There's a saying in the medical industry: when you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras. But what if that horse really is a zebra? As if spotting that zebra isn't hard enough, now add a worldwide global pandemic to the mix. Now can you spot it? It was the summer of 2020, and I started to feel sick, despite this, I wasn’t worried, even as my condition worsened. I insisted I was fine, and hid many of my symptoms from my family. I lost a significant amount of weight, and subsequently, my hair began to fall out in the shower. I would lie burrowed in my couch cocoon, so still one would insist I was a corpse prepared for burial. This continued for weeks, my condition only continuing to worsen like a slow march to the grave. My family eventually made an appointment with my doctor to see what we could find, but were only able to get a virtual one due to the looming threat of a global pandemic. My arms were as skinny as twigs and my cheekbones would jut out awkwardly from my thin and sunken in face. I looked like death itself. I was confused, and I was scared. I sat across from a screen, trying to make out the pixelated face of my doctor through my tired and blurry eyes. He assured me that it was most likely a stomach bug, and to just wait it out. And that was that. The next week or so passed, and I only seemed to get worse. I was frustrated. Something was wrong. At some point, enough was enough, and I was rushed to the ER. It all moved so fast, and before I knew it, I was in a wheelchair being rolled up to a room, the choking smell of antiseptics filling my lungs. I was put in a hospital bed, doctors and nurses moving in and out of the room like a fast food restaurant during rush hour, poking and prodding my arms like they were pincushions. Slowly I started to feel better, my mind finally waking up. So the doctors gave me my diagnosis. Type one diabetes. What even is that? Turns out, that was the one out ten: the zebra. You see, type one diabetes is rare and uncommon, as well as painfully stigmatized. This fact makes it easy to misdiagnose the condition. Because of my misdiagnosis, my condition was allowed to worsen, nearly sending me into a coma. This is off-putting, is it not? Medical professionals missing obvious clues to a life-threatening condition? In fact, one in four type one diabetics are misdiagnosed with another condition before being diagnosed with type one. This scenario is painfully common, stemming from the stigmas placed on the condition, and driving the force of uneducated medical professionals. As I look back on the rollercoaster that was arriving to this diagnosis, I wonder how my story would have been changed if the first doctor had looked a little harder for that zebra. After everything that happened, my life was changed. I became passionate about the medical field. I want to be a doctor that won't make the same mistakes mine did. Diabetes has without a doubt shaped who I am today, and after all that has happened, I'm grateful for the opportunity to share my experiences with my condition, and maybe, someday, prevent someone from being misdiagnosed like I was.

Many years ago, I rescued a dog from a shelter. Sophie, an odd mutt who looked like a miniature husky with a side of chihuahua, came into my life unexpectedly. She was skinny and sick with a thin coat that felt like wire. Her origin story is unknown, as with many shelter dogs, but she ended up with me, and became my heart dog. As she became healthy and gained back her strength, her wire-like coat disappeared, turning into a luscious fluffy sea of black and white. She had spunk and personality, and was by my side through some of the hardest times of my life, including my life altering diagnosis of Type One Diabetes, and accompanying depression. She was always there for me. It became apparent that Sophie was slowing down, and starting to struggle in her elderly age, with tasks as simple as walking proving to be challenging. Despite this, she always knew when I felt down, and she would stiffly wobble over and demand snuggles. During my Junior year of high school, Sophie crossed the rainbow bridge. Although I knew that it was her time, and that she was suffering, it didn’t ease the pain of losing part of my soul. She was my world, there by my side as long as I could remember, and my safe haven as I transitioned into high school. And suddenly, she was gone. Even writing this now, I can't hold back the tears falling from my eyes. My mental health suffered significantly. I was struggling through my most academically difficult year of high school, while also sinking deeper and deeper into depression. I started to self harm as a coping mechanism, and isolated myself from loved ones. There were times I even considered taking my own life. Two months before Sophie passed, Charlie entered into my life. Charlie, a fireball of energy in the form of a 4 month old border collie puppy. She was smart, goofy, and so much fun. Regrettably, after Sophie passed, I began to resent Charlie. She was only 6 months old, and I am ashamed to say that I regretted getting her. However, looking back, I know that it was meant to be. I was at my lowest, and she was there to comfort me… and demand that if I didn’t throw the tennis ball in the next 3 seconds, she would begin to direct her unbridled border collie puppy energy into the chair legs of the dining room table. With her help, I picked up the pieces of myself, and fought through to continue my education. I can’t stress enough how much I miss Sophie, but I am beyond grateful for the insane ball of energy that drags me out of bed every morning. Without Charlie’s help, I worry how much darker my life would have been after Sophie passed. Charlie found me when I needed her most and she continues to save my life every day as I now embark on the challenging journey of college. Now, I am preparing to go on to college, I have a loving and incredible girlfriend who accepts me for who I am and is endlessly supportive of my gender identity and mental health, and I am happier than I have been for years. I am ready to take on the challenges of college and, for the first time in a very long time, I am excited about the future.

When thinking of calculus, many think of boring math problems. You learn the concept, grind through hours upon hours of homework, take on a menacing test, and, with a little luck, bam! You are done with calculus! You move on from it and never think about it again! Well... this isn't always the case! Math, and calculus, is all around us! Calculus is an essential tool in STEM fields. It is the backbone of everything that we do, and nearly every STEM field utilizes it daily. While the concepts themselves are crucial, it's also important to realize the valuable skills that working through these problems can give us. First of all, it helps students to develop essential problem solving skills. It trains individuals to work through complex problems, even when faced with frustration and difficulties. This is an essential skill, as one must think outside the box and get creative without getting frustrated. When you face a roadblock on a calculus problem, you have to retry it, look at it from a different angle, and get creative. These problem solving skills are critical in STEM fields! Additionally, it rewires the brain on how it thinks about complex problems. We have to break down complex ideas into smaller and more manageable parts in order to find solutions. These basic mathematical principals can be applied to daily tasks, allowing STEM majors to tackle complex problems with better efficiency which ultimately pay off. Calculus also serves as a groundwork for more advanced topics and education in the STEM field, it lives and breaths in every technological advancement the future has to offer, from AI, to algorithms, to engineering, and even physics, calculus is driving everything. Not only is all of this true, but learning calculus is like learning to speak in an entirely new language! Its a common language and set of tools that all professionals use. You have to understand it in order to speak in the language of professionals! How exactly is it a language? Calculus uses symbols, expressions and notations in order to represent complicated relationships. Just like how we use words and grammar to form languages, calculus uses notation and expressions to convey mathematical meanings. Language has its own set of rules and conventions, just like calculus! Its amazing to think about. If we didn't speak calculus, we would miss out on the precision and clarity that this unique language can provide us! Ultimately, STEM fields would be entirely different in the absence of calculus. I think breaking it down to just simple and boring math undercuts the fascinating ways it improves our society. As I move toward my dreams of med-school, I am thrilled to learn even more about this fascinating language.

What is it about human emotions that make them so difficult to understand? We spend our whole lives trying to understand ourselves, and still still struggle to do just that. Yet, amidst this ceaseless struggle, there exists a profound beauty in our shared experience—the beauty of pain, the beauty of sadness. There is one book in particular that sparked my curiosity and ignited my passion for reading: The 1940's classic, No Longer Human, written by Osamu Dazai. Osamu Dazai understood the beauty of sadness and shared with complete honesty the struggles he faced. No Longer Human is a brutal story about a man who is severely depressed, so much so that he struggles to see himself as a human being. He self-destructs with alcohol and suicide attempts, before ultimately succeeding in taking his own life in the haunting conclusion to this heartbreaking story. This classic is semi-autobiographical and reflects Osamu Dazai's personal life which makes the story all the more riveting, especially since this was the final piece Dazai wrote before ultimately killing himself in 1948. The #BookTok community has a death grip on this piece, as it is renowned for its impressive exploration of human psychology and alienation. As I began to explore more about this story, I came across the #BookTok community and I was blown away. Thousands of people were coming together to share their takes on the book, as well as give recommendations of similar books with themes relating to this one. As I began to explore the community, I started to collect my own little bookshelf of titles that navigated themes of psychology and human emotions that the #BookTok community recommended to me. The first book I was recommended was The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus, which explores the philosophical topic of absurdism and the joys of living a life that has no meaning. Since it is the #1 best seller in existential philosophy, this title is a thinker. It leaves you pondering the complexities of the world we live in, while also learning to take pleasure in even the most mundane of tasks. Next was The Hilarious World of Depression by John Moe, which navigates the topic of depression, that many are far too familiar with, with an err of humor. John Moe does a fantastic job of carefully covering sensitive topics in an accessible and enjoyable way. I don't think it's a stretch to say that this book changed my life, and I cannot recommend it enough for anyone who is struggling with depression, or even if you are hoping to understand the world of a depressed person. Or, as John Moe calls them, the 'saddies'. Taking a turn away from the mushy gushy human emotions is The Life-Changing Science of Detecting Bullshit by John V. Petrocelli. This book is a wit and science-driven exploration of the dangerous scientific misinformation that plagues the world we live in. Whether it's just blatant lies from people we are supposed to look up to, or a sly manipulating of statistics to create shocking headlines, this book shines a light on how dangerous and how prominent these lies are in our world. Being someone who is going into the medical field, more specifically the psychology side of it, I find myself more and more fascinated by science and psychology the more I read. Without the #BookTok community, I would have missed out on so many more amazing books, and I am so happy to be apart of such an amazing community.

When I first began watching Bungo Stray Dogs, I was captivated by the world and the ideas it represented. It blended classic literature with supernatural abilities and this odd combination blew my mind. All of the characters in this series are named after and based on classic authors, with their supernatural abilities being named after a book they wrote. In addition to this fascinating combination, the series does an extraordinary job of portraying mental health. My favorite character, Osamu Dazai, is a shining example of this. Osamu Dazai is a troubled character. He is depressed and struggles to see himself as a human being. He grew up in the mafia, hoping to bring himself as close as possible to death so that he may better understand human beings, while also hoping for death himself. When you compare anime Osamu Dazai to real-life classic author Osamu Dazai, it's easy to see the similarities. Classic author Osamu Dazai also struggled with depression and couldn't see himself as a human being. In his semi-autobiographical novel, No Longer Human, he discusses his trauma and his struggles with mental health that ultimately led him to take his own life. This novel wonderfully and carefully traverses the struggles of mental health and it's a fascinating exploration of human psychology. In the anime, after the death of his closest friend, Osamu Dazai ultimately leaves the mafia to join a group of supernatural crime fighters, called the Armed Detective Agency, where the main show takes place. While he still struggles to see the point of it all, he desperately tries to fulfill his friend's dying wish of becoming a good man. This series is spectacular, and way overlooked when it comes to anime. It's packed with action and heartfelt sequences and wonderfully explores the challenges of mental health and suicidal ideation. I've watched this series so many times, and it's led to me taking up a passion for classic literature as well. I cannot recommend this series enough for any lover of anime.

In the summer of 2020, I was diagnosed with a lifelong incurable disability: Type One Diabetes. This was a shock to me as I was suddenly plunged into the disabled minority. I had to quickly learn to sink or swim as I struggled to manage this difficult condition filled with stigmas and preconceived notions. I felt there were times in which I needed to hide my medical devices, embarrassed that people would see them and be blinded by the stigmas associated with them. That was until I realized that those devices were opportunities. Each time someone sees that bulky device on my arm or leg and asks what it is, it's an opportunity for me to share my experiences and help shine a light on those stigmas. The medical field has long been a passion of mine, drawn in by the incredible people working there and the fascinating technology, I knew that that was where I wanted to end up in the future. While I didn't expect to end up in a hospital myself on the verge of a coma when I was diagnosed, it only solidified the decision to head into the medical field. I found myself sinking to dark places as I struggled to keep myself afloat in the academic field while also managing this disability, but as I felt myself losing hope and seeing my dreams of medical school fading away, I was saved by my psychiatrist and given the help I needed. This was a game changer for me, and narrowed down where exactly I wanted to go in the medical field. I want to be a psychiatrist and help others like mine helped me. As I look on to the 10+ years of schooling that lie ahead of me, it can all be quite daunting. I am leaving home, and moving into a completely different environment where I will be pushed to the edge and tested on everything I do. I am finally stepping foot on the path to my future and while I am nervous about the struggles I will soon be facing, I am thrilled to begin. I refuse to let my disability hold me back, instead, it will help me stand out and give me opportunities to educate others about this disease. With the support of my psychiatrist, family, and friends, I know I can do great things. It's refreshing to see that a community of minority groups, whether it be race, religion, or disability, can stand together to lift each other up, allowing all of us to succeed like we know we can. This world is difficult, and challenges will always be thrown at us, testing each decision we make and trying to break us down, but it is truly essential to know that we are not alone, and together we can help each other thrive and build a better future where we all can feel supported.

I grew up on Tom Holland's futuristic Spider-Man. Being as huge of a Marvel fan as I was, he was my favorite for the longest time. He appeals to younger fans such as myself, he's funny in a nerdy way, he's emotional, and you have to love his relationship with Tony Stark. Him being canonically part of the MCU was what made me love him the most. However, this was mostly because I had never even seen the other Spider-Man movies... embarrassing, I know. How did I even call myself a Marvel fan? With the speculations of all three Spider-Mans coming together for one movie, I knew I had to do my due diligence as a Marvel fanatic, and I began watching the other Spider-Man movies. I decided to start at the beginning and watch Tobey Magurire's Spider-Man. I was blown away. It was hilarious, emotional, had me on the edge of my seat, and ultimately gave me that warm and fuzzy post-superhero-movie feeling. I loved it. I excitedly watched all three of them... twice. After thoroughly watching those movies and ensuring that my Marvel knowledge would be solid for the upcoming movie, I then moved on to Andrew Garfield. I was excited as I had just barely watched his musical Tick Tick Boom, and I adored his hair as many fans do. I thought for sure that Andrew Garfield would be my favorite. To my surprise, that wasn't the case. When it comes down to it, what's appealing about Spider-Man to me is his nerdiness. He's supposed to be this nerdy kid in highschool who doesn't quite fit in. Andrew Garfield... wasn't. He was too cool, and not what I envisioned as Spider-Man. Don't get me wrong, I loved the movies regardless, but Tobet Maguire's had my heart. So, ultimately, Tobey Maguire's Spider-Man will always be my favorite. He's a classic, and who doesn't love a good classic.

In the summer of 2020, I was diagnosed with a lifelong incurable disability: Type One Diabetes. This was a shock to me as I was suddenly plunged into the disabled minority. I had to quickly learn to sink or swim as I struggled to manage this difficult condition filled with stigmas and preconceived notions. I felt there were times in which I needed to hide my medical devices, embarrassed that people would see them and be blinded by the stigmas associated with them. That was until I realized that those devices were opportunities. Each time someone sees that bulky device on my arm or leg and asks what it is, it's an opportunity for me to share my experiences and help shine a light on those stigmas. The medical field has long been a passion of mine, drawn in by the incredible people working there and the fascinating technology, I knew that that was where I wanted to end up in the future. While I didn't expect to end up in a hospital myself on the verge of a coma when I was diagnosed, it only solidified the decision to head into the medical field. I found myself sinking to dark places as I struggled to keep myself afloat in the academic field while also managing this disability, but as I felt myself losing hope and seeing my dreams of medical school fading away, I was saved by my psychiatrist and given the help I needed. This was a game changer for me, and narrowed down where exactly I wanted to go in the medical field. I want to be a psychiatrist and help others like mine helped me. As I look on to the 10+ years of schooling that lie ahead of me, it can all be quite daunting. I am leaving home, and moving into a completely different environment where I will be pushed to the edge and tested on everything I do. I am finally stepping foot on the path to my future and while I am nervous about the struggles I will soon be facing, I am thrilled to begin. I refuse to let my disability hold me back, instead, it will help me stand out and give me opportunities to educate others about this disease. With the support of my psychiatrist, family, and friends, I know I can do great things. The VonDerek Casteel scholarship is a ray of hope in this swirling mess of change. It's an opportunity to ease one stress that college can bring and provide an opportunity for me to thrive in this new environment. It's refreshing to see that a community of minority groups, whether it be race, religion, or disability, can stand together to lift each other up, allowing all of us to succeed like we know we can. This world is difficult, and challenges will always be thrown at us, testing each decision we make and trying to break us down, but it is truly essential to know that we are not alone, and together we can help each other thrive and build a better future where we all can feel supported.

There’s a saying in the medical industry: When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras. As if finding the zebra isn’t hard enough, now add Covid to the mix. It’s hard to spot that zebra from miles away through the screen of a computer, and it’s even harder to spot it through the veil of stigmas. It was the summer of 2020, and I started to feel sick, however, I wasn’t worried, even as my condition worsened. I insisted I was fine, and hid many of my symptoms from my family. I lost a significant amount of weight and, subsequently, my hair began to fall out in the shower. My condition only seemed to worsen over time. This continued for weeks until we eventually decided to make a doctor's visit. Due to the looming threat of Covid, a virtual doctor's visit was the only one we good find. After a 5 minute video call, the doctor concluded it was just a stomach bug, and told us to wait it out. The next week or so passed, and I only seemed to get worse. I was frustrated. Something was wrong, and enough was enough. I was rushed to the ER. It all moved so fast, before I knew it I was in a wheelchair being rolled up to a room, the choking smell of antiseptics filling my lungs. I was put in a hospital bed, doctors and nurses moving in and out of the room like a fast food restaurant during rush hour, poking and prodding my arms like they were pincushions. Slowly I started to feel better, my mind finally waking up. So the doctors gave me my diagnosis. Type one diabetes. What even is that? Turns out, that was the one out of ten: the zebra. You see, type one diabetes is rare and uncommon, as well as painfully stigmatized. This fact makes it easy to misdiagnose the condition. Because of my misdiagnosis, my condition was allowed to worsen, nearly sending me into a coma. This is off-putting, is it not? Medical professionals missing obvious clues to a life-threatening condition? Labeling it as a stomach bug and moving on without batting an eye? In fact, one in four type one diabetics are misdiagnosed with another condition before being diagnosed with type one. This scenario is painfully common, stemming from the stigmas placed on the condition, and driving the force of uneducated medical professionals. As I look back on the rollercoaster that was arriving at this diagnosis, I wonder how my story would have been changed if the first doctor had looked a little harder for that zebra. After everything that happened, my life was changed. I decided that I wanted to go into the medical field. I want to be a doctor that won't make the same mistakes mine did. Diabetes has without a doubt shaped who I am today, and after all that has happened, I'm grateful for the opportunity to share my experiences with my condition, and maybe, someday, prevent someone from being misdiagnosed like I was.

In the summer of 2020, I was diagnosed with a lifelong incurable disability: Type One Diabetes. This was a shock to me as I was suddenly plunged into the disabled minority. I had to quickly learn to sink or swim as I struggled to manage this difficult condition filled with stigmas and preconceived notions. I felt there were times in which I needed to hide my medical devices, embarrassed that people would see them and be blinded by the stigmas associated with them. That was until I realized that those devices were opportunities. Each time someone sees that bulky device on my arm or leg and asks what it is, it's an opportunity for me to share my experiences and help shine a light on those stigmas. The medical field has long been a passion of mine, drawn in by the incredible people working there and the fascinating technology, I knew that that was where I wanted to end up in the future. While I didn't expect to end up in a hospital myself on the verge of a coma when I was diagnosed, it only solidified the decision to head into the medical field. As I look ahead to the 10+ years of schooling that lie ahead of me, it can all be quite daunting. I am leaving home, and moving into a completely different environment where I will be pushed to the edge and tested on everything I do. I am finally stepping foot on the path to my future, and while I am nervous about the struggles I will soon be facing, I am thrilled to begin. I refuse to let my disability hold me back, instead, it will help me stand out and give me opportunities to educate others about this disease. The Bright Lights scholarship is a ray of hope in this swirling mess of change. It's an opportunity to ease one stress that college can bring and allow me to thrive even more. It's refreshing to see that a community of minority groups, whether it be race, religion, or disability, stand together to lift each other up, allowing all of us to succeed like we know we can. This world is difficult, and challenges will always be thrown at us, testing each decision we make and trying to break us down, but it is truly essential to know that we are not alone, and together we can help each other thrive and build a better future. Together, We are the Bright Lights of the future.

How has music affected my life during my high school years? Sure, I know it sounds super cheesy when written down like this, but music changed my life and opened me up to so many more opportunities. It took me out of my shy introverted shell and allowed me to become the confident extrovert I am today. It all started just after my junior year of high school. I was always a more laid-back person. I was shy, didn't socialize if I didn't have to, and usually avoided loud environments with lots of people. But that changed when I got a spontaneous text from a friend. They told me that they had an extra ticket to the Fall Out Boy concert happening at Usanu Amphitheater in just a few days. I was excited and nervous at the same time. I wanted to go, but I had never gone to a concert before. I was worried about everything that could happen, worried that it might be too loud, would be a waste of money, or maybe I just wouldn't like it. Ultimately, I decided to bite the bullet and give it a shot. I said yes, and excitedly counted down the days til I could go. That concert blew my mind, and it wasn't just the fireworks timed to go off just as they sang their iconic line, "Light 'em up up up, I'm on fire!" The whole experience was phenomenal. There is something truly breathtaking about being surrounded by thousands of fans all joining together through their mutual love of song. I could belt out the lyrics, jump around, show off my excitement, and just truly live in the moment. That night was fantastic, and only the start of my love of concerts. With that same friend, I started going to more concerts. Whether it be stages even bigger than that with slower songs such as Hozier, or smaller venues where I was right next to the stage falling in love with the opening acts, I loved everything about the concert experience. Through these events, I felt myself come out of my shell even more, I was able to get to know myself a bit more and even meet new people along the way. Music has a wonderful ability to portray emotions that can't always be put into words. It allows people who may never even speak a word to each other to connect in ways that might not have been possible today. I have made friends through music who I will keep even as I go to college, and I am thrilled to see just how much further music will take me.

My experience with mental health has changed everything about me. I always struggled with depression, but usually managed to handle it. That all changed in my freshman year of high school. I started to feel sick even though I insisted I was fine, and I hid many of my symptoms from my family. I lost a significant amount of weight. Subsequently, my hair began to fall out in the shower. This continued for weeks, my condition only worsening like a slow march to the grave. Something was wrong. At some point, enough was enough, and I was rushed to the ER. It all moved so fast, before I knew it I was in a wheelchair being rolled up to a room, the choking smell of antiseptics filling my lungs. I was put in a hospital bed, doctors and nurses moving in and out of the room like a fast food restaurant during rush hour, poking and prodding my arms like they were pincushions. Slowly I started to feel better, my mind finally waking up. So the doctors gave me my diagnosis. Type one diabetes. Type one Diabetes is notorious for its stigmas, even though it is unpreventable and incurable, most assume it is exactly what the stigma tells them it is. It's a condition you get when are unhealthy and eat too much sugar. This stigma caused my mental health to decline, I was diagnosed with this disorder, yet I never wanted to talk about it due to how people would respond. Over time, the difficulty of this disability bore into me, and I only seemed to decline. I became closed off, unmotivated, and just downright depressed. Then, everything got even harder. My heart dog, my biggest motivation in life, Sophie, passed away my junior year of high school. Even writing this now causes me to tear up, and I miss her with every breath of take. My mental health sunk to its lowest, and at times I just wanted to throw in the towel. My grades suffered as I struggled to even get out of bed. My parents and friends noticed my shift in mood and suggested getting help. Enough was enough! I finally saw a psychiatrist, was offered help, and was put on antidepressants. It's been a hard year since then, but I finally feel as if I am back in the driver's seat. For the first time in a while, I am excited for my future. My family, friends, and my wonderful partner have all said that I seem happier and more confident than ever before. Through my struggles with mental health, I have had to lean on those close to me, and I feel as if my relationships with them have grown stronger. In addition to this, the help I received led me to find out my dream career. I want to be a psychiatrist so I can help people like my psychiatrist helped me. I think that because I went through such dark times myself, I can understand the struggles of those that I will get to help. And maybe, I can make their world brighten up like mine was. Thank you for your consideration.

If I could have everyone read one book, I would have them read The Hilarious World of Depression by John Moe. When I was at my lowest with my mental health, I found this book. It was fascinating. The author of this book wonderfully navigates the complex discussions of suicide and mental health with an err of humor. He dives into his personal experiences with depression and suicidal ideation and made me feel less isolated having similar thoughts. I would have everyone read this book because I think everybody can relate to it in some way. We've all faced challenges and struggled with ourselves, so I think that there is a lot that can be gained from this book. Those who have struggled with depression can find comfort in this book, knowing they are not alone. Even if you have not struggled quite so much, I still think this book has something to offer you as well, as you can understand the rationale behind this thinking and understand some cues that depressed people show, and how to help them. This book was a game changer for me and was a breakthrough in my mental health struggles. I could see parts of myself in John Moe's writing, and I think that everybody could benefit from giving this book a read. Additionally, this book is hilarious, as the title states. This book was entertaining from page one even to the end, utilizing humor as a way to get through difficult topics. Depression is a silent epidemic in the United States, and we must take steps to understand those who are struggling.

I was never really into coffee. The bitter taste and overpowering smells were offputting to me, causing me to deeply dislike the idea. Despite this, I somehow ended up working in a Starbucks after applying toTarget. I felt out of place working at a coffee shop and not liking coffee myslef, I was asked by my new coworkers what I thought of coffee, and I gave my opinions. I received chuckles in return at the crazy turn of events that landed me working at a coffee shop. Little did I know, I would fall in love with coffee. This is where it all changed. As part of my job, I had to sample all of the Starbucks drinks. I was stunned by the complicated flavors and addicting aroma that those sweet yet savory beverages provided. I tried them all, and even went further by creating my own concoctions and advertising them with cute signs as the 'drink of the week.' I had a blast mixing together ingredients and creating new drinks. My favorite to work with: brown sugar syrup. I mixed some into the popular vanilla bean frappuccino and shared it with my coworkers. They fell it love with it just as I did. I continued to experiment with drinks and became known for making the best drinks at my Starbucks. Through my sampling, I quickly found my favorite drink, the brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso. This deliciously warm and cozy drink made me feel so good, while also giving me an insane boost of caffeine. (Blond shots! My love!) Despite my love of its complicated warm flavors, I felt something was missing from the drink. I knew I wanted to add another layer of flavor to it, but I wasn't quite sure what. Then, fall drinks rolled around, and I was introduced to a new flavor. Pumpkin. Oh, how my world expanded. I began putting pumpkin into everything. and one day, I put it into my brown sugar oat milk shaken espresso. It was amazing. The warm notes of brown sugar blended with the sweet feeling of pumpkin, transporting me to a lovely fall world. I became even more obsessed and found myself ordering it waaaay too often. This drink made its way into the fabric of my fall narrative. I would get it multiple times a week, even putting it into cold foam and putting it on top of the drink. Everytime I would drink the warm and cozy beverage, I would relax and feel embraced with the familiar feeling of fall.

There’s a saying in the medical industry: When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras. As if finding the zebra isn’t hard enough, now add Covid to the mix. It’s hard to spot that zebra from miles away through the screen of a computer, and it’s even harder to spot it through the veil of stigmas. It was the summer of 2020, and I started to feel sick, however, I wasn’t worried, even as my condition worsened. I insisted I was fine, and hid many of my symptoms from my family. I lost a significant amount of weight. Subsequently, my hair began to fall out in the shower. I would lie burrowed in my couch cocoon, so still one would insist I was a corpse prepared for burial. This continued for weeks, my condition only worsening like a slow march to the grave. We made an appointment with my doctor but were only able to get a virtual one due to the looming threat of a global pandemic. My arms were as skinny as twigs and my cheekbones jut out awkwardly from my thin and sunken in face. I looked like death itself. I was scared. I sat across from a screen, trying to make out the pixelated face of my doctor through my tired and blurry eyes. He assured me that it was most likely a stomach bug, and to just wait it out. And that was that. The next week or so passed, and I only seemed to get worse. I was frustrated. Something was wrong. At some point, enough was enough, and I was rushed to the ER. It all moved so fast, before I knew it I was in a wheelchair being rolled up to a room, the choking smell of antiseptics filling my lungs. I was put in a hospital bed, doctors and nurses moving in and out of the room like a fast food restaurant during rush hour, poking and prodding my arms like they were pincushions. Slowly I started to feel better, my mind finally waking up. So the doctors gave me my diagnosis. Type one diabetes. What even is that? Turns out, that was the one out ten: the zebra. You see, type one diabetes is rare and uncommon, as well as painfully stigmatized. This fact makes it easy to misdiagnose the condition. Because of my misdiagnosis, my condition was allowed to worsen, nearly sending me into a coma. This is off-putting, is it not? Medical professionals missing obvious clues to a life-threatening condition? Labeling it as a stomach bug and moving on without batting an eye? In fact, one in four type one diabetics are misdiagnosed with another condition before being diagnosed with type one. This scenario is painfully common, stemming from the stigmas placed on the condition, and driving the force of uneducated medical professionals. As I look back on the rollercoaster that was arriving to this diagnosis, I wonder how my story would have been changed if the first doctor had looked a little harder for that zebra. After everything that happened, my life was changed. I decided I wanted to go into the medical field. I want to be a doctor that won't make the same mistakes mine did. Diabetes has without a doubt shaped who I am today, and after all that has happened, I'm grateful for the opportunity to share my experiences with my condition, and maybe, someday, prevent someone from being misdiagnosed like I was.

There’s a saying in the medical industry: When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras. As if finding the zebra isn’t hard enough, now add Covid to the mix. It’s hard to spot that zebra from miles away through the screen of a computer, and it’s even harder to spot it through the veil of stigmas. It was the summer of 2020, and I started to feel sick, however, I wasn’t worried, even as my condition worsened. I insisted I was fine, and hid many of my symptoms from my family. I lost a significant amount of weight. Subsequently, my hair began to fall out in the shower. I would lie burrowed in my couch cocoon, so still one would insist I was a corpse prepared for burial. This continued for weeks, my condition only worsening like a slow march to the grave. We made an appointment with my doctor but were only able to get a virtual one due to the looming threat of a global pandemic. My arms were as skinny as twigs and my cheekbones jut out awkwardly from my thin and sunken in face. I looked like death itself. I was scared. I sat across from a screen, trying to make out the pixelated face of my doctor through my tired and blurry eyes. He assured me that it was most likely a stomach bug, and to just wait it out. And that was that. The next week or so passed, and I only seemed to get worse. I was frustrated. Something was wrong. At some point, enough was enough, and I was rushed to the ER. It all moved so fast, before I knew it I was in a wheelchair being rolled up to a room, the choking smell of antiseptics filling my lungs. I was put in a hospital bed, doctors and nurses moving in and out of the room like a fast food restaurant during rush hour, poking and prodding my arms like they were pincushions. Slowly I started to feel better, my mind finally waking up. So the doctors gave me my diagnosis. Type one diabetes. What even is that? Turns out, that was the one out ten: the zebra. You see, type one diabetes is rare and uncommon, as well as painfully stigmatized. This fact makes it easy to misdiagnose the condition. Because of my misdiagnosis, my condition was allowed to worsen, nearly sending me into a coma. This is off-putting, is it not? Medical professionals missing obvious clues to a life-threatening condition? Labeling it as a stomach bug and moving on without batting an eye? In fact, one in four type one diabetics are misdiagnosed with another condition before being diagnosed with type one. This scenario is painfully common, stemming from the stigmas placed on the condition, and driving the force of uneducated medical professionals. As I look back on the rollercoaster that was arriving to this diagnosis, I wonder how my story would have been changed if the first doctor had looked a little harder for that zebra. After everything that happened, my life was changed. I decided I wanted to go into the medical field. I want to be a doctor that won't make the same mistakes mine did. Diabetes has without a doubt shaped who I am today, and after all that has happened, I'm grateful for the opportunity to share my experiences with my condition, and maybe, someday, prevent someone from being misdiagnosed like I was.

Hi there! My name is Jules, and I am super excited to share my story with you! In high school, I felt off in my body. No matter what I did, It felt like I was just playing dress up. I would curl my hair, and wear girly clothes, hoping to feel more accepted, but I just felt more and more out of place. In my Sophomore year, I met a group of LGBTQ+ individuals, and I immediately felt so comfortable with them. I didn't know why at the time, as I still insisted I was straight and Cis. Over time, I noticed that she/her pronouns made me uncomfortable, and I didn't find myself attracted to any of the men at my school. Growing up in a religious household in Utah, I thought something was wrong with me. My friends supported me, and eventually, I learned of the term nonbinary. It was clarifying to me, and I embraced it as part of myself. I came out as nonbinary to my friends, and I started using They/Them pronouns. I suddenly felt so much more free. My friends were amazing and supported me along the way. My nonbinary friend, Sam, helped me out and was more than supportive when I expressed my desire to use they/them pronouns. They helped me accept who I was and even helped me when I went to buy my first binder. Now, I feel more like myself than ever. I have a wonderful and amazing girlfriend, I have a shaved head and I dress how I please, and I openly use my preferred pronouns. I work for Target as a Starbucks barista and feel supported by their advocacy for LGBTQ+ individuals. While the world has made tremendous steps to becoming more inclusive, it still scares me sometimes to be who I am. I'm worried to kiss my girlfriend in public, as I often receive disdainful glances or hear unsolicited comments regarding us. These things impact me, and I have found myself struggling with my mental health at times. This led me to my chosen major. I want to help others with the challenges they are facing, which is why I am declaring my major in Psychology and planning to go to Medical School and become a Psychiatrist. We all need help sometimes, and it can be scary to be who we are, but I am hoping that someday I can be supportive like those who supported me.

There’s a saying in the medical industry: When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras. As if finding the zebra isn’t hard enough, now add Covid to the mix. It’s hard to spot that zebra from miles away through the screen of a computer, and it’s even harder to spot it through the veil of stigmas. It was the summer of 2020, and I started to feel sick, however, I wasn’t worried, even as my condition worsened. I insisted I was fine, and hid many of my symptoms from my family. I lost a significant amount of weight. Subsequently, my hair began to fall out in the shower. I would lie burrowed in my couch cocoon, so still one would insist I was a corpse prepared for burial. This continued for weeks, my condition only worsening like a slow march to the grave. We made an appointment with my doctor but were only able to get a virtual one due to the looming threat of a global pandemic. My arms were as skinny as twigs and my cheekbones jut out awkwardly from my thin and sunken in face. I looked like death itself. I was scared. I sat across from a screen, trying to make out the pixelated face of my doctor through my tired and blurry eyes. He assured me that it was most likely a stomach bug, and to just wait it out. And that was that. The next week or so passed, and I only seemed to get worse. I was frustrated. Something was wrong. At some point, enough was enough, and I was rushed to the ER. It all moved so fast, before I knew it I was in a wheelchair being rolled up to a room, the choking smell of antiseptics filling my lungs. I was put in a hospital bed, doctors and nurses moving in and out of the room like a fast food restaurant during rush hour, poking and prodding my arms like they were pincushions. Slowly I started to feel better, my mind finally waking up. So the doctors gave me my diagnosis. Type one diabetes. What even is that? Turns out, that was the one out ten: the zebra. You see, type one diabetes is rare and uncommon, as well as painfully stigmatized. This fact makes it easy to misdiagnose the condition. Because of my misdiagnosis, my condition was allowed to worsen, nearly sending me into a coma. This is off-putting, is it not? Medical professionals missing obvious clues to a life-threatening condition? Labeling it as a stomach bug and moving on without batting an eye? In fact, one in four type one diabetics are misdiagnosed with another condition before being diagnosed with type one. This scenario is painfully common, stemming from the stigmas placed on the condition, and driving the force of uneducated medical professionals. As I look back on the rollercoaster that was arriving to this diagnosis, I wonder how my story would have been changed if the first doctor had looked a little harder for that zebra. After everything that happened, my life was changed. I decided I wanted to go into the medical field. I want to be a doctor that won't make the same mistakes mine did. Diabetes has without a doubt shaped who I am today, and after all that has happened, I'm grateful for the opportunity to share my experiences with my condition, and maybe, someday, prevent someone from being misdiagnosed like I was.

In the summer of 2020, I was misdiagnosed with a stomach bug when I was really dying from type one diabetes. My condition worsened as I nearly went into a coma, all because of a doctor who spent less than 5 minutes with me. This is off-putting, is it not? Medical professionals missing obvious clues to a life-threatening condition? Labeling it as a stomach bug and moving on without batting an eye? In fact, one in four type one diabetics are misdiagnosed with another condition before being diagnosed with type one. This scenario is painfully common, stemming from the stigmas placed on the condition, and driving the force of uneducated medical professionals. After everything that happened, my life was changed. I decided I wanted to go into the medical field. I decided that I wanted to be a doctor that wouldn't make the same mistakes mine did. Diabetes has without a doubt shaped who I am today, and after all that has happened, I'm grateful for the opportunity to share my experiences with my condition, and maybe, someday, prevent someone from being misdiagnosed like I was.

There’s a saying in the medical industry: When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras. As if finding the zebra isn’t hard enough, now add Covid to the mix. It’s hard to spot that zebra from miles away through the screen of a computer, and it’s even harder to spot it through the veil of stigmas. It was the summer of 2020, and I started to feel sick, however, I wasn’t worried, even as my condition worsened. I insisted I was fine, and hid many of my symptoms from my family. I lost a significant amount of weight. Subsequently, my hair began to fall out in the shower. I would lie burrowed in my couch cocoon, so still one would insist I was a corpse prepared for burial. This continued for weeks, my condition only worsening like a slow march to the grave. We made an appointment with my doctor but were only able to get a virtual one due to the looming threat of a global pandemic. My arms were as skinny as twigs and my cheekbones jut out awkwardly from my thin and sunken in face. I looked like death itself. I was scared. I sat across from a screen, trying to make out the pixelated face of my doctor through my tired and blurry eyes. He assured me that it was most likely a stomach bug, and to just wait it out. And that was that. The next week or so passed, and I only seemed to get worse. I was frustrated. Something was wrong. At some point, enough was enough, and I was rushed to the ER. It all moved so fast, before I knew it I was in a wheelchair being rolled up to a room, the choking smell of antiseptics filling my lungs. I was put in a hospital bed, doctors and nurses moving in and out of the room like a fast food restaurant during rush hour, poking and prodding my arms like they were pincushions. Slowly I started to feel better, my mind finally waking up. So the doctors gave me my diagnosis. Type one diabetes. What even is that? Turns out, that was the one out ten: the zebra. You see, type one diabetes is rare and uncommon, as well as painfully stigmatized. This fact makes it easy to misdiagnose the condition. Because of my misdiagnosis, my condition was allowed to worsen, nearly sending me into a coma. This is off-putting, is it not? Medical professionals missing obvious clues to a life-threatening condition? Labeling it as a stomach bug and moving on without batting an eye? In fact, one in four type one diabetics are misdiagnosed with another condition before being diagnosed with type one. This scenario is painfully common, stemming from the stigmas placed on the condition, and driving the force of uneducated medical professionals. As I look back on the rollercoaster that was arriving to this diagnosis, I wonder how my story would have been changed if the first doctor had looked a little harder for that zebra. After everything that happened, my life was changed. I decided I wanted to go into the medical field. I want to be a doctor that won't make the same mistakes mine did. Diabetes has without a doubt shaped who I am today, and after all that has happened, I'm grateful for the opportunity to share my experiences with my condition, and maybe, someday, prevent someone for being misdiagnosed like I was.