Rising Through the Ashes: How Education Can Break the Cycle of Intimate Partner Violence Intimate partner violence doesn’t always start with bruises. Sometimes, it begins with silence—with slowly eroding confidence, with isolation masked as protection, with gaslighting disguised as love. I know this firsthand. For years, I lived in the shadow of a man who used manipulation, fear, and control to strip me of my identity. By the time I realized I was being abused, I was already a mother of three—two of whom have special needs—and utterly alone after he walked away and left us with nothing. At that moment, I had two choices: surrender or rebuild. I chose to rebuild, and education became my cornerstone. Education is one of the few forces powerful enough to dismantle the deeply rooted systems that allow intimate partner violence to persist. It doesn’t just offer information; it cultivates awareness, empathy, and critical thinking. It enables people to recognize red flags, understand healthy boundaries, and unlearn toxic norms they may have witnessed or endured their whole lives. More importantly, education can empower survivors like me to rewrite our narratives—not as victims, but as advocates, changemakers, and leaders in our communities. For me, education isn’t just a means to a degree—it’s a life raft. When I began studying social work, I finally found the language to name my trauma, the tools to begin healing, and the courage to believe in my own potential. I’m currently a full-time student and a single mother, balancing coursework with caregiving, healing, and community service. It isn’t easy—but it’s purposeful. I’m committed to turning my pain into purpose and my survival into service. My long-term goal is to create a trauma-informed nonprofit organization that offers support services tailored to mothers—especially Black women and caregivers of children with disabilities—who are escaping abusive relationships. So many of us face compounding barriers: poverty, racial discrimination, lack of access to mental health care, or an overwhelming child welfare system that often criminalizes us instead of helping us. I want to build safe spaces for these women—spaces where their stories are believed, where their identities are affirmed, and where their healing is prioritized. Through my education, I’ve already started taking steps toward this mission. I’ve volunteered with local family shelters, organized resource drives for survivors, and served as a peer mentor to women navigating single motherhood after abuse. I also share my story—carefully, and when I feel safe—because I believe in the power of vulnerability to connect and to heal. My hope is that by showing up authentically, I can give someone else the hope I once needed. The TRAM Purple Phoenix Scholarship speaks directly to the fire I’ve walked through. Like the phoenix, I am rising from the ashes—not just for myself, but for every woman who has ever questioned her worth because of someone else’s cruelty. Receiving this scholarship would not only ease the financial burden of pursuing my degree—it would be a recognition that my experiences, however painful, have value. It would affirm that survivors can be leaders, that our voices matter, and that we are capable of incredible transformation. I am determined to use my education not just as a tool for personal success, but as a beacon for others who are still in the dark. Intimate partner violence thrives in silence and shame; I intend to fight it with knowledge, compassion, and community. My journey is far from over, but I know this for sure: I am no longer just surviving—I am building, healing, and becoming.

When I read the name Let Your Light Shine, it struck a chord deep within me. Not because my journey has been perfect or easy—but because I’ve had to fight to keep my light shining through some of the darkest seasons of my life. My name is Zsane Carson. I’m a single Black mother of three incredible children—two of whom have special needs—and I’m currently pursuing a degree in social work at the University of Louisville. My life has been a series of uphill battles, but I’ve never stopped climbing. Instead, I’ve used every step, every scar, and every lesson to become a beacon for others who feel left behind in systems that were never designed with us in mind. I live with autism, PTSD that has led to a cognitive learning disorder, and auditory processing disorder. These are not just medical terms—they are daily realities that affect how I navigate the world, process information, and even show up as a parent and student. Despite these challenges, I have maintained straight A’s in my coursework. It hasn’t been easy—but it’s been worth it. Each grade, each class completed, is a reminder that I am capable, resilient, and destined to make a difference. I chose social work not just as a career path, but as a calling. I didn’t find this field by accident—it found me through the lived experience of raising children with special needs while facing my own disabilities. I know what it feels like to sit in a school meeting and not have your voice heard. I know what it’s like to search for answers with no support. And I know the exhaustion of carrying not just your children’s needs, but the weight of being their advocate, nurse, teacher, therapist, and cheerleader—all at once. That’s why I’ve already begun shining my light where I can. I volunteer at my children’s school to be present, visible, and a voice for families like mine. I seek out and share resources with other parents and caregivers, helping them navigate systems that are often confusing and inaccessible. I’m that friend who will stay up late helping someone write a letter for services or walk them through an IEP process. Because I’ve been there. And I want them to know they’re not alone. But my vision goes beyond my degree. I dream of opening a wellness center specifically designed for special needs children and their caregivers—a space that offers not only developmental services for kids but also respite care, mental health support, and empowerment tools for parents and guardians. Because caregivers are often expected to pour from an empty cup, and I want to change that. I want to build a legacy of holistic care, where healing doesn’t stop at the child—it extends to the whole family. Receiving the Let Your Light Shine Scholarship would mean more than financial support—it would be a recognition that my journey matters. That my light, despite all I’ve endured, is worth investing in. It would allow me to focus more fully on my studies and service, without the added weight of financial stress. More importantly, it would help me continue showing up for my community as a leader, a connector, and an advocate who leads with heart. Thank you for this opportunity to share my story, and thank you for helping people like me shine even brighter—not just for ourselves, but for everyone we’re determined to uplift along the way.

My name is Zsane Carson, and I am a proud single mother of three beautiful children—two of whom have special needs. I’m also a full-time social work student, a community volunteer, and someone who has learned how to turn adversity into purpose. My life has been shaped by trauma, disability, and the overwhelming realities of navigating systems that often weren’t built for people like me. But instead of allowing those experiences to define me, I’ve chosen to use them as a foundation to uplift others. I live with autism, PTSD, a cognitive learning disorder, and auditory processing disorder. For many, these challenges might have been roadblocks. For me, they’ve become sources of strength and empathy. Despite the difficulties I face, I maintain straight A’s in my classes because I know that education is not just my personal escape—it’s my key to changing the future for families like mine. I chose social work because I’ve lived the very struggles I now seek to address. I know what it feels like to be dismissed in an IEP meeting, to wait months for services that your child desperately needs, and to feel like you’re failing simply because you’re exhausted and unsupported. I know what it’s like to advocate for your child with tears in your eyes while your own mental health goes untreated. And I know the difference just one resource, one supportive voice, or one safe space can make. That’s why I volunteer at my children’s school and share resources I’ve found with other parents and caregivers in my community. I don’t wait for someone else to show up—I show up. My leadership isn’t about titles or accolades—it’s about action. It’s about being a voice when someone else feels voiceless and offering hope when all they’ve known is struggle. My dream is to open a community-based center that provides holistic support for special needs children and their caregivers. A place that offers not only services for children, but respite care, mental health support, and empowerment for parents. Because I believe that if we want to care for children, we must first care for the people raising them. You can’t pour from an empty cup—and too many caregivers are being asked to do just that. Receiving this scholarship would relieve a financial burden, yes—but more than that, it would affirm that someone believes in the future I’m working so hard to build. It would help me stay focused on my education, continue serving my community, and push forward with my vision of inclusive, compassionate care. I am not just asking for support—I am promising impact. I know my story. I know my why. And I know that with the right support, I can create real, lasting change.

When I first chose to pursue a degree in social work, it wasn’t because I saw it as a career—it was because I lived it every day. As a single Black mother of three children, two of whom have special needs, I’ve navigated the system as both client and advocate. I’ve filled out the endless forms, sat in on IEP meetings, battled for services, and stayed up at night researching therapies. I’ve experienced how under-resourced, overburdened, and often indifferent the system can be. And through those experiences, I discovered something powerful: I didn’t just want to survive—I wanted to become the person I wish I had by my side during the hardest moments. Social work felt like the most natural and urgent path forward because it aligned with both my heart and my reality. I know what it’s like to be unheard, to be judged, and to feel invisible. I also know the transformative power of being seen, supported, and empowered. I chose social work not just as a career, but as a calling to walk beside families like mine and say, “You are not alone—and you deserve better.” Since starting the program, my understanding of social work has deepened in ways I didn’t expect. Initially, I thought of it as direct advocacy—fighting for resources, supporting parents, and ensuring children got the services they needed. But my education has opened my eyes to the broader systems at play: the policies that fail families, the racial and socioeconomic inequities embedded in service delivery, and the burnout that too many caregivers face. It’s made me realize that my impact can be even greater if I combine lived experience with professional knowledge to challenge not just individual barriers, but the systems that create them. In my community, I plan to serve special needs children and their caregivers—especially those from marginalized and low-income backgrounds. I understand the weight these families carry, because I carry it too. I volunteer at my children’s school and actively share resources with other parents who are just trying to make it day by day. This work isn’t just what I do—it’s who I am. I lead not from a pedestal, but from the front lines of experience. My long-term vision is to open a center that provides wraparound support for children with disabilities and their families. A space that offers therapeutic services for children, but also respite care, counseling, and support groups for caregivers. Because too often, parents are forgotten in the conversation about care—but I know firsthand that if the caregiver falls apart, the whole family suffers. My goal is to create a model of care that uplifts the entire family, honors cultural identity, and provides rest and restoration along with resources. This scholarship would bring me one step closer to that vision. It would ease the financial strain of school, allowing me to continue my studies while raising my children and managing my own mental health. But more than that, it would affirm that stories like mine—and futures like the one I’m building—deserve to be invested in. Social work chose me as much as I chose it. And now, I’m determined to turn every challenge I’ve faced into a pathway of healing for someone else.

My name is Zsane Carson, and I am a proud Black woman, a mother of three, and a future social worker who believes healing should never be a privilege. I carry many titles—advocate, student, caregiver—but each one is rooted in my lived experience with trauma, disability, and survival. I’ve lived the reality of systems that weren’t built for families like mine, and now I’m working to become the kind of mental health provider that changes that—especially for marginalized communities like my own. Mental health is not an abstract concept for me—it’s something I fight for every day. I have been diagnosed with PTSD, autism, a cognitive learning disorder, and auditory processing disorder. These conditions shaped much of my life in silence, especially in a society that dismisses or misunderstands neurodivergent Black women. For years, I was told I was “too sensitive,” “too emotional,” or simply “not trying hard enough.” What I really needed was understanding, access, and compassion. When I became a mother—particularly to two children with special needs—I began to understand how generational trauma, ableism, racism, and poverty all intersect to suffocate families. I saw how parents like me were burning out trying to hold everything together without the support they deserved. I realized that mental health services weren’t just scarce—they were inaccessible, culturally unaware, or too stigmatized for families to reach for. That’s when I knew I had to turn my pain into purpose. I am now studying to become a social worker so I can provide trauma-informed, culturally responsive, and neurodivergent-affirming mental health care to marginalized families—especially Black caregivers of special needs children. These families are often left behind in conversations about mental health, even though they are among the most impacted. I want to change that. I want to normalize mental health care in my community and make it feel like a right, not a luxury. Right now, I volunteer in my children’s school and in the broader community, offering resources and peer support to other parents and caregivers. I show up, not as a professional with all the answers, but as someone who has lived it. I lead with honesty and compassion, because I know how isolating it can be to parent through trauma. I believe leadership isn’t about being the loudest voice in the room—it’s about being the one who listens, connects, and shows up when it counts. My long-term goal is to open a holistic wellness center that focuses on the mental health of both special needs children and their caregivers. Because you can’t pour from an empty cup, and yet too many parents are being asked to do exactly that. My center will provide therapy, respite care, culturally tailored workshops, and a sense of community. It will be a space where healing feels possible. This scholarship would be a vital step in helping me continue this work—academically, emotionally, and financially. As a full-time student, full-time mother, and someone living with disabilities, every bit of support matters. But more than anything, this scholarship would be a powerful affirmation that my story, my vision, and my community are worth investing in. I am not just studying social work—I am living it. And I am committed to creating a world where marginalized voices are centered in mental health conversations, where families are supported without shame, and where healing is finally accessible to all of us.

My name is Zsane Carson. I am a mother, a student, a caregiver, and a survivor—but most importantly, I am a woman determined to turn her lived experiences into healing for others. I am currently pursuing a degree in social work with the goal of specializing in services for children with special needs and their families. This path is not just a career choice—it’s a calling born out of my life’s most difficult and defining moments. As a single Black mother of three children—two of whom have special needs—I’ve lived on both sides of the social support system. I’ve filled out the paperwork, stood in long lines, fought for accommodations, been told “no” more times than I can count, and learned to advocate for my children in spaces that weren’t built with our needs in mind. I’ve cried in bathrooms after IEP meetings, sat up late researching therapies, and poured myself out to make sure my children had what they needed, even when I didn’t. Along the way, I was diagnosed with autism and PTSD, both of which contribute to my cognitive learning disorder and auditory processing disorder. For years, I struggled in silence—assuming I was just “bad at school” or “too emotional.” But once I had the right support, I began to see that my mind simply works differently. Despite these challenges, I am currently earning all A’s in my college classes. It’s not easy balancing school, parenting, trauma recovery, and advocacy work, but I’ve learned that when you’re passionate about your purpose, you find a way forward. That purpose goes beyond my own family. Over the years, I’ve started sharing the information I’ve worked so hard to gather—connecting other parents and caregivers of special needs children with the resources and tools they need. I volunteer at my children’s school, not only to support their education but also to serve as a familiar face and trusted voice for families who are overwhelmed and unsure where to turn. I believe leadership doesn’t always look like standing on a stage. Sometimes, it’s sitting beside someone, saying, “I’ve been where you are—and we’ll figure it out together.” My vision for the future is bold but deeply needed. I want to open a community center that serves not only children with disabilities but also their caregivers—because too often, parents like me are expected to give endlessly without being refilled. This space will offer respite care, advocacy workshops, therapy resources, and community events that center joy, rest, and connection. Because healing isn’t just about services—it’s about dignity, belonging, and hope. Receiving this scholarship would provide me with critical financial relief, allowing me to continue my education without having to choose between my dreams and my children’s immediate needs. It would also serve as an affirmation that who I am—and what I’ve survived—is not a weakness, but a strength. I may have learning differences and face daily challenges, but I am resilient, resourceful, and ready to change lives. My impact has already begun. With the right support, I can grow it into something lasting. I don’t want to just navigate the system—I want to change it. I don’t want to just survive—I want to build a legacy of advocacy, empathy, and transformation. And with this scholarship, I’ll be one step closer to making that vision a reality for my family, my community, and every caregiver who’s ever felt forgotten in the process.

My name is Zsane Carson, and my journey into healthcare began not in a classroom, but in my living room—where therapy schedules, IEP meetings, medication reminders, and moments of exhaustion and triumph happen every single day. As a single mother of three children—two of whom have special needs—I’ve spent years not only navigating the healthcare system for my family but becoming an advocate, case manager, and resource connector out of necessity. That lived experience has shaped my purpose: I am pursuing a career in social work within the healthcare field, with a focus on supporting children with disabilities and their caregivers. Social work may not always be the first career that comes to mind when people think of healthcare, but it is one of the most essential. Social workers are the bridge between diagnoses and daily life—helping families make sense of the systems they must navigate, and ensuring no one falls through the cracks. I know firsthand how isolating, confusing, and emotionally draining it can be to advocate for your child in medical spaces that aren’t built with your family’s needs in mind. I also know how much of a difference just one informed, compassionate social worker can make. That’s the kind of professional I am working to become. What makes me especially passionate about this work is that I live it every day. I have autism, PTSD, a cognitive learning disorder, and auditory processing disorder. I have had to fight for accommodations not only for my children but for myself—while managing school, appointments, therapy, and healing all at once. Despite these challenges, I currently hold all A’s in my classes, because I am driven by something bigger than grades: purpose. I know what’s at stake for the families I hope to serve, because I’ve walked in their shoes. Right now, I volunteer at my children’s school and in my community, offering resources and guidance to parents and caregivers who are just starting their journeys. Many of them are overwhelmed—like I once was—and just need someone to say, “You’re not alone. Here’s where we can start.” Eventually, I hope to open a center that not only provides services for children with disabilities, but also offers mental health support, respite care, and advocacy training for caregivers. Because I believe healing should include the whole family, not just the diagnosis. This scholarship would give me the financial stability to continue my education without sacrificing my role as a present and engaged parent. More than that, it would be an investment in someone who plans to turn her challenges into real, lasting change for others. I’m not just pursuing a degree—I’m building a mission, and I am deeply grateful for your consideration in helping me bring that mission to life.

“From Surviving to Leading: How Mental Health Changed My Life’s Direction” Mental health hasn’t just impacted my life—it’s shaped every part of it. I was diagnosed with PTSD after surviving an abusive marriage that left more than just physical scars. That trauma, combined with the weight of being a single Black mother to three children—two of whom have special needs—sometimes felt too heavy to carry. Add to that my own diagnoses of autism, a cognitive learning disorder, and auditory processing disorder, and for a long time, I felt like I was drowning in silence. Not because no one heard me—but because I had forgotten how to speak up for myself. There were moments I didn’t think I’d make it through. The anxiety, the flashbacks, the pressure to stay strong for my kids while falling apart inside—I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But what I will say is this: healing is not linear, and surviving is not weak. In fact, it’s the bravest thing I’ve ever done. Seeking therapy, leaning on my support system, and slowly learning how to give myself the compassion I so freely give others has transformed me from someone who only knew how to fight for survival into someone who now fights with purpose. Living with PTSD has deepened my empathy. It’s why I chose to become a social worker. I don’t want to just survive anymore—I want to help others who feel stuck in silence, too. I want to be the voice for the mother overwhelmed by IEP meetings and diagnosis codes. The advocate for the child who struggles to be understood in classrooms not built for their brain. The support system for families who don’t know where to turn because no one taught them how to ask for help. My experience isn’t just something I overcame—it’s something I now use as a tool for change. I volunteer at my children’s school. I share resources I’ve gathered through hard-earned trial and error with other special needs families. I reach out to parents who feel lost, because I was that parent. I listen without judgment because I know what it feels like to be judged for not having it all together. That, to me, is leadership—not titles or awards, but reaching back with one hand while climbing with the other. This scholarship would help lift some of the financial strain that comes with full-time school, parenting, and healing. But more than that, it would be a recognition of how far I’ve come—and how far I plan to go. I still struggle. I still have hard days. But I also know that every class I complete, every parent I support, and every step I take is proof that mental health challenges don’t define me—they drive me to make a difference. Thank you for seeing me. For seeing the strength in softness, the purpose in pain, and the future I’m working every day to build.

“The Day My Zoom Class Was Hijacked by a Chicken Nugget Emergency” Let me paint you a picture. It’s 9:58 a.m. I’m in my pajama pants (don’t judge—I'm a full-time mom/student), sipping lukewarm coffee, and getting ready to unmute myself for my virtual social work class. My professor’s about to discuss trauma-informed care, and I’m taking deep breaths, ready to impress. I’ve done the reading. Highlighted the textbook. I am ready. Then it happens. “MAAAAAMAAAAAA!” My 6-year-old comes barreling into the room like a linebacker, holding what looks like a dismembered chicken nugget. “It’s broken!” she wails. “Baby, it’s still edible,” I whisper, trying to usher her out with the universal mom arm-sweep. “I wanted it WHOLE,” she sobs—betrayed by poultry. Meanwhile, my 9-year-old—who has autism and a passion for sonic-level volume—starts giving an impromptu TED Talk on dinosaurs directly behind my head. And just as I finally regain order, I hear the words that no one in a Zoom class ever wants to hear: “Zsane, would you like to share your thoughts?” Perfect. Trauma-informed care? I am the trauma. So, I lean into the camera, fix my mom bun, and say, “Absolutely. I believe what we just witnessed was a live example of navigating crises with empathy and calm.” The class laughed. The professor nodded. And I realized that in the chaos of single parenting, sometimes your greatest challenge becomes your best punchline—and your most relatable qualification.

My name is Zsane Carson. I’m a proud, determined, and often exhausted single mother of three beautiful children—two of whom have special needs. I’m also a full-time social work student, a volunteer in my children’s schools, and someone living with autism, PTSD, a cognitive learning disorder, and an auditory processing disorder. That may sound like a lot—and it is—but every piece of it makes me who I am. It’s not a sob story; it’s my foundation. And it’s the reason I’m here asking for your support—not just so I can build a better life for my family, but so I can build something lasting for families like mine. Being a single mother to special needs children while pursuing higher education is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I juggle classes, doctor appointments, therapy sessions, behavior plans, and late-night essays. I study while rocking a child to sleep. I write discussion posts in waiting rooms. I reread lectures at 2 a.m. when the house is finally quiet enough to hear my own thoughts. And yet—despite it all—I’m thriving academically. I currently hold straight A’s in my classes. But those grades mean more than just academic success—they’re proof of my fight, my focus, and my refusal to let any label, diagnosis, or struggle define my limits. Living with disabilities myself has given me a lens few others have. I understand what it’s like to feel overwhelmed by noise, to process information differently, to be misunderstood, or to feel like the world wasn’t built with people like me in mind. And now, raising children with their own complex needs, I’ve come to understand this journey from both sides—child and parent. I know the sleepless nights, the meltdowns in public, the hours spent advocating at school meetings, the quiet tears when you just don’t have the answers. I know how much strength it takes just to keep going. That’s why I’ve committed my life to helping families who face similar challenges. I’m studying to become a social worker, not because it’s a good career—but because it’s my calling. I want to support families raising special needs children because I am one of them. I’ve felt the isolation, confusion, and desperation, and I’ve made it my mission to ensure that no one else has to navigate this path alone. Right now, I volunteer at my children’s school and offer support to other parents and caregivers. I share resources I’ve had to dig up on my own, help others understand their rights in the school system, and connect families to services. I do this because I know how life-changing it is when someone simply says, “You’re not alone—and here’s some help.” But I want to do more. One day, I plan to open a community space that supports not just children with disabilities, but their caregivers too. It will be a place where healing, rest, and advocacy happen side by side. A place where a parent can drop their child off for therapy and attend a mental health support group in the next room. A place that believes—like I do—that you can’t pour from an empty cup, and that caregivers deserve just as much care as the children they fight for. This isn’t just a dream—it’s a need. And I will make it happen. This scholarship would make an immediate difference in my life. Financially, it would give me room to breathe—to cover basic needs without having to choose between internet for school or gas to get to class. Emotionally, it would be a message that my story matters, that my hard work is seen, and that someone believes in what I’m trying to build. It would lift some of the weight off my shoulders so I can keep moving forward—not just for me, but for my children and for every family I hope to serve in the future. I’m not perfect. I’m still learning, still healing, still growing. But I’ve turned pain into purpose. I’ve taken every “no” and turned it into a reason to keep pushing. And now, I’m ready to turn that into something bigger than myself. I’m ready to lead, to support, and to build a world where families like mine don’t just survive—but truly thrive. Thank you for considering me—not just as a student, but as a mother, a leader, and a future changemaker.

My journey with mental health has been one of survival, transformation, and purpose. I live with PTSD, autism, a cognitive learning disorder, and an auditory processing disorder—diagnoses that have not only challenged how I experience the world, but also redefined how I show up in it. For years, I struggled silently, not fully understanding why certain environments overwhelmed me, or why learning took more effort. These invisible battles shaped me in profound ways, and rather than breaking me, they became the foundation for my strength and compassion. My experiences with mental health have taught me that healing is not linear, and strength doesn’t always look like resilience on the outside—it can look like asking for help, choosing rest, or advocating for your child when you're running on empty. As a single mother of three—two of whom have disabilities—I’ve had to navigate broken systems while still managing my own mental health. There were moments when I felt unseen and unheard in spaces that were supposed to help. But those same moments have deepened my empathy for others in similar situations. I no longer see mental health as a weakness, but as a lens through which I connect with others on a more human, honest level. My relationships have evolved as a result. I've learned to surround myself with people who honor my boundaries, and I extend that same grace to others. I no longer chase the approval of people who don't understand what it's like to live with trauma or neurodivergence. Instead, I’ve built a small but powerful community rooted in authenticity and support—especially among other parents and caregivers of special needs children. I volunteer in my children’s school and offer resources to families like mine, because I know what it feels like to be desperate for help and not know where to turn. These experiences have fueled my decision to pursue a degree in social work. I want to take my lived experience and transform it into professional advocacy. I want to help special needs children and their caregivers not just survive, but thrive. I believe you can’t pour from an empty cup, so I plan to create a business one day that supports both children with disabilities and the people who care for them. I envision a space where therapy, respite care, and caregiver support are integrated—because true healing happens in community. Despite my challenges, I’ve earned all A’s in my classes. Every grade is a reflection of my refusal to be defined by my diagnoses. Instead of letting my mental health limit me, I’ve used it to guide me toward my purpose. I know I’m not just studying for a degree—I’m preparing to be the person I once needed. That’s what makes me not only a strong candidate for this scholarship, but also someone who is committed to paying it forward, one family at a time.

My name is Zsane Carson, and I am a single Black mother of three, two of whom have disabilities. My life has been shaped by the challenges of raising children with special needs, and this experience has deeply influenced my beliefs, relationships, and career aspirations. Through my children, I have gained firsthand knowledge of the barriers families with disabilities face—barriers that are often invisible to those who do not live in this space. This has fueled my passion to become a social worker and advocate for systemic change, not just for the children, but for their caregivers as well. Raising children with special needs has shown me the complex layers of advocacy and resilience required to navigate educational, healthcare, and social systems that are often ill-equipped to provide the support these children deserve. This experience has reshaped my relationships, teaching me patience, empathy, and the importance of leaning on others. I’ve also learned that the needs of caregivers often go unnoticed, and as someone who lives this reality every day, I feel called to support others who share similar struggles. I know firsthand that you can't pour from an empty cup, and that’s why I am committed to helping not just children, but the parents and caregivers who give everything without always receiving the support they need. My leadership skills are grounded in action. I actively reach out to help special needs children and their families by offering the resources and support I have gathered through my own journey. I volunteer at my children’s school, where I advocate for better resources and inclusion. I also connect with other parents of special needs children—listening to their concerns, providing referrals, and sharing strategies I’ve learned to navigate the complex systems. I’ve learned that sometimes just showing up and offering a listening ear is the most powerful form of leadership. These hands-on experiences have shaped my aspirations to become a social worker who not only supports children but also empowers the caregivers who hold everything together. I plan to open a community-based, trauma-informed business that provides resources, respite care, and emotional support for families of children with special needs. By providing a space that meets the holistic needs of both children and caregivers, I aim to create a more sustainable and compassionate model of care. Through my volunteer work, I have seen how much impact a single individual can make when they step into a leadership role and offer real, actionable help. My leadership is rooted in service, and it is my mission to continue building networks of support for families who are navigating the complexities of disability. I do have financial need, as I am currently raising three children on a fixed income while pursuing my social work degree. The support from this scholarship would allow me to focus more fully on my education and continue building a future where families like mine are seen, heard, and supported. Disability has not limited my life—it has deepened it and shaped my purpose. I am driven by the belief that every family deserves to feel empowered, connected, and supported. With this scholarship, I will continue my journey to become the advocate and leader that my children and countless others need.

My name is Zsane Carson, and I am a single Black mother of three amazing children—two of whom have special needs. My life has been shaped by hardship, healing, and deep purpose. After surviving an abusive marriage and becoming the sole caregiver for my children, I quickly saw how broken and overwhelming our systems are—not just for children with special needs, but also for their caregivers. This firsthand experience is what led me to pursue a degree in social work. I’m not stepping into this field from the outside—I’m living it every day. Caring for my children has taught me more than any textbook could. I’ve navigated IEP meetings, therapy referrals, waitlists, and crisis moments, all while trying to maintain a sense of normalcy and hope. But what many people don’t see is how often caregivers like me are left invisible in the process. We’re expected to give endlessly, even when our own cups are empty. That’s why I’m pursuing social work—not just to advocate for children with special needs, but to build meaningful, lasting support for the caregivers behind them. Even while in school full-time, I’m already doing this work in my community. I volunteer regularly at my children’s school to stay involved and to be a visible presence for families who may not know where to start. I also volunteer my time by sharing resources with other parents of special needs children—resources I’ve spent countless hours researching myself. I help connect them to therapists, funding programs, school support, and emotional wellness tools. When parents feel lost or unheard, I listen. When they don’t know what to ask in a school meeting, I coach them. I do this because I’ve been that parent: exhausted, confused, and desperate for someone to say, “You’re not crazy. You’re doing your best.” Looking ahead, my long-term vision is to open a trauma-informed, culturally responsive business that focuses not just on children with special needs, but on their caregivers too. I want to create a community space where families can access wraparound care—peer support, advocacy coaching, respite opportunities, educational workshops, and mental health resources. I believe deeply that you can’t pour from an empty cup, and I want to build something that helps caregivers fill theirs. From my volunteer work, I’ve learned the power of presence. Sometimes, the greatest gift you can give a parent or child is simply showing up with compassion and understanding. These experiences have shaped how I plan to show up as a social worker—grounded in empathy, driven by lived experience, and committed to systemic change. I do have financial need. I currently live on $1,170 per month while raising my children and attending school full time. My family offers support when they can, but every month brings difficult choices. Receiving this scholarship would lighten a heavy burden and allow me to focus fully on my education and service work without compromising my family’s well-being. I’m not just asking for financial help—I’m inviting you to invest in something bigger. I am building a future rooted in advocacy, healing, and justice. I am turning my lived experience into lifelong impact, and with your support, I’ll continue to rise—not only for my children, but for every family still waiting to be seen.

Caregiving has been a central part of my life, shaping not only who I am but also how I approach the world around me. As a single mother of three, two of whom have special needs, I have navigated the complexities of caregiving with a deep sense of purpose, compassion, and resilience. My caregiving responsibilities include supporting my children—each with their own unique needs—ensuring they have the medical, educational, and emotional support they need to thrive in a system that often fails to understand or accommodate their disabilities. In addition to managing their physical and emotional needs, I am responsible for advocating on their behalf in educational settings, coordinating care, and ensuring they are not overlooked or underserved. For my children, caregiving has meant constant adaptation—whether it’s researching therapies, navigating school systems, or adjusting our home environment to support their unique needs. It also means providing a safe, loving space where they can be their true selves without fear of judgment or exclusion. Each day requires patience and creativity, balancing between the practical demands of caregiving and the emotional labor of ensuring my children feel valued and seen. From coordinating medical appointments to advocating for accommodations, I’m constantly adjusting to meet their needs while managing the day-to-day realities of life as a single mother. This caregiving journey, though challenging, has deeply connected me to the core of who I am and what I want to achieve in my life. This experience has profoundly shaped my life, goals, and identity. It has instilled in me an unshakable sense of purpose—to help others who face systemic barriers to care, especially marginalized communities like my own. Through caregiving, I’ve learned resilience, empathy, and the power of advocacy. It has also deepened my commitment to social justice and equity, fueling my desire to work in social work and mental health to ensure that families like mine are not left to fight alone against systems designed to overlook them. I’ve seen firsthand how institutions can fail to meet the needs of disabled children and families, and this has driven my academic and career goals. I aspire to use my education and experience to advocate for policy changes that increase access to care, support mental health services, and promote inclusive education for children with disabilities. In shaping my future, caregiving has also influenced how I see myself and the world. I’ve learned the importance of self-care, of advocating for my own needs, and of recognizing the humanity in everyone I encounter. I now understand that caregiving isn’t just about providing physical assistance—it’s about building relationships of trust, advocating for rights, and transforming systems. It’s this understanding that I will bring into my social work practice, where I aim to support families in navigating complex systems while also working to change those systems from within. Receiving this scholarship would significantly support my ability to continue my education and further my professional goals. As a full-time student and mother, I balance multiple responsibilities, and financial support would alleviate some of the stressors that come with managing school and caregiving. It would allow me to focus more on my studies, particularly in fields that focus on child welfare, family systems, and mental health, and enable me to take part in internships and hands-on learning opportunities that are essential to my growth as a future social worker. This scholarship would provide the resources necessary to pursue my passion for supporting disabled families, advocating for children with special needs, and pushing for systemic change to improve care for marginalized communities. This scholarship matters because it would not only ease the financial burden of my education but also empower me to continue my journey of advocacy and caregiving on a larger scale. It would bring me closer to achieving my vision of a more inclusive, compassionate society, where all children, especially those with disabilities, are recognized and supported with the care they deserve. By receiving this scholarship, I would be better equipped to pursue my goals, become a leader in social work, and ultimately make a difference in the lives of families who are all too often left behind.

I will use my talents in empathy, resilience, and advocacy to foster a global community that values compassion, equity, and human dignity. My journey as a mother of three, a survivor of domestic violence, and a student navigating the intersections of race, disability, and trauma has taught me that empathy is not simply a passive emotion—it is an active, transformative force that requires us to listen deeply, act intentionally, and create spaces where all voices are heard, especially those of marginalized individuals and communities. One of my unique talents is my ability to bridge gaps between people who may appear different but share common struggles. Growing up as a Black woman in a system that wasn't designed for people like me, and now raising children who face their own challenges with disability and neurodivergence, I’ve learned how to communicate across lines of difference and build understanding from a place of shared humanity. I’ve honed a deep understanding of the ways in which systems fail to see the full complexity of people's lives, and how this failure perpetuates inequality. But more importantly, I’ve developed the resilience to challenge those systems—not from a place of anger, but from a place of love and commitment to justice. In my social work career, I aim to leverage my personal and professional experiences to create spaces where empathy is not just encouraged but required. I want to build programs and services that recognize the diversity of human experiences—especially the experiences of those living at the intersections of race, disability, and poverty—and ensure that everyone, regardless of their background or circumstances, has access to care that is both healing and transformative. This will involve using my skills in active listening, conflict resolution, and trauma-informed care to build trust within communities and to advocate for systemic change that prioritizes people over policies. I also plan to use my unique perspective to advocate for families—particularly Black mothers and caregivers of disabled children—who are often silenced in conversations about their needs. My experiences have given me a nuanced understanding of the ways that systemic biases in healthcare, education, and social services disproportionately affect these communities. As a social worker, I will work to amplify the voices of these families and challenge the structural inequities they face, ensuring that their stories are heard and valued. By doing so, I hope to create more inclusive, understanding systems that reflect the needs of those they serve, fostering a global community built on mutual respect and shared responsibility. Ultimately, my unique talents—shaped by my lived experiences and informed by my commitment to social justice—will guide my work in building a more empathetic and understanding world. I believe that true empathy is not only about sharing in someone else’s pain but also about taking action to alleviate it. By using my skills and insights, I will work tirelessly to create systems and communities that center care, inclusivity, and transformative change for all.

My name is Zsane Carson, and I am a mother, a full-time student, and an advocate who has spent much of her life navigating systems that were never built with families like mine in mind. I come to social work not through textbooks or lectures alone, but through lived experience—through years of navigating life as a single Black mother raising three children, two of whom have disabilities, while also managing my own journey through trauma, neurodivergence, and healing. My reality has demanded resilience, creativity, and advocacy—and those same qualities now shape the foundation of my professional purpose. I hope to focus my social work career on supporting disabled families, particularly those who are multiply marginalized by race, poverty, and systemic neglect. I want to dismantle the idea that disability is an individual issue to be “fixed,” and instead center disability as a political, cultural, and communal experience deserving of dignity and care. I am especially passionate about working with parents of disabled and neurodivergent children who are often forced to fight for services, respect, and recognition within systems that routinely fail them. I want to create trauma-informed, family-centered, and culturally affirming spaces where care is not conditional and support is not scarce. My personal experiences navigating disability and neurodivergence have given me a lens that cannot be taught in a classroom. I understand what it feels like to be dismissed, to have my pain minimized, to be told that I’m “too much” or “not enough” depending on the space I’m in. I know the exhaustion of advocating for your children in schools and doctor’s offices, while managing your own survival. But I also know the power of being seen—of someone truly listening, validating, and walking alongside you without judgment. That is the kind of social worker I strive to become. These experiences have not just informed my career path—they have demanded it. I believe that social work must move beyond band-aid solutions and instead push for systemic change that centers those most impacted. My vision is to lead with empathy, meet people where they are, and challenge every space I enter to be more accessible, more inclusive, and more humane. Receiving this scholarship would not only support my education—it would be an investment in someone who is committed to reimagining what care can look like. My lived experience is not a limitation; it is my greatest asset. It gives me the insight, compassion, and fire needed to advocate for those who are too often silenced or overlooked. Because I don’t just want to work in systems—I want to change them. For myself. For my children. And for every family who has ever been told they were too complicated to care for.

As a future social worker, a full-time student, and a mother of three—two of whom have special needs and one identified as gifted—I have both lived and professional insight into the layered realities of raising and advocating for gifted children, especially those from marginalized communities. My career goals are rooted in a vision that challenges the narrow, deficit-based lens often used to view giftedness in Black and neurodivergent children. I aim to create and advocate for systems that recognize the full humanity of gifted children—not just their intellect, but their emotions, their environments, and their identities. Far too often, the social-emotional needs of gifted children go unmet, especially when those children are poor, Black, disabled, or carrying trauma. Giftedness is too frequently defined through a white, middle-class, neurotypical lens. This leads to misdiagnosis, missed opportunities, and emotional neglect, particularly for twice-exceptional (2e) children who might be seen as “problematic” before they are seen as brilliant. I’ve seen this firsthand in my own children’s educational journeys—how their deep curiosity can be mistaken for defiance, how their emotional intensity can be read as instability. These experiences have fueled my determination to shift the conversation around giftedness from one of privilege to one of equity and access. As a social worker, I plan to work directly with schools, families, and communities to identify giftedness early and holistically—through assessments that account for cultural background, trauma histories, and neurodivergence. My goal is to implement trauma-informed, culturally responsive practices that nurture both intellect and identity. This means creating school environments that don’t force gifted children to choose between fitting in and being fully themselves. It means offering mental health supports, peer mentorship, and family education so that gifted children feel seen, valued, and safe—socially, emotionally, and intellectually. In the long term, I hope to contribute to policy reforms that dismantle the gatekeeping in gifted education programs and expand access to those historically excluded. I want to design frameworks that help educators and social workers recognize the many ways giftedness can manifest—especially in children whose brilliance may not show up in traditional academic spaces, but shines in how they think, lead, feel, and innovate. I envision community-based initiatives that partner with schools to offer creative enrichment, emotional regulation tools, and identity-affirming spaces where gifted children—especially those of color—can thrive. This work is deeply personal for me. I know what it feels like to watch a gifted child struggle to be understood. I know the toll it takes on a family when systems refuse to see your child as worthy of investment. And I know the power of someone finally saying, “I see you. Let’s build something better together.” This scholarship would not only support my education—it would invest in a mother, advocate, and future practitioner who is committed to changing the narrative around giftedness. I’m not pursuing this path for prestige. I’m pursuing it because too many gifted children grow up believing their sensitivity is weakness, their intensity is a problem, and their uniqueness is something to hide. I want to build a world where their gifts are recognized, their emotions are protected, and their identities are celebrated. Because when we uplift gifted children who have been overlooked for far too long, we don’t just nurture their potential—we begin to heal generations.

My greatest achievement to date is not a title I earned or a degree I received—it is the life I’ve rebuilt after escaping an abusive marriage while raising three children, two of whom have special needs. At a time when I felt the most isolated, financially unstable, and emotionally broken, I made the hardest and most important decision of my life: to leave. I walked away from a situation that diminished me in every way and chose to reclaim my voice, my identity, and my future—not only for myself but for my children. That choice set in motion a journey of healing, advocacy, and resilience that I now recognize as the foundation of everything I am becoming. This experience taught me that survival is an act of courage, but thriving is an act of resistance. I discovered that I possess a strength that endures even when I am exhausted, a hope that persists even in uncertainty, and a deep-seated fire that refuses to be extinguished by systems or circumstances. Living with my parents and navigating single motherhood on a limited income of $1,170 a month while attending school full-time hasn’t been easy. But it has forced me to sharpen my focus, deepen my empathy, and recognize the systemic barriers that often silence people like me—Black women, mothers, caregivers, survivors. Instead of letting those barriers define me, I’ve used them as fuel to transform my pain into purpose. What I’m most proud of is not just surviving—it’s turning my lived experience into a source of power and direction. I returned to school with the intention of becoming a social worker, because I refuse to let other parents face the same challenges without support. My dream is to create community-centered programs that uplift families at the margins—those navigating disability, trauma, poverty, and racial injustice. I want to design interventions that are culturally affirming, trauma-informed, and led by those who have lived what they now seek to change. In the future, I hope to be a changemaker in spaces that were never built with people like me in mind. I want to help reshape systems that have historically harmed, overlooked, or failed Black mothers and our children. I want to sit at policy tables, lead healing initiatives, and ensure that those most impacted are no longer left voiceless. This scholarship would not only help me reach that goal—it would represent an investment in equity, in lived wisdom, and in the belief that transformation is possible when people are given the chance to rise. Because I am not just trying to beat the odds—I am working to change them.

Working with a child who has a rare disorder, like Rebecca, requires more than specialized training—it requires intentionality, compassion, cultural humility, and an unwavering belief in the child’s capacity to grow. Since rare disorders often lack standardized educational protocols, my first step would be to approach Rebecca as an individual, not a diagnosis. I would spend time learning who she is—how she communicates, what brings her comfort or distress, what motivates her, and how she experiences the world. I’d build rapport through consistent, respectful interactions, and collaborate closely with her family, who often hold the most valuable insight into her daily needs and strengths. At the same time, I’d immerse myself in research about her specific condition, while staying grounded in the understanding that every child is unique, even among shared diagnoses. My teaching would center around a strength-based, person-first approach rooted in Universal Design for Learning (UDL), which encourages flexibility in how children access and express learning. I would use a variety of methods—multi-sensory activities, visual supports, assistive technology, and social-emotional tools—to create multiple entry points for Rebecca to engage in the curriculum. I’d also draw from trauma-informed practices to ensure that my classroom environment is emotionally safe and predictable. Many children with rare disorders face ongoing medical interventions and social exclusion, so it’s essential to provide a space that fosters agency, joy, and trust. Consistent routines, clear transitions, sensory-friendly spaces, and a calm, affirming communication style would be foundational in helping Rebecca feel secure and supported. I would work collaboratively with therapists, special educators, and paraprofessionals to develop an Individualized Education Program (IEP) that is both ambitious and achievable, while remaining responsive to Rebecca’s evolving needs. I would celebrate progress in all forms—whether that’s a new word, an increase in attention span, or a greater willingness to engage with peers—because in special education, growth is not always linear, but always meaningful. Family plays an irreplaceable role in the education and progress of a disabled child. They are the experts on their child’s daily life, the advocates who have fought to be heard, and the people who understand their child’s needs beyond the school day. I view family as co-educators and collaborators, not outsiders to the learning process. I would ensure regular communication, create space for their voices in IEP meetings, and invite their cultural values, routines, and priorities into the educational plan. Too often, families of children with rare disorders feel isolated or dismissed by systems not designed to accommodate them. By honoring their experience and partnering authentically, we empower both the child and the family. In short, teaching a child like Rebecca is not about fixing or changing who she is—it is about adapting our systems and expectations to meet her where she is, and building on the brilliance that’s already there. It requires patience, creativity, and humility—but most of all, it requires a deep commitment to relationship. My goal would be to ensure Rebecca feels seen, valued, and supported—not just academically, but as a full human being whose presence enriches the entire learning community.

My name is Zsane, and I am a full-time social work student, a fierce advocate, and a single mother to three incredible children who are my greatest motivation. Two of my children are on the autism spectrum, and my youngest son also lives with epilepsy and global developmental delay. My youngest child, my daughter, does not have a diagnosis, but she is growing up watching her mother show up every single day—tired but determined, stretched thin but still striving. She sees what it means to keep going when the odds are stacked against you, and I hope she learns that no matter what life looks like, her dreams are always valid and possible. Raising three children with diverse and high support needs has taught me more than any textbook ever could. Our life is a carefully woven routine of therapy sessions—occupational, physical, and speech every week, and psychological therapy each month. I rely on visual schedules for my children and a meticulously organized planner to hold our lives together. While this level of responsibility would overwhelm many, I use it as fuel to push forward—because I know that what I’m doing now is building a better future not just for my family, but for so many others. That’s why I chose social work. My goal is to use both my education and lived experience to support other parents and caregivers of children with disabilities. I understand the exhaustion that comes from constantly advocating in systems that were never designed with our families in mind. I know what it’s like to sit in IEP meetings feeling unheard, to navigate waiting lists for services, and to cry in silence because the world offers too few supports. I want to be the social worker who doesn’t just check boxes—I want to be the one who listens, uplifts, and fights for meaningful change. My vision is to create accessible, trauma-informed, and culturally competent services that truly support families in crisis—not just with resources, but with empathy and lasting impact. Winning this scholarship would be transformational for my family. It would relieve some of the financial strain that weighs heavily on me as a student and full-time caregiver. More importantly, it would represent an investment in a future where my children—and children like them—are seen, supported, and given the chance to thrive. This scholarship would not just help me finish my degree—it would help me continue showing my children that no matter how hard life gets, we are capable of building something beautiful from the struggle. And with that belief, I plan to leave the world better than I found it.

My name is Zsane, and I am a devoted single mother to three incredible children who fuel every step of my journey. Each of my children has unique needs that have shaped not only my daily life but also my purpose. Two of my children are on the autism spectrum, and my youngest son lives with multiple diagnoses—autism, epilepsy, and global developmental delay. My youngest, my daughter, does not have a diagnosis, but she’s growing up watching her mother fight for a better life—for herself, for her family, and for others. She sees what it means to keep going, even when it’s hard. And I hope she learns that being strong, determined, and full of love can take her anywhere she wants to go. Our life is built around routines, structure, and care. All three of my children attend weekly therapy, including occupational, physical, and speech therapy, and they receive monthly psychological therapy to support their emotional well-being. Managing all of this requires intentional planning, patience, and love. I rely on visual schedules to support my kids’ daily routines and a detailed planner to keep track of everything from therapy appointments to school assignments. Every day is full, but it’s purposeful. Despite the daily challenges, I made the decision to go back to school to become a social worker. My goal is to support other parents and caregivers of children with special needs. I know firsthand how overwhelming and isolating it can be to navigate medical systems, special education, therapy schedules, and life’s unexpected curveballs—especially when you’re doing it alone. I want to be the kind of social worker who truly understands what families like mine face—the one who listens, advocates, and helps others feel seen and supported. Earning this scholarship would have a deeply meaningful impact on my family. It would take a heavy financial weight off my shoulders, allowing me to be more present for my children and more focused on my education. It would mean I wouldn’t have to choose between paying for books or buying groceries, between keeping up with therapy co-pays or staying enrolled in school. This scholarship would provide more than just financial relief—it would bring stability, possibility, and hope. It would affirm that our journey matters, that someone believes in my future and in the lives I’m working to impact. More than anything, winning this scholarship would be a message to my children that no matter how hard life gets, we are not alone—and that with enough love, resilience, and support, anything is possible.

My interest in social work stems from my personal experiences and the resilience I developed through challenging circumstances. As a single mother of three children, two of whom have special needs, I have faced the daunting task of navigating complex systems to secure the necessary support for my family. From educational accommodations to accessing healthcare and therapeutic services, I experienced firsthand the overwhelming barriers that often stand between families and the resources they desperately need. One pivotal moment that solidified my passion for social work was when I advocated for my child’s educational rights. Despite legal protections like the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA), I encountered resistance and inadequate support within the school system. It was through persistence, research, and the guidance of a dedicated advocate that I successfully ensured my child received the accommodations they were entitled to. This experience made me acutely aware of how many parents, particularly those from marginalized backgrounds, may not have the resources or knowledge to navigate these systems effectively. Additionally, my journey of healing from an abusive marriage further shaped my commitment to social work. Seeking counseling and support services allowed me to regain my sense of self and stability. Through this process, I witnessed the transformative power of compassionate, trauma-informed care. I knew then that I wanted to dedicate my life to supporting others who face similar challenges, empowering them to find their strength and resilience. Volunteering with local support groups and advocacy organizations also reinforced my passion. I facilitated workshops for parents of children with disabilities, offering guidance on navigating individualized education plans (IEPs) and accessing community resources. I also collaborated with domestic violence shelters to provide peer support to survivors, offering a safe space to share their experiences and rebuild their lives. Witnessing the impact of these efforts further solidified my belief in the power of social work to create meaningful change. These experiences inspired me to pursue a degree in social work. I am passionate about advocating for equitable access to resources, particularly for families of children with disabilities and survivors of domestic abuse. My goal is to bridge the gap between vulnerable populations and the services they need, while also advocating for systemic change to create more inclusive and supportive environments. Through my education, I have gained a deeper understanding of the structural inequities that contribute to the hardships many families face. Every class, project, and field experience has reaffirmed my commitment to using my knowledge and lived experiences to uplift others. My journey into social work is not just about a career; it is a calling to make a meaningful difference in the lives of those who need it most. Looking ahead, I hope to establish a comprehensive support network that offers advocacy, counseling, and educational resources tailored to the needs of families facing adversity. By providing both direct services and systemic advocacy, I aim to create long-term, sustainable change. Ultimately, I aspire to use my voice and experiences to empower others, ensuring that every individual has the opportunity to thrive, no matter their circumstances.

My journey into entrepreneurship is deeply rooted in my personal experiences and the challenges I've faced. As a single mother of three children, two of whom have special needs, I understand firsthand the overwhelming responsibility of navigating the complex world of caregiving, education, and advocacy. After leaving an abusive marriage and rebuilding my life with the support of my family, I realized how crucial it is for parents and guardians in similar situations to have access to resources and support systems. This realization ignited my passion to create a business that provides comprehensive services and advocacy for families of children with disabilities. My business idea focuses on establishing a resource hub that offers guidance on navigating educational systems, accessing therapy and medical care, and understanding legal rights under laws like the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA) and Section 504. Additionally, I aim to offer support groups, workshops, and one-on-one advocacy services to empower parents in advocating for their children’s needs. By drawing from both my lived experiences and my academic background in social work, I believe I can create a space that fosters connection, resilience, and empowerment. I became interested in entrepreneurship because I saw a glaring gap in the support available to families like mine. While there are resources out there, accessing and navigating them can be overwhelming, particularly for parents who are already juggling the emotional and financial strain of caregiving. My goal is to bridge that gap, providing clear, compassionate guidance and creating a community of support. Furthermore, I recognize the importance of raising awareness about the systemic challenges that families of children with disabilities face. Through advocacy efforts, I hope to collaborate with policymakers, schools, and healthcare providers to push for equitable access to services and improved educational outcomes. By amplifying the voices of those often unheard, my business will serve as a catalyst for meaningful change. My long-term vision is to expand my services beyond my local community, establishing partnerships with schools, healthcare organizations, and advocacy groups across the region. I also plan to offer online resources and virtual support groups to reach families who may not have access to in-person services. By leveraging technology, I can ensure that no family is left without the support they need. Ultimately, I hope to build a sustainable business that not only offers practical support but also advocates for systemic changes in how schools, healthcare providers, and policymakers address the needs of children with disabilities. I envision a future where every parent feels empowered and equipped to provide the best possible care for their child, regardless of their circumstances. Through this venture, I aspire to transform my personal hardships into a source of strength and support for others, ensuring no parent feels alone on their journey. My business is not just a reflection of my resilience but a commitment to making lasting, positive change in the lives of families like mine.

Being raised in a single-parent household has profoundly shaped my perspective on resilience, resourcefulness, and the importance of community support. My mother, who was the cornerstone of our family, worked tirelessly to provide for us, often juggling multiple jobs to make ends meet. Despite the challenges, she always made sure we knew we were loved and supported. There were times, though, when we struggled to make ends meet, and I saw how hard it was for families without access to a strong support network or essential resources. These experiences left me with a deep sense of empathy for others in similar situations and a desire to understand how we can better address the systemic barriers that prevent people from thriving. I also witnessed firsthand how social systems, like education, healthcare, and welfare, were often difficult to navigate, and how the lack of support for single parents could make everything harder. My mother was often left to navigate these systems alone, which sometimes felt overwhelming. I remember how frustrating it could be when resources were scarce or when there seemed to be no one available to offer guidance. This experience highlighted the need for people who could help families navigate complex systems, people who could advocate for change, and people who understood the unique struggles that single-parent and marginalized families face. This early exposure to systemic inequality and the resilience needed to overcome it motivated me to consider how I could make a difference in the lives of others. I began to understand that providing people with the tools, knowledge, and support they need can empower them to change their circumstances. My desire to help others grew out of the lessons I learned from my own upbringing—whether it was through offering emotional support, sharing resources, or advocating for broader systemic change. As I look toward the future, even though I may not know exactly what career path I'll take, I am driven by the vision of a life where I can use my talents to uplift others. I see myself working with individuals and families who are navigating difficult systems—whether that’s through social work, community organizing, or public policy. I imagine myself using my skills to help others access resources, advocate for their needs, and, most importantly, empower them to believe in their ability to create better lives for themselves. Even though I may not know the exact role I’ll fill, I am committed to finding ways to improve the lives of those who are marginalized, underserved, or facing hardship. Whether I end up working in a nonprofit organization, a government role, or another capacity, I know I want to contribute to making systems more equitable, accessible, and responsive to the needs of those who have long been overlooked. Ultimately, my goal is to be someone who not only provides support to those in need but also works to create lasting change in the systems that shape their lives. I want to be a source of hope and strength for people, helping them break through barriers and see their potential. My experience growing up in a single-parent household fuels this desire to build a world where everyone, regardless of their circumstances, has access to the resources, opportunities, and support they need to thrive.

One personal experience that deeply influenced my decision to pursue social work was the challenges I faced as a single mother raising children with special needs. Navigating the systems that were supposed to support us—education, healthcare, and social services—was incredibly difficult, especially without sufficient resources or knowledge. At times, I felt overwhelmed and unsure of where to turn for help, but I realized that many parents in similar situations were struggling with the same issues. I became determined to not only advocate for my children but to empower others who were facing similar obstacles. I started attending support groups, seeking out resources, and learning as much as I could about the systems in place and how they could be navigated. Through this process, I recognized how crucial it was to have someone who understood the complexities of these systems and could guide others through them. That’s when I realized I wanted to be that advocate—someone who could support families, especially those from marginalized communities, in finding the resources they needed. I wanted to make sure that no one had to feel alone or powerless when facing difficult situations. Pursuing social work became the natural next step for me because it would allow me to combine my passion for justice with the skills needed to help others navigate the systems that are often overwhelming and difficult to understand. This experience shaped not only my academic and professional aspirations but also my commitment to ensuring that everyone, regardless of their background or circumstances, has access to the support they deserve.

There was a time in my life when everything felt like it was falling apart—leaving an abusive marriage, raising three children on my own (two with special needs), and struggling with PTSD while trying to rebuild my life from the ground up. The weight of trauma, financial insecurity, and the overwhelming responsibility of being both mother and advocate for my children felt like too much to bear. I often found myself wondering how I was going to make it through, how I was going to provide for my children, and if I would ever truly heal from the pain I had endured. It was in those moments of exhaustion, doubt, and uncertainty that I leaned on my faith the most. There were nights when I questioned if I had the strength to keep going. The pressures of being a single mother with limited resources left me feeling isolated and defeated at times. But my faith reminded me that my struggles had a purpose and that even when I couldn’t see the full picture, I was being guided toward something greater. Prayer became my refuge—my way of releasing the burdens I could no longer carry alone. I found comfort in knowing that even when I felt weak, I was not alone. My faith reassured me that my pain was not permanent, and that I was being shaped for something beyond my suffering. It was this belief that gave me the courage to take steps toward healing and rebuilding. My faith gave me the strength to seek therapy, knowing that addressing my PTSD was not a sign of weakness but of growth. It gave me the patience to advocate for my children’s education and medical needs, even when the system made it difficult. It gave me the resilience to return to school to pursue social work, knowing that my experiences could help others who were navigating similar hardships. My faith reminded me that I was more than my circumstances and that my pain was not the end of my story—it was the beginning of a new purpose. Through this journey, my faith became more than just something I turned to in hardship; it became the foundation of my strength. It allowed me to transform my struggles into purpose, to see obstacles as opportunities for growth, and to believe that no matter how difficult life became, there was always a path forward. My faith didn’t take away the challenges, but it gave me the endurance to overcome them, knowing that I was meant for something greater than the obstacles in my path.

One of my greatest challenges has been navigating life as a single mother of three, two of whom have special needs, after leaving an abusive marriage. The weight of trauma, financial instability, and advocating for my children’s education felt overwhelming. I had to rebuild my life while ensuring my children received the support they needed, all while battling PTSD. Seeking therapy, leaning on my family, and returning to school for social work were pivotal steps in my healing and growth. Through these experiences, I became an advocate—not just for my children but for other families facing similar struggles. Overcoming these hardships strengthened my resilience and deepened my commitment to dismantling systemic barriers that keep marginalized families from accessing essential support. This scholarship will ease the financial strain of continuing my education, allowing me to focus on developing the skills necessary to support families navigating trauma, disability, and systemic challenges. As a single mother, balancing education and financial obligations is difficult, but this scholarship will allow me to remain in school without compromising my family’s stability. More than that, this investment in my education extends beyond me—it directly impacts the families I will serve. My goal is to create resources and advocacy networks that empower parents, particularly single mothers, to access critical services. Many families are left struggling because support systems are fragmented and difficult to navigate. With this scholarship, I will be better equipped to challenge these systemic failures, bridge service gaps, and ensure families like mine do not have to face these challenges alone. In an age of instant communication, philately offers a rare, hands-on way to connect with history and culture. Instead of presenting it as an outdated pastime, I would frame stamp collecting as a form of storytelling—one that uncovers hidden narratives of resistance, innovation, and cultural shifts. Stamps serve as historical artifacts, capturing moments of activism, scientific breakthroughs, and social change. To engage young people, I would organize interactive workshops where they explore the stories behind different stamps and even design their own “future stamps” to reflect the issues and movements shaping today’s world. By linking philately to activism, art, and identity, the hobby becomes more than collecting—it transforms into a way to document and shape history. Additionally, incorporating digital tools, such as an interactive app, could modernize the experience, allowing young collectors to catalog and research their collections in a more engaging way. By making philately a bridge between the past, present, and future, young people can see it as a meaningful and creative pursuit rather than just a hobby.

Insurance is deeply embedded in our daily lives, acting as both a safety net and a means of financial stability in an unpredictable world. At its core, insurance helps individuals and families absorb the financial shocks of unexpected events—whether it’s a medical emergency, a car accident, property damage, or even the loss of a loved one. Without it, many people would be unable to afford necessary healthcare, rebuild after disasters, or recover from financial setbacks. Beyond individual benefits, insurance plays a critical role in stabilizing the economy by distributing risk across large populations, ensuring that businesses and households alike can withstand crises without total financial ruin. The positive impact of insurance is undeniable. It provides peace of mind, allowing people to plan their futures without the constant fear of financial devastation. Health insurance makes medical care accessible, preventing families from facing crippling debt due to an unexpected illness. Auto and home insurance ensure that individuals can recover from accidents or natural disasters without losing everything. Life insurance offers financial security to families when they lose a primary provider. On a broader scale, insurance supports economic growth by encouraging investments—people are more willing to take risks, start businesses, or buy homes when they know they have a layer of protection in case something goes wrong. However, insurance is far from a perfect system. One of the most significant issues is affordability—many people, especially those in lower-income brackets, cannot afford adequate coverage, leaving them vulnerable when disaster strikes. Even those who have insurance often struggle with high deductibles, denied claims, and complicated policy terms that make it difficult to access the benefits they assumed they had. The industry’s profit-driven model can also lead to ethical concerns, as companies sometimes prioritize their bottom line over the well-being of policyholders. Additionally, disparities in insurance coverage reflect broader systemic inequalities, as marginalized communities often face higher premiums, limited access to comprehensive plans, and exclusion from essential protections. While insurance remains an essential tool for financial security, its effectiveness depends on accessibility, fairness, and transparency. A truly equitable insurance system would prioritize people over profit, ensuring that everyone—regardless of income or background—has the protection they need to build stable, secure lives. Until then, insurance will continue to be a double-edged sword, offering critical protection while also exposing the flaws of a system that too often puts financial barriers in the way of those who need it most.

Leaving an abusive marriage with my special needs children was both a breaking point and a turning point in my life. It forced me to become not just a mother, but an advocate—navigating complex systems, learning to access resources, and rebuilding a life where both my children and I could thrive. Becoming a single parent to children with disabilities meant facing overwhelming challenges, but it also gave me firsthand insight into the gaps in support for families like mine. That experience fueled my decision to pursue a bachelor’s degree in social work, with the goal of helping other parents and caregivers of special needs children not just survive, but find the resources they need to build stability and a better future. My work will focus on providing holistic support for families, recognizing that a child’s well-being is deeply connected to their caregiver’s ability to access necessary services. Many parents struggle to find and coordinate medical care, therapy, and equipment for their children. I want to help families connect with doctors, specialists, and therapists while also assisting them in securing essential medical equipment, adaptive technology, and assistive devices through insurance or grant programs. Navigating special education services can also be confusing and frustrating, and I plan to guide parents through the IEP and 504 plan processes to ensure their children receive appropriate accommodations in school. More importantly, I want to teach parents how to advocate effectively for their child’s rights so they feel confident in securing the best possible education. Beyond medical and educational needs, I know that financial stability is a major challenge for many families raising children with disabilities, especially single parents. I plan to help families apply for basic needs assistance, such as food programs like SNAP and WIC, housing support through Section 8 or emergency shelters, and financial aid for utility bills. Many caregivers also put their own well-being last, and I want to ensure parents have access to mental health resources, including therapy and support groups, so they don’t have to navigate the emotional toll of caregiving alone. Additionally, I want to connect parents with employment and educational programs that offer job training, scholarships, and flexible schooling options, helping them regain financial independence while balancing their caregiving responsibilities. I know from experience that navigating these systems alone is exhausting, confusing, and discouraging. My goal is to not only provide resources but to empower parents to build strong, sustainable futures for both themselves and their children. No parent should have to struggle in isolation, and I hope to be the advocate I once needed, helping others find the hope and stability they deserve.

Why I Am Passionate About Social Work Life’s challenges often shape our dreams and passions, molding us into individuals who seek to make a difference. For me, my journey as a single mother of three children, two of whom have special needs, and as a survivor of an abusive relationship, has ignited a profound desire to become a social worker. These experiences have not only given me strength but have also inspired me to dedicate my life to helping others who face similar struggles. As a mother, my world revolves around my children. Raising three children is both rewarding and demanding, but parenting two with special needs adds unique challenges. From attending therapy appointments to advocating for individualized education plans, I’ve learned how vital it is to have systems in place that truly support families. Often, I’ve found myself in situations where I had to fight to ensure my children received the care and opportunities they deserved. These experiences taught me resilience and the importance of persistence, but they also revealed how overwhelming these battles can be for families without the right resources or guidance. Surviving an abusive relationship was another pivotal chapter in my life. It was a time marked by fear, isolation, and uncertainty. Leaving that situation was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made, but it was necessary to create a safe environment for myself and my children. During this transition, I encountered social workers and advocates whose kindness and expertise became lifelines. They offered not only practical assistance but also the emotional support I needed to believe in a better future. Their impact was transformative and planted the seed for my own aspirations to work in this field. These personal experiences have driven me to pursue a career in social work, a field that aligns deeply with my values and goals. Social workers play a crucial role in helping individuals and families overcome obstacles, whether they stem from abuse, poverty, disability, or other life challenges. I want to be the person who listens without judgment, offers practical solutions, and helps others rediscover their strength. My journey has shown me that compassion, combined with the right resources, can change lives. The importance of this career path goes beyond my own story. Families in crisis need someone who not only understands their struggles but also has the training and knowledge to guide them toward stability. My firsthand experiences provide me with a unique perspective and empathy that I believe will enable me to connect with clients on a deeper level. I understand what it feels like to be overwhelmed and unsure of the future, but I also know the transformative power of support and advocacy. Social work represents more than a profession for me—it is a calling rooted in my desire to give back and create meaningful change. By pursuing this field, I hope to help others see that their current circumstances do not define their futures. I want to empower individuals and families to rebuild their lives, just as I was able to do. In choosing social work, I am committing to a path of service and dedication. My passion stems from my own trials and triumphs, and I believe this will fuel my ability to make a positive impact. Through this career, I hope to be a source of hope, strength, and change for those who need it most.

My experience with mental health has profoundly influenced my beliefs, relationships, and career aspirations, propelling me toward a future as a social worker. Being diagnosed with PTSD as a result of an abusive marriage and the demands of raising special needs children was both a breaking point and a turning point in my life. These challenges pushed me to reevaluate my understanding of resilience, support, and purpose. While the journey was isolating at times, it ultimately led me to a deeper belief in the power of empathy and the importance of accessible mental health resources for those in crisis. Living through these experiences reshaped my beliefs about strength and vulnerability. Before my diagnosis, I struggled to find a balance between addressing my own pain and meeting the needs of my children. Over time, I learned that true resilience isn’t about enduring alone but about seeking and accepting support. This belief has become the foundation of my desire to help others. I want to show parents and guardians facing similar struggles that they are not alone and that their pain does not define their worth. My experiences have made me a fierce advocate for breaking the stigma around mental health, particularly for those juggling caregiving and personal healing. These hardships also had a profound effect on my relationships, teaching me the importance of patience, understanding, and community. At first, the trauma I endured made it difficult to trust others or open up about my struggles. However, raising children with special needs required me to develop a deeper sense of empathy—not only for my children but also for myself and others facing adversity. Over time, I’ve built meaningful connections with people who understand the unique challenges of caregiving, and I’ve seen how powerful these relationships can be in fostering healing. These connections have inspired me to create similar networks of support for others, where understanding and compassion take precedence over judgment. Most importantly, my experiences have shaped my career aspirations, inspiring me to become a social worker focused on helping families in crisis. I understand firsthand how isolating it can feel to navigate abuse, trauma, and the demands of parenting special needs children without adequate support. As a social worker, I aim to bridge that gap by providing parents and guardians with the tools, resources, and understanding they need to thrive. Whether through counseling, community programs, or advocacy, I want to help others feel empowered to overcome their circumstances and build a better future. In turning my pain into purpose, I hope to create lasting change for families like mine. The challenges I’ve faced have given me a unique ability to connect with others and a passion for ensuring no one has to endure life’s most difficult moments alone. Pursuing this career will allow me to transform adversity into advocacy, providing hope and healing to parents and guardians who need it most. This journey, while born from struggle, has become my greatest motivation to make a difference in the lives of others.

As both a parent and a member of the LGBTQIA+ community, my educational journey has been shaped by my unique identities in profound and often challenging ways. Navigating the responsibilities of being a single mother while embracing my bisexual identity has given me a deeper understanding of resilience, perseverance, and the importance of creating an inclusive and supportive environment for both my children and myself. Being a parent to three children, two of whom have special needs, has required me to constantly adapt and find creative solutions to balance my educational aspirations with the needs of my family. As a mother, I’ve learned to prioritize my children’s well-being while still pursuing my academic goals. This dual responsibility has taught me valuable time management skills, as well as how to advocate for my children, especially in educational and medical settings. It’s given me the drive to continue my education, knowing that I am not just creating a better life for myself, but also for them. My children’s challenges have fueled my desire to create opportunities that empower others facing similar struggles. At the same time, my identity as a bisexual woman has been an important part of my educational experience. Growing up, I didn’t always see people like me represented in the spaces I occupied, and as I became more comfortable with my identity, I knew I wanted to create a more inclusive environment for others, especially those who, like me, don’t always see themselves reflected in mainstream narratives. Thankfully, I have a supportive family who has always encouraged me to pursue my dreams without fear of judgment or discrimination. Their unwavering acceptance has made all the difference in my ability to thrive both academically and personally. However, being a bisexual individual within the LGBTQIA+ community has also meant navigating spaces where I had to work harder to prove my validity and worth. There were times when I encountered misconceptions or biases, both from peers and instructors, which made me more determined to succeed and advocate for the inclusivity of all identities, including my own. Ultimately, both my role as a parent and my LGBTQIA+ identity have shaped my educational journey in ways that have instilled in me a sense of purpose. They motivate me to continue pushing forward, not just for my own success, but to ensure that future generations of students—especially those who are parents or members of the LGBTQIA+ community—are supported, understood, and empowered to succeed.

Education has always been a source of hope in my life. As a single mother of three children, two of whom have special needs, and a survivor of an abusive marriage, my journey has been full of challenges. These hardships have not defined me but instead strengthened my resilience and motivated me to pursue education—not just for a better future for my family but to empower others who have faced similar adversity. Leaving an abusive relationship was a difficult but necessary decision for my children's safety. Starting over was overwhelming, balancing the responsibilities of single parenthood, medical and therapy appointments, school activities, and emotional recovery. Despite the burdens, my vision of a better future for my children and other parents in similar situations kept me moving forward. My children, particularly my two with special needs, inspire me every day. Their courage in the face of challenges reminds me of the power of perseverance. Their milestones, no matter how small, motivate me to continue my education and model the importance of hard work and resilience. I want to show them, and others, that no circumstance should limit one’s potential. I am pursuing a degree in social work to become an advocate for families who have faced struggles similar to mine. I aim to provide support to survivors of domestic abuse, families with special needs children, and others by creating community programs and offering guidance. My experiences have given me a deep understanding of these challenges, and I am determined to find solutions that ease their burdens. One of my long-term goals is to establish a nonprofit organization offering counseling, parenting workshops, and policy advocacy to help families access essential resources. This organization would also provide a safe space for parents to share their stories and build strength through community. I believe my education will give me the skills to bring this vision to life and make a meaningful impact. Each study session and completed assignment brings me closer to achieving my goals. What drives me is the knowledge that my struggles have a greater purpose. My children cheer me on, reminding me that this journey is not just mine, but ours. Their belief in me fuels my determination to overcome any challenge. In the future, I hope to share my story to inspire others, especially single mothers, to pursue their dreams despite overwhelming odds. Education has given me the courage to dream bigger and the tools to turn those dreams into reality. Receiving this scholarship would alleviate the financial burden of my education, allowing me to focus on my studies. It would also be an investment in my mission to create hope and opportunities for families in need. With education as my foundation, I am building a life of purpose for myself, my children, and the families I hope to serve.