Balancing mental health and work is a struggle for most. Now that my “work” has taken on the form of a rigorous MBA program, applying to internships, interviews, piles of scholarship applications, and networking, striking that balance has gotten tricky. However, this battle is familiar to me as a teacher: between instruction, proctoring tests, meeting parents, being “on” for the kids, and spending my free time grading, finding time for self-care has always been tough. I maintain my mental wellness by focusing on mindfulness, exercise, and nutrition. Meditation is something I took up during the pandemic, and it’s added a lot of meaning to my life. It has become a key feature of my nightly routine. Humans are meant to work in short bursts with frequent rests. Getting enough sleep is critical to your body’s repair functions, and meditation has been amazing for me in terms of settling down my mind before bed. Medito is my favorite meditation app because it’s free and highly customizable. Mindfulness has also helped me to listen more intuitively to my body’s needs. I can let my body tell me what it needs: rest, food, or even cathartic exercise. I keep my strength up and my stress levels down by engaging in regular exercise. Yoga constantly challenges me, keeps me limber, and relaxes my tense muscles. I can be a little introverted, so it helps me stay motivated when my workout is also an opportunity to decompress and recharge after the necessary socializing inherent in the pursuit of a business degree. I also enjoy long walks and hikes, especially in natural settings. I always feel the most like myself amidst nature, and I’ve realized in my travels that the environment isn’t something we’re removed from. It’s around us at every turn, in every part of the world. The crumbling stones of the Great Wall humbled and inspired me, but no more than the lush forests that lay on either side. By spending time basking in nature, I find myself more focused and relaxed throughout the week. Dietary needs are just as crucial as exercise when it comes to maintaining a healthy mindset. First of all, I prepare most of my meals in advance. It saves time for schoolwork and reduces my decision fatigue. Since I typically cook for myself, I can assure myself that I get a comprehensive diet full of fiber and vitamins that are good for my brain. When my body functions well, my mind feels more at ease. While I believe that nutrients should primarily come from the diet, it’s important to regularly get check-ups and potentially supplement anything that is lacking. Here in Spain, during the lockdowns, I started getting bad headaches. My blood tests showed a shockingly low level of Vitamin D, and taking it improved my condition drastically. Valerian tea is really popular on the Iberian Peninsula for stabilizing your mood and lulling you to sleep, and whether it’s a placebo or not, I’ve found it effective as part of my nightly routine! Maintaining my mental wellbeing helps me keep a clear head. I’m calmer and better rested, which improves critical thinking. I have energy for studying and classwork, and having less pain is naturally less distracting. Being more confident and energetic positively affects my interpersonal relationships, which is key for networking. Though teaching has been highly demanding of my energy, I have found ways to take care of my mind and body during difficult times.

Balancing mental health and work is a struggle for most. Now that my “work” has taken on the form of a rigorous MBA program, applying to internships, interviews, piles of scholarship applications, and networking, striking that balance has gotten tricky. However, this battle is familiar to me as a teacher: between instruction, proctoring tests, meeting parents, being “on” for the kids, and spending my free time grading, finding time for self-care has always been tough. I maintain my mental wellness by focusing on mindfulness, exercise, and nutrition. Meditation is something I took up during the pandemic, and it’s added a lot of meaning to my life. It has become a key feature of my nightly routine. Humans are meant to work in short bursts with frequent rests. Getting enough sleep is critical to your body’s repair functions, and meditation has been amazing for me in terms of settling down my mind before bed. Medito is my favorite meditation app because it’s free and highly customizable. Mindfulness has also helped me to listen more intuitively to my body’s needs. I can let my body tell me what it needs: rest, food, or even cathartic exercise. I keep my strength up and my stress levels down by engaging in regular exercise. Yoga constantly challenges me, keeps me limber, and relaxes my tense muscles. I can be a little introverted, so it helps me stay motivated when my workout is also an opportunity to decompress and recharge after the necessary socializing inherent in the pursuit of a business degree. I also enjoy long walks and hikes, especially in natural settings. I always feel the most like myself amidst nature, and I’ve realized in my travels that the environment isn’t something we’re removed from. It’s around us at every turn, in every part of the world. The crumbling stones of the Great Wall humbled and inspired me, but no more than the lush forests that lay on either side. By spending time basking in nature, I find myself more focused and relaxed throughout the week. Dietary needs are just as crucial as exercise when it comes to maintaining a healthy mindset. First of all, I prepare most of my meals in advance. It saves time for schoolwork and reduces my decision fatigue. Since I typically cook for myself, I can assure myself that I get a comprehensive diet full of fiber and vitamins that are good for my brain. When my body functions well, my mind feels more at ease. While I believe that nutrients should primarily come from the diet, it’s important to regularly get check-ups and potentially supplement anything that is lacking. During the lockdowns while living in Spain, I started getting bad headaches. My blood tests showed a shockingly low level of Vitamin D, and taking it improved my condition drastically. Valerian tea is really popular on the Iberian Peninsula for stabilizing your mood and lulling you to sleep, and whether it’s a placebo or not, I’ve found it effective as part of my nightly routine! Maintaining my mental well-being helps me keep a clear head. I’m calmer and better rested, which improves critical thinking. I have energy for studying and classwork, and having less pain is naturally less distracting. Being more confident and energetic positively affects my interpersonal relationships, which is key for networking. Though school has been highly demanding of my energy, I have found ways to take care of my mind and body during difficult times.

I love math because it is the language of the universe. It exists whether or not we understand it. However, I do feel that we do mathematics a disservice in school by trying to teach it by rote without context. Math feels to the average student like something that someone somewhere made up, and we try to cram it into kids’ brains without really exploring the why of it. Then students are astounded as they grow up and realize that the petals of flowers grow at mathematically precise intervals or that the spiral shell of a nautilus comes remarkably close to the logarithmic spiral in Fibonacci’s sequence. However, these things aren’t remarkable coincidences: they are what math is trying to describe. We don't observe math around us; rather, math is our observation of the world around us. We understand the math of the world around us better than we think we do. If you tossed a grapefruit to me, I could reach out and catch it very easily. However, if you asked me to sit down and write out the velocity of an incoming grapefruit with angles and wind resistance as well as the necessary speed with which I would need to move my arm and body in order to catch it, I would struggle deeply. Yet on some level, we are acting easily on our understanding of the physics of the natural world. I’ve often heard it said that music is math. While this is fundamentally true, it misses out on a key component: music is math made beautiful. The reason two specific notes sound good together isn’t a mystery. It is because they are vibrating along coordinating wavelengths that match well together, and we perceive it as beautiful because we intrinsically understand that it is working. Some of us are better at this than others, but even those of us without much musical ability can tell when it does not sound all that great. Those gifted enough to hear the slight differences can also change the wavelengths, the speed of the notes, and the methods used to create them to create images and feelings in our minds, to weave brilliant tapestries – which are so lovely precisely because of what they are. Music is math deliberately rendered. It is our way of telling the universe that we understand it, and we see how it is beautiful.

When I told my family and friends that I intended to get my MBA, I was generally met with stunned silences and nonplussed stares. Inevitably, they responded with something along the lines of, “But Ellen: you’re a teacher. And an artist!” There was some confusion about how I got on this path and of course the good-natured jokes about whether I knew there was math involved. These sentiments weren’t exactly unfounded: I do indeed have a BFA and a CELTA English teaching certificate. I have been an ESL teacher for the last decade. These aren’t the credentials of a typical business student! MBA candidacy is a complicated issue. Admissions teams aren’t only looking for business undergrads and STEM experts. However, my research soon revealed that when making a considerable career pivot, especially after spending more than a decade in the workforce, it was strongly recommended that we strive to prove our quantitative math-related abilities, also known as “quant”. Typically, MBA hopefuls will take one of two tests: the Graduate Record Examinations (GRE), the exam most graduate students are familiar with; or the Graduate Management Admission Test (GMAT), a more MBA-specific examination. While most business schools claim not to favor one or the other, the math in the GMAT is generally accepted to be more difficult and more specific to the rigors of an MBA program. Since I was a bit of an underdog in terms of Admissions criteria, I needed to knuckle down and get an outstanding score on the GMAT. It all came down to math. In truth, I had never considered math to be my strong suit. It wasn’t that I had done poorly in school, but it didn’t come quite as naturally to me as other subjects. I remember the giddy finality of my last math exam, relieved to put it all behind me. Yet here I was, a decade and a half later, signing up for math crash courses and buying textbooks. I was almost embarrassed to take the first few lessons on algebra and geometry again. However, not only was the knowledge coming back, it seemed to be returning stronger. I’m not sure if it was better instructions and explanation, the freedom to go at my own pace, or just a focused adult drive and genuine interest. Regardless, what was happening was incredible. I was really understanding it, and I was discovering that I’m good at math! I kept on grinding, working two jobs during a pandemic and squeezing in hours of mathematics wherever I could. Once I’d mastered the basics, I had to work on the applied aspects of the GMAT, such as problem-solving abilities and critical reasoning skills. In total, I used three online study courses and two textbooks, and I combed through them cover-to-cover (and webpage-to-webpage). I had originally set the goal that I needed a total score of 650 to even consider applying to business school. Halfway through, I surpassed that goal on all my practice tests, and I just kept going. In all, I studied for just over a year. When it finally came time to take my test, I knew I had done everything I could to prepare myself for it, and I ended up having one of those amazing sessions where everything seems to click. On results day, I was floored to learn that I had actually scored 20 points higher than my most recent practice test score. I ended up in the 99th percentile, and I was able to get into my dream business school with two Fellowships - all thanks to math.

I was never more alone than the first year I spent “living my dream”. I’d always been enamored with the idea of living abroad, immersing myself in other cultures. When I was 22, the opportunity came to move to South Korea, and I took it. I was still grappling with the loss of another dream: my dream job. Originally from the New Orleans area, I’d studied film at NYU’s prestigious Tisch School, but after a few films, I discovered to my horror that I wasn’t cut out for the film industry. I was devastated, lost, and embarrassed. Having been a teaching assistant at Tisch, I knew I could teach. By chance, I heard about a position in South Korea that didn’t require an education degree (which was good, since I didn’t have one). It was as though my first dream of living abroad had returned to comfort me in my failure. I applied. I was accepted. I took a leap. I've spent most of the past decade living abroad: from South Korea to Hong Kong to Spain, I have had the privilege of immersing myself in diverse cultures and shaping the minds of students from around the world. While I could never regret the ten years I've spent teaching and all the lives I’ve impacted, the field has limited opportunities for career advancement. With a mind for social impact and a desire for a wider reach, I ardently researched new purpose-driven careers. The common thread that emerged surprised me: the vast majority of positions that interested me listed a degree in business as a qualification. I found that the world was searching for responsible business leaders and that getting a Master of Business Administration degree would allow me to work in any socially conscious industry. There are a few particular financial constraints that concern me as I begin graduate school. I have an unusually high burden of relocation cost since I am coming from Europe. Furthermore, I will be moving from a country with a significantly lower cost of living than the United States, and Seattle in particular has a high cost of living compared to other places. For example, the cost of an on-campus apartment for my family at the University of Washington is more than three times the cost of our current apartment. Also, due to disability, my spouse is limited in full-time work options, and it will take time to find appropriate part-time work after our move. Finally, coming from the teaching profession, I am limited in my ability to finance my education based on personal savings. For these reasons, this scholarship would help me enormously. Though I enjoy leading with the softer interpersonal skills I’ve picked up, I’m ready to invest in my leadership potential with rigorous guidance. I know business school is going to challenge me in so many ways, and I want to be in the right environment and surrounded by the right people when I face that challenge. I want to be a community leader with both the drive and the means to make real, meaningful, socially conscious change in my community.

I’ve always been preoccupied with fairness and aware of its absence. I’ve spent the majority of my professional life in South Korea and formed amazing cross-cultural friendships and work relationships. However, living abroad while queer has brought unique challenges, so I have learned to build communities of like-minded individuals, engaging with online communities, group chats, and functions. When those were lacking, I made my own inclusive events for locals, travelers, and expatriates alike. I’ve made a point of supporting local LGBTQ+ and women-run businesses in every country I’ve visited. However, in Korea, there was also an isolating need for secrecy. I met my now-wife there, in a country where I couldn’t be out for fear of losing my job. Though Korea was the first place we ever felt was truly home, after five years we realized the strain being closeted put on us socially and emotionally. It ended up being the determining factor for why we had to move on. It’s not only through a lens of queerness that I see the imbalance of power playing out in my life. I have always been interested in the way women are treated and the lack of equality and equity we experience. In 2017, I attended the Women’s March in Seoul, and I was moved by the global nature of these inequities. I work in education, and I’m seldom the only woman in any room, but my superiors have been disproportionately men. As I transition from education to business, I’m cognizant of the demographics of my likely superiors. Equity, and the lack thereof, is constantly brought to my attention. Because my wife is disabled, her daily life is a learning experience for me on how ableist practices affect many people. I now notice poorly planned city development and inaccessible public transportation everywhere I turn, as well as the small but degrading social affronts experienced by people who suffer from invisible illnesses. I believe it’s important to be aware of these disparities and to promote inclusion, and to hopefully wield my own privileges for the benefit of those who belong to even more underrepresented groups, like people of color, transgender people, or the disabled. As a ROMBA Fellow and a Forté MBA Fellow, I will have the amazing opportunity to represent my communities and meet other diverse leaders with the same passion and drive at the onset of my business school journey. Knowing that too many people will overlook us, I believe that we as members of marginalized communities need to lift each other up. I’m looking forward to both joining and making my communities at my university in an environment that takes these issues seriously. I will carry this sense of community and inclusivity forward into the rest of my career. I hope one day to be the kind of community leader who has not only the drive but also the means to make big shifts in terms of the sustainability of local business, environmentalism, and city planning initiatives that center the most at-risk and underserved members of my community.

I was never more alone than the first year I spent “living my dream”. I’d always been enamored with the idea of living abroad, immersing myself in other cultures. When I was 22, the opportunity came to move to South Korea, and I took it. I found myself jet-lagged in a tiny, windowless school-provided apartment. I couldn’t work the hot water or the heating. I admit that I cried that night, worried that I’d made a colossal mistake. My new life began as a series of lonely, confusing frustrations. I considered leaving halfway through my contract, on the verge of losing yet another dream. However, my school was getting a new teacher, and I was curious. Remembering how unmoored and bewildered I’d been when I first arrived, I made a point of making the new teacher feel welcome. I taught her some polite Korean phrases and gestures alongside pedestrian things like where to buy outlet converters and affordable groceries. I stayed late the night before the new semester to help the panicking newcomer, finishing my own work once she felt confident. As more new teachers rotated in with yearly contracts, I’d stay late to help them settle in or take them out to dinner to decompress. I trained them in all the ways I wished someone had trained me. I realized that leadership isn’t always about who is loudest or even who is given the role. Some leaders could be observers, acting on needs that other people might ignore. I could never regret the ten years I've spent teaching and all the lives I’ve impacted, but the field has limited opportunities for career advancement. With a mind for social impact and a desire for a wider reach, I ardently researched new purpose-driven careers. The common thread that emerged surprised me: the vast majority of positions that interested me listed a degree in business as a qualification. I found that the world was searching for responsible business leaders and that an MBA would allow me to work in any socially conscious industry. I became obsessed with learning about globally minded businesses, which didn’t always take the form I expected. In the past, I had quietly invested in small ethical enterprises, and I knew there was good work being done by nonprofits and government programs. However, companies like Lego, IKEA, and Starbucks were in the headlines for their progressive policy changes more and more. These enormous companies were making real change on a massive scale. I've made some opportunities to train and lead: as the teacher with the most seniority at my South Korean university program, I trained newcomers on curriculum and policy and created new course materials. This December, I was promoted to a Senior Teacher - the highest of four teaching positions at Synthesis and a teaching/mentoring opportunity only afforded to twenty of us among hundreds. I also volunteered to work on a project that moved the company from Zoom to an in-house audio/visual platform, running transition sessions with hundreds of students and teachers. Though I enjoy leading with the softer interpersonal skills I’ve picked up, I’m ready to invest in my leadership potential with rigorous guidance. I know business school is going to challenge me in so many ways, and I want to be in the right environment and surrounded by the right people when I face that challenge. I may not know exactly what form my post-MBA career will take, but I know I want to be a community leader with both the drive and the means to make real, meaningful, socially conscious change in my community.

Balancing mental health and work is a struggle for most. Now that my “work” has taken on the form of two teaching jobs, applying to MBA programs, interviewing, piles of scholarship applications, pre-networking, and, soon, business school itself, striking that balance has gotten tricky. However, this battle is familiar to me as a teacher: between instruction, proctoring tests, meeting parents, being “on” for the kids, and spending my free time grading, finding time for self-care has always been tough. I maintain my mental wellness by focusing on mindfulness, exercise, and nutrition. Meditation is something I took up during the pandemic, and it’s added a lot of meaning to my life. It has become a key feature of my nightly routine. Humans are meant to work in short bursts with frequent rests. Getting enough sleep is critical to your body’s repair functions, and meditation has been amazing for me in terms of settling down my mind before bed. Medito is my favorite meditation app because it’s free and highly customizable. Mindfulness has also helped me to listen more intuitively to my body’s needs. I can let my body tell me what it needs: rest, food, or even cathartic exercise. I keep my strength up and my stress levels down by engaging in regular exercise. Yoga constantly challenges me, keeps me limber, and relaxes my tense muscles. I can be a little introverted, so it helps me stay motivated when my workout is also an opportunity to decompress and recharge after the necessary socializing inherent in the pursuit of a business degree. I also enjoy long walks and hikes, especially in natural settings. I always feel the most like myself amidst nature, and I’ve realized in my travels that the environment isn’t something we’re removed from. It’s around us at every turn, in every part of the world. The crumbling stones of the Great Wall humbled and inspired me, but no more than the lush forests that lay on either side. By spending time basking in nature, I find myself more focused and relaxed throughout the week. Dietary needs are just as crucial as exercise when it comes to maintaining a healthy mindset. First of all, I prepare most of my meals in advance. It saves time for schoolwork and reduces my decision fatigue. Since I typically cook for myself, I can assure myself that I get a comprehensive diet full of fiber and vitamins that are good for my brain. When my body functions well, my mind feels more at ease. While I believe that nutrients should primarily come from the diet, it’s important to regularly get check-ups and potentially supplement anything that is lacking. Here in Spain, during the lockdowns, I started getting bad headaches. My blood tests showed a shockingly low level of Vitamin D, and taking it improved my condition drastically. Valerian tea is really popular on the Iberian Peninsula for stabilizing your mood and lulling you to sleep, and whether it’s a placebo or not, I’ve found it effective as part of my nightly routine! Maintaining my mental wellbeing helps me keep a clear head. I’m calmer and better rested, which improves critical thinking. I have energy for studying and classwork, and having less pain is naturally less distracting. Being more confident and energetic positively affects my interpersonal relationships, which is key for networking. Though teaching has been highly demanding of my energy, I have found ways to take care of my mind and body during difficult times.

While working two teaching jobs, applying to MBA programs, interviewing, and completing piles of scholarship applications, striking a balance between work and health has gotten tricky. However, this battle is familiar to me as a teacher: between instruction, proctoring tests, meeting parents, being “on” for the kids, and spending my free time grading, finding time for self-care is tough. Yet it’s a challenge I’m always genuinely excited to take on by keeping a focus on exercise, mindfulness, and most importantly, nutrition. I know it’s important to keep my physical strength and energy up by engaging in regular exercise. Yoga was my go-to workout during undergrad, so I’ve taken it back up while preparing for business school. It constantly challenges me, keeps me limber, and relaxes my tense muscles. I can be a little introverted, so it helps me stay motivated when my workout is also an opportunity to decompress and recharge after the necessary socializing inherent in the pursuit of a business degree. I also enjoy long walks and hikes, especially in natural settings. The Pacific Northwest, where I will be studying, has a beautiful natural landscape and a devoted community of outdoor enthusiasts, so I should be able to find some amazing spots to wander. Meditation is something I took up during the pandemic, and it’s added a lot of meaning to my life. It helps me get enough sleep, putting me in the right mindset for rest. It has become a key feature of my nightly routine. Medito is my favorite meditation app because it’s free and highly customizable. Mindfulness has also helped me to listen more intuitively to my body’s needs. I can let my body tell me what it needs: exercise, rest, or even food. Dietary needs are even more important than physical activity when it comes to maintaining my wellness. Lately, I’ve been preparing most of my meals in advance. It saves time for schoolwork and reduces my decision fatigue. Since I typically cook for myself, I can assure myself that I get a comprehensive diet full of fiber and vitamins. I focus on getting enough superfoods to promote tissue growth, bone health, digestion, and energy specifically. While I believe that nutrients should primarily come from the diet, it’s important to regularly get check-ups and potentially supplement anything that is lacking. Here in Spain, during the lockdowns, I started getting bad headaches. My blood tests showed a shockingly low level of Vitamin D, and taking it improved my condition drastically. Since I’m hoping to relocate somewhere with 300 cloudy days a year, I intend to keep taking additional Vitamin D to stave off those side effects. Valerian tea is really popular on the Iberian Peninsula for stabilizing your mood and lulling you to sleep, and whether it’s a placebo or not, I’ve found it effective as part of my nightly routine! Maintaining my personal wellness more stridently has helped me keep a clear head. I’m calmer and better rested, which improves critical thinking. I have energy for studying and classwork, and having less pain is naturally less distracting. Being more confident and energetic positively affects my interpersonal relationships, which is key for networking. Though teaching has been highly demanding of my energy, I have found ways to take care of my mind and body during difficult times. Everyone has the right to live a healthy and fulfilling life, and once I have my MBA, I intend to leverage my newfound influence to help support programs that provide enriching physical activities and food banks for those in need in my community.

I recently fell in love with the Pacific Northwest. I always feel the most like myself amidst nature, and I’ve realized in my travels that the environment isn’t something we’re removed from. It’s around us at every turn, in every part of the world. The crumbling stones of the Great Wall humbled and inspired me, but no more than the lush forests that lay on either side. However, with admiration sometimes comes frustration. It both angers and inspires me when the irresponsible use and abuse of these places leads to loss and neglect. Climate change has already led to the destruction of key features of the environment. Because the future of our planet is so important to me, I’m driven to pursue work in sustainable business. Subsequently, I’m interested in my university’s focus on molding socially conscious leaders. The plethora of classes focused on topics like sustainability mean a great deal to me, and being able to study them in Seattle, a city with a profound global focus, is a dream come true. I most look forward to applying to the Board Fellows program, which will allow me to attend non-profit board meetings! My approach to my wellness in business school will be similar to what it has been as a teacher: a focus on exercise, mindfulness, and most importantly, nutrition. I keep my physical strength and energy up by engaging in regular exercise. Yoga constantly challenges me, keeps me limber, and relaxes my tense muscles. I can be a little introverted, so it helps me stay motivated when my workout is also an opportunity to decompress and recharge after the necessary socializing inherent in the pursuit of a business degree. I also enjoy long walks and hikes, especially in natural settings. The Pacific Northwest has a beautiful natural landscape and a devoted community of outdoor enthusiasts, so I should be able to find some amazing spots to wander. Dietary needs are even more important than physical activity when it comes to maintaining my wellness. First of all, I prepare most of my meals in advance. It saves time for schoolwork and reduces my decision fatigue. Since I typically cook for myself, I can assure myself that I get a comprehensive diet full of fiber and vitamins. I focus on getting enough superfoods to promote tissue growth, bone health, digestion, and energy specifically. Meditation is something I took up during the pandemic, and it’s added a lot of meaning to my life. It helps me get enough sleep, putting me in the right mindset for rest. It has become a key feature of my nightly routine. Medito is my favorite meditation app because it’s free and highly customizable. Mindfulness has also helped me to listen more intuitively to my body’s needs. I can let my body tell me what it needs: exercise, rest, or even food. Maintaining my personal wellness helps me keep a clear head. I’m calmer and better rested, which improves critical thinking. I have energy for studying and classwork, and having less pain is naturally less distracting. Being more confident and energetic positively affects my interpersonal relationships, which is key for networking. Though teaching has been highly demanding of my energy, I have found ways to take care of my mind and body during difficult times. Everyone has the right to live a healthy and fulfilling life, and once I have my MBA, I intend to leverage my newfound influence to help support programs that provide enriching physical activities and food banks for those in need in my community.

Balancing health and work is a struggle for most. Now that my “work” has taken on the form of two teaching jobs, applying to MBA programs, interviewing, and piles of scholarship applications, striking that balance has gotten tricky. However, this battle is familiar to me as a teacher: between instruction, proctoring tests, meeting parents, being “on” for the kids, and spending my free time grading, finding time for self-care is tough. Yet it’s a challenge I’m always genuinely excited to take on. My approach to my wellness in business school will be similar to what it has been as a teacher: a focus on exercise, mindfulness, and most importantly, nutrition. I keep my physical strength and energy up by engaging in regular exercise. Yoga constantly challenges me, keeps me limber, and relaxes my tense muscles. I can be a little introverted, so it helps me stay motivated when my workout is also an opportunity to decompress and recharge after the necessary socializing inherent in the pursuit of a business degree. I also enjoy long walks and hikes, especially in natural settings. The Pacific Northwest, where I hope to study, has a beautiful natural landscape and a devoted community of outdoor enthusiasts, so I should be able to find some amazing spots to wander. Meditation is something I took up during the pandemic, and it’s added a lot of meaning to my life. It helps me get enough sleep, putting me in the right mindset for rest. It has become a key feature of my nightly routine. Medito is my favorite meditation app because it’s free and highly customizable. Mindfulness has also helped me to listen more intuitively to my body’s needs. I can let my body tell me what it needs: exercise, rest, or even food. Dietary needs are even more important than physical activity when it comes to maintaining my wellness. First of all, I prepare most of my meals in advance. It saves time for schoolwork and reduces my decision fatigue. Since I typically cook for myself, I can assure myself that I get a comprehensive diet full of fiber and vitamins. I focus on getting enough superfoods to promote tissue growth, bone health, digestion, and energy specifically. While I believe that nutrients should primarily come from the diet, it’s important to regularly get check-ups and potentially supplement anything that is lacking. Here in Spain, during the lockdowns, I started getting bad headaches. My blood tests showed a shockingly low level of Vitamin D, and taking it improved my condition drastically. Since I’m hoping to relocate somewhere with 300 cloudy days a year, I intend to keep taking additional Vitamin D to stave off those side effects. Valerian tea is really popular on the Iberian Peninsula for stabilizing your mood and lulling you to sleep, and whether it’s a placebo or not, I’ve found it effective as part of my nightly routine! Maintaining my personal wellness helps me keep a clear head. I’m calmer and better rested, which improves critical thinking. I have energy for studying and classwork, and having less pain is naturally less distracting. Being more confident and energetic positively affects my interpersonal relationships, which is key for networking. Though teaching has been highly demanding of my energy, I have found ways to take care of my mind and body during difficult times. Everyone has the right to live a healthy and fulfilling life, and once I have my MBA, I intend to leverage my newfound influence to help support programs that provide enriching physical activities and food banks for those in need in my community.

I was never more alone than the first year I spent “living my dream”. I’d always been enamored with the idea of living abroad, immersing myself in other cultures. When I was 22, the opportunity came to move to South Korea, and I took it. I found myself jet-lagged in a tiny, windowless school-provided apartment. I couldn’t work the hot water or the heating. I admit that I cried that night, worried that I’d made a colossal mistake. My new life began as a series of lonely, confusing frustrations. I considered leaving halfway through my contract, on the verge of losing yet another dream. However, my school was getting a new teacher, and I was curious. Remembering how unmoored and bewildered I’d been when I first arrived, I made a point of making the new teacher feel welcome. I taught her some polite Korean phrases and gestures alongside pedestrian things like where to buy outlet converters and affordable groceries. I stayed late the night before the new semester to help the panicking newcomer, finishing my own work once she felt confident. As more new teachers rotated in with yearly contracts, I’d stay late to help them settle in or take them out to dinner to decompress. I trained them in all the ways I wished someone had trained me. I realized that leadership isn’t always about who is loudest or even who is given the role. Some leaders could be observers, acting on needs that other people might ignore. I could never regret the ten years I've spent teaching and all the lives I’ve impacted, but the field has limited opportunities for career advancement. With a mind for social impact and a desire for a wider reach, I ardently researched new purpose-driven careers. The common thread that emerged surprised me: the vast majority of positions that interested me listed a degree in business as a qualification. I found that the world was searching for responsible business leaders and that an MBA would allow me to work in any socially conscious industry. I became obsessed with learning about globally minded businesses, which didn’t always take the form I expected. In the past, I had quietly invested in small ethical enterprises, and I knew there was good work being done by nonprofits and government programs. However, companies like Lego, IKEA, and Starbucks were in the headlines for their progressive policy changes more and more. These enormous companies were making real change on a massive scale. I've made some opportunities to train and lead: as the teacher with the most seniority at my South Korean university program, I trained newcomers on curriculum and policy and created new course materials. This December, I was promoted to a Senior Teacher - the highest of four teaching positions at Synthesis and a teaching/mentoring opportunity only afforded to twenty of us among hundreds. I also volunteered to work on a project that moved the company from Zoom to an in-house audio/visual platform, running transition sessions with hundreds of students and teachers. Though I enjoy leading with the softer interpersonal skills I’ve picked up, I’m ready to invest in my leadership potential with rigorous guidance. I know business school is going to challenge me in so many ways, and I want to be in the right environment and surrounded by the right people when I face that challenge. I may not know exactly what form my post-MBA career will take, but I know I want to be a community leader with both the drive and the means to make real, meaningful, socially conscious change in my community.

I was an incredibly messy kid. So when I started to exhibit symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder as a child, my mother found it hard to believe. Weren’t people with OCD supposed to be organized? Eventually, the tics and the seemingly meaningless daily rituals became too obvious to ignore. While a behavioral therapist was able to help with many symptoms, the pressure to obsess over everything lingered. I was sixteen years old when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, and the emotional devastation loomed as large as any flood damage. After the trauma of being forced out of our home, being thrown into a new state and new school, and being unsure where any of my friends were or even if they survived, that seed of worry that dwelt within me blossomed into an anxiety disorder I struggle with even now. Mental illness can be so insidious because it manifests itself in logical ways. After all, my depression has access to all of the same information that I do. So it already knows about things like global warming, and it’s right to be concerned. Despair becomes a logical response, and it can even seem like the only moral response. Perfectionism is often lauded as a virtue in our society, and it was easy to imagine my anxiety was an asset when it compelled me to do everything as perfectly as possible. When I succeeded, the anxiety had proven itself to be useful. However, if I failed, it was simple enough to find a way in which I wasn’t quite perfect. It never occurred to me that I may have been succeeding, not due to, but in spite of my perfectionism. My father always had obsessive-compulsive tendencies. As a kid, I didn’t really understand it, but looking back, there were obvious signs. I can remember how he always had a place for everything in his house and how he would get agitated if things weren’t precisely where he left them. When Katrina hit, it destroyed his Bourbon Street restaurant right along with his parents’ house. His new financial anxiety and pre-existing OCD spiraled into hoarding tendencies. However, my father did what many struggle to do: he got help. It took time and counseling and relying on friends and neighbors in new and vulnerable ways. He learned to let go of objects for the good of his family as well as to manage his expectations about doing everything “just so.” My mother also sought counseling during this difficult time, which laid significant groundwork for me. Though I struggled with societal pressure myself, I have learned that there is no shame in needing or seeking mental health treatment. Though I haven’t had the most pervasive symptoms of OCD in over a decade, when I’m properly exhausted, the compulsive thoughts return. However, because of the work I’ve put in, I know how to recognize and process these intrusions. I treat it like laundry, or the dishes, or any other quotidian task taken on for the maintenance of a healthy life. Even when it’s particularly persuasive, I can repeat, “This is anxiety.” It doesn’t make the anxiety suddenly nonexistent, but it keeps it from escalating or taking on the properties of an actual concern that needs to be addressed. Like laundry, if you ignore it, it builds on itself, piling up everywhere. Society may not be ready to normalize tending to internal needs, but if you can begin to de-stigmatize mental illness in your own mind, you can handle it each time it comes up. It’s just another load of laundry.

I was an incredibly messy kid. So when I started to exhibit symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder as a child, my mother found it hard to believe. Weren’t people with OCD supposed to be organized? Eventually, the tics and the seemingly meaningless daily rituals became too obvious to ignore. While a behavioral therapist was able to help with many symptoms, the pressure to obsess over everything lingered. I was sixteen years old when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, and the emotional devastation loomed as large as any flood damage. After the trauma of being forced out of our home, being thrown into a new state and new school, and being unsure where any of my friends were or even if they survived, that seed of worry that dwelt within me blossomed into an anxiety disorder I struggle with even now. Mental illness can be so insidious because it manifests itself in logical ways. After all, my depression has access to all of the same information that I do. So it already knows about things like global warming, and it’s right to be concerned. Despair becomes a logical response, and it can even seem like the only moral response. Perfectionism is often lauded as a virtue in our society, and it was easy to imagine my anxiety was an asset when it compelled me to do everything as perfectly as possible. When I succeeded, the anxiety had proven itself to be useful. However, if I failed, it was simple enough to find a way in which I wasn’t quite perfect. It never occurred to me that I may have been succeeding, not due to, but in spite of my perfectionism. My father always had obsessive-compulsive tendencies. As a kid, I didn’t really understand it, but looking back, there were obvious signs. I can remember how he always had a place for everything in his house and how he would get agitated if things weren’t precisely where he left them. When Katrina hit, it destroyed his Bourbon Street restaurant right along with his parents’ house. His new financial anxiety and pre-existing OCD spiraled into hoarding tendencies. However, my father did what many struggle to do: he got help. It took time and counseling and relying on friends and neighbors in new and vulnerable ways. He learned to let go of objects for the good of his family as well as to manage his expectations about doing everything “just so.” My mother also sought counseling during this difficult time, which laid significant groundwork for me. Though I struggled with societal pressure myself, I have learned that there is no shame in needing or seeking mental health treatment. This understanding has certainly shaped my role as a teacher. Teachers are at this moment in a truly challenging position worldwide. Our primary job is to teach, but when students are not emotionally balanced, they can’t learn in an effective manner. Thus, in order to teach, we must take on the added responsibility of accommodating and even intervening with students who struggle with their mental health. Yet, teachers are not mental health practitioners, and trying to figure out how to address or serve a student’s needs while keeping them academically focused is a challenge on multiple levels. Most schools require training in allergies, CPR, and in the United States active shooter drills, but mental health problems are the sole responsibility of the educator. Because counseling resources are stretched so thin at so many schools, we often find ourselves as the only access many of these students have to care. It becomes not just a part of our jobs, but an unavoidable aspect, even in subjects like English or math, where academic testing remains the key focus. While I can institute things like morning mental health check-ins, weekly chats, or journal prompts, usually I must rely on my powers of observation to figure out what is going on with any particular student, especially in cases where there has been no medical diagnosis and it may not be clear what accommodations would need to be made to serve that individual. Because I understand the devastating effects something like obsessive-compulsive disorder can have on social life, family dynamics, and schoolwork, it’s all the easier to have sympathy for those who have other conditions that might impair their executive function, like depression, ADHD, dyslexia, or even basic oppositional behavior. On the whole, students want to do well, and given benchmarks that they can understand and meet allows them to thrive. Though I haven’t had the most pervasive symptoms of OCD in over a decade, when I’m properly exhausted, the compulsive thoughts return. However, because of the work I’ve put in, I know how to recognize and process these intrusions. I treat it like laundry, or the dishes, or any other quotidian task taken on for the maintenance of a healthy life. Even when it’s particularly persuasive, I can repeat, “This is anxiety.” It doesn’t make the anxiety suddenly nonexistent, but it keeps it from escalating or taking on the properties of an actual concern that needs to be addressed. Like laundry, if you ignore it, it builds on itself, piling up everywhere. Society may not be ready to normalize tending to internal needs, but if you can begin to de-stigmatize mental illness in your own mind, you can handle it each time it comes up. It’s just another load of laundry.

Last October, my spouse and I were new to Burgos, Spain. We’d lived for two years in Madrid, and we were excited to live in the city with the most green spaces in Spain. As soon as we saw the big windows and balcony overlooking the dense coniferous trees of its largest park, we knew we were going to sign the lease for our current apartment. Appreciating nature is the most important way I show my love for the planet in my daily life, whether making sure to walk along the Río Arlanzón, the river that cuts through the center of the city, or picking up any trash I see, even just in the parking lot of my apartment building. Around the home, I take care of the environment, too. We make a point of using eco-friendly products whenever possible. We use two types of reusable straws: large silicone ones for smoothies or boba tea, and regular-sized metal ones for everything else. When our clothes begin to fall apart, I cut them up to use as rags to reduce our paper towel usage. I run our washing machine with cool water, and I’ve been advocating for reusable menstrual products for the last ten years as well. We even reuse plastics and cardboard for art projects and as storage around the house. It can be easy to wonder whether or not reducing your own carbon footprint is all that important. After all, science shows us that the small steps taken in everyday life are not actually the solution to widespread climate issues – that fault lies with large companies and corporations who act on a massive scale. However, scaling back your carbon footprint is still important. For example, each of us has the opportunity to lead by example. No matter our position in life, there are people who look to us for how to behave and what to care about. Public sentiment is the driving force of legislation and economic-based policy-making. To put it more simply, if we care about the environment openly, big companies will begin to care openly to court our business. Additionally, taking action against an individual carbon footprint can help drastically with coping with climate anxiety. This grants a person more power in their life and more peace of mind – no small thing, in this hectic, stress-filled era. I’ve recently enrolled at the University of Washington Foster School of Business, which is famous for its environmental leanings. My current career trajectory is to focus on sustainability in business, so this issue is very close to my heart. I seek a career that lets me be a steward of the Earth. But for now, I get up every morning and look for those little things I can do to show this world how much I care for it.

I’ve always been a little reticent about going to the doctor. It's a family trait. There’s a message that we Americans receive all the time: our health care is something that we can and should be able to handle on our own. Of course, in a country where insurance covers comparatively little and is usually connected to work, it’s a comforting message, too - you can do it on your own. You don’t need to see a doctor for every little thing; you’re strong. My godmother, Aunt Lynda, was a lifetime advocate for alternative medicine. She ate organic, all-natural food, was very observant about everyone's allergies, and stayed physically active all her life. After finally achieving her dream of becoming a certified nurse-midwife, she went on to help hundreds of families with home births. As a licensed nurse, however, she was also adamant about going to the hospital if anything seemed amiss, and she never lost a single baby. It started with a minor car accident. A few days afterward, Aunt Lynda’s back started hurting. To seek relief, she went through the channels that were most obvious to her: chiropractors, physical therapists, or acupuncture. In spite of the exhortations of her family, she refused to see a doctor about her pain – she could resolve the situation on her own. When her condition worsened, she blamed it on her age or her lack of effort. When her head started hurting, she figured it was a consequence of the stress and sought herbal remedies or massage. She started to need mobility aids to get around. Finally, she succumbed to a seizure. She was rushed to the hospital, and that was when we learned that she had breast cancer. It had gone untreated, and it had spread to her back, and finally to her brain. It had advanced so much that there was no recourse. There was only time to say goodbye. My Aunt Lynda was more than my godmother; she was my best friend in the family. She was the one I knew would always be on my side, no matter what. When I came out, she was the first to accept me and to serve as my protector. She was my inspiration. Her life changed me. So I guess it makes sense that her death did, too. First, I have lost a lot of my acceptance of natural, holistic, or homeopathic methodologies. I thought at worst they were someone else’s unharmful beliefs. Now I’ve been able to see the incredible harm they can actually do, and I’ve seen their spread in recent years. Second, I'm quicker to seek medical help in my own life. If my body seems off, I know all too well that it could be a minor symptom of something major that a doctor and a hospital can catch when I can't. Recently I had a checkup, and it resulted in a biopsy and tests I’m still waiting on. I’m glad I’ll be in the care of a medical professional who knows the next steps once I get the news. While I still feel lost without Aunt Lynda, it’s her life, not her death, that sticks with me. When she believed in something, she committed to it. She went back to school later in life, doing a complete career pivot, and her husband did, too. They are a major reason I’m brave enough to go back to school after ten years of professional work. They both did it, and I can, too. I think Aunt Lynda would have wanted me to.

I was an incredibly messy kid. So when I started to exhibit symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder as a child, my mother found it hard to believe. Weren’t people with OCD supposed to be organized? Eventually, the tics and the seemingly meaningless daily rituals became too obvious to ignore. While a behavioral therapist was able to help with many symptoms, the pressure to obsess over everything lingered. I was sixteen years old when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, and the emotional devastation loomed as large as any flood damage. After the trauma of being forced out of our home, being thrown into a new state and new school, and being unsure where any of my friends were or even if they survived, that seed of worry that dwelt within me blossomed into an anxiety disorder I struggle with even now. Mental illness can be so insidious because it manifests itself in logical ways. After all, my depression has access to all of the same information that I do. So it already knows about things like global warming, and it’s right to be concerned. Despair becomes a logical response, and it can even seem like the only moral response. Perfectionism is often lauded as a virtue in our society, and it was easy to imagine my anxiety was an asset when it compelled me to do everything as perfectly as possible. When I succeeded, the anxiety had proven itself to be useful. However, if I failed, it was simple enough to find a way in which I wasn’t quite perfect. It never occurred to me that I may have been succeeding, not due to, but in spite of my perfectionism. My father always had obsessive-compulsive tendencies. As a kid, I didn’t really understand it, but looking back, there were obvious signs. I can remember how he always had a place for everything in his house and how he would get agitated if things weren’t precisely where he left them. When Katrina hit, it destroyed his Bourbon Street restaurant right along with his parents’ house. His new financial anxiety and pre-existing OCD spiraled into hoarding tendencies. However, my father did what many struggle to do: he got help. It took time and counseling and relying on friends and neighbors in new and vulnerable ways. He learned to let go of objects for the good of his family as well as to manage his expectations about doing everything “just so.” My mother also sought counseling during this difficult time, which laid significant groundwork for me. Though I struggled with societal pressure myself, I have learned that there is no shame in needing or seeking mental health treatment. This understanding has certainly shaped my role as a teacher. Teachers are at this moment in a truly challenging position worldwide. Our primary job is to teach, but when students are not emotionally balanced, they can’t learn in an effective manner. Thus, in order to teach, we must take on the added responsibility of accommodating and even intervening with students who struggle with their mental health. Yet, teachers are not mental health practitioners, and trying to figure out how to address or serve a student’s needs while keeping them academically focused is a challenge on multiple levels. Most schools require training in allergies, CPR, and in the United States active shooter drills, but mental health problems are the sole responsibility of the educator. Because counseling resources are stretched so thin at so many schools, we often find ourselves as the only access many of these students have to care. It becomes not just a part of our jobs, but an unavoidable aspect, even in subjects like English or math, where academic testing remains the key focus. While I can institute things like morning mental health check-ins, weekly chats, or journal prompts, usually I must rely on my powers of observation to figure out what is going on with any particular student, especially in cases where there has been no medical diagnosis and it may not be clear what accommodations would need to be made to serve that individual. Because I understand the devastating effects something like obsessive compulsive disorder can have on social life, family dynamics, and schoolwork, it’s all the easier to have sympathy for those who have other conditions that might impair their executive function, like depression, ADHD, dyslexia, or even basic oppositional behavior. On the whole, students want to do well, and given benchmarks that they can understand and meet allows them to thrive. Though I haven’t had the most pervasive symptoms of OCD in over a decade, when I’m properly exhausted, the compulsive thoughts return. However, because of the work I’ve put in, I know how to recognize and process these intrusions. I treat it like laundry, or the dishes, or any other quotidian task taken on for the maintenance of a healthy life. Even when it’s particularly persuasive, I can repeat, “This is anxiety.” It doesn’t make the anxiety suddenly nonexistent, but it keeps it from escalating or taking on the properties of an actual concern that needs to be addressed. Like laundry, if you ignore it, it builds on itself, piling up everywhere. Society may not be ready to normalize tending to internal needs, but if you can begin to de-stigmatize mental illness in your own mind, you can handle it each time it comes up. It’s just another load of laundry.

I was never more alone than the first year I spent “living my dream”. I’d always been enamored with the idea of living abroad, immersing myself in other cultures. When I was 22, the opportunity came to move to South Korea, and I took it. I found myself jet-lagged in a tiny, windowless school-provided apartment. I couldn’t work the hot water or the heating. I admit that I cried that night, worried that I’d made a colossal mistake. My new life began as a series of lonely, confusing frustrations. I considered leaving halfway through my contract, on the verge of losing yet another dream. However, my school was getting a new teacher, and I was curious. Remembering how unmoored and bewildered I’d been when I first arrived, I made a point of making the new teacher feel welcome. I taught her some polite Korean phrases and gestures alongside pedestrian things like where to buy outlet converters and affordable groceries. I stayed late the night before the new semester to help the panicking newcomer, finishing my own work only once she felt confident. As more new teachers rotated in with yearly contracts, I’d stay late to help them settle in or take them out to dinner to decompress. I trained them in all the ways I wished someone had trained me. I realized that leadership isn’t always about who is loudest or even who is given the role. Some leaders could be observers, acting on needs that other people might ignore. I could never regret the ten years I've spent teaching and all the lives I’ve impacted, but the field has limited opportunities for career advancement. With a mind for social impact and a desire for a wider reach, I ardently researched new purpose-driven careers. The common thread that emerged surprised me: the vast majority of positions that interested me listed a degree in business as a qualification. I found that the world was searching for responsible business leaders and that an MBA would allow me to work in any socially conscious industry. I became obsessed with learning about globally minded businesses, which didn’t always take the form I expected. In the past, I had quietly invested in small ethical enterprises, and I knew there was good work being done by nonprofits and government programs. However, companies like Lego, IKEA, and Starbucks were in the headlines for their progressive policy changes more and more. These enormous companies were making real change on a massive scale. I've made some opportunities to train and lead: as the teacher with the most seniority at my South Korean university program, I trained newcomers on curriculum and policy and created new course materials. This December, I was promoted to a Senior Teacher - the highest of four teaching positions at Synthesis and a teaching/mentoring opportunity only afforded to twenty of us among hundreds. I also volunteered to work on a project that moved the company from Zoom to an in-house audio/visual platform, running transition sessions with hundreds of students and teachers. Though I enjoy leading with the softer interpersonal skills I’ve picked up, I’m ready to invest in my leadership potential with rigorous guidance. I know business school is going to challenge me in so many ways, and I want to be in the right environment and surrounded by the right people when I face that challenge. I may not know exactly what form my post-MBA career will take, but I know I want to be a community leader with both the drive and the means to make real, meaningful, socially conscious change in my community.

I was an incredibly messy kid. So when I started to exhibit symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder as a child, my mother found it hard to believe. Weren’t people with OCD supposed to be organized? Eventually, the tics and the seemingly meaningless daily rituals became too obvious to ignore. While a behavioral therapist was able to help with many symptoms, the pressure to obsess over everything lingered. I was sixteen when Katrina hit New Orleans, and the emotional devastation loomed as large as any flood damage. After the trauma of being forced out of our home, being thrown into a new state and new school, and being unsure where any of my friends were or even if they survived, that seed of worry that dwelt within me blossomed into an anxiety disorder I struggle with even now. Mental illness can be so insidious because it manifests itself in logical ways. After all, my depression has access to all of the same information that I do. So it already knows about things like global warming, and it’s right to be concerned. Despair becomes a logical response, and it can even seem like the only moral response. Perfectionism is often lauded as a virtue in our society, and it was easy to imagine my anxiety was an asset when it compelled me to do everything as perfectly as possible. When I succeeded, the anxiety had proven itself to be useful. However, if I failed, it was simple enough to find a way in which I wasn’t quite perfect. It never occured to me that I may have been succeeding, not due to, but in spite of my perfectionism. My father always had obsessive-compulsive tendencies. As a kid, I didn’t really understand it, but looking back, there were obvious signs. I can remember how he always had a place for everything in his house and how he would get agitated if things weren’t precisely where he left them. When Katrina hit, it destroyed his Bourbon Street restaurant right along with his parents’ house. His new financial anxiety and pre-existing OCD spiraled into hoarding tendencies. However, my father did what many struggle to do: he got help. It took time and counseling and relying on friends and neighbors in new and vulnerable ways. He learned to let go of objects for the good of his family as well as to manage his expectations about doing everything “just so.” My mother also sought counseling during this difficult time, which laid significant groundwork for me. Though I felt social pressure to act "normal", especially as a member of the LGBTQIA+ community, I have learned that there is no shame in needing or seeking mental health treatment. Though I haven’t had the most pervasive symptoms of OCD in over a decade, when I’m properly exhausted, the compulsive thoughts return. However, because of the work I’ve put in, I know how to recognize and process these intrusions. I treat it like laundry, or the dishes, or any other quotidian task taken on for the maintenance of a healthy life. Even when it’s particularly persuasive, I can repeat, “This is anxiety.” It doesn’t make the anxiety suddenly nonexistent, but it keeps it from escalating or taking on the properties of an actual concern that needs to be addressed. Like laundry, if you ignore it, it builds on itself, piling up everywhere. Society may not be ready to normalize tending to internal needs, but if you can begin to de-stigmatize mental illness in your own mind, you can handle it each time it comes up. It’s just another load of laundry.

I was an incredibly messy kid. So when I started to exhibit symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder as a child, my mother found it hard to believe. Weren’t people with OCD supposed to be organized? Eventually, the tics and the seemingly meaningless daily rituals became too obvious to ignore. While a behavioral therapist was able to help with many symptoms, the pressure to obsess over everything lingered. I was sixteen years old when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, and the emotional devastation loomed as large as any flood damage. After the trauma of being forced out of our home, being thrown into a new state and new school, and being unsure where any of my friends were or even if they survived, that seed of worry that dwelt within me blossomed into an anxiety disorder I struggle with even now. Mental illness can be so insidious because it manifests itself in logical ways. After all, my depression has access to all of the same information that I do. So it already knows about things like global warming, and it’s right to be concerned. Despair becomes a logical response, and it can even seem like the only moral response. Perfectionism is often lauded as a virtue in our society, and it was easy to imagine my anxiety was an asset when it compelled me to do everything as perfectly as possible. When I succeeded, the anxiety had proven itself to be useful. However, if I failed, it was simple enough to find a way in which I wasn’t quite perfect. It never occured to me that I may have been succeeding, not due to, but in spite of my perfectionism. My father always had obsessive-compulsive tendencies. As a kid, I didn’t really understand it, but looking back, there were obvious signs. I can remember how he always had a place for everything in his house and how he would get agitated if things weren’t precisely where he left them. When Katrina hit, it destroyed his Bourbon Street restaurant right along with his parents’ house. His new financial anxiety and pre-existing OCD spiraled into hoarding tendencies. However, my father did what many struggle to do: he got help. It took time and counseling and relying on friends and neighbors in new and vulnerable ways. He learned to let go of objects for the good of his family as well as to manage his expectations about doing everything “just so.” My mother also sought counseling during this difficult time, which laid significant groundwork for me. Though I struggled with societal pressure myself, I have learned that there is no shame in needing or seeking mental health treatment. Though I haven’t had the most pervasive symptoms of OCD in over a decade, when I’m properly exhausted, the compulsive thoughts return. However, because of the work I’ve put in, I know how to recognize and process these intrusions. I treat it like laundry, or the dishes, or any other quotidian task taken on for the maintenance of a healthy life. Even when it’s particularly persuasive, I can repeat, “This is anxiety.” It doesn’t make the anxiety suddenly nonexistent, but it keeps it from escalating or taking on the properties of an actual concern that needs to be addressed. Like laundry, if you ignore it, it builds on itself, piling up everywhere. Society may not be ready to normalize tending to internal needs, but if you can begin to de-stigmatize mental illness in your own mind, you can handle it each time it comes up. It’s just another load of laundry.

In the future, I see myself as the kind of community leader who has not only the drive but also the means to make big shifts in terms of the sustainability of local business, environmentalism, and city planning initiatives that center the most at-risk and underserved members of my community.