Right before I entered the 7th grade, I lost my brother to suicide. That school year is still a blur in my memory. I remember walking into school and feeling like I was not really there, as if I was a specter walking through the realm of Hades with no real purpose or destination. My classmates walked on eggshells around me, and my teachers (all of whom knew my brother) would look at me with pity and sympathy. I only had one teacher who came to me and told me she had gone through a similar experience. Everyone else pretended nothing had happened, and when I was young, that was what I wanted. I wanted to pretend that my brother never existed and everything was fine. I would only learn much later that I needed my friends, family, and teachers to open up a conversation. Many years later, just as I entered my first year of college, my mental health issues began to rear their heads. I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder in late 2021 but did not seek professional help until the following year. I did come to terms with my disorder eventually, but it took a long time to accept that part of myself. Ever since my brother passed, I had thought something was wrong with me. I poured myself into my education as a distraction, but that distraction only worked for so long. Learning as much as I could about GAD helped me understand more about my brother's battle with depression. If there is any advice I would give to someone struggling with the loss of a sibling to suicide, it would be to find a support system. My friends were the only thing that kept me sane through my school years. While the adults around me either gave me unwanted advice or ignored me outright, I knew I could always call a friend and talk to them about what I was going through. I would also encourage people to speak up about mental illness. Too many people do not give mental health the platform it deserves until a tragedy takes someone they love. It should not have to come to that point. Many people struggle with suicidal ideation to this day. In a world where they feel they have no one who understands what they are going through, we should reach out a hand to show them that they are not alone.

When I lost my brother to suicide in 2016, it felt as if my world was coming to a complete halt. Losing him was one of the hardest things that has ever happened to me. He struggled with depression for many years, but I did not realize the severity of his condition until it was too late. It was only after he had passed that I realized that my mental health was not in a stable place. For the past two years, I have had to work on restructuring how my brain thinks, including learning new coping skills for my anxiety. For most of my high school career (and even the past two years of my college education), I was not sure what I wanted to do with my life. I thought that to be happy, I would need to pursue a career that would make me plenty of money. I was never truly happy with that line of thinking. Within the past year, I have had a startling revelation: I wanted to work in an environment where I could encourage others and bring a smile to their face. That was the moment that I realized that I wanted to go into the writing field. I have been writing stories since I was in 6th grade, but I never thought I could become a successful author. I was often told as a child that many writers end up failing and that there was only a small chance that I could succeed. However, I soon realized that I could do more than just write small fiction stories. By writing stories about mental health and how mental illness can affect young adults, I would be able to bring attention to disorders that thousands of people deal with. I want to write stories highlighting the importance of mental health, but I also want to bring a smile to someone going through a difficult time or simply allow them to forget their troubles for a few moments while they dive into a good story. Mental illnesses are still heavily stigmatized today. The only way to break down this supposed taboo is to continue to talk about it with all age groups. Everyone can have issues with their mental health. What is important is that we do not ostracize these people for something they cannot control. I hope that my writing will be able to start a conversation and continue to pave the way for improved mental health support.

Many people do not realize how terrible the effects of mental illness can be until they have lost someone close to them. I did not truly understand what mental illness was until my brother died in 2016. He lost his battle with depression. Losing him not only opened my eyes to how others are affected by depression and anxiety but also revealed that I had been struggling with my mental illness for years. What I thought had just been me over-worrying had been extreme anxiety. Fast heartbeats, shortness of breath, and crippling fear had all been chalked up to me being dramatic. I was often told to get control of myself while amid a panic attack instead of being comforted for something I could not control. I did not start prioritizing my health (mental and physical) until I saw the impact deteriorating mental health had on my brother. Once I realized that I had a problem with my anxiety, I did not immediately act on it. I still thought that something was wrong with me. Eventually, the anxiety got so severe that I was refusing to eat, could barely function at work, and could not relax even in the comfort of my own home. I was losing a concerning amount of weight, and finally, my logic won out over my pride. I went to therapy and was prescribed medication, two decisions that have made an extremely positive impact on me. I also began to talk about mental health with my friends and family, something that I once thought to be extremely taboo. Even when I was a little girl, I knew that I wanted to make people smile. In high school, that involved being a class clown and poking fun at myself. I knew that being kind to others was important, but once I graduated high school, I struggled with figuring out how I could specifically make the lives of others better. I have since realized that I could use my writing--something I have loved since I was very small--to spread awareness about mental health in young adults. I want to educate both generations older and younger than myself. Too many adults feel that mental health is insignificant. This can lead to devastating consequences for young adults and children alike. By writing both nonfiction and fiction novels, I hope to be able to bridge the gap between different age groups.

Trever's story connected with the loss of my brother in 2016. He struggled with depression, and in 2016 he took his own life. His death not only greatly impacted me and my family, but also the community around us. I grew up in a community that thought mental illness to be strange and otherworldly. It was only after the loss of my brother that I began to take my mental health more seriously. I began to research more about what mental illness my brother had, and after many years of inner debate, I decided to go to therapy for my struggles. It was one of the best decisions I ever made, and I am extremely proud of myself for taking that step. As I said above, going to therapy was one of the main reasons that I was able to understand my anxiety. Therapy does not have the same negative stigma that it had many years ago, but there are still many young people who believe that going to therapy means something is wrong with them. I thought that same thing for many years. Despite my parents suggesting therapy as an option, I did not pursue it until after I had graduated high school. My doctor prescribed medications I could take to help with my anxiety, but I was very skeptical. While the medication does help (and my doctor is very clear on what the symptoms of taking anxiety medication are), it does not come cheap. This has to be one of my biggest gripes about the mental health industry. Antidepressants and anxiety medication can help many young adults--including myself--as long as the side effects are carefully monitored and reported to a medical professional. However, many people cannot afford these medications because of how expensive they are. I am fortunate enough to have a family who helps pay for these costs, but not everyone has such a support system. While I have had many changes regarding my major over the past two years, one thing that I always knew I wanted to support those with mental health struggles. I did not want to be a therapist or a doctor, but I knew that I somehow wanted to help those with anxiety and depression. I finally decided that I could use writing as a platform to talk about mental health issues. I always loved writing. I realized that I could combine my passion for writing fiction and short stories to elevate characters with mental illnesses. By writing characters with mental illnesses such as anxiety and depression, I hope that a young adult will be able to feel seen. I hope that my stories will be able to start a conversation about mental health in teenagers and young adults.

I want to become an advocate for mental health by using my writing as a platform, whether that be through journalism, short stories, or novels.

For nearly 18 years of my life, I did not think anyone really struggled with mental health issues. I figured that having anxiety was simply being scared of things, having depression meant you were sad, and that bipolar people were 'crazy'. I grew up in an environment that emphasized easy, religious solutions for real medical problems. While growing up in a Christian environment was helpful in many ways, it did nothing to help my mental well-being. I only realized my mental health's importance once I went to college. For the first time in many years, I understood the anxiety that had been plaguing me for years. I was the first in my family to go to therapy and to talk to my doctor's about my options. It was, without a doubt, one of the best decisions I have ever made. I was not the only person to struggle with mental health in my family. I lost my brother in 2016 due to suicide. That was one of the major reasons I began to take my mental health more seriously. I have researched the medications I now take, have talked with my therapist about my struggles, and have learned to cope with something that, at one point, was completely debilitating. Activities as simple as going to work had become impossible. To be honest, I thought that getting help for my anxiety would be something that only affected me. However, with my newfound knowledge and confidence in myself, I have been able to talk to others about mental health struggles. Specifically, I have been able to teach young people in the same faith as myself the science behind their struggles. Helping others learn more about how the brain responds to trauma has been very cathartic for me. I wish that someone had come to me when I was in middle school and talked to me about why I was going through such intense panic. Being able to explain that to the next generation is something I pride myself in. Not only have I struggled with anxiety for half my life, but I also dealt with severe perfectionism. During my first year of college, I always strove for perfect grades. Anyone who has ever taken a college-level course knows that this is usually not an achievable goal. I have had many talks with my therapist about learning to cut myself slack. One way I have vented my frustrations and fears is through my writing. Whether that be short stories, poems, or full-length novels, writing has allowed me to express myself. I have also given myself time to enjoy the simple things in life. Playing a game with my sister, watching TV with my mother, or having a conversation about music with my father all seem like minor accomplishments to many. I have learned, however, that spending time with those close to me can boost my mood exponentially. Even small things, such as making time to eat a family dinner, have opened my eyes to how beautiful simple things can be.

I grew up in a community where discussing what makes you unique was heavily looked down upon. We were always stressed to be humble and never be prideful. This mindset stuck with me throughout my entire high school career. While we should never be self-centered, this lack of mentioning my strengths led to me becoming a very shy person. I never saw myself as special or outstanding, even if I was a good student and musician. For the last two years of my life, I have had to focus on being kind to myself. I have had to rewrite the way I value myself. However, thanks to therapy and an understanding family, I have finally been able to realize that it is okay to be proud of my accomplishments. I believe that my art sets me apart from other people my age. I played trombone throughout high school and will be continuing to play once I transfer to a four-year university. Music was something that my family always did, but I have come to enjoy it purely because it is a way for me to express myself. I was taught music by my father, so for many years, I saw playing trombone as a chore. The older I got, the more I saw how wrong I was. Concert, jazz, marching band--all of these showed me that different styles of music can completely change the emotion of the crowd and the player. I also participated in the indoor color guard at my school, which allowed me to express myself physically in a way that I never imagined. I still go back to my high school and teach younger children how to either play trombone or practice their color guard technique, or sometimes both! Even when I transfer, I still want to get involved in local schools in order to teach. Instructing in these areas has taught me so much about how to handle young students, and it has shown me that I have much more patience and love than I ever could have imagined. Music is not the only art form I enjoy. Within the past two years (some of the hardest of my short life), writing has become my rock. I have written short stories that I have posted online, but I am also working on a novel-length work. I want to write a work that is influential in the mental health field. By creating characters that struggle and live with their mental health, I hope to show young adults that they are not alone. We see that young people gravitate toward media that relates to them. Characters that have anxiety or depression and then deal with their issues in a positive way can show young people that there is nothing wrong with them. The reason it took me so long to go to therapy was that I thought I would be seen as insane. I thought that if I went to someone else for help, I would be seen as weak. I think that it is vitally important that we let everyone we can know that getting help is a sign of strength. I hope that my art, whether that be music or writing, will not only help my own community of Milton, North Carolina, and Danville, Virginia but also young people around the country.

Many jobs in the United States are not highly respected. Fast food employees, retail associates, and janitors are all examples of jobs that are often overlooked unless someone has worked them. Another example of a forgotten job is teaching. Both of my parents are teachers, and throughout my high school career, I saw the long hours they worked to help their students. Both of my parents would bring their work home with them, working on lesson plans or grading tests long after the sun went down. I saw the stress this job put on them, but I know they both love their jobs, and neither would think of quitting. They are paid very little for the work they do, and yet they continue to teach the next generation. If you look at the status of teachers today, you will easily note the depressing conditions they work in. Teachers are not paid fairly for the work they do. They are solely responsible for guiding generation after generation of children. Now, not only do they have to worry about teaching, but they also have to worry about keeping their classroom safe. My parents have classrooms that can be easily barricaded. They buy cans of bug spray and baseball bats to use in case of emergency. With their own money, they buy medical supplies should the worst happen. The amount of stress this puts on teachers—both young and old—is staggering. This is an issue I have wanted to address for three years now. Teachers are put through terrible conditions, and yet many are surprised to see massive amounts of teachers quitting their jobs in the school system. It seems that many teachers are done waiting for our government to come up with a solution, and I for one cannot blame them. The issue of gun safety and mental health awareness is very important to me, both of which have an unfortunate effect on our schools. As a society, we have reached a turning point. We can no longer stand back and hope the problem fixes itself. Our schools should be a safe place for both the children going there to learn and the faculty which spends countless hours helping them. I hope that continuing to talk about this issue, as well as leading discussions online, will be a small step in the right direction. I will be going to a four-year institution to get my education degree. As I teach students, I will be vocal about the weaknesses in our school systems. Without pointing out the flaws, we will never be able to change the situation.

The greatest adversity I have had to face is my mental health. Specifically, my anxiety has become a major challenge for me over the past three years. I have always had to cope with my anxiety. For most of my high school career, I thought that the best way to deal with my mental problems would be to ignore them and hope for them to fix themselves. This method was never going to work. Once I graduated high school, I realized that I needed professional help. I was able to get medication and appointments with a therapist. I was the first person in my family to take such steps for my mental health, and I was afraid that my friends and family would see me differently for speaking to a therapist. Thankfully, the people I have surrounded myself with were very understanding of my troubles and have supported me through this difficult time. One thing that affected my mental and physical health was my choice of study. For many years, I thought that I needed to go into a math and science field to be happy. Being in these fields would allow me to find a job that would provide me with plenty of income, which I thought would make me happy. However, as I pursued these subjects for two years, I realized they only made my anxiety worse. The amount of time I was spending trying to complete and perfect my work was making me far more stressed than was healthy. I decided to take a step back and reevaluate my goals. Over the 2022 winter break, I realized that writing is what made me happy. While I would still be somewhat stressed about writing deadlines, it was not the same kind of burden my math or science homework would put on me. It was the type of stress that pushes me to do my best, and I began to become motivated to write every single day. What was once a hobby had become my passion. Writing not only makes me happy, but it greatly reduces my anxiety. Writing allows me to express myself in a way speech never could. The one thing I constantly remind myself of is that I should never give up. While it is important to realize my limits, I always want to give everything my best. Whether that be my homework, my music, or my writing, everything I do should be the best that I can put out. I am blessed to be surrounded by people who love me and support my career decisions. I hope that one day my writing can help to inspire other young people to take their mental health seriously. I want to create a community where those with anxiety or depression can confide in one another to create a safe and healthy space.

I initially began writing as a hobby, something that helped spark my imagination. Now things have changed drastically. What was once a fun activity to do on the weekends is now my passion. I grew up in an environment where many books had a religious background. While this is not necessarily a bad thing, it severely stunted my ability to enjoy literature, since the themes and writing styles were all similar. Things changed when I read the first Percy Jackson series by Rick Riordan. The prose was interesting, the characters had more depth than what I was used to, and it pushed me to broaden my reading material. That is when I began to wonder if I, too, could make a book that was just as interesting and inspiring. For many years, I wrote on and off, trying to find a style that worked for me. Once I graduated high school, I put off writing for the foreseeable future. I thought that I needed to go into a career that was science and math-heavy, even though these subjects did not inspire me. Over my winter break in 2022, I realized that writing is what made me happy. I struggle with intense anxiety. Many days I feel like no one understands what it is like to struggle with this illness. That is when I began to plan a novel that would talk about these struggles in a setting that young adults could find interesting. I do not want to write a book that will simply make money. I want to help people, especially young people, understand the intricacies of mental illness while also fostering a sense of community. Writing has allowed me to have an outlet for my hopes and frustrations. I tend to bottle up my emotions in the hope that one day they will go away. My childhood was filled with moments where I felt I would burst from the fear and worry I kept inside. Ever since I began to get back into a steady writing routine, I have felt some of that worry slip away. I can use my critical thinking skills to construct narratives and characters that feel real. By reading the works of other up-and-coming writers, I can better refine my skills. Writing is so much more than putting words down on paper or typing on a keyboard. It is a form of self-expression that has helped me understand more about myself and the world at large. I hope that my writing will someday inspire young people to pick up a pen themselves and start their journey of self-discovery.

While many wonderful women have impacted me throughout my life, none have affected me more than my mother. She has shown me how to be patient when people become confrontational, how to be calm when life gets chaotic, and why it is important to let yourself cry now and again. She has always been there for me when I need to talk about my struggles in school or at work. Most importantly, my mother understands my mental health issues. In every aspect of my life, my mother has been there for me, holding my hand and helping me become the best version of myself. My mother is the strongest person I know. Her life has been filled with hardships, but she has never given up on herself or me. My brother passed away in 2016. He struggled with his mental health for years. Even after my brother passed, my mother stayed strong. She was always willing to talk to me about my brother. Even though I can tell that my brother’s death made an impact on her, she continued to push forward. Her determination has inspired me to continue living life to the fullest, even if things get complicated. I have struggled with anxiety since I was a child. For many years, I did not think anyone would ever understand the struggles I was going through. However, I have learned that my mother is my number one supporter. Even when I am not confident, she is always there to support me. One thing my mother instilled in me from a young age is that you should always finish what you started. She has taught me the importance of commitment, but also the importance of self-care. Over the past two years of my college experience, I have become too absorbed in getting all my work done and stressing about getting the perfect grades and scores. My mother has always let me know when I am stressing too much. Some days she asks me to watch a show with her. On other days she will just come and talk with me. These small gestures have meant so much to me, not only because they give me a small reprieve from my work, but also because they remind me that I deserve breaks. I am blessed to have a mother who looks out for me and wants the best. She is not perfect, and neither am I. Despite both of our flaws, I understand that she is doing all she can to help me grow, both as a Christian and as a scholar. I will always be thankful for the impact she has made in my life. Even though I will never be able to repay her for all the things she has done for me, I will always try my best to make her proud.

When I was graduating high school, I thought I had my entire life planned out. I would go to a large four-year school, get my meteorology degree, and would work for the National Weather Service as either a forecaster or storm chaser. In the end, I decided to go in the opposite direction. I have learned a lot about myself over the past year, especially about what I want to do with my life. I want to be a writer, which is something I have always thought about but never thought I could accomplish. Since my graduation from high school, I have learned how brave I can be. I struggle with intense anxiety, so changing my entire plan was terrifying. On the other hand, I have never felt so free. I will be transferring from a community college to a four-year institution where I can double major in Creative Writing and English, with a minor in Education. This is a scary new step for me, but I now know I can handle it with confidence. This change was not a sudden one. I always knew that meteorology was not the perfect field for me. It is interesting, and I will continue to watch the ever-evolving weather with interest, but it was never something I truly wanted. I was salutatorian in my graduating class of 2021. I always thought that, since I was a smart child, I should go into a field that was demanding. I was also afraid of what people would have thought if I said I was going to be an author. I’ve learned a tough but valuable lesson from that: what other people say I can and cannot do is their own opinion. I will continue to write because that is what I enjoy most. I will continue to write because I want to make a difference, to encourage young people with the worlds that I create. People of all ages and demographics need to be able to identify with the characters they see on the screen (or in this case, the page). I am still the anxious person from high school, and I am still a perfectionist who always seeks to have the best grades. This ‘new’ part of me was always there; it was just buried under layers of self-doubt. I feel that I have spent too long being a harsh critic of myself. I am finally giving myself the chance I deserve. To me, writing is more than just a fun pastime. It is a platform I can use to influence people for the better. The next generation deserves literature that is more than just toxic relationship examples or stereotypical jargon. I pray that one day my art can inspire someone else, just as book authors were a major inspiration for me. I always thought I was a weak person, not just physically but mentally. I felt all I had going for me was the fact that I could make good grades consistently. It has taken nearly two years for me to deconstruct that self-erected wall. I have learned that I am strong, capable, and caring. I have learned that I shouldn’t aim for perfection, but to make an impact. Life is not easy, but I refuse to lie down and do nothing. I hope that the art I create will leave an impact long before me, but even if it does not, I know that I will be happy with the progress I have made for myself.

Music has been an important part of my life since before I could speak. My father was a band director, and my mother was a teacher. I always knew I would play an instrument, both because I grew up in that environment and because I loved the world of music. I started out playing piano, and once I was old enough to join the elementary band, I picked up the trombone. It was not always easy. There were multiple times that I thought I would quit music because of the difficulty. However, my father encouraged me to keep playing and to keep working on difficult solos. By the time I graduated, I knew I could never stop playing, even when I decided to go to a community college. Though my college never had a band to play in, I joined every opportunity I could to play, whether that be through churches or my old high school band as an alumnus. Much like music, writing became a hobby that only grew as I got older. I started writing when I was in 6th grade. Unlike many of the hobbies I started and dropped within the year, I am still writing now. I am currently writing short stories on the internet while also working on a full-length novel. Writing has been very cathartic for me. I went through the difficult loss of my brother in 2016, and writing was one of the ways I was able to express myself unabated. It became a way for me to talk about issues that bothered me, or that were affecting the world. I specifically love the fantasy and dystopian genres; fantasy because it appeals to a part of me that loves the unknown, and dystopian because I feel it has a lot in common with our present day. Like music, writing has allowed me to grow as a person. I can look back on the works I wrote three years ago (or even three weeks ago) and can see how much I have improved. In terms of music, the most influential piece for me is The Blue Bells of Scotland by Arthur Pryor. This was the last solo I played for my school’s solo festival. Despite it being filled with high notes and fast rhythms, I remember thinking that I could do it. I would not only play it, but I would excel at playing it. It was the most fun I had ever had learning a solo, and it showed me how far I had come as a musician. The solo was far from perfect, but it was something that I made my own. I always can look back on the video of me performing it with fondness, as it showed my determination in seeing something through. My favorite piece of writing is the first Percy Jackson and the Olympians book. I know that this book series was aimed at children, and I did first read it when I was in 6th grade. The reason it is so important to me is because of how it changed my view on creative writing. I had never read a book with such a fun and interesting style. Simply seeing the chapter titles piqued my curiosity. I had always liked to read, but this series made me want to write, to create something that people of all ages could enjoy. Reading this series made me want to write something that would make a lasting impact on the children of the next generation.

When we lose someone close to us, the grief stays with us for the rest of our lives. I lost my brother in 2016 to suicide. He was an incredible man, someone who loved to play trumpet and inspired me, even though we were almost 10 years apart in age. He played games with me, introduced me to book series, and always set time aside for me. My brother was plagued with severe depression and had suicidal tendencies. His passing happened when I was in 8th grade. No one in my family realized how much his mental health had declined since his graduation from high school. He tried for years to fight his demons and find his way. His loss is still incredibly hard to bear at times. I am currently writing this essay just after Christmas. It is painfully obvious how the holidays differ now that he is gone. My brother’s passing made me realize that my mental health was far from perfect. I have always struggled with my mental issues for most of my life. I never sat down and thought about how my anxiety was affecting me until after my brother had passed. Even then, it took many years until I understood that I needed professional help, something my brother had never done. I was the first in my family to go to therapy and speak to my doctor about the challenges I was facing. I was finally able to find the help that I desperately needed. Before this, I was unable to work and could barely function at school. The difference now is staggering. I can enjoy working and making new friends. I’ve also been able to pace myself better at school so that I am no longer overworking myself. My brother taught me many lessons while he was still with us. The most important lesson I took away from his passing is that we cannot shoulder life’s burdens alone. We must step back, look at ourselves, and realize that there are dozens of people around us who want to help. However, learning the best ways to handle my mental health was only the first lesson I learned from my brother. He introduced me to many new concepts and taught me many life lessons. Even from a young age, I could see that my brother wanted to go into music. He also had a love for video games, and he introduced me to game series that I still play today. For a long time, I thought that I needed to go to college to get a career that would help sustain me. I thought that, if a job got me enough money to survive, I would be okay. I’ve since learned that if I went into the field I originally planned (that being meteorology), I would have a good income, but I would not necessarily be happy. I have spent the past year thinking about what would make me happiest, and I kept coming back to a hobby I have had since I was in the 6th grade: writing. I think my brother helped this hobby bloom, even if he is long gone. I would have never begun creative writing if I had not spent countless hours with him playing games in our grandmother’s basement. I would have never learned worldbuilding or how to create a believable character without him pointing out some of his favorites himself. He helped me learn what games I loved and what games I loathed; even in his music, he introduced me to beautiful soundtracks and instrumental pieces that still get my mind thinking of new stories I could tell. Even though he has been gone for six years now, he is still influencing me in ways he could not have possibly imagined. I’ve decided that I will create a book by this time next year. This is not an if, but a when. A finished manuscript will be completed, no matter how hard I must work between my job and school. Finishing the first draft of a novel will be hard, and it may take a few more years until the editing process is finished, but I have decided to go all in with my true dream. I hope to apply for as many scholarships as possible to afford my transfer to a school with a creative writing program. That is what his loss has pushed me to do. I can see the possibilities that are before me. I will make my brother and my family proud of me, but more than that I will be proud of myself and my accomplishments. I will fight for that dream no matter what I must do to see it come to fruition.