Growing up, I’ve always wanted to find the thing that I’m truly passionate about, to know without a doubt what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. When I was 7, I had my very first surgery. It wasn’t a major surgery, but I remember being absolutely terrified. The large white hospital had seemed daunting to me. The thing that stuck out to me most during that experience was the nurse who watched over me. She made sure I was comfortable in my hospital bed, put on Disney Channel when she could tell I was nervous, and held my hand as I was being put under anesthesia. Looking back at that memory has sparked a realization in me that the goal I want to pursue is a successful career in nursing. To me, nurses represent more than just a person at a hospital who gives x-rays, administers medical exams, and helps people. They do so much more. Nurses sacrifice and dedicate their time to their patients, advocating for them when they cannot. With the growing world of technology, nurses offer that vital in-person contact that people need so they can feel supported or a little less scared. What sets nursing apart from other careers in the medical field is their ability to connect with people and be a soothing presence. However, when most people think of nurses, a lot of the time, they think of the physical health problems that they deal with. For example, a broken bone that needs a cast or helping someone who came down with the flu. The thing about these illnesses is that they’re easier to spot. If you were to look at someone who has the flu, you can tell they’re sick. Their nose might be congested, their voice could be scratchy. But, mental illnesses are harder to spot. Oftentimes, people suffer on their own because they don’t know how to reach out for help. It’s difficult to explain depression or anxiety to someone who has never experienced it firsthand, they may not understand. This, though, doesn’t make it any less important. Two years ago, a girl I grew up with committed suicide. I remember the horrifying shock I felt when my dad first told me. I’ve heard about this type of thing happening, but I never thought it would happen to someone who lives right around the corner from me. Later on came the guilt. I felt like somehow, in some way, I could’ve prevented it. Maybe if I had said hi to her more often, smiled, befriended her, then she wouldn’t have thought her life to be one not worth living. More than anything, though, I wish she had reached out for help. There’s a certain stigma around mental health issues and it’s saddening. Mental health isn’t something that affects just one person or one community. Thousands of people every day have unmet mental health needs because they are too afraid to reach out for help or can’t afford it. We need to look out for one another. We need to educate people on the silent struggles others deal with every day. We need to make people feel safe and brave enough to reach out so they can get the support they need. Becoming a nurse will not only allow me to advocate for physical health, but also for mental health because that can be just as deadly. I want to be the person who makes people feel less alone and I will do my best to embody that in my day-to-day life as a nurse.

My favorite memories growing up were spent with my Gigi. She was always a loving presence to have around, reminding me of a hot chocolate on a cold winter day when she would walk in my house dressed in a cozy crewneck, fuzzy socks, and knee high boots. She would rant about how cold it is outside and I would laugh because the temperature hadn't even dropped below sixty. Even if she was always cold, times with her were not. She always had a playful attitude that made her feel like one of us kids. The house would be filled with giggles from my brother and I as she chased us around, sang as she cooked us meals, and taught us how to play with and shuffle cards. At the end of the day, she’d tuck us into bed, read us a story, and plant a kiss on each of our foreheads. As the years passed, it had started with little things. She would forget the date even after reminding her multiple times or have trouble remembering the card games she had taught my brother and I how to play. The scary thing about dementia is that it creeps up on you. When she was first diagnosed, it was scary to visit her. It’s difficult to see a person you love lose a piece of themselves every day. My Gigi had been the one who held me in her arms when my family dog passed, the one who sparked my love of reading with her bedtime books, and the one who made me breakfast and orange juice when I was sick. Now, she feels like a ghost of the person she was before. There are rare moments when I talk to her now where she suddenly remembers one of our memories and we can laugh about it. Though, these moments are fleeting. I’m frightened by the idea that one day she will look into the face of the same little girl she used to sing to and laugh with and not recognize her. Still, even if she doesn’t remember me, I remember her and the times we shared. When I visit her nursing home, I make sure to hold her close, read her a book, always bring new fuzzy socks for her, and never forget my parting kiss on her forehead. My Gigi has taught me that one of the most important things in life is to show others love and kindness because you never know how much they really need it. I think that this lesson fully embodies what being a nurse is. Seeing my Gigi and other patients in her nursing home has built my passion to pursue nursing and be able to help them and others, just like she had helped me. For me, being a nurse would give me the power to not only make a positive difference for my patients and in the healthcare system, but for myself to also grow into a better person. I want to be the compassionate person to make patients laugh, comfort them when they’re scared, and remind them that they’re not alone. When I picture my future self, helping patients and advocating for their health, I see my Gigi beside me, decked in her crewneck, fuzzy socks, and knee-high boots, smiling down at me proudly.

My favorite memories growing up were spent with my Gigi. She was always a loving presence to have around, reminding me of a hot chocolate on a cold winter day when she would walk in my house dressed in a cozy crewneck, fuzzy socks, and knee high boots. She would rant about how cold it is outside and I would laugh because the temperature hadn't even dropped below sixty. Even if she was always cold, times with her were not. She always had a playful attitude that made her feel like one of us kids. The house would be filled with giggles from my brother and I as she chased us around, sang as she cooked us meals, and taught us how to play with and shuffle cards. At the end of the day, she’d tuck us into bed, read us a story, and plant a kiss on each of our foreheads. As the years passed, it had started with little things. She would forget the date even after reminding her multiple times or have trouble remembering the card games she had taught my brother and I how to play. The scary thing about dementia is that it creeps up on you. When she was first diagnosed, it was scary to visit her. It’s difficult to see a person you love lose a piece of themselves every day. My Gigi had been the one who held me in her arms when my family dog passed, the one who sparked my love of reading with her bedtime books, and the one who made me breakfast and orange juice when I was sick. Now, she feels like a ghost of the person she was before. There are rare moments when I talk to her now where she suddenly remembers one of our memories and we can laugh about it. Though, these moments are fleeting. I’m frightened by the idea that one day she will look into the face of the same little girl she used to sing to and laugh with and not recognize her. Still, even if she doesn’t remember me, I remember her and the times we shared. When I visit her nursing home, I make sure to hold her close, read her a book, always bring new fuzzy socks for her, and never forget my parting kiss on her forehead. My Gigi has taught me that one of the most important things in life is to show others love and kindness because you never know how much they really need it. I think that this lesson fully embodies what being a nurse is. Seeing my Gigi and other patients in her nursing home has built my passion to pursue nursing and be able to help them and others, just like she had helped me. For me, being a nurse would give me the power to not only make a positive difference for my patients and in the healthcare system, but for myself to also grow into a better person. I want to be the compassionate person to make patients laugh, comfort them when they’re scared, and remind them that they’re not alone. When I picture my future self, helping patients and advocating for their health, I see my Gigi beside me, decked in her crewneck, fuzzy socks, and knee-high boots, smiling down at me proudly.

My favorite memories growing up were spent with my Gigi. She was always a loving presence to have around, reminding me of a hot chocolate on a cold winter day when she would walk in my house dressed in a cozy crewneck, fuzzy socks, and knee high boots. She would rant about how cold it is outside and I would laugh because the temperature hadn't even dropped below sixty. Even if she was always cold, times with her were not. She always had a playful attitude that made her feel like one of us kids. The house would be filled with giggles from my brother and I as she chased us around, sang as she cooked us meals, and taught us how to play with and shuffle cards. At the end of the day, she’d tuck us into bed, read us a story, and plant a kiss on each of our foreheads. As the years passed, it had started with little things. She would forget the date even after reminding her multiple times or have trouble remembering the card games she had taught my brother and I how to play. The scary thing about dementia is that it creeps up on you. When she was first diagnosed, it was scary to visit her. It’s difficult to see a person you love lose a piece of themselves every day. My Gigi had been the one who held me in her arms when my family dog passed, the one who sparked my love of reading with her bedtime books, and the one who made me breakfast and orange juice when I was sick. Now, she feels like a ghost of the person she was before. There are rare moments when I talk to her now where she suddenly remembers one of our memories and we can laugh about it. Though, these moments are fleeting. I’m frightened by the idea that one day she will look into the face of the same little girl she used to sing to and laugh with and not recognize her. Still, even if she doesn’t remember me, I remember her and the times we shared. When I visit her nursing home, I make sure to hold her close, read her a book, always bring new fuzzy socks for her, and never forget my parting kiss on her forehead. My Gigi has taught me that one of the most important things in life is to show others love and kindness because you never know how much they really need it. I think that this lesson fully embodies what being a nurse is. Seeing my Gigi and other patients in her nursing home has built my passion to pursue nursing and be able to help them and others, just like she had helped me. For me, being a nurse would give me the power to not only make a positive difference for my patients and in the healthcare system, but for myself to also grow into a better person. I want to be the compassionate person to make patients laugh, comfort them when they’re scared, and remind them that they’re not alone. When I picture my future self, helping patients and advocating for their health, I see my Gigi beside me, decked in her crewneck, fuzzy socks, and knee-high boots, smiling down at me proudly.