As I sit in my room reflecting on my experiences, the song 'Lean on Me' by Bill Withers starts singing. The lyrics stick with me: "We all have pain, We all have sorrow, But if we are wise, We know that there's always tomorrow." I’ve lived by these words since the day I had awareness. I was born to a broken family. Behind the scenes, my father was abusing my mother and we were stuffed into a delusion that only fit what he wanted. At 9, I was violated unspeakably by him whom I looked up to. We become homeless for months. At that time, I was content. God was my stronghold. However, wherever there's peace, there's chaos. An abrupt experience led to an excruciating diagnosis of lupus. Lupus wasn’t a hurdle in my eyes. Years passed, and God blessed us with a larger home. Moving to a more diverse neighborhood opened my eyes to race, to my identity, and a more spacious living space gave us a sense of accomplishment. It only took a year for chaos to ensue again. Lupus decided that it, too, did not enjoy dormancy and ransacked my bones and every inch of my body. To cure it, doctors gave me prednisone, a drug that sent me into psychosis. Life was postponed. I started living a deluded reality. God can't be stolen. Through Him, recovery was possible and I grasped my sanity again. I will never take prednisone again. As I sit in our owned home, I can say I survived and am still so. I want to use this to serve others. I am a witness: Pain and sorrow did NOT take away tomorrow. Through writing and God's grace, I hope I can shed light on mental health, sexual abuse, race, poverty, and more.

As I sit in my college dorm sized room reflecting on my experiences, the song 'Lean on Me' by Bill Withers starts playing on Spotify. The lyrics circle in my head: "We all have pain, We all have sorrow, But if we are wise, We know that there's always tomorrow." I have lived by these words since the day I was aware of my own thoughts. I was born to a white mother and a black father and am now the oldest of three. We weren't rich, per say, but up until 9 we had it fairly easy. My dad worked a stable job and my mother was a stay at home mom. Simple, until the veil was uncovered. Behind the scenes, my father was abusing my mother and we were stuffed into a cookie cutter delusion that only fit what my father wanted. At 9, I was violated unspeakably by the one person I looked up to for guidance on race, spirituality, friendship, etc. By circumstance, my new family moved. Without my father we were forced to live in a mini van for months, hopping from place to place until my mother could afford a low income apartment. At that time, my personality still shown vibrant. I attended gymnastics, was in several school clubs, and was even at the top of my middle school class. God was my stronghold. Unknowingly, my love for Him allowed me to continue with an eclectic outlook on life. However, wherever there's peace, there's chaos. A chilled look on my toes one gym practice led to an excruciating diagnosis of lupus. Like God, I did not change. Lupus was not a hurdle but a challenge in my eyes. Years passed, God continued to bless our family. Moving to a more diverse neighborhood opened my eyes to race, to who I was, and living in a more spacious home gave us a sense of accomplishment. It only took a year for chaos to ensue again. Lupus decided that it too, did not enjoy dormancy and ransacked my bones and every inch of my body. To cure it, doctors gave me prednisone, a drug that invaded my brain and sent me into psychosis. For an entire high school semester, my school studies were postponed. Instead, I started living a reality that wasn't my own. I was Moana, I was a mermaid, I was married, I was all the things my childhood took away from me. God can't be stolen. Through Him, recovery was possible and I took grasp on my sanity again. I will never take prednisone again. An inspiring story it has become. Now, as I sit in the home my mother owns, I can say I survived, and am still so. I want to use this to serve others. I am a witness: Pain and sorrow did NOT take away tomorrow. Through writing and God's grace, I hope I can shed light on topics such as mental health, sexual abuse, race, poverty and more.

My life hasn't been perfect. As I sit in my college dorm sized room reflecting on my experiences, the song 'Lean on Me' by Bill Withers starts playing on Spotify. The lyrics circle in my head: "We all have pain, We all have sorrow, But if we are wise, We know that there's always tomorrow." I have lived by these words since the day I was aware of my own thoughts. I was born to a white mother and a black father and am now the oldest of three. We weren't rich, per say, but up until 9 we had it fairly easy. My dad worked a stable job and my mother was a stay at home mom. Simple, until the veil was uncovered. Behind the scenes, my father was abusing my mother and we were stuffed into a cookie cutter delusion that only fit what my father wanted. At 9, I was violated unspeakably by the one person I looked up to for guidance on race, spirituality, friendship, etc. By circumstance, my new family moved. Without my father we were forced to live in a mini van for months, hopping from place to place until my mother could afford a low income apartment. At that time, my personality still shown vibrant. I attended gymnastics, was in several school clubs, and was even at the top of my middle school class. God was my stronghold. Unknowingly, my love for Him allowed me to continue with an eclectic outlook on life. However, wherever there's peace, there's chaos. A chilled look on my toes one gym practice led to an excruciating diagnosis of lupus. Like God, I did not change. Lupus was not a hurdle but a challenge in my eyes. Years passed, God continued to bless our family. Moving to a more diverse neighborhood opened my eyes to race, to who I was, and living in a more spacious home gave us a sense of accomplishment. It only took a year for chaos to ensue again. Lupus decided that it too, did not enjoy dormancy and ransacked my bones and every inch of my body. To cure it, doctors gave me prednisone, a drug that invaded my brain and sent me into psychosis. For an entire high school semester, my school studies were postponed. Instead, I started living a reality that wasn't my own. I was Moana, I was a mermaid, I was married, I was all the things my childhood took away from me. God can't be stolen. Through Him, recovery was possible and I took grasp on my sanity again. I will never take prednisone again. An inspiring story it has become. Now, as I sit in the home my mother owns, I can say I survived, and am still so. I want to use this to serve others. I am a witness: Pain and sorrow did NOT take away tomorrow. This experience has given me a passion to help those suffering through similar circumstances. Because of this, mental health has become a primary focus in my life. My identity is being molded as we speak, and I have learned that race plays a crucial part in mental health as well. Writing is my gift, so with it, and God's grace, I plan on pursuing extensive research on the aspects of mental health. Here's some evidence of my learning experience: The World Health Organization states that “there has been a 13% rise in mental health conditions in the last decade.” Within the black community, this number is likely skewed lower even though we make up a majority of this 13%. Both statistics apply to me. Because of this, my desire to solve one of the world's most prominent issues has become the most prevalent aspect of my life. In the Fall of 2022, I plan to study psychology at USC. Going to USC is an opportunity that I am not willing to miss for numerous reasons. One is that it’s a research facility. Having the ability to not only learn but research psychology would allow me to carve my own adventure. Being closely connected to my black culture, LA provides the geography needed to study and interact within the black community. Another short-term goal of mine is to become fluent in Spanish. USC is known for its opportunities to study abroad and overseas. Throughout elementary school, Spanish came to me somewhat naturally due to my language immersion school. Since then, I have lost some of that capability. Seeing my bilingual, non-Hispanic, white mother serve and interact with linguistically different communities inspired me. This gives me more ideas about how I can help diverse communities heal from the plague of mental health issues. In my family, verbalizing our issues is how we cope and manage our problems, so in a way, therapy is a constant in my life. Unfortunately, we can’t afford clinical therapy even though we need it. I have a dream to become a therapist to help people who are suffering and/or don’t know what resources are available to them. Having suffered from depression, OCD, anxiety, PTSD, psychosis, and other mental illnesses, I understand what it’s like to be in a position of vulnerability. Within the black community, there is a negative stigma surrounding mental health. It’s almost considered taboo. The stigma has resulted in the lack of black therapists and black people reaching out for help. TheChicagoSchool states that “only 4% of psychologists are black.” Becoming a therapist of color will help break that stigma. Attending USC will open a path to completing goals that are currently beyond my reach. In my years at USC, I plan to spread awareness of mental health in diverse communities by also investing in more research such as non-profit organizations and potentially creating my own studies. Hopefully, in the course of my career, I will write a book on my own experience with mental health issues and make a difference in various communities.

The World Health Organization states that “there has been a 13% rise in mental health conditions in the last decade.” Within the black community, this number is likely skewed lower even though we make up a majority of this 13%. Both statistics apply to me. Because of this, my desire to solve one of the world's most prominent issues has become the most prevalent aspect of my life. In the Fall of 2022, I plan to study psychology at USC. Going to USC is an opportunity that I am not willing to miss for numerous reasons. One is that it’s a research facility. Having the ability to not only learn but research psychology would allow me to carve my own adventure. Being closely connected to my black culture, LA provides the geography needed to study and interact within the black community. Another short-term goal of mine is to become fluent in Spanish. USC is known for its opportunities to study abroad and overseas. Throughout elementary school, Spanish came to me somewhat naturally due to my language immersion school. Since then, I have lost some of that capability. Seeing my bilingual, non-Hispanic, white mother serve and interact with linguistically different communities inspired me. This gives me more ideas about how I can help diverse communities heal from the plague of mental health issues. In my family, verbalizing our issues is how we cope and manage our problems, so in a way, therapy is a constant in my life. Unfortunately, we can’t afford clinical therapy even though we need it. I have a dream to become a therapist to help people who are suffering and/or don’t know what resources are available to them. Having suffered from depression, OCD, anxiety, PTSD, psychosis, and other mental illnesses, I understand what it’s like to be in a position of vulnerability. Within the black community, there is a negative stigma surrounding mental health. It’s almost considered taboo. The stigma has resulted in the lack of black therapists and black people reaching out for help. TheChicagoSchool states that “only 4% of psychologists are black.” Becoming a therapist of color will help break that stigma. Attending USC will open a path to completing goals that are currently beyond my reach. In my years at USC, I plan to spread awareness of mental health in diverse communities by also investing in more research such as non-profit organizations and potentially creating my own studies. Hopefully, in the course of my career, I will write a book on my own experience with mental health issues and make a difference in various communities.

The church is favorite way to love others. I am beautifully and equally black and white. Unfortunately, so is the church, and although I can't change church segregation, I can still try to bring people together. That is why I attend two churches. Each church is significantly different from the other, along with the way we serve our communities. Church 1 is huge and mostly white. Church 2 is probably the most diverse place I've ever been. The churches may have different colors, but it doesn’t change the message, which allows me to know that I have something to offer despite my race. At Church 1, I've found more hands-on opportunities to serve. My family and I love to participate together in food drives. One of my best memories from serving at this church is packing the donated items midday. The sun was beaming and I could feel the love seeping through every crevice of the church. Currently, my ministry involves fellowship and connection with others within the church and in outside communities. Church 2 is a bit more complicated. It is where I found my racial identity and community due to the absence of my dad. Currently, I serve children in the kids' ministry. Doing this gives me insight into different families, cultures, and how they function. The churches may be culturally disconnected but the messes are the same. My biracial life isn't double-edged because the messes mix the colors. The greatest love I can give this community is from the knowledge I've learned from attending two types of beautiful churches. My goal through college and future years is to dedicate more time to the mental health community, and especially mental health within the Black community. The Bible says: "Love each other as I have loved you." John 15:12

Sometimes, while I peek outside each morning, I imagine perceiving the world like I did when I was a child. Because as children, vibrancy was the epitome of every memory or circumstance. As adults, revisiting these memories is grounding. Right now, The song "Golden" by Jill Scott loops endlessly in my mind. The lyrics stick with me: "I'm holding on to my freedom. Can't take it from me. I was born into it. It comes naturally." I’ve lived with freedom since the days I realized my self-worth. I was born to a broken family. Behind the scenes, my father was abusing my mother and we were stuffed into a delusion that only fit what he wanted. At 9, I was violated unspeakably by him who I looked up. Were then homeless for months at a time. one abrupt experience after another led to an excruciating diagnosis of lupus. Motivation is not a choice for me. To achieve survival, I had to want to survive. After living through excruciating circumstances, my mother, siblings, and I rebuilt our family on the basis that allowed us to define ourselves. Right now, my motivation comes from serving others, even if serving means roller skating with friends, or having a conversation. Participating within my church community motivates me to serve more earnestly. In the end, motivation stems from self-worth, and the desire to change. Having gratitude for what's in front of me has kept me awake and sensible. The mere fact that I can experience the sensation of touching grass, getting blinded by the sun, and hearing my neighbor mow the lawn next door, blows fuels my motivation to live freely. Just like Jill Scott found freedom in herself, I found motivation in my own survival and seeing others do the same.

The text cursor in my head blinks as I wait for the right words to appear. My fingers respond immediately. But as my eyes start to recognize words, my brain starts to question them. Then, the backspace button appears in my thoughts. Now, I'm back to where I started. Writing is my best skill. Many call it a gift. As words effortlessly flow out of me in perfect succession, people wonder how I do it. My response is always, "I don't know." I just assumed that's how gifts worked. You didn't know. Although writing is my most prized skill, I still have difficulty starting stories. The word "gift" had been engrained in me for so long that effort started to seem unnecessary. The quality of my writing started to wane, and I was getting frustrated with the amount of force I had to use to make my words sound "educated" or "beautiful." Recently my aunt taught me a crucially valuable lesson about writing: Just because you love your writing, doesn't mean it's perfect. It still needs improvements." Being gifted in writing kept me from being open to edits and consultation. Attachment haunted me constantly because my writings were my babies. Audiences became uninterested; Although the drafts sounded eloquent, they weren't relevant. After accepting this truth, I've allowed my aunt to mentor me. She's taught me to be more open to suggestions. I now allow words to flow imperfectly and resist the backspace in my mind. In the future, I plan to attend workshops and find a community that will help uplift my gift and keep me humble so that I can write to the best of my ability. This essay probably isn't the best representation of my abilities, but that gives me more reasons to keep practicing.

Sometimes, while I look outside each morning, I imagine my senses taking in everything like when I was a child. Because as children, vibrancy was the epitome of every memory or circumstance. As adults, revisiting these memories is grounding. The song "Zion" by Lauryn Hill loops endlessly in my mind. As she sings gracefully about her unexpected child, these lyrics stick with me: "Now the joy of my world is in Zion." I’ve lived by these words since the days I become aware. I was born to a broken family. Behind the scenes, my father was abusing my mother and we were stuffed into a delusion that only fit what he wanted. At 9, I was violated unspeakably by him who I looked up. One abrupt experience after another led to an excruciating diagnosis of lupus. Eventually, the weight of these traumatic events led to me experiencing depersonalization and derealization, a mental state where I feel detached from my bodily senses. Despite this, I've learned that I am not my thoughts or the physical manifestation of those thoughts. I am what I choose to be and to feel. For me, joy comes from serving others, even if "serving" means roller skating with friends, or having a conversation. I also find joy in serving within my church community. In the end, joy is just accepting that life is a series of events, good and bad. Having gratitude for what's in front of me has kept me awake and sensible. The mere fact that I can experience the sensation of touching grass, getting blinded by the sun, and hearing my neighbor mow the lawn next door, blows every negative experience away. Just like Lauryn Hill found joy in Zion, I found joy in my own survival and seeing others do the same.

As I sit in my room reflecting on my experiences, the song "Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley starts singing. The lyrics stick with me: "Don't worry about a thing, 'Cause every little thing gonna be all right." I’ve lived by these words since the day I had awareness. To some, these lyrics might seem platitudinous, but from them, I have taken a rather altruistic perspective. Let me tell you why: I was born to a broken family. Behind the scenes, my father was abusing my mother and we were stuffed into a delusion that only fit what he wanted. At 9, I was violated unspeakably by him whom I looked up to. We become homeless for months. At that time, I was content. God was my stronghold. However, wherever there's peace, there's chaos. An abrupt experience led to an excruciating diagnosis of lupus. Lupus wasn’t a hurdle in my eyes. Years passed, and God blessed our family with a bigger home. A year later, lupus attacked my body. To cure it, doctors gave me prednisone, a drug that sent me into psychosis. Life was postponed. I started living a deluded reality. God can't be stolen. Through Him, recovery was possible and I grasped my sanity again. I will never take prednisone again. The words "Don't Worry" have allowed me to have a brighter outlook on life despite horrific circumstances. Oftentimes, although situations may seem bad, they aren't unredeemable. These words have reduced my anxiety, and given me the heart to serve others, which is something that does matter. As I sit in our owned home, I can say I survived and am still so. I will use this to serve others. Through writing and God's grace, I hope I can shed light on the topics mentioned in this essay.

The church is favorite way to help others. I am beautifully and equally black and white. Unfortunately, so is the church, and although I can't change church segregation, I can still try to bring people together. That is why I attend two churches. Each church is significantly different from the other, along with the way we serve our communities. Church 1 is huge and mostly white. Church 2 is probably the most diverse place I've ever been. The churches may have different colors, but it doesn’t change the message, which allows me to know that I have something to offer despite my race. At Church 1, I've found more hands-on opportunities to serve. For example, there are food drives, it's not just a food drive, it's a FOOD DRIVE. One of the best memories I have from serving at this church is packing the donated items midday. The sun was beaming and I could feel the love seeping through every crevice of the church. Currently, my ministry involves fellowship and connection with others in and outside the church. Church 2 is a bit more complicated. It is where I congregationally found my racial identity. Currently, I serve children in the kids' ministry. Doing this gives me insight into different families, cultures, and how they function. The churches may be culturally disconnected but the messes are the same. My biracial life isn't double-edged because the messes mix the colors. The greatest service I can give this community is from the knowledge I've learned from attending two types of beautiful churches. My goal through college and future years is to dedicate more time to the mental health community, and especially mental health within the Black community. The Bible says, "...Jesus said: "It is more blessed to give than to receive.’” Acts 20:35.

"Be Happy". Those were the words etched on my journal as my brain was in a space that was the opposite. Delusion and trauma were rushing through my veins and the journal was all had to maintain my sanity. It didn't even phase me that God was trying to send me a message through those specific words. Lupus, an autoimmune disease that should have no business crushing a 14-year-old's body, crushing her rationale, did exactly that. This caused me to be hospitalized. Doctors, in their confusion, gave me the drug that started it all. Prednisone: The drug that sent me into psychosis. This drug took the phrase "What doesn't kill makes you stronger" by Kelly Clarkson, to another level. I almost died with prednisone, and I almost died without it. "Be Happy" was brought to me by the journal I wrote in while I was hospitalized, the hospital staff, my mother, and an unsuspecting Bible. After recovering, I never really thought about "Be Happy." Happiness wasn't something written in that deluded journal, so I didn't want to touch it. A few weeks after I was discharged, I was still tormented by delusions, so the words "Be Happy" didn't cross my mind. God didn't want me to part with the words "Be Happy" even if I parted with the words inside that journal. Some may not believe in God, but words themselves can hold strong meaning. Years have passed and I no longer live with psychosis. From this experience, God has taught me this lesson: In every circumstance, good or the latter, finding positivity is possible. Some form of happiness, even if it's difficult to attain, is possible. Life happens, but as long as you trust yourself, and trust the process of change, happiness and success are sure to come.

As I sit in my room reflecting on my experiences, the song 'Lean on Me' by Bill Withers starts singing. The lyrics stick with me: "We all have pain, We all have sorrow, But if we are wise, We know that there's always tomorrow." I’ve lived by these words since the day I had awareness. I was born to a broken family. Behind the scenes, my father was abusing my mother and we were stuffed into a delusion that only fit what he wanted. At 9, I was violated unspeakably by him whom I looked up to. We become homeless for months. At that time, I was content. God was my stronghold. However, wherever there's peace, there's chaos. An abrupt experience led to an excruciating diagnosis of lupus. Lupus wasn’t a hurdle in my eyes. Years passed, and God blessed us with a larger home. Moving to a more diverse neighborhood opened my eyes to race, to my identity, and a more spacious living space gave us a sense of accomplishment. It only took a year for chaos to ensue again. Lupus decided that it, too, did not enjoy dormancy and ransacked my bones and every inch of my body. To cure it, doctors gave me prednisone, a drug that sent me into psychosis. Life was postponed. I started living a deluded reality. God can't be stolen. Through Him, recovery was possible and I grasped my sanity again. I will never take prednisone again. As I sit in our owned home, I can say I survived and am still so. I want to use this to serve others. I am a witness: Pain and sorrow did NOT take away tomorrow. Through writing and God's grace, I hope I can shed light on mental health, sexual abuse, race, poverty, and more.

As I sit in my room reflecting on my experiences, the song 'Lean on Me' by Bill Withers starts singing. The lyrics stick with me: "We all have pain, We all have sorrow, But if we are wise, We know that there's always tomorrow." I’ve lived by these words since the day I had awareness. I was born to a broken family. Behind the scenes, my father was abusing my mother and we were stuffed into a delusion that only fit what he wanted. At 9, I was violated unspeakably by him whom I looked up to. We become homeless for months. At that time, I was content. God was my stronghold. However, wherever there's peace, there's chaos. An abrupt experience led to an excruciating diagnosis of lupus. Lupus wasn’t a hurdle in my eyes. Years passed, and God blessed our family with a bigger home. A year later, lupus attacked my body. To cure it, doctors gave me prednisone, a drug that sent me into psychosis. Life was postponed. I started living a deluded reality. God can't be stolen. Through Him, recovery was possible and I grasped my sanity again. I will never take prednisone again. As I sit in our owned home, I can say I survived and am still so. I want to use this to serve others. I am a witness: Pain and sorrow did NOT take away tomorrow. Survival was possible, but unfortunately, I also suffered repercussions. The World Health Organization states that “there has been a 13% rise in mental health conditions in the last decade.” Singlecare.com explains that "Of people in the United States who experience a traumatic event, 20% will develop PTSD". Within the black community, this number is likely skewed lower even though we make up a majority of both percentages. Both statistics, too, apply to me. Because of this, my desire to solve one of the world's most prominent issues has become the most prevalent aspect of my life. In the Fall of 2022, I plan to study psychology at USC. In my family, verbalizing our issues is how we cope and manage our problems, so in a way, therapy is a constant in my life. Unfortunately, we can’t afford clinical therapy even though we need it. I have a dream to become a therapist to help people who are suffering and/or don’t know what resources are available to them. Having suffered from PTSD, psychosis, and other mental illnesses, I understand what it’s like to be in a position of vulnerability. Within the black community, there is a negative stigma surrounding mental health. It’s almost considered taboo. The stigma has resulted in the lack of black therapists and black people reaching out for help. TheChicagoSchool states that “only 4% of psychologists are black.” Becoming a therapist of color will help break that stigma. Attending USC will open a path to completing goals that are currently beyond my reach. In my years at USC, I plan to spread awareness of mental health in diverse communities by also investing in more research such as non-profit organizations and potentially creating my own studies. Hopefully, in the course of my career, I will write a book on my own experience with mental health issues and make a difference in various communities.

As I sit in my room reflecting on my experiences, the song 'Lean on Me' by Bill Withers starts singing. The lyrics stick with me: "We all have pain, We all have sorrow, But if we are wise, We know that there's always tomorrow." My mother showed me these words as soon as I gained awareness. I was born to a broken family. Behind the scenes, my father was abusing my mother and we were stuffed into a delusion that only fit what he wanted. At 9, I was violated unspeakably by him whom I looked up to. We become homeless for months. My mother, alone, had to learn how to support three children on her own. God was our stronghold. Our mini-van turned into a low-income apartment. My mother continued to work, grasping for better-paying jobs. Life was postponed furthermore when I was diagnosed and hospitalized with lupus. My mother supported me through that journey even while struggling to make ends meet. God can't be stolen. Through Him, recovery was possible and I grasped reality again. My mother continues to work hard: Passionate about solving inequities within the justice system, and continually supporting her family. As I sit in our owned home, I can say I survived and am still so. I want to use this to serve others. I am a witness: Pain and sorrow did NOT take away tomorrow. God's grace and my mother's support showed me that even though hardship, life is full of possibilities.

The community I identify with is the church. I am beautifully and equally black and white. Unfortunately, so is the church, and although I can't change church segregation, I can still try to bring people together. That is why I attend two churches. Each church is significantly different from the other, along with the way we serve our communities. Church 1 is huge and mostly white. Church 2 is probably the most diverse place I've ever been. The churches may have different colors, but it doesn’t change the message, which allows me to know that I have something to offer despite my race. At Church 1, I've found more hands-on opportunities to serve. For example, there are food drives, it's not just a food drive, it's a FOOD DRIVE. One of the best memories I have from serving at this church is packing the donated items midday. The sun was beaming and I could feel the love seeping through every crevice of the church. Currently, my ministry involves fellowship and connection with others in and outside the church. Church #2 is a bit more complicated. It is where I congregationally found my racial identity. Currently, I serve children in the kids' ministry. Doing this gives me insight into different families, cultures, and how they function. The churches may be culturally disconnected but the messes are the same. My biracial life isn't double-edged because the messes mix the colors. The greatest service I can give this community is from the knowledge I've learned from attending two types of beautiful churches. My goal through college and future years is to dedicate more time to the mental health community, and especially mental health within the Black community. The Bible says, "...Jesus said: "It is more blessed to give than to receive.’” Acts 20:35.

In the past few weeks, I've eaten too many marshmallows. Not because I wanted to but because I had to. At least, that's what I thought. "Don't Eat the Marshmallow...Yet" by Joachim de Posada and Ellen Singer relays the principles of delayed gratification and its benefits. Posada's principles were inspired by Dr. Walter Mischel's "marshmallow study," carried out during the 1960s at Stanford University. In this study, children were placed in a room and each given a marshmallow. They were instructed to wait for the marshmallow until the evaluator returned at which they would relieve a second marshmallow. Those who "ate the marshmallow" were less successful in the future than those who waited. Before reading the book, I acted frequently by fear, instead of "formulaic knowledge" (pg.4). I started a job at Walmart working 40 Hours a week in hopes that it would fulfill my need for educational funds. I sold half of my assets, including clothing electronics, and even books that might've been necessary for college. I even had an Instagram page that had enough followers to be sold. To my expense, the page was hacked. I wrote multiple sloppy scholarship essays. After exhausting all of my options, I came across this book. This book made me realize that although hard work is necessary, so is time. I was so worried about when I'd be able to afford college, that I took unwise steps to gain instant funds. Here's the craziest thing the book has taught me: many principles surrounding success are just basic common sense. Now, I've started a business to slowly gain community, patience, and a way to afford college. I'm also focusing on writing neater essays! I encourage anyone who is looking to gain a mindset of success to read this book, and enjoy resisting marshmallows!

Lupus is almost like a drug. It gives me an excuse not to do things. It allows me to become high on the prospect of curing it. High on the accommodations given to me. High on hospital visits. High on mental breaks. All of these "highs" that I've experienced, where nothing compared to the actual high caused by drugs used to treat lupus. I didn't like it. Prednisone ransacked my body in a way that disconnected my control on reality and my own mind. Although it was technically a psychedelic, I never became addicted. In fact, I couldn't wait until it was over. Some people, however, may not be blessed with that fate. People always think they’ll be the lucky ones, that they won’t get addicted. Once a week turns into once a day, once a day turns into twice a day. Next thing you know, they are continually smoking most minutes of the day. They have become victims, slaves, to a multitude of substances, even as they aren’t aware of it. I haven't become addicted myself because lupus was there to stop me, and in some ways my personality. It’s different for many of my friends. One of my best friends has fallen subject to the woes of substance abuse. She apprises me on her experiences with psychedelics, methamphetamine, opiates, and other forms of drugs with which I cannot name. She describes them as “amazing”, “hyper spiritual”, and other highly praised-like descriptions. I watched her talk as her skinny body and hollow eyes told a different story. I wondered, “where are you?”. I wondered, “why aren’t you with your son?” The drugs destroyed her. She is no longer the same person I knew. Although I still love her, and try to see her as much as I can, it is difficult to see how just one experience can lead to a bottomless bit of addiction and loss. “Vaping is as bad as other drugs though.” Where do you think she started her journey with other drugs? It all started with the fateful vape pen. Is there hope for her and other? I anticipate so, but it has to start with the want to stop. She doesn't want to stop. I've tried my best to give her my story, expel on my experiences, but she won't listen. She doesn't have the will to stop. How does a person give another that will? The honest truth: they have to want it for themself. Wanting it themself can start with you though. It can start by displaying a love and affection that the drugs don't have. I continually check in with my friend; Not to reprimand her for doing drugs, or criticize her lifestyle, but to just be her friend. Her knowing that I care about her has certainly help slow the trauma of substance abuse, but it hasn't completely eliminated it. I pray that in the near future, that abuse will be eliminated. With a newfound wisdom from certain experiences, I plan to study neuroscience and psychological sciences. I am also a writer. I hope a combination of literature and science will make it easier for all audiences to understand the impact of substance abuse. Something that is left unsaid within the community of substance abuse awareness is that substance use is not someone's defining factor, and perspective changes the objectivity of our experiences. In the end, I hope that my choice of study will not only help those struggling with substance abuse, but bring a new light to what substance abuse is and different ways we can observe/stop it.

As I sit in my college dorm sized room reflecting on my experiences, the song 'Lean on Me' by Bill Withers starts playing on Spotify. The lyrics circle in my head: "We all have pain, We all have sorrow, But if we are wise, We know that there's always tomorrow." I have lived by these words since the day I was aware of my own thoughts. I was born to a white mother and a black father and am now the oldest of three. We weren't rich, per say, but up until 9 we had it fairly easy. My dad worked a stable job and my mother was a stay at home mom. Simple, until the veil was uncovered. Behind the scenes, my father was abusing my mother and we were stuffed into a cookie cutter delusion that only fit what my father wanted. At 9, I was violated unspeakably by the one person I looked up to for guidance on race, spirituality, friendship, etc. By circumstance, my new family moved. Without my father we were forced to live in a mini van for months, hopping from place to place until my mother could afford a low income apartment. At that time, my personality still shown vibrant. I attended gymnastics, was in several school clubs, and was even at the top of my middle school class. God was my stronghold. Unknowingly, my love for Him allowed me to continue with an eclectic outlook on life. However, wherever there's peace, there's chaos. A chilled look on my toes one gym practice led to an excruciating diagnosis of lupus. Like God, I did not change. Lupus was not a hurdle but a challenge in my eyes. Years passed, God continued to bless our family. Moving to a more diverse neighborhood opened my eyes to race, to who I was, and living in a more spacious home gave us a sense of accomplishment. It only took a year for chaos to ensue again. Lupus decided that it too, did not enjoy dormancy and ransacked my bones and every inch of my body. To cure it, doctors gave me prednisone, a drug that invaded my brain and sent me into psychosis. For an entire high school semester, my school studies were postponed. Instead, I started living a reality that wasn't my own. I was Moana, I was a mermaid, I was married, I was all the things my childhood took away from me. God can't be stolen. Through Him, recovery was possible and I took grasp on my sanity again. I will never take prednisone again. With a newfound wisdom from this experience, I plan to study neuroscience and psychological sciences. I am also writer. I hope a combination of literature and science will simplify the understanding for all audiences, impact of sickness and mental health, especially within the black community where it is taboo. Something that is left unsaid within the mental health community is that mental health is not someone's defining factor, and perspective changes the objectivity of our experiences. Knowing this, I am glad that Bill Withers and I now share the same story. Instead of leaning on others, I am the friend people lean on. Now, as I sit in the home my mother owns, I can say I survived, and am still so. I want to use this to serve others. I am a witness: Pain and sorrow did NOT take away tomorrow. Through writing and God's grace, I hope I can shed light on topics such as mental health, sexual abuse, race, poverty and more.

As I sit in my college dorm sized room reflecting on my experiences, the song 'Lean on Me' by Bill Withers starts playing on Spotify. The lyrics circle in my head: "We all have pain, We all have sorrow, But if we are wise, We know that there's always tomorrow." I have lived by these words since the day I was aware of my own thoughts. I was born to a white mother and a black father and am now the oldest of three. We weren't rich, per say, but up until 9 we had it fairly easy. My dad worked a stable job and my mother was a stay at home mom. Simple, until the veil was uncovered. Behind the scenes, my father was abusing my mother and we were stuffed into a cookie cutter delusion that only fit what my father wanted. At 9, I was violated unspeakably by the one person I looked up to for guidance on race, spirituality, friendship, etc. By circumstance, my new family moved. Without my father we were forced to live in a mini van for months, hopping from place to place until my mother could afford a low income apartment. At that time, my personality still shown vibrant. I attended gymnastics, was in several school clubs, and was even at the top of my middle school class. God was my stronghold. Unknowingly, my love for Him allowed me to continue with an eclectic outlook on life. However, wherever there's peace, there's chaos. A chilled look on my toes one gym practice led to an excruciating diagnosis of lupus. Like God, I did not change. Lupus was not a hurdle but a challenge in my eyes. Years passed, God continued to bless our family. Moving to a more diverse neighborhood opened my eyes to race, to who I was, and living in a more spacious home gave us a sense of accomplishment. It only took a year for chaos to ensue again. Lupus decided that it too, did not enjoy dormancy and ransacked my bones and every inch of my body. To cure it, doctors gave me prednisone, a drug that invaded my brain and sent me into psychosis. For an entire high school semester, my school studies were postponed. Instead, I started living a reality that wasn't my own. I was Moana, I was a mermaid, I was married, I was all the things my childhood took away from me. God can't be stolen. Through Him, recovery was possible and I took grasp on my sanity again. I will never take prednisone again. With a newfound wisdom from this experience, I plan to study neuroscience and psychological sciences. I am a writer. I hope a combination of fiction and science will make it easier for all audiences to understand the impact of sickness and mental health, especially within the black community in which it is taboo. Something that is left unsaid within the mental health community is that mental health is not someone's defining factor, and perspective changes the objectivity of our experiences. Knowing this, I am glad that Bill Withers and I now share the same story. Instead of leaning on others, I am the friend people lean on. As I sit in the home my mother owns, I can say I survived, and am still so. I want to use this to serve others. I am a witness: Pain and sorrow did NOT take away tomorrow. Through writing and God's grace, I hope I can shed light on topics such as mental health, sexual abuse, race, poverty and more.

As I sit in my college dorm sized room reflecting on my experiences, the song 'Lean on Me' by Bill Withers starts playing on Spotify. The lyrics circle in my head: "We all have pain, We all have sorrow, But if we are wise, We know that there's always tomorrow." I have lived by these words since the day I was aware of my own thoughts. I was born to a white mother and a black father and am now the oldest of three. We weren't rich, per say, but up until 9 we had it fairly easy. My dad worked a stable job and my mother was a stay at home mom. Simple, until the veil was uncovered. Behind the scenes, my father was abusing my mother and we were stuffed into a cookie cutter delusion that only fit what my father wanted. At 9, I was violated unspeakably by the one person I looked up to for guidance on race, spirituality, friendship, etc. By circumstance, my new family moved. Without my father we were forced to live in a mini van for months, hopping from place to place until my mother could afford a low income apartment. At that time, my personality still shown vibrant. I attended gymnastics, was in several school clubs, and was even at the top of my middle school class. God was my stronghold. Unknowingly, my love for Him allowed me to continue with an eclectic outlook on life. However, wherever there's peace, there's chaos. A chilled look on my toes one gym practice led to an excruciating diagnosis of lupus. Like God, I did not change. Lupus was not a hurdle but a challenge in my eyes. Years passed, God continued to bless our family. Moving to a more diverse neighborhood opened my eyes to race, to who I was, and living in a more spacious home gave us a sense of accomplishment. It only took a year for chaos to ensue again. Lupus decided that it too, did not enjoy dormancy and ransacked my bones and every inch of my body. To cure it, doctors gave me prednisone, a drug that invaded my brain and sent me into psychosis. For an entire high school semester, my school studies were postponed. Instead, I started living a reality that wasn't my own. I was Moana, I was a mermaid, I was married, I was all the things my childhood took away from me. God can't be stolen. Through Him, recovery was possible and I took grasp on my sanity again. I will never take prednisone again. "Lean on me, When you're not strong, And I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on." I leaned on God, because that's all I had. During psychosis, and throughout my healing, our family experienced miracles: Job opportunities, school accolades, new friendships, and occurrences some would label out of the ordinary. I may have been quote on quote "psychotic", but even then, healing was occurring. Healing, which at the time, didn't seem possible. Fast forward to now: I'm not psychotic. Prednisone has a lifespan of about three months. Anxiety and depression are still a constant in my life, but so is the wisdom and knowledge that I wouldn't have had without my experiences. I've learned that nothing in life is focused or perfect. It's always shifting. We tend to gravitate towards items, relationships, things that fill our immediate desires; sometimes, we forget to look at what's right in front of us. Even if what's right in front of us is haplessness, sickness, or unexplainable unfortunate events, the brain still has the capacity for peace. I'm not proclaiming to "be optimistic" or "look at the good things in life." Life is full of unpleasant circumstances; yet, here I am writing this essay. AKA, I'm not dead. You can find worth even in life's most gruesome battles. Lupus is still here. So are mental health issues. My dad is not. However, Bill Withers and I now share the same story. Instead of leaning on others, I am the friend people lean on. The church and the kids ministry has become my friend. Being African American has allowed me to locate the disparities within the church and help resolve them. The NAACP has welcomed me, and I've learned to embrace another part of my identity. Giving is a gift for others just as much as it is for myself. Writing has been an outlet for me to share my story. Poetry is my muse. "Be happy" is my motto. Although words are my expression, they are also an inspiration. Now, as I sit in the home my mother owns, I can say I survived, and am still so. I want to use this story to serve others. I am a witness: Pain and sorrow did NOT take away tomorrow. Through writing and God's grace, I hope I can shed light on topics such as mental health, sexual abuse, race, poverty and more. Wisdom has pulled my heart toward neuroscience, and I pray that my background will give me insight on how I can help others overcome the same experiences I had so that they may not have to suffer as much.

As I sit in my college dorm sized room reflecting on my experiences, the song 'Lean on Me' by Bill Withers starts playing on Spotify. The lyrics circle in my head: "We all have pain, We all have sorrow, But if we are wise, We know that there's always tomorrow." I have lived by these words since the day I was aware of my own thoughts. I was born to a white mother and a black father and am now the oldest of three. We weren't rich, per say, but up until 9 we had it fairly easy. My dad worked a stable job and my mother was a stay at home mom. Simple, until the veil was uncovered. Behind the scenes, my father was abusing my mother and we were stuffed into a cookie cutter delusion that only fit what my father wanted. At 9 I was violated unspeakably by the one person I looked up to for guidance on race, spirituality, friendship, etc. I still remember the pink, high school musical pajamas I was forced to take off. Sexual abuse was a new topic in our household, along with lying, narcissism, and the justice system. Even my grandparents labeled me, a nine year old, as the perpetrator and my father as the victim. It wasn't until one person believed my story that the truth was accepted, and my father was jailed for his crimes. My African American father. Soon, underlying truths about my family came spilling out. Sexual abuse created a small adult that knew more than she should've. My mother opened up about how my father physically and emotionally abused her. I also learned about my father's own past with abuse. The deluded life my family was living was shattered by reality. By circumstance, my new family moved. Without my father we were forced to live in a minivan for months, hopping around until my mother could afford a low income apartment. God was my stronghold. My love for Him allowed me to possess an eclectic outlook on life. However, wherever there's peace, there's chaos. The stress from my fathers ordeals led to an excruciating diagnosis of lupus. Moving to a more diverse neighborhood opened my eyes to race, to who I was, and living in a more spacious home gave us a sense of accomplishment. A year later, drugs and complications with lupus sent me into psychosis. During psychosis, I struggled with my identity. I knew I was black. My experience was as a black woman. But, the scars from my father were also black. And that changed my entire perspective on what it meant to be African American. I soon came to realize that my black experience was not my fathers, but being black would reinforce the black father stereotype. To refract that, I started researching race, neuroscience, and the statistics for how many African Americans worked in the field of mental health. Now, as I sit in the home my mother owns, I can say I survived, and am still so. I want to use this to serve others. I am a witness: Pain and sorrow, did NOT take away tomorrow. During college it is my goal to enlighten the African American community on the importance of mental health, sexual abuse, poverty and more. I have high hopes that my gift of writing and knowledge of science will help those who don't understand the trauma they're experiencing. For generations, this has been a trend, especially within our community, however, we can use our trauma and take control of it, one step at a time.

My feet fall off the side of my bed. They hang over as I stare at the ground contemplating the bracing impact of the lukewarm carpet below me. Like my dangling legs, my head hangs low. It's 10pm, and the hours ahead of me require unrequited manual labor. At least, that's what it feels like. As I slowly wrap myself around the Walmart jersey, just nearly giving myself a hug, I realize this: my worth doesn't lie in this retail job. All of my pent-up anxiety releases all at once. "I can quit this job at any moment in time and still be okay." Broke but never poor. That's how it's been since I was nine and living in a single parent household. Despite working really hard to compensate our family's struggles, I remained happy. That was, until my job became a burden rather than an obligation. I started to place my worth in people pleasing and how gruesomely I worked. The hard truth? When it comes to working a retail job, most people are getting paid similarly. There is no reason to overwork yourself for a company that doesn't care about you. That's not to say, work ethic is not important. It's one of the most important aspects of becoming a millionaire, say. However, achieving your dreams is not going to start at Walmart...unless you plan on being the store manager. Here's what I've learned about the economic world: If you want to achieve success, know your worth. Speculate your potential. My worth is not wage based, and never will be. I am thankful that Walmart allowed me to gain perspective, and even save money. I might be here now, but Walmart will always be here. Where I want to go, is beyond the worth of $13/hr.

Although it wasn't huge, and I didn't help a million people, I was able to make friends with someone who was much older than me in age (young at heart of course.) Her name was Nikki. She always told me she felt she had become my second mother. Many elderly individual's end up living by themselves when they're children leave the house and are no longer in need of they're parents assistance. This was the case for Nikki. Originally, I only came over to help pick up dog poop since it was a painful job for her. Not much longer after, Nikki started inviting me into her house, and we would have all of these interesting conversations. We would talk about our faith, our experiences, things that are happening in the world, and more. For me, it was nice to have someone to talk to who could listen, I feel it was the same for her. Things that were difficult to talk about she shared with me, and we even took each other places we've never been before. For her, I had a huge impact on her life socially, emotionally, physically, and positionally. Her health significantly increased, and because of our similar issues with health problems, we bestowed health and supplement information with each other as well. In the end, she labeled me as her 2nd daughter, and I was happy I was able to give someone a sense of joy in their life. Her best friend moved to a different location, and Nikki decided it was time for her to move too. In someone's 70's, moving can be an extremely stressful event. It was difficult for me to directly help her due to some issues I was having, but I would stop by and buy some of her things and sit with as well. In this way, she had company and motivation to continue packing. It was difficult but we had to say goodbye. In the end, the way I feel this had an impact on the community is that is shows that even people with completely different backgrounds can become friends. I haven't seen her since she had moved, but we still keep in contact. She always urges me to call her and every time I pick up the phone I love hearing her talk about her amazing experiences in that new environment. I'm sad that we won't be able to directly communicate and talk to each other on a daily basis. However, I am happy that in the end, we created a relationship that would last a lifetime.

I find it funny that in a world where everyone supposedly "promotes" inclusion, money is everything. Because there is nothing inclusive about money. It is individualist construct that separates us from others. Sure, money definitely has positive connotations. Take these scholarships for example: Each scholarship that is awarded give one unfortunate student a fortune they couldn't have received before. It's just the truth. Those without money have a more difficult time succeeding in this life. This does NOT mean that success isn't possible for people without the funds to become who they want to be. I simply said its more difficult. Privilege can shield people from experiencing or noticing educational inequity, and those who are impoverished can be blinded by the aspect of hard work. So why is this disparity something we should all account for. The answer is simple. Education holds more individualism than money. I believe that if it came between the choice of $1,000 and a $1,000 scholarship towards education, education would rapport with the majority. Not many people receive this choice. I think that, if it were made known to those who do, kindness would arise. I think that just being aware of the inequity could start something that allows more financial leg room for those who need it. Why should we all stand for educational inequity? Simple. Education, again, holds significantly more value than money itself.

For many people, 2020 was not a great year, and I'd have to agree. It wasn't the best year for me either. However, something that highlighted that year for me was nothing negative. In fact, one of the positive things that have happened to my family, happened during the 2020 COVID-19 pandemic. I live in a single parent household, and my mother provides for three children including me. We have lived homeless, then into low-income apartments, then unto renting a house, and then unto a miracle. Some people within our church offered us a small space in their home for a minor price. We graciously accepted. Unknowing of the 2020 becoming, we happily started saving money while living in this new space. COVID restricted our outflow of cash, which allowed us to save enough money to buy a house. By God's miracle, in July of 2020, my family and I were able to purchase our own home. Amongst the striving for safety, work ethic, and survival, I am happy that our family was able to make this accomplishment. With that being said, this major stride is definitely my most memorable moment of 2020.

Kindness without ceasing is my greatest moral. In a world where cruelty flourishes, kindness thrives. It also helps the person giving kindness grow. There are many areas within my life where I am advocating. Living within a diverse family, I've had many interesting experiences. I am able to advocate on behalf of the POC community. Another area of advocacy that is prominent within my life is that of mental and physical health. Having an autoimmune disease contributes to mental illnesses, so I can empathize with others who are going through considerably similar circumstances. This led to my ambition of becoming a therapist. My involvement with the church has created wide avenues for volunteering and serving in the community. Currently, I am working with a group to assist the Afghan Refugees in integrating into the United States. I am also volunteering in the kids ministry and keeping track of serving opportunities. Diversity Leadership Team. A team of creative minded individuals that find interesting ways to be inclusive to all peoples of any race, gender, ethnicity etc. We have led conferences, protests, round-tables, and activities to promote inclusivity and conversation surrounding race and our differences. We created the high school's first black hair care day. This allowed black individuals to express and demonstrate ways we take care of our hair without the restriction of stigma surrounding certain hair accessories. All ethnicities discovered different perspectives about race and inclusivity. The school became a safer place for everyone. Futuristically speaking, I hope to continue this line of solidarity by advocating for those within the justice system with the help of my family. Everyone deserves a second chance. Lupus. It's a fun autoimmune disease that's reeked havoc over my life in multiple ways. In 2018 it left me hospitalized and in a psychotic mental state. My personality and determination gave me a path to survival. Lupus was brought on by abuse in my childhood, which I have also had healing from. I believe it is everyone's right to be given an opportunity to heal from circumstances such as these. I have written a book, (that's not quite finished) about how I've healed and how I've managed lupus. I've also written about ways to cope with mental health. I'm thankful that it has been an inspiration to those who've needed it. I also use words in a different facet by writing poetry. This has allowed others to empathize and relate to unique situations. In the future, I plan to start my own writing company that promotes healing and rejuvenation. Jesus and my heart are my source of kindness. Having kindness in even everyday activities can make a difference. With the Afghan refugees our goal is not to push them to assimilate but acculturate. Women are helping Afghan women learn English. These shared experiences generate long term relationships and distinctive love. We plan to help them with transportation, childcare, finance management, school placement and more also. Helping the community within the Church is my favorite thing.

Kindness without ceasing is my greatest moral. In a world where cruelty flourishes, kindness thrives. It also helps the person giving kindness grow. There are many areas within my life where I am advocating. Living within a diverse family, I've had many interesting experiences. I am able to advocate on behalf of the POC community. Another area of advocacy that is prominent within my life is that of mental and physical health. Having an autoimmune disease contributes to mental illnesses, so I can empathize with others who are going through considerably similar circumstances. This led to my ambition of becoming a therapist. My involvement with the church has created wide avenues for volunteering and serving in the community. Currently, I am working with a group to assist the Afghan Refugees in integrating into the United States. I am also volunteering in the kids ministry and keeping track of serving opportunities. Diversity Leadership Team. A team of creative minded individuals that find interesting ways to be inclusive to all peoples of any race, gender, ethnicity etc. We have led conferences, protests, round-tables, and activities to promote inclusivity and conversation surrounding race and our differences. We created the high school's first black hair care day. This allowed black individuals to express and demonstrate ways we take care of our hair without the restriction of stigma surrounding certain hair accessories. All ethnicities discovered different perspectives about race and inclusivity. The school became a safer place for everyone. Futuristically speaking, I hope to continue this line of solidarity by advocating for those within the justice system with the help of my family. Everyone deserves a second chance. Lupus. It's a fun autoimmune disease that's reeked havoc over my life in multiple ways. In 2018 it left me hospitalized and in a psychotic mental state. My personality and determination gave me a path to survival. Lupus was brought on by abuse in my childhood, which I have also had healing from. I believe it is everyone's right to be given an opportunity to heal from circumstances such as these. I have written a book, (that's not quite finished) about how I've healed and how I've managed lupus. I've also written about ways to cope with mental health. I'm thankful that it has been an inspiration to those who've needed it. I also use words in a different facet by writing poetry. This has allowed others to empathize and relate to unique situations. In the future, I plan to start my own writing company that promotes healing and rejuvenation. Jesus and my heart are my source of kindness. Having kindness in even everyday activities can make a difference. With the Afghan refugees our goal is not to push them to assimilate but acculturate. Women are helping Afghan women learn English. These shared experiences generate long term relationships and distinctive love. We plan to help them with transportation, childcare, finance management, school placement and more also. Helping the community within the Church is my favorite thing.

From one experience to the next, the only person who truly understands the extent of what I've been through is my mother. I remember my mother telling me the story about how she wrote a short story about why her mother should be my mother of the year. "Why my mother should be mother of the year" won the radio contest of Keyser West Virginia in 1979. Well mom, here's my version of "why my mother should be mother of the year". My mother is strong. First and foremost. She's surpassed the odds and every expectation in life's occurrences. She saved us from potential abuse, despite the risks taken against herself. She found us resources while we were homeless. She found a job that could support all three of her children. She has even taken the initiative to help an old classmate who's been incarcerated for most of his life. And I know, all of this has to be hard, yet somehow, you are still able to laugh, smile, and hug us everyday. My mother is open-minded. She has lifted up her black children, even though she is white. Encouraged them, loved them to the fullest, sheltered them. She's set aside her own biases to stand beside her children have been victims of racism. She was with me through every step of the way when my body was suffering endlessly, and took every step to help me recover, even if that mean letting me make my own decisions. My mother is loving. My mother raised us in the best way she could with the limited resources that she had. Without my mother, I might not be where I am today. Because of her, I am able to be my truest self. I am able to trust her with my problems, and seek the right solutions with her guidance. Although we have our differences, that doesn't stop her from loving me and our family unconditionally. And this is why, my mother should be mother of the year. I never lost my mother. But she lost her fire. Being a single mom can wear you out. In her tiredness I will be strong. Even before, my mother helped me strive to become the best person I could be. She helped me survive hospitalizations, breakups, self disappointment and more. She has even encouraged me to write a book about my experience with lupus. I love my mother, and this is how she has helped me fight to achieve my dreams. Now I can help her to restore her strength as well.

Rest. Something my grandmother is great at. Whenever she'd visit, I'd ask her the question: "Deenaw, how is it that you can sit and do nothing and be so content. I always have to go, go, go." My grandmother is kind hearted, so no offense was taken. A giggle commenced and she responded, "I guess I'm just the queen of doing nothing." "I wish I was the queen of doing nothing," I softly spoke in awe. "I wish I was the queen of doing nothing." Of course, that wish never came true. I somehow finished the International Baccalaureate program at my school... not without loosing about 50 hours of sleep of course. I failed to mention that I felt fatally ill until I was too late. "I just need to get through the semester," I told myself. It wasn't until I graduated, that I realized, "I can become the queen of doing nothing." I am not suggesting laziness. In fact, I implore the complete opposite. However my #Back2SchoolBold moment is making the decision to medically defer from my University for a year before attending. Rest, my brain needed it. For a moment, I will be the queen of doing nothing.

"Be Happy." Those were the words etched on my journal as my brain was in a space that wasn't so happy. Delusion and trauma were rushing through my veins. It didn't even phase me that God was trying to send me a message even through something so uncontrolling. Lupus, an autoimmune disease that should have no business crushing a 14 year old's body, crushed her rationale. Doctors were overrun by tests, IV's, MRI's, and worst of all, the drug that started it all. Prednisone. This drug took the phrase "What doesn't kill makes you stronger"- Kelly Clarkson, and ran with it, because I almost died with prednisone, and I almost died without it. Unaware of my own emotion, "Be Happy" was brought to me, not only by the journal, but by the hospital staff, my mother, and a Bible, that was passed down to me by a youth leader from previous holders. After recovering, I never really thought about "Be Happy." Happiness wasn't something written in that deluded journal, so I didn't want to touch it. Granted, even a few weeks after I was discharged, I was still tormented by the delusion that I was married to my childhood friend. Thankfully, the journal with the words "She Is Strong Proverbs 31:25", allowed me to write new words, slightly less deluded. Apparently, God didn't want me to part with the words "Be Happy" even if I parted with the words inside that journal. One day out of the blue, I discovered a pendant. Still unaware of where it came from, but surely it had the words "Be Happy." I took it as a sign. Gods got my back. Although some may not believe in God, any words can hold strong meaning. Years pass. I no longer believe the impossible. Namely, I believed I was Moana, a mermaid, and a married woman. It may have been a miracle that I translated Yoruba into English with no knowledge of the language before, but still loving the childhood friend I thought I was married to before was not. To be honest, I'd forgotten about "Be Happy." Yet somehow, I was still in love with this person. So I asked God, "If its meant to be, show me the words Be Happy." Those two words, unbroken. A few weeks pass; I think: "This is stupid, I'm a teenager in love." Bible study day commences, and this person, who doesn't join Bible study often happened to be there this day. I flipped to Philippians, a book surrounding happiness and the book for that day's study. At the top in bold letters with nothing else surrounding it I see. "Be Happy." Of course, now I'm ecstatic, but not for the reason that you think. God has taught me this lesson from one experience to the next: Trust him, and his plans. If not God, trust your gut, but as long as you trust whatever power you lead your life by, happiness and success is surely to happen.

Goal Number 1: Clean my room Goal Number 2: Call the insurance company ....."Goal number......oh, I forgot. What's the date today?" Writing goals is something I tend to do everyday. However, they aren't so much goals as they are lists. Of course, anxiety gets the best of me when I try to complete every goal on my list, so sometimes, they accumulate into the proceeding day; and you know, that's okay. I'm happy that other people have similar tendencies, because it means we are all cut from the same cloth. What I am trying to say is that a goal such as "clean my room", although trivial and nature, can hold so much more value to someone living in a different circumstance. For example, if I was born in a wheel chair, maybe cleaning my room would be exceptionally hard. By then, "clean my room" would no longer be a bullet point on a list, but a valid and justifiable goal. I wish my goals didn't hold so much privilege. Although I could argue that exploiting on my blackness is a goal that requires labor, or the fact that I have lupus hinders some of my physical and mental abilities. I love being black. And in some ways, I love having lupus. That being said, I wish I didn't have to connect the two to my goals. None of these things I chose, yet they still lead and guide my life. ...."Goal number....oh I remember! Goal number 32: Write a book about mental health and its correlation to autoimmune diseases." Ultimately, this is the plan. However, I must consider the other 31 goals as well. How do I plan on writing a book about mental health? Well, goal number 22 was: leave the mental hospital. Goal number 23 was: recover from psychosis. And goal number 24 was: inspire others that recovery is possible. As much as I would love to just up and write a book about mental health, it is not possible unless I have the experience. That being said, I hope to do more research about mental health issues and book writing itself. Goal number 33: Figure out what narrative voice to use in book. Now the question is, am I writing my goals as I go? Or do they correspond to future aspirations? Well, Goal number 156 is: Become a therapist. However, goals 45-156 haven't been written. As my goals are being written, so am I. Here is what has been written so far... 1. Childhood traumas lead to the onset of lupus 2. Through my drive to be the best, stress fell upon me 3. Lupus responded to that stress 4. Doctors gave me steroids. 5. I went a little crazy (because of the steroids) 6. I remembered everything 7. I recovered, having a story to tell 8. I wrote a book 9. I deleted the book 10. I wrote a book 11. I deleted the book 12. I did some speeches 13. I listened to those who were just starting the journey I was almost ended 14. I am rewriting a book Words, are definitely exciting for me. And what excites me more is the knowledge that can be retained from these words. Although it isn't a lot, but I hope that the words I can offer to those who read my future writing, and the words that people offer to me will bring more peace within the community. Words are powerful, and when used in the right sequence, they can display a multitude of a difference for someone. I hope I can make goals like "cleaning my room" easier for those who have more difficulty completing it. Like I said, we are all cut from the same cloth, so helping people decorate that cloth I hope will make a difference. I know this whole essay was probably slightly confusing. To be honest, I'm a little confused myself. But here is what I can say, my experiences and my identity, although they don't sincerely define me, have helped me to make wise decisions and shape how I see the world. My goals might be different had previous goals or experiences not occurred. Hopefully I can give back to the world what was given to me. If words are the way to do that then so be it. And on a joking note: I'm pretty sure the world is lacking some African American therapist, so maybe that will motivate me.

Maybe being humble is a burden. I would love to boast about all of my life accomplishments...but surviving a medical emergency isn't something I would consider an accomplishment. Can ambition create accomplishments?....I think so, or do the commitments that just happen to result in 'accomplishment' render these ambitions. This is confusing, so let me explain. I have lupus, an autoimmune disease that has greatly affected my every aspect of life. In some ways, it has probably become part of my personality. Lupus presented itself due to a series of childhood traumatic events. <<<<< Please don't let this fool you, I'm actually glad that these events occurred. >>>>>> The only way I was able to come out of these interesting times, was through words. Writing. Poetry and otherwise. It may not be the 'art' that you are referring to, but it is art to me. PTSD and trauma can definitely be difficult to express, especially vocally. I started writing at a young age, and right away, I knew it was something I wanted to continue doing. So I did, I wrote poetry for years right up until I was forced to stop because the steroids they gave me to treat my illness sent me into pyschosis. At this point, poetry turned into scribbles, into delusions, and into incoherence. A journal that traveled with me through months of subconscious gathering allowed my family to understand our pain. I won't explain how my childhood trauma greatly intruded the life of each of my family members, but through a schizophrenic like episode, scribbles in a journal seemed to have more coherence than any poem I had ever written. Fast forward. Its 2019, and I decide book writing seems like a good idea. I embark on a journey to explore the different horizons of mental health and spirituality along with how they relate to physical ailments such as my own. Stop signs and traffic lights continually bombarded my brain as fogginess, an unavoidable symptom made it difficult to write. So I stopped, rethought, and wrote again. 2020 came. COVID seized our lives, and racial tension grew in the streets. Writing seemed like a good idea again. I rewrote my book, this time with a focus on racial inequality and identity. My half-blackness finally was able to speak the words society never let. The words that were already suppressed by sickness. 2021. Lupus still runs my agenda. Spirituality has lost its physical density and risen to the surface. (Metaphorically, its density is on high). I decided to rewrite this book again. I realized, that through my journey, it would be difficult to advocate for those who had a similar experience, because there aren't many people out there. The best course of action for me, is too write a fictional story of a girl who has struggles, similar to mine, but similar to that of the world. I love Jesus, and that's not something I am ashamed of. Without him, I wouldn't be writing this as we speak. Although Christianity is something I want driving people away I still strive for it to center my writing. My goal is to write something that is friendly to everyone (and when I say everyone, I mean EVERYONE). Something that will change the perspective on how people see the world, on how people view mental health disorders, physical disorders, spirituality, racial identity, sexual orientation and more. To answer your question. What is my biggest artistic ambition? Well, in simple terms writing inspiring pieces. However, realistically, figuring out the world. Remember when I said being humble was a burden? Well, the world hasn't been kind to me, and because of that, I was bed-ridden. I still want to be kind to the world, rewarded or not. My "accomplishments" are not my own. Without sickness, and trauma, my ambition wouldn't have come alive. In order for me to positively achieve something, those experiences had to happen. Money most definitely isn't everything. But, if living in LA (I'm going to USC), being surrounding by encouraging people (including my single mother), and maybe a little bit of outside help will help me get there, then I'm all for it. I hope that this story inspired you just a little bit. I apologize I wasn't able to include everything. Thank you for this opportunity, and I really hope you will consider my situation for this scholarship.