I seem to be cursed with mental instability. Every morning I wake up with a knot in my stomach, my intestines twisting and turning wreaking havoc inside me. Mirrors create a sense of pure disgust as if my brain can’t comprehend that the person before me is in fact myself. Fictional ankle weights make getting up a drag, so instead, I choose to slump in bed my thumb getting sorer as I continue to scroll on my phone while the hours pass. Oftentimes, I remain isolated choosing to interact with the thoughts in my head instead of the people around me. One day, however, the floodgates opened. I piled all of my complaints and my worries onto one person. She became the source of my validation, the only person that could soothe my raging mind and make me feel at ease with myself. Over the months, the burden became too great for her, and I could feel her support begin to buckle. Then, as if all at once, she fell from underneath me and I was left to fend for myself once again. It was around this time that I had begun to realize how utterly ruined I had become. Day-to-day anxiety coupled with an eating disorder and a lack of motivation proved to be a crippling situation, to say the least. At last, my therapist decided it was time for an intervention. She sent me a link to a Youtube channel made by a man named Eckhart Tolle. For days the tab to his channel remained open on my laptop constantly popping up to remind me that I still hadn’t made an effort to make things better for myself. Eventually, I realized that I had spent so much time putting it off that I’d completed all of the tasks I had used for excuses as to why I hadn’t begun. I sat myself down and clicked on the first video of his that I saw titled “Transforming Fear and Anxiety in the Process of Conscious Manifestation”. Twenty minutes later I felt as if something in me had been lifted. Scrolling through the rest of his videos left me bewildered. How could someone that knows nothing about me completely understand what I’m going through? In the days that followed I began to religiously watch his videos. I kept a notebook in hand and each time he said something that resonated with me I would jot it down. Eventually, what I was left with was a patchwork of advice about how to live my life. He taught me how to be mindful and center myself in the present moment. He showed me how to prevent my intrusive thoughts from becoming a cycle of overthinking. Because of him, I began incorporating meditation into my daily routine and learning how to keep myself calm through tough situations. His videos opened a door in my head and allowed all of the problems that were crowding it to slowly file out one by one. Now, don’t get me wrong, sometimes they like to mingle, taking their sweet time before they dissipate and oftentimes they come wandering back, but Eckhart’s teachings have shown me how to cope with them healthily. I look up to him as a man who has taken what life has given him and managed to turn it into strategies that would better himself. To be clear my journey of self-awareness and forgiveness is nowhere near complete yet. I aspire to become a person that knows her boundaries, but also knows how to handle herself when they are crossed. I’ve come to realize that the most valuable life lesson is learning to accept yourself and the mental hurdles that you face and for that very reason, I consider Eckhart Tolle, the one that helped me discover that, to be my role model.

This playlist is a combination of songs about self-pity and self-improvement. Some of these songs are attached to thoughts of picnics with my friends and others bring back memories of crying in my bathroom feeling mentally exhausted. They all have many different layers to them. Lyrically they are eye-opening but their beats are enough to sweep you into a world where pain is tangible but not mind-wrenching. The best way to listen to them is on repeat with your eyes closed allowing yourself to ride the wave that they take you on. Some are unconventional.. just give them a chance

Spending weeks under the hot Texas sun with dirt under your fingernails and sweat dripping from your brow is not exactly someone’s ideal summer vacation, but for me, it was all I wanted. Every summer in Austin, Urban Roots holds an internship program that provides high schoolers with the opportunity to grow vegetables in a garden that supports our community. They teach you about how to cultivate, harvest, sell, and cook produce as well as demonstrating the effect it has had on food deserts in Austin. Food deserts are places where residents can’t afford to buy fresh produce, so grocery stores stock their shelves with cheaper, processed foods. It has become a growing problem in Austin and the rest of the country especially as gentrification continues. The internship was an opportunity for me to quite literally get my hands dirty in an issue that I was passionate about combatting-- not to mention it paid well too. As I continued through each stage of the interviewing process my hopes were building and I was excited to be able to put my green thumb to work and make an impact on my community. Unfortunately, it didn’t quite pan out that way. Despite my efforts, I was not selected for the internship and all I had to make up for it was an email thanking me for my interest in the program. To say I was devastated was an understatement. Later, that year my history teacher assigned us a project about problems in our community. I chose to research food deserts and I was shocked to learn that food deserts were so under-reported. Although I couldn’t participate in the internship, I felt it was important for me to continue following my passion even if I didn’t have the resources Urban Roots did. As the semester continued, I began my Girl Scout Silver Award Project. After many canned potential ideas, I finally landed on the one that would earn me the award: building a vegetable garden in a school located in a food desert. Admittedly, I don’t think I understood just how much time I would have to spend making sure the project ran smoothly. For months, I waited for approval from the school followed by even more waiting to hear back from donors. At last, the approval came in and I had a backyard full of broccoli, brussel sprouts, and kale seedlings as well as a truck bed lined with soil bags and cedar boards wedged between them. The next couple of weeks were spent figuring out the logistics of organizing student volunteers together. Construction of the beds was split over two weekends and by the end of it, we were utterly exhausted. I’ll never forget when I was left to take pictures of the beds after all the volunteers had left. The sun filtered in through the trees and shone gently down on our seedlings each planted neatly in their rows. Every successive month I’d herd volunteers together to maintain the gardens until finally, the day came when it was time to harvest the mini trees of broccoli and the towering brussel sprouts stalks. People gathered to watch in amazement at how different what we grew in our garden looked compared to what was available to them in their grocery stores. Everyone was given a little bit of the bounty and we all went home satisfied with what we had accomplished. Even though all of my energy had been utterly spent in the last year in its place was an overwhelming sense of pride. I may not have landed that internship, but I like to think I did a lot more than I could have ever done in the program. Being a part of change is one thing but leading it is another.

Failure comes and goes like the wind. Every day I fail at something and it piles on slowly becoming insurmountable. Yet, one success is all it takes to blow my daily failures away like leaves scattering from a leaf blower. However, long-lasting failure is much different bringing pain, worry, and regret. At least that is how I feel about my sophomore year. It began strong, as they usually do, but I kept my head held up high for exactly one week. On week two I discovered a path of failure marked by drugs, deception, and disappointment. At first, it appeared inviting like an exciting new adventure that would ease my insufferable lack of motivation. The days blurred together as the drug abuse continued, but my problems were no longer. School was my playground now instead of my prison. My issues with my parents were nearly nonexistent because I was so out of it by the time I got home I had no energy to argue. I was coasting, or so I thought. One day, I checked my grades and realized the straight-A student I once was had slipped and in its place was a sluggish girl who could barely stand. I became hyper-aware of the looks of astonishment from my friends each time I stumbled into lunch. I was filled with frustration when classmates refused to work with me because they knew about my habits. My heart would sink a little after every concerned glance my mother shot me as I slumped in the passenger seat unable to respond to her questions. One night my mother searched my room finding things you would never want your mom to find. I felt stripped of the shield I had hidden behind for months with a cloak of failure as the only thing left to cover me. I started seeing a therapist, and over the months I healed myself. I learned how to improve my relationship with my parents, how to reignite my passion, and how to refocus my negative emotions. Kids started to notice the change and they acknowledged me as another student committed to achievement instead of a display at the zoo. The shift was almost tangible. I was no longer the Anya that lolled around laughing hysterically to herself in the back of the class. I was the Anya that had felt what hitting rock bottom was like and realized that was not the place for her. I worked relentlessly to bring my grades up and fought hard to earn my place in the varsity debate team always focusing on my future. Even as quarantine came and people were hit with waves of depression from the isolation I kept the experience of sophomore year at the forefront of my mind reminding myself that I may have completely and utterly failed, and I may fail again, but I will always pick myself up and move forward pursuing the life I envision for myself and the life I deserve.

It is hard to explain poor mental health to someone when they have never experienced it. How do you tell someone that even though you have countless assignments due you can’t bring yourself to get up from the bed you’ve laid on for hours? How do you describe the pain that comes with looking in the mirror and realizing that the cost of happiness is gnawing hunger, falling hair, and constant lightheadedness? How do you communicate that you are on the verge of being overwhelmed with a wave of emotions you’re barely able to fight back and at any moment something might give way and you’ll collapse into a sobbing heap? I cannot. Mental health always felt like a white flag of defeat waved at the most desperate times for the most desperate measures. Then one day, the world changed. In fact, it disappeared. What I am left with now are the four walls of my room. I used to have a perfectly built façade, but now my thoughts reign free in my mind and sometimes they leak out from the corners of my eyes. I have never needed help more than I need it now, and I have never felt more alone than I do now. The bombardment of thoughts is exhausting, and places of refuge are so few and far between. Although relief is scarce, it exists within the deep recesses of my mind. I find calm in baking and contentment in my stuffed animals. Yet even if one day all the little things that bring me happiness became out of reach it would never compare to my therapist Ashleigh. She is like my third eye except instead of the future she sees into a world of healthy coping mechanisms and mindfulness. When I am at the depths of my self-loathing, she pulls me out and reminds me of the temporariness of everything. The reassurance I feel after every goodbye I say to her is like none other I will ever experience. Her telling words. Her understanding gaze. Her knowing smile. Ashleigh does not falter, and she would never judge. I will not have to waste my breath hopelessly trying to make her understand what I am feeling. She just knows. Without her, there would be a great, big vortex in the center of my mind destroying the positivity that manages to find the light of day. With her, I feel a little closer to my old self. Happiness, success, self-love, balance, and so many other things are not so far off as long as I have her by my side. I am unbelievably thankful for what she has been able to do for me. My burdens are not easy to carry but one by one we have managed to take them down and keep them there—at least for a little while. I wish her nothing but the best and I hope that one day we all will have the Ashleigh we need in our lives.

Personal finance is a daunting beast one that seems far away, but is right around the corner. With the help of Taylor Price, Ramit Sethi, and Joel Greenblatt, I’ve found an army. Taylor Price is a popular Tik Tok creator. She makes content about “how to become a millionaire” through investing and money managing. Her videos are easily understandable and relatable especially in the form of a 15-60 second video. As a young entrepreneur, Taylor’s successes reassure me that financial literacy is not just something for your 40s. Ramit Sethi is the author of the book I Will Teach You to be Rich. This book helped me significantly with creating my finance to-do list for when I turn 18. It was both simple and funny which was extremely helpful considering how complicated everyone else made things like credit cards seem. Joel Greenblatt writes about investing for beginners. He gave me my baseline knowledge about investing and showed me that the time is now to begin growing my financial portfolio. These influencers have made me feel at ease about this journey I’m about to embark on. After learning from them I can confidently say I’m ready to fight this beast.