stomach)". As a child, I struggled with anxiety and earned the nickname "Princess Talk-a-Lots" in fourth grade for my excessive chattiness. Talking was my only tool to manage the worry I felt. I wanted to give more effective tools to children who struggle - whether they cope by talking nonstop, staying entirely silent, or something in between. I drew on personal experiences and advice from therapists I met through other mental health work in Atlanta. When the book was finally printed, I contacted the schools and organizations I worked with for opportunities to share it. One was Superheroes Club, an adventure group that builds social and emotional skills in kids through outdoor activity. I’d learned about it through a mother I babysat for, and that’s where I met Anna. It was there that I read my book aloud for the first time. Reading my book to a group of 20 made me realize I could amplify the voices of mental health experts and make a tangible difference in my community. In my readings following this, I provided teachers with resources for both them and their students. I also practiced grounding exercises, like the 54321 technique, with the kids and lead them in an art therapy activity. One day at an NYO baseball game, a boy came up to me and asked if I wrote a book. When I said yes, he looked at me in awe and told me I’d read at his school, Jackson Elementary, saying, “I get butterflies too!” Moments like this convinced me that I’d made a real impact on the kids around me, and I’m proud of that. Recently I stood outside, once again in the trees, and watched a spider spin its web swiftly above my head. In many ways, we are alike- both weaving connections between previously unlinked experiences. Yet, unlike the spider, I cannot do it all on my own. I realize that fear- my own and others'- often just needs a hand to hold. And when a hand isn’t enough, I seek out support and training to bridge the gap. Using my ability to see connections, I’ll continue to build my own social and professional webs, drawing on the people, places, and opportunities around me.

I’m so scared. I’ve always been so scared. Even writing this essay, I’m scared. Fear has stopped me from many things, or at least made me pause for a while. I’m not really sure where this came from: maybe my mom’s excessive worry at the potential of being harmed at every move or my unique genetic makeup. One way or another, the fear has always been there. But so have I. I’ve been there too, standing right beside my fear, defending it, fighting it, yelling at it, loving it, doing everything I can to make it go away and still letting it stay with me. I’d always thought of it as a weakness. As I’ve gotten older, my anxiety has proved an effective tool for motivation. I’ve always been afraid I’m not doing enough, helping enough, working enough, and so to combat that fear, I’ve just done more. My fear has brought suffering but it’s also brought success. I don’t think I could’ve been as successful as I have throughout all 4 years of high school without shaking my leg the whole way through it. Well, some people experience great things with no pit inside their stomach when those great things happen. They were somehow just born with the gift of calmness, or were able to achieve it through access to healthcare and hard work. I’ve noticed though that a lot of my friends were like me. Their hearts pumped 2x too fast which maybe led to higher grades, or maybe to uncontrollable panic attacks on their bedroom floors the night before a test. Or maybe, both, like me. Luckily, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned the valuable skill of asking for help. On top of this, I have had the resources to get help. Everyone these days makes such a big deal of asking for what you need, but then the world around you isn’t capable of meeting your needs and nobody makes a big deal out of that. I’ve watched this happen to my peers firsthand. I’ve watched them suffer. When I became disheartened due to the constant suffering around me, I decided that it was necessary for me to change something. I found an app called TeenTalk where teenagers can discuss their struggles and Teen Advisors can respond after being trained by a mental health professional. Since the summer before my junior year, I have received over 30 hours of training by professionals regarding the topics of suicide, eating disorders, self-harm, abuse, and more. Before my training, these topics were terrifying to me. I had struggled with many of them and many of my friends had too, but I still felt so hopeless. Now, I take 2-hour shifts bi-monthly on the app responding to these very issues. Sometimes I see recurring users and a recent comment I got from one said, "I remember you, you are the one who saved my life that one night." When I get to college, I want to change things. Everyone deserves access to effective mental healthcare. They deserve to be treated by caring people who have the resources and genuinely want to help them. I want to be a social worker to help individuals and make large-scale change in the system. People are hurting, and I desperately want to support them. I want to do whatever it takes to make those motivated by fear find different motivators, like I finally have. I want to help everyone find the things they love. Because fear, although sometimes quite effective, is nowhere near as fun of a motivator as passion is.

I’m so scared. I’ve always been so scared. Even writing this essay, I’m scared. For as long as I can remember, fear has stopped me from so many things, or at least made me pause for a while. When I was little I would always climb the top of the stairs to a slide but be unable to go down. I’m not really sure where this fear came from, maybe my mom’s excessive worry at the potential of being harmed at every move or my unique genetic makeup. One way or another, the fear has always been there. But so have I. I’ve been there too, standing right beside my fear, defending it, fighting it, yelling at it, loving it, doing everything I can to make it go away and still letting it stay with me. I’d always thought of it as a weakness. I mean, I don’t know how much I could’ve gotten done in high school without being afraid. My fear has always been this motorboat inside of me, pushing me to go further. Except in the case of tall slides when I was a kid, because usually I would just go back down the stairs. As I’ve gotten older, my anxiety has proved an effective tool for motivation. I’ve always been afraid I’m not doing enough, helping enough, working enough, and so to combat that fear, I’ve just done more. Has my fear brought suffering? Sure. But it’s also brought success in my grades, service, and character. I don’t think I could’ve been as successful as I have throughout all 4 years of high school without shaking my leg the whole way through it. Well, maybe I could have been successful without being afraid. Plenty of people experience great things with no pit inside their stomach when those great things happen. Those lucky people were somehow just born with the gift of calmness, or were able to achieve it through access to healthcare and hard work. I’ve noticed though, that throughout high school, a lot of my friends were like me. Their hearts pumped 2x too fast which maybe led to higher grades, or maybe to uncontrollable panic attacks on their bedroom floors the night before a test. Or maybe, both, like me. Luckily, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned the very valuable skill of asking for help. On top of this, I actually have had the resources to get help. I feel like everyone these days makes such a big deal of asking for what you need, but then the world around you isn’t capable of meeting your needs and nobody makes a big deal out of that. I’ve watched this happen to my peers firsthand. Whether it be anxiety, depression, OCD, ADHD, or whatever other multitude of mental health conditions teenagers struggle with, I’ve watched them suffer. When I became disheartened due to the constant suffering around me, I decided that it was necessary for me to change something. This happened around the beginning of my junior year when I realized that if mental health treatment was that accessible for everyone, the world would be a better place. So, I did my research. I found an app called TeenTalk where teenagers can go and discuss their struggles and other teenagers called "Teen Advisors" can respond after being trained by a mental health professional. Since the summer before my junior year, I have received over 30 hours of training by professionals regarding the topics of suicide, eating disorders, self-harm, abuse, and more. Before my training, these topics were terrifying to me. I had struggled with many of them and many of my friends had too, but I still felt so hopeless. Now, I take 2-hour shifts bi-monthly on the app responding to these very issues. Sometimes I see recurring users and a recent comment I got from one said, "I remember you, you are the one who saved my life that one night." All I have ever wanted to do is help people, and while I'm learning that I cannot save everyone, I know that I can at least try to be someone who listens and understands. When I get to college, I want to learn how to change things. My friends deserve it. Everyone deserves access to effective mental healthcare. They deserve to be treated by caring people who have the resources and genuinely want to help them. I want to be a social worker. Not only to help people individually, but also to make large-scale change in the system for all. People are hurting, and I desperately want to support them. I want to do whatever it takes to make those motivated by fear find different motivators, like I finally have. I want to help everyone find the things they love. Because fear, although sometimes quite effective, is nowhere near as fun of a motivator as passion is.

I’m so scared. I’ve always been so scared. Even writing this essay, I’m scared. For as long as I can remember, fear has stopped me from so many things, or at least made me pause for a while. When I was little I would always climb the top of the stairs to a slide but be unable to go down. I’m not really sure where this fear came from, maybe my mom’s excessive worry at the potential of being harmed at every move or my unique genetic makeup. One way or another, the fear has always been there. But so have I. I’ve been there too, standing right beside my fear, defending it, fighting it, yelling at it, loving it, doing everything I can to make it go away and still letting it stay with me. I’d always thought of it as a weakness. I mean, I don’t know how much I could’ve gotten done in high school without being afraid. My fear has always been this motorboat inside of me, pushing me to go further. Except in the case of tall slides when I was a kid, because usually I would just go back down the stairs. As I’ve gotten older, my anxiety has proved an effective tool for motivation. I’ve always been afraid I’m not doing enough, helping enough, working enough, and so to combat that fear, I’ve just done more. Has my fear brought suffering? Sure. But it’s also brought success. I don’t think I could’ve been as successful as I have throughout all 4 years of high school without shaking my leg the whole way through it. Well, maybe I could have been successful without being afraid. Plenty of people experience great things with no pit inside their stomach when those great things happen. Those lucky people were somehow just born with the gift of calmness, or were able to achieve it through access to healthcare and hard work. I’ve noticed though, that throughout high school, a lot of my friends were like me. Their hearts pumped 2x too fast which maybe led to higher grades, or maybe to uncontrollable panic attacks on their bedroom floors the night before a test. Or maybe, both, like me. Luckily, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned the very valuable skill of asking for help. On top of this, I actually have had the resources to get help. I feel like everyone these days makes such a big deal of asking for what you need, but then the world around you isn’t capable of meeting your needs and nobody makes a big deal out of that. I’ve watched this happen to my peers firsthand. Whether it be anxiety, depression, OCD, ADHD, or whatever other multitude of mental health conditions teenagers struggle with, I’ve watched them suffer. When I became disheartened due to the constant suffering around me, I decided that it was necessary for me to change something. This happened around the beginning of my junior year when I realized that if mental health treatment was that accessible for everyone, the world would be a better place. So, I did my research. I found an app called TeenTalk where teenagers can go and discuss their struggles and other teenagers called "Teen Advisors" can respond after being trained by a mental health professional. Since the summer before my junior year, I have received over 30 hours of training by professionals regarding the topics of suicide, eating disorders, self-harm, abuse, and more. Before my training, these topics were terrifying to me. I had struggled with many of them and many of my friends had too, but I still felt so hopeless. Now, I take 2-hour shifts bi-monthly on the app responding to these very issues. Sometimes I see recurring users and a recent comment I got from one said, "I remember you, you are the one who saved my life that one night." All I have ever wanted to do is help people, and while I'm learning that I cannot save everyone, I know that I can at least try to be someone who listens and understands. When I get to college, I want to learn how to change things. My friends deserve it. Everyone deserves access to effective mental healthcare. They deserve to be treated by caring people who have the resources and genuinely want to help them. I want to be a social worker. Not only to help people individually, but also to make large-scale change in the system for all. People are hurting, and I desperately want to support them. I want to do whatever it takes to make those motivated by fear find different motivators, like I finally have. I want to help everyone find the things they love. Because fear, although sometimes quite effective, is nowhere near as fun of a motivator as passion is.

I’m so scared. I’ve always been so scared. Even writing this essay, I’m scared. For as long as I can remember, fear has stopped me from so many things. I’m not sure where this fear came from, maybe my mom’s excessive worry at the potential of being harmed at every move or my unique genetic makeup. One way or another, the fear has always been there. But so have I. I’ve been there too, standing right beside my fear, defending it, fighting it, yelling at it, loving it, doing everything I can to make it go away and still letting it stay with me. I’d always thought of it as a weakness. Has my fear brought suffering? Sure. But it’s also brought success. I don’t think I could’ve been as successful as I have throughout all my years of schooling without shaking my leg the whole way through it. Well, maybe I could have been successful without being afraid. Plenty of people experience great things with no pit inside their stomachs when those great things happen. Those lucky people were somehow just born with the gift of calmness- or were able to achieve it through access to healthcare and hard work. I’ve noticed though, that throughout high school, a lot of my friends were like me. Their hearts pumped 2x too fast which may have led to higher grades, or maybe to uncontrollable panic attacks on their bedroom floors the night before a test. Or maybe, both, like me. Luckily, as I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned the very valuable skill of asking for help. On top of this, I actually have had the resources to get help. I feel like everyone these days makes such a big deal of asking for what you need, but then the world around you isn’t capable of meeting your needs and nobody makes a big deal out of that. I’ve watched this happen to my peers firsthand. Whether it be issues at home, being harassed at school, or one of the multitude of mental health conditions teenagers struggle with, I’ve watched them suffer. And there’s been nothing I could do about it. When I get to college, I want to learn how to change things. My friends deserve it. Everyone deserves access to effective mental healthcare. They deserve to be treated by caring people who have the resources and genuinely want to help them. I want to be a social worker. Not only to help people individually but also to make large-scale changes in the system. Children are hurting, and I desperately want to support them. I want to do whatever it takes to make those motivated by fear find different motivators like I finally have. I want to help adolescents and kids find the things they love. Because fear, although sometimes quite effective, is nowhere near as fun of a motivator as passion is. Kids go through so much in their lives, at home, and within themselves. Bullying worsens everything. To help teenagers, I volunteer as a teen advisor on the TeenTalk App- an app where teens can go to discuss their struggles. I do the best I can. I listen empathetically and I respond and support. I know that isn't enough though, so I also am constantly learning more about mental health policy and advocating for parity in mental healthcare. When I get to college, I look forward to advocating and listening being what I learn about and do full-time. But for now, I look out for my classmates around me during the day and advocate for them after school.