Hi, my name is Sydney Engstrom. I like to compare my behaviors and mannerisms to those of a cat. For example, cats are notorious for their strong-willed behaviors. You try to give a cat attention and they refuse it, but when you are busy and not in a place to grant them attention, you will find that cat rubbing against you, craving belly rubs. I behave in the same way; I act on my own terms, and do not like being told what to do. Some might find this annoying, but just as a cat would feel: I do not care. I choose to unapologetically be myself.

I will treat my words on this topic in the same way I treat calories: do not use too many and make them count. That is how I began to approach calories when I was 1, beginning my first diet. I was in fifth grade, and by no means overweight, yet, I was not small either. My engagement in diet culture was initiated by the first, and by no means the last, comment on my size. I was in the cafeteria, eating an ice-cream bar, rewarding myself for getting through half of the grueling day in elementary school. A popular girl tapped my shoulder, seeking my attention. I was flabbergasted that a popular girl would even notice my existence. "You know those make you fat right? Maybe you would be skinnier if you did not eat those all the time." Looking back, I am baffled that a fifth grader would have not only the competence, but the indecency to comment on someone's size and food habits in such a manner. As she left, my appetite was replaced with a pit of discomfort and shame. I tossed my ice-cream into the trash and found the nearest restroom where I first became aware of my size. After lunch was over, I told my teacher I felt ill and needed to go home. As I got into my mom's car, I did not need to fake an ill appearance, as my stomach was already twisting in painful knots. When I got home, I retreated to my room and began researching how to lose weight, and I formulated my first diet. This diet followed me into middle school, and began to take over when I first entered high school. I meticulously counted every calorie that entered my body, and I constantly found myself messing with my clothes, thinking of ways to make them looser so I could downgrade to a smaller size until I achieved my goal weight. What I did not realize however, was that my goal weight could never be achieved. The instant I met a desired weight, I formulated a new, lower weight that I needed to achieve. When I was 15, my mom noticed that I looked gaunt; my collar bones stuck out, my cheeks were caved in, and I was rapidly losing hair as a byproduct of not eating. She took me to a doctor where I was diagnosed with anorexia. The ongoing diet was not a diet, it was an eating disorder. I spent years avoiding social gatherings, refusing snacks at others' houses, and pretending to be full at dinner to avoid consuming just an average sized meal portion. I continue to struggle with my eating habits, however, after joining a local eating disorder support group, I realized this struggle was widespread and I was certainly not alone. People love to stigmatize actions they do not understand, however, at these group meetings no stigma was present, because everyone understood each other. They understood why calories were terrifying, why eating was hard, and why we wanted to lose weight. It was there that I learned the key to destigmatizing eating disorders. The solution lies in education and empathy, which is the atmosphere I hope to develop in college. By being open about our struggles, people have an amazing capacity to understand and empathize with others. In college, I intend to ensure there are support groups on campus that can be open to anyone, providing a safe atmosphere for those that struggle, as well as an educational atmosphere for those seeking to understand their peers' struggle with eating disorders.

My goals for the future can be summed up in two words: helping others. While this seems quite generic, or simplistic, the steps that must be taken to achieve this must be complex and deliberate. Currently, I have made progress in achieving this goal through my job as a math tutor. This occupation obviously entails aspects of helping others, however, I desire to impact others beyond the realm of mathematical computation. Hence, I recognize that while I have made progress in achieving my goal, I still have a long ways to go in achieving this dream. While my job allows me to assist others in areas of education in which they struggle, I want to help people in other ways, specifically focusing on children with difficult situations at home. Being involved with children and their personal lives requires experience and education. Therefore, I plan to attend college and seek a degree in social work. I plan on using this degree to enhance the potential impact I can have on childrens' lives. I have learned to love working with children of various backgrounds, and I want to keep this element of interaction present in my future occupation, which will likely be in Child Protection Services. By using my degree and education in social services, I plan on helping children escape damaging and sometimes dangerous situations to allow them to prosper in the future, just as I hope to do myself.

The hairs of the brush, covered with maroon paint, meet the canvas. Carefully, I take small, smooth strokes, requiring a steady hand and unwavering concentration. I add the final touches with impeccable detail, and I set the brush on my palate, admiring the work of art that lay before me. I completed my first self-portrait using the ninety-nine-cent bottles of paint that I purchased at target. My walls are covered in numerous paintings, including my new self-portrait. Painting has always been my favorite past-time. With each stroke of my brush, my creativity is fueled and I can express myself visually. Each painting I formulate is driven by my own experiences, encapsulating moments of my life on canvases that now hang on the four walls that make up my room. Painting provides me with therapeutic comfort, allowing me an escape from the stressful world that surrounds me. Whenever I find myself overwhelmed by school, work, or my social life, painting provides me with an outlet to remove myself from these situations, even though this is temporary. These brief moments of creative expression alleviate the stress that comes with being a high school student. By engaging in this form of creative expression, I have allowed myself to become privy to the beauty of my mind and the eventful world around me.

In June 2020, I lost my dad to suicide, a tragedy that came most unexpectedly. This was the first time I experienced a major loss in my life, and for days I stayed in bed mourning. One morning, as I lay in bed consumed by grief, overcome by the loss of Dad, my mom suggested I accompany her for a walk. Initially, the comfort of my bed seemed more enticing than a walk with Mom, after all, I was grieving. What good would a walk do? After coaxing me to get out of bed, I pushed my grief aside and decided I would entertain her with a walk. I opened the front door and was met with the traditional Florida humidity. Like most Floridians, I was barefoot. I let the cool, wet air swallow my body and I walked into the grass, letting dew find its way between my toes. It was surprisingly therapeutic; I felt the grief dissipate from my body into the moist air. Mom and I walked a short mile, but that mile was all I needed to begin my day with slightly more optimism than the last, and in some ways slightly less grief. This became routine, and we walked every morning, telling stories about Dad and reminiscing in old memories. Some mornings, the idea of a walk repulses me, and I would rather remain engulfed in my comforter, feeling hopeless and lost. However, I do not let this stop me. Instead, I force myself out of bed, and with each walk, the days become slightly easier. After walking every morning, my bed became less attractive, and the grief more tolerable. By maintaining a persistent walking routine with Mom, I was able to remove the overbearing grief that once consumed me, but is now tolerable.

As a senior in high school taking 6 AP classes while being dually enrolled in college courses, I have a very busy lifestyle. Beyond my career in high school, I work a part-time job as a math tutor and am involved in several clubs at school. With a rigorous academic course load, studying is quintessential to my success, however, with the limited free time I have, I have to find methods of studying that are effective and efficient. Finding my ideal study strategy did not go without a lot of trial and error. I found that rereading notes was time-consuming, lacking proper engagement with the material. Similarly, rewriting my notes, while engaging, was inefficient and not an effective means of interacting with my course material. While these two methods of studying were not efficient, I decided to create a "hybridized" version of studying, incorporating elements of both studying techniques. Instead of rereading notes from my classes on a particular day, I made a list of all the important concepts of the day, writing a four-sentence summary of the content I was given in class. This removed the time-consuming elements of rewriting or reading my notes while simultaneously strengthening my memory by forcing me to summarize my classes in such a concise manner. This has not only strengthened my academic performance but has helped me maximize my time, allowing me to manage my extracurriculars and academic responsibilities. Combining studying techniques, I found a strategy that forced me to mindfully engage in content in a way that enhances my memory and saves me time.

In 2018, I began tutoring middle school Science Olympiad competitors for their state and regional competitions, focusing on biology and chemistry. This commitment sparked my interest in tutoring, an activity I still pursue today at Mathnasium. That look of understanding, the twinkle of the eye, slight drop of the mouth, and withdrawn “ohhhh” that precedes the “I get it now!”-- As a tutor, that is the universal reaction we look for during our sessions. That reaction answers more than a child’s math problem; it answers our own questions: “Does he/she get it? Am I making sense? Should I explain this differently?” These are all common questions a tutor asks themselves hundreds of times per session, however, for me, tutoring assisted me in a bigger question: “What do I want to do with my life?” Such a question may seem loaded, too layered to definitively answer, however, tutoring brought me to a simple two-word solution: help others. That is exactly what I plan to pursue after years of watching others’ faces illuminate with understanding and wonder at their own abilities. I want to be a part of that process, however limited my influence may be. I feel a void filled when I assist in these short seconds of enlightened learning. Tutoring became more than teaching, it became the gateway into what I want my future to consist of: helping those with less, building others’ confidence, and assisting in the process of personal development.

“When everyone looks to the right, be the one that looks to the left,” a phrase my Dad never failed to repeat multiple times a week. From those 14 words emerged my outlook on life, which is really a mixture of peoples’ perspectives that do not have to reflect my own. I have constructed a point of view on life that is not crystallized, but is fluid. Dad’s phrase instilled this quality of inquiry into my perception; I question anything that is brought forth, acknowledging that infinite perspectives exist, no matter how unpopular or untrodden. This does not mean that I disregard everyone’s ideas, instead I welcome them, carefully formulating my own opinions, laden with the numerous external ideas I encounter, accented by my own discernment. Additionally, this singular phrase gifted me with resiliency and tenacity, which characterize who I am. The status quo does not intimidate me -- it encourages me to find the nuances in the onefold narratives of the world and to embrace the “left,” which has become more than a direction; it has become the essence of Sydney. In practice this breeds resilience. Vividly, I remember the months following Dad’s death, and it was this phrase that kept me afloat as I swam in the ocean of loss; when everyone mourns the absence of a loved one, be the one to fill that absence with memories, not mourn it. Those 14 words crafted the discerning, fluid lens through which I absorb life’s light and reflect my own, providing me with an outlet through which I can embrace creativity by finding the alternate perspectives in life.

Confidence is a key element in social interaction. It breeds purposeful conversation, facilitates productive discourse, and procures a strong mindset. I did not truly understand what confidence was, nor the benefits that coincide with it until I took a speech class my freshman year of high school. My ideas of what confidence entails developed on the day I gave my first speech. I vividly recall approaching the podium, my knees shaking beneath me, my eyes following the cracks of the floor, and my mind racing with a thousand thoughts detailing the millions of ways this speech could go poorly. I looked up from the floor and faced my classmates, and that is when I had an epiphany: Even if I do not perceive myself as capable of giving a compelling speech to my classmates, the audience is not anticipating my downfall, this is just something I have construed with my insecure mindset. Furthermore, if I removed these fears from the forefront of my mind, then I could focus on delivering a good speech, removed from the lingering perception that I was going to embarrass myself. That became my idea of confidence: removing the lingering fear of downfall or failure, and replacing it with security in your disposition, and recognizing that those around us do not inherently perceive us negatively. Today, I strive to maintain a confident disposition, both in public and private. I focus on my self-worth, recognizing that my positive qualities outnumber my insecurities. Insecurities are fantasies that we construe, and they only inhibit progress; I make an effort to remove myself from these tales of downfall, reminding myself that these are the product of my mind, and do not necessarily constitute any merit. Today, I am confident, and I maintain security in myself and my abilities.

In 2018, I began tutoring middle school Science Olympiad competitors for their state and regional competitions, focusing on biology and chemistry. This commitment sparked my interest in tutoring, an activity I still pursue today at Mathnasium. That look of understanding, the twinkle of the eye, slight drop of the mouth, and withdrawn “ohhhh” that precedes the “I get it now!”-- As a tutor, that is the universal reaction we look for during our sessions. That reaction answers more than a child’s math problem; it answers our own questions: “Does he/she get it? Am I making sense? Should I explain this differently?” These are all common questions a tutor asks themselves hundreds of times per session, however, for me, tutoring assisted me in a bigger question: “What do I want to do with my life?” Such a question may seem loaded, too layered to definitively answer, however, tutoring brought me to a simple two-word solution: help others. That is exactly what I plan to pursue after years of watching others’ faces illuminate with understanding and wonder at their own abilities. I want to be a part of that process, however limited my influence may be. I feel a void filled when I assist in these short seconds of enlightened learning. Tutoring became more than teaching, it became the gateway into what I want my future to consist of: helping those with less, building others’ confidence, and assisting in the process of personal development. Through tutoring, I have made it my goal to continue along this path of helping children with personal development, and I strive to pursue a career in childhood education. My experience with the kids taught me what I want my future to look like, and I aspire to spend my life working with kids.

“When everyone looks to the right, be the one that looks to the left,” a phrase my Dad never failed to repeat multiple times a week. From those 14 words emerged my outlook on life, which is a concoction of peoples’ perspectives that do not have to reflect my own. I have constructed a point of view on life that is not crystallized but is fluid. Dad’s phrase instilled this quality of inquiry into my perception; I question anything that is brought forth, acknowledging that infinite perspectives exist, no matter how unpopular or untrodden. This does not mean that I disregard everyone’s ideas, instead, I welcome them, carefully formulating my own opinions, laden with the numerous external ideas I encounter, accented by my own discernment. Additionally, this singular phrase gifted me with resiliency and tenacity, which characterize who I am. The status quo does not intimidate me -- it encourages me to find the nuances in the onefold narratives of the world and to embrace the “left,” which has become more than a direction; it has become the essence of Sydney. In practice this breeds resilience. Vividly, I remember the months following Dad’s death, and it was this phrase that kept me afloat as I swam in the ocean of loss; when everyone mourns the absence of a loved one, be the one to fill that absence with memories, not mourn it. Those 14 words crafted the discerning, fluid lens through which I absorb life’s light and reflect my own.

In 2020, I lost my dad to his lifelong struggle with mental health, a battle no one knew he was fighting. For years, he remained the life of every gathering, the social epicenter of every family get-together, and the optimistic onlooker of any adversity brought his way. However, he was subject to adversities of the mind, and as with any untreated illness, it took his life; suicide stole the façade of happiness that he wore everywhere he went. Before Dad's death, I perceived mental health as worn, an outfit designed by our emotional baggage, visible to the eyes of any bystander. Never did I consider that the happiest people we encounter could be battling an arena of depression or anxiety within their minds. Immaturely, I figured if someone I knew was struggling that they would seek treatment or help from those around them. Frankly, I could not have been more wrong, and it took Dad's death to realign my beliefs of how mental health is experienced and dealt with in the minds of those who were ever so close to me. I now observe mental health struggles as battles, all of us who struggle with these battles as warriors. Unfortunately, a single warrior is unable to manage all of these battles alone. Yet, so many of those around us continue this path of a losing game alone, unable to ask for help. I realized that Dad did not know how to ask for help, nor verbalize the battle he was fighting for so many years. My view of relationships stems from this acknowledgment; just because someone you know seems to be "fine," does not imply that they are not battling their own internal mental health struggles. I make a conscious effort to offer help to those around me, and to check in with them, hoping that this will provide an inkling of faith to the intense battles their minds may be fighting. After losing Dad to these battles, I realized so many other people are not only experiencing mental health adversities, but many have also lost family members and friends to these internal battles. This led me to wonder, why do people hide their struggles and wear facades of happiness instead of reaching out for help? I found my answer in the societal stigmas surrounding mental health, deeming these issues as unreal, or too common to award any merit. There is a generalized fear of asking for help in the face of a society that does not know how to sympathize with the mental struggles many experience. I believe that Dad felt this pressure, leading him to internalize many emotions for years until he could no longer partake in the battle alone. This propelled my desire to destigmatize mental health, as this could save lives, providing a safer space for those who need help. This is a task that takes millions of allies, as changing the stigma surrounding mental health is a societal issue, plaguing the minds of many. Hence, my career goals have centered around mental health, leading me to my desire to partake in social work. I want to help remove the stigmas around mental health, providing individuals with a safe place to ask for help. If there is one thing I have learned, it is that sometimes all it takes is one voice of encouragement or understanding to lift someone out of the realm of despair, and I plan on using my education and resources to be one of these many voices.

On June 8, 2020, I learned what the scream of loss was. My brother’s shrill gasp and eventual shriek echoed through the corridors of the house. Immediately, I had this intuitive pit of discomfort and I just knew. Someone died. That ‘someone’ was my dad; suicide put his struggles on an infinite hold. While my brother lay on the floor, an immobile lump, I stood stoically, mourning not just the loss of life, but the loss of my source of validation. Mom and Dad divorced when I was three. Despite being raised in two households, home was where Dad was, where I was coerced into morning math lessons, compelled to read thirty minutes daily, and pushed to be my best self. He motivated me to breach limits, so I spent years working for his approval. Moments later, I found myself calling my lacrosse coach, sputtering a single sentence, “No one is going to be proud of me.” When school began, I knew I could not maintain my grades if I did not find security within myself. This did not mean doing the school year alone; it meant being content without Dad’s reassuring voice of validation seeping into my image of success. After the first, devastating test grade, I found the light in relying on myself: there was no one to disappoint! I accepted failure. That failed test was my first success without Dad, and it was realizing that success lives in the validation of myself. Now, I am no longer weighed down by the pressure to appease others, and I am eager to challenge myself, celebrating my failures and victories, no matter how small. On June 8, 2020 my world may have shattered, but piece by piece, I used those shards to cultivate my own voice of validation.

The chorus of Aloe Blacc’s, “The Man,” coursed through my ears, “I’m the man, I’m the man." It was a song that was bestowed upon me by my dad and ignited my ideas of what it means to live with intention. Listening to the lyrics of “The Man” has challenged me to live life as it was meant to be, without regret or self-pity, but with drive and purpose. As Aloe Blacc’s voice rang through my ears, I was listening to the empowering lyrics in the wake of Dad’s death. This time, I listened to the song with a different understanding. As his voice echoed, “I played my cards and I didn't fold,” I realized I had always wanted to be ‘the man,’ but never had a reason to do so until now. It was this song that not only assisted me in accepting Dad’s death but ignited my desire to officially embody the characteristics of ‘the man’. I managed to stay afloat amidst an ocean of loss and unknowns as I navigated his loss. In the words of Aloe Blacc, I was “a soldier standing on my feet, no surrender.” Today, I strive daily to be ‘the man.’ With every morning cup of coffee, my earbuds are securely placed in my ears and the chorus meshes with my desire to live with intention. In playing the ‘cards’ I am dealt daily, I have learned that acceptance is dependent on how you play your ‘cards’ and I have rearranged my outlook on life, never perceiving adversity as a means of an end, nor success as a means of instant fulfillment. Instead, these are ‘cards,’ dealt in the single game of life, and we must play this game always considering the infinite ‘cards’ that may come our way.

I am a very task-oriented person; I enjoy identifying items that need to be accomplished. Once I have succeeded in completing something, I move forward striving to find another task that needs completion. Not only does this satisfy my boredom, but it forces me to have a growth mindset that does not fear failure and strives to learn from my actions. Being task-oriented inherently comes with many failures and downfalls; not everything can be an initial success. Yet, I do not fear failure, nor perceive it as a means of an end. Rather, I make it another task. Goals are not meaningless milestones; they are deliberate plans of action providing what I call a "road map to success." Being goal-oriented has forced me to put work into any of my endeavors. A goal is meaningless with no work behind it, laying a solid foundation for achievement. In an extremely competitive high school environment, I have found that this trait has only propelled me forwards, allowing me success amidst the group of hardworking peers that surround me. I have been able to remove the burden of comparison off my shoulders, allowing me to focus solely on myself and my own goals, providing for vast personal growth

“When everyone looks to the right, be the one that looks to the left,” a phrase my Dad never failed to repeat multiple times a week. From those 14 words emerged my outlook on life, which is really a mixture of peoples’ perspectives that do not have to reflect my own. I have constructed a point of view on life that is not crystallized, but is fluid. Dad’s phrase instilled this quality of inquiry into my perception; I question anything that is brought forth, acknowledging that infinite perspectives exist, no matter how unpopular or untrodden. This does not mean that I disregard everyone’s ideas, instead I welcome them, carefully formulating my own opinions, laden with the numerous external ideas I encounter, accented by my own discernment. Additionally, this singular phrase gifted me with resiliency and tenacity, which characterize who I am. The status quo does not intimidate me -- it encourages me to find the nuances in the onefold narratives of the world and to embrace the “left,” which has become more than a direction; it has become the essence of Sydney. In practice this breeds resilience. Vividly, I remember the months following Dad’s death, and it was this phrase that kept me afloat as I swam in the ocean of loss; when everyone mourns the absence of a loved one, be the one to fill that absence with memories, not mourn it. Those 14 words crafted the discerning, fluid lens through which I absorb life’s light and reflect my own. I choose to share this sentence because of the sheer impact it has left on my character; it captures the power of unique perspectives. By maintaining a collective, encompassing outlook on life, a unique, complex individual with intricate ideas can be produced.

Words have unmatched power. A single sentence possesses the ability to save a life or ruin one. There are a lot of words that surround the term "mental health," some more stigmatizing than others. Some of these words can be harmful, such as "attention-seeking," "selfish," or "crazy." These words are drowning, hurtful, and ignorant, yet even in our progressive world, they persist to stigmatize mental health. Mental health struggles deserve to be talked about and shared, but the demeaning terms that surround it make this exceedingly difficult. One of the most effective means of dealing with these struggles is talking about it, as many people struggle daily with mental health. However, the stigma that surrounds it, carried forward by such harmful words, makes sharing experiences seem daunting or frightening. Therefore, before communication is identified as a practical solution, the root of the problem must be observed: words. Changing the stigmas that follow mental health are essential; communicating in an arena that feels unaccepting or misunderstanding is not always a healthy solution. Hence, we must start with positive word choices related to mental health, such as "warrior," "survivor," or "resilient." While this seems like a daunting task, all that it requires is reinforcement and publicization. This is easily achieved through social media, schools, and places of employment. Simply put, changing the words that surround mental health can provide those who struggle with a safe, comforting atmosphere to communicate their personal experiences

At the early age of 50, my grandpa retired from his job and began to travel the world to numerous countries. At the age of 15, this baffled me, and one day I approached him, asking how he could afford such ventures without an income. He responded with two words, "smart choices." I asked him to elaborate--at 15, I had no idea what smart choices implicated in finances. He sat me down and told me about his first job as a paper boy. He was paid daily, and after every "paycheck," would go to the comic store and purchase a plethora of the paperback, thin pamphlets that lined the shop. For months this continued; he would receive his pay, run to the comic store, and drain himself of the money he had received that morning. However, as his sixteenth birthday approached, he desired to purchase a car, but he soon realized that he had no funds to do this. He had spent his money on comic books and other novelties. He was faced with a dilemma: how could he pursue his hobbies while simultaneously saving for a car. That's when he produced the 80:20 rule. For every dollar he made, 80 cents was put in savings, and 20 cents used to pursue hobbies. Furthermore, he applied this rule in adulthood using the 90:10 rule. 90 percent of his income went towards essentials, and 10 percent landed in savings. He did this for years, and despite 10 percent being such a small margin, this pool of savings increased exponentially. He told me that it is the small choices we make that accumulate over time, rearing an amplified outcome. I pursue my own finances in the same way, saving 10 percent of every paycheck for when I will need it most.

I find the most gratifying way to help others is by assisting them in areas in which they may lack confidence in their abilities. Personally, I began tutoring three years ago. This journey began with short biology review sessions for freshmen in high school, and it is has grown into my profession that I balance with my own high school career. I work at Mathnasium, a center devoted to tutoring children of all ages in mathematics. Math is often a subject area in which many find their pitfalls; it is a unique language that speaks to us in different ways. Sometimes, math is difficult to understand, thereby becoming an area in which students lack confidence, and consequently motivation. My job is to eliminate this insecurity, introducing kids into a realm of understanding, which breeds confidence. Daily, I hear kids have their distinct "aha moments" when they learn a new skill, or put pieces of mathematical puzzles together to make sense of this unique language. As they continue to pursue these insights, I have witnessed their confidence grow exponentially. Moreover, their confidence in math extends into their personal lives when they realize that difficult concepts are not intended to be daunting, but provide an arena of learning. It brings me great fulfillment to witness simple math facts turn into a world of confidence for many of these children

2. Art and STEM coexist, remaining age old means of imparting inquiry into society. Both emerged, becoming prominent across civilizations following the Renaissance and Scientific Revolution. The Renaissance came first, introducing individuals to modes of art, drastically different from previous generations in what Renaissance artists classified as the "Dark Ages." This new age brought forth examination of the world in a more secular manner, encapsulating realistic elements of society through artwork spanning from paintings to sculptures. From this movement emerged the Scientific Revolution, as intellectuals began to apply the concepts of the Renaissance to the world around them using inquiry and observation. Historically, the emergence of STEM and art are intertwined, remaining related in our modern society. Art and STEM serve to explore the unknowns of the world by creating tangible explanations, whether it be with the scientific method or through visual means such as paintings and other compositions. These modes of inquiry force critical thinking in our society, encouraging us to challenge the world around us, and not accepting everything as crystalized fact. For example, it was through scientific observation and experimentation that we discovered the concept of evolution, and art was a means of displaying this revolutionary idea. STEM and Art force individuals to challenge the status quo, allowing for new, complex ideas to emerge daily, setting the stage for constant progress around us I am a tenacious individual, characterized by my drive to create a positive impact on the world. I am firm in my goals and ideals, striving to impart change in the world. When I put my mind to something, I work endlessly to accomplish a task. With this mindset comes numerous failures, which I use to both learn and better myself. Acquiring a college education would assist me in helping others, which is my goal in life. An increased knowledge base from college would equip me with the necessary tools to individually succeed, and to help others find their own personal successes.

Every morning, my alarm goes off at 4:32 am. This is my que to get up and go for my morning jog for one hour. I never miss a day of running; sick or well, happy or sad, stressed or dead-beat tired, I find myself outdoors, jogging through my neighborhood. However, this is not for my physical health, so much as it is for my mental health. I refrain from listening to music, podcasts, or the news, instead filling my head with my own thoughts. Each morning, I take this hour to reflect on myself; I ask myself how I can make today a better day than the last, how I can improve my demeanor, or simply just conversate with my own thoughts. I find a sanctuary in the quiet outdoors that surround my thoughts; nothing but the sound of an occasional bird, or the noises from my shoes interrupt my thoughts. By running every morning, I am able to release any negative energy, and spend time with myself. I have discovered myself through running, as it provides a venue to reflect on myself without the interruption of others. Running provides me a place to escape from the world around me and focus on myself

Virginia Woolf was an a prolific poet and writer of the late 19th and early 20th century. She encapsulated the the importance of literature in casting awareness to pertinent, sometimes ridiculed necessities of progress, despite the surface level misconceptions that plagued society then, and still do today. In her focus on women's rights, social justice, and inequality, she utilized literature as a means of increasing society's literacy on these pressing issues, successfully using education to remedy the ignorance that surrounded her, a tactic that has become essential to modern society.

On June 8, 2020, I learned what the scream of despair was, the "scream of death," I call it. My brother's shrill gasp for air and eventual shriek struck the corridors of my house, and with an intuitive pit of discomfort I knew someone had died. That someone was my dad. Suicide put his struggles on an infinite hold. Although my parents had been divorced since I was three, I found my singular home in Dad; he provided me with an irreplaceable sanctuary, instilling in me the qualities that define me today. Therefore, I strived to seek his approval and dedicate every action towards his validation. While this was never expected from me, I imposed this standard upon myself, strenuously working for a standard that did not exist. Upon his death, I found myself lost. Where was I to derive meaning from my actions with no one to live for, with no one to work for, with no one to seek validation from? I spent months mourning not just the loss of his presence, but the loss of his words seeping into what I deemed success. It was not until my junior year of high school that I realized that this standard was not only destructive, but not sustainable. In the wake of his death, I realized that external validation is temporary, whereas internal validation is a permanent source that cannot be reduced, nor taken. With this critical realization, I strive daily to work for myself, to find successes in every action I take, and to embrace failure. I no longer chase the standards of others, working strictly on improving myself. Losing my dad taught me the value of internal satisfaction, and how important it is to live for yourself and not for the approval of others

On June 8, 2020, I learned what the scream of loss was: the “scream of death”, I call it. My brother’s shrill gasp for air and eventual shriek echoed through the corridors of the house. Immediately, I had this intuitive pit of discomfort, and I just knew. Someone died. That ‘someone’ was my dad; suicide put his struggles on an infinite hold. While my brother lay on the floor, an immobile lump submerged in my mom’s chest mourning the loss of Dad’s life, I stood stoically, mourning not just the loss of life, but the loss of my single source of validation. Mom and Dad divorced when I was three. The days when they were together do not exist, as I only remember the separate households I was toted back and forth from until I moved to Florida at eleven. Despite being raised in two different physical structures, I found my sanctuary in Dad. Home was where Dad was, where I was coerced into morning math lessons, where I was compelled to read thirty minutes daily, where he tucked me into bed whispering the same phrase without a miss: “You’re gonna do something great one day, kiddo.” It was not until his death that I realized all the grueling school work, irritating rules, and nightly aphorisms were not to punish me--they were to make me great. He motivated me to breach limits, not set them. Hence, I spent years subconsciously living for him, working for him, and achieving for him and his approval. So, as I strayed away from my brother, I found myself calling my lacrosse coach, a secondary father, sputtering a single sentence, “What do I do now? No one is going to be proud of me.” This exemplified itself a month later upon receiving my AP exam scores. I did exceptionally well, yet derived no satisfaction. The scores had no meaning. Why? Because Dad was not a phone call away pouring validation into me. I realized I had one intrinsic desire to succeed: to appease him, even though that was never his expectation. No. This was a convoluted construct I formed after years of surviving on his reassurance. I did not perceive success for what it was, instead success was contingent on Dad’s words, never my own. When junior year began, with such a rigorous course load, I knew I could not maintain my grades if I did not find security within myself. I needed to learn that accomplishment was not dependent on others, like Dad. This did not mean doing my junior year alone; it meant being content without Dad’s reassuring voice of validation seeping into my image of success. And after the first, devastating test grade, I found the light in relying on myself: there was no one to disappoint! I felt myself accept failure -- the pressure to always succeed was a fairytale I subjected myself to that only took away from my emotional relationship with Dad. If I could fail, without worrying about disappointing someone else, success was always possible. That failed test was my first success without Dad, and it was realizing that I could allow myself to fall short of my limits and not breach them, that doing “great things one day,” was more than a test grade, and that success lives in the validation of myself. Validation from within has proven to be a big asset. I am no longer weighed down by the drowning pressure to appease others, and because of that I am eager to challenge myself and celebrate my failures and victories, no matter how small. The fear of disappointing someone makes progress difficult: you cannot attempt difficult tasks successfully while constantly petrified by the need for outside reassurance. On June 8, 2020 my world shattered, but piece by piece, I used those shards to cultivate my own voice of validation. I still do not ignore that I lost Dad to suicide; while I implemented strides of personal growth and development, I simultaneously became aware of the difficulties millions are faced with, and how suicide is often the final stages of these adversities. While Dad's loss allowed me to implement a new means of developing healthy relationships with others, and myself, it opened my eyes to the importance of mental health. I learned a lot about others and myself, including that I want my future to consist of helping others to navigate loss. I pulled myself out of a sea of despair, but it was not without the help of those around me like Mom and my brother that I achieved this. I acknowledge that not everyone is blessed with access to support systems as I am, and I want to provide support to others in the future, assisting in the process of coping with loss. I gained a new approach of interacting with myself and others, and discovered my inherent desire to help others navigate similar tragedies, such as the loss of a loved one, as I did

Immersed in a generation so consumed by negativity and searching for the “next shoe to drop,” maintaining a growth mindset is exceedingly difficult and almost unorthodox. However, I have come to learn that following the tendencies of a crowd does not always provide the fulfillment life has the capacity to offer. A growth mindset immediately reminds me of my dad, someone who was the light in a void of darkness, someone who found the ability to grow through any diversity. He used to say, “when everyone looks to the right, remember to look to the left.” This saying is how I have learned to maintain a growth mindset through any diversity that comes my way. When I am presented with difficulties or setbacks, rather than perceiving the said adversity as a permanent negative experience, I remind myself that there is always an alternative perspective to consider. Just as one must “look to the left,” one must similarly consider the positive outlooks that coincide with adversity. Therefor, I always search for the positive ramifications of a setback, reminding myself that not all adversity is completely negative. Instead, I look for the opportunities these adversities present for me to grow, so when I am presented with another negative experience, which is bound to happen, I am more well equipped to deal with it and learn even more than I did before. Finding the positives and ability to grow is often difficult, however, in considering the infinite perspectives that exist, I have been able to develop a positive growth mindset in the face of any event, positive or negative

On June 8, 2020, I learned what the "scream of loss was." My brother's shrill gasp for air and eventual shriek echoed through the house, and immediately I knew that someone had died. That 'someone' was my dad; suicide had put his struggles on an infinite hold. As my brother shrank into my mom's arms, an immobile lump, crippled at the tragic loss of Dad's life, I stood stoically, mourning more than the loss of Dad's life, but also the loss of my single source of validation. Dad provided me with my image of success; from an early age Dad was my sanctuary, providing me with the nurturement every child desires, hence I lived for him. Any stride towards accomplishment was for his words of approval, never for my own self-image. With that, the months after his death tormented any stretch towards success; it felt impossible to succeed without verbal affirmation from my one source of validation. For months, I was plagued by this daunting adversity, and truthfully I let the loss of Dad consume me for quite some time. Yet, upon entering my junior year, it was after my first, rare failure on a test that I realized, perhaps removing external validation from my life could be a positive. Failing that test illustrated to me the freedom in removing myself from others' validation, as there was no one to disappoint. I could live by my own standards, I could fail a test, I could ace a test, and there was no pressure to prove anything to anyone. I felt free from the external barriers that I imposed on myself. Now, having gained a holistic view of success, I find that I am able to judge myself on my personal standards, ignoring the superficial external validation that once surrounded me