For most of my life I preferred racing through a good book series to actual racing. As someone who was not blessed with good hand-eye coordination, I considered sports something to watch on TV when there was nothing better to do, but never to partake in myself. This all changed my freshman year when a friend convinced me to join the track team with her. What drew me to track is that you don’t have to memorize complex rules or be well coordinated, you simply have to know how to run and be willing to put in effort. While most would find it discouraging to begin running alongside kids with years of achievements under their belts, I embraced it as a challenge to catch up. I didn't manage to overtake the more experienced runners that year, but I was able to beat my own records. Each goal I reached was an indication of my hard earned progress. In just my first year I discovered my mental strength, dissolved my limited perception of myself, and built up an unshakable confidence that began to shine through in every other area of my life. In my second year of running, I developed a shin injury that made it excruciatingly painful to walk, much less run. In a streak of bad luck, this injury aligned with the beginning of the pandemic, leaving me confined indoors with little chance to exercise beyond the walk to the fridge. Each attempt to run worsened my injury, making it difficult to find the motivation to try again the next day. I realized that instead of recklessly forcing a recovery, I should find a balance and reevaluate how to apply the consistency and persistence I learned in my first year as a runner. I assessed what was causing the injury and slowly reacclimated myself to running, starting with short distances that I slowly increased as I was able. Although it was difficult at times, I refused to lose my love for running or let all my progress slip through my fingers. I continued to push my limits and after months of consistent effort I had not only caught up but had far exceeded my previous abilities. Through all the uncertainty of the past few years, running has become an anchor for me. Though track first sparked my love for running, I have since decided to withdraw from competitive racing in an effort to reduce anxiety. My daily runs are now a time for self-reflection and an opportunity to alleviate stress. Running has helped me discover a more positive and open outlook in life by providing an outlet to focus on myself. Although my hand-eye coordination has not improved, this experience has shaped the way I work through problems, reformed my attitude towards challenges, and solidified my self worth. I’ve grown in incredible ways since freshman year, and I will always be grateful that running changed my life.

Mental health has always been a taboo in my family. In order to avoid any form of uncomfortable conversation, the topic was always brushed under the rug and never addressed. Growing up, no matter how difficult one's situation was, there was always an unspoken obligation to "suck it up" since showing any sort of emotion was equated with weakness. Years of suffering through debilitating mental illness such as depression, anxiety, bulimia, and anorexia in silence ultimately changed the course of my life. My mental health throughout middle school and high school was always poor but at the beginning of the pandemic lock down, I reached a new low. I barricaded myself in my room with the shades drawn, hardly moving all day. I found myself binge eating and rapidly gained weight. Already being incredibly insecure, this sent me over the edge. I believe that I was disgusting and not worthy of the air I breathed. I purged almost everything I ate. I counted every calorie I consumed. My weight plummeted. I withered away and was visibly sick. Nobody said anything. I honestly do not know how I survived this year. Stress from juggling a demanding schedule from work and a rigorous workload from school compounded, making my mental issues multiply. All while battling brain fog and extreme fatigue from my bulimia, I refused to ask for help. My previously exemplary grades dwindled since I had no energy and no motivation. I was prepared to give up the fight when my sister reached out. The story she told me was remarkably similar to my own: struggles with depression, suicide, anxiety, and eating disorders. With her encouragement I slowly started to open up. I was not shamed for having emotions which allowed me to question the other lies I clung to for so long. I spoke to my doctor and received medication. My perception of food as an evil substance shifted and I returned to a healthy weight. I included my friends in my life and built a support system. I confronted my father with my mental health issues and asked him to help me dismantle the stigma in my family against the subject. I did the impossible, I took the first steps towards recovery. I do not want anyone else to trek through the hell that I did. For this reason I believe that it is my calling to become a doctor specializing in eating disorders. By doing so I hope to pay forward this scholarship. I am confident in my ability to not only achieve this feat but to excel. Although I still struggle with these problems, I no longer believe that I am without hope. I have a place in the world. I am capable of a complete recovery. I am worthy of life.

During my childhood I was often very stubborn. I would be determined not to give an inch even for small matters and would frequently find myself sitting at the table for hours glaring at my sworn enemy, vegetables. Even though I sometimes made it difficult for my parents, my inability to listen to anyone other than myself didn’t last. I learned to harness my hardheadedness and turn it into my greatest strength: tenacity. Instead of refusing to see reason, now I refuse to give up. A great example of this metamorphosis was my freshman year when I joined the track team with no prior experience. Whereas most would find it discouraging to first begin running alongside kids with years of achievements under their belts, I embraced it as a challenge to catch up. I didn’t manage to overtake the more experienced runners that year, but the goals I had conquered were a record of my hard earned progress. That season helped me discover my mental strength, dissolved my limited perception of myself, and gave me unshakable confidence, all of which I will be eternally grateful for. After a year more of experience, I found myself with a recurring shin injury that made it excruciatingly painful to walk, much less run. Months of trying to run only to compound the injury left me frustrated at my lack of progress. I realized that instead of being recklessly stubborn, I should find a balance and use my gift of persistence wisely. I tried to assess what was causing the injury and slowly reacclimated myself to running, starting with short distances. I continued to push my limits and soon found myself soaring far above my previous abilities. I had finally caught up. Reflecting on this experience, I proved to myself that my tenacity can overcome both mental and physical roadblocks. I feel truly grateful to have this quality and am certain that because of it I will be able to achieve any goal I set my mind to. I value this endurance highly because it has allowed me to push through obstacles and build character. I am confidant that there will be impossible situations and tricky circumstances in the future. However I am not daunted by this prospective trouble as a result of my persistence. Having this trait gives me a sense of security because I know that I will be ready to conquer whatever life throws my way.

My greatest achievement is running. For most of my life I preferred racing through a good book series to actual racing. As someone who was not blessed with good hand-eye coordination, I considered sports something to watch on TV when there was nothing better to do, but never to partake in myself. This all changed my freshman year when a friend convinced me to join the track team with her. What drew me to track is that you don’t have to memorize complex rules or be well coordinated, you simply have to know how to run and be willing to put in effort. While most would find it discouraging to begin running alongside kids with years of achievements under their belts, I embraced it as a challenge to catch up. I didn't manage to overtake the more experienced runners that year, but I was able to beat my own records. Each goal I reached was an indication of my hard earned progress. In just my first year I discovered my mental strength, dissolved my limited perception of myself, and built up an unshakable confidence that began to shine through in every other area of my life. In my second year of running, I developed a shin injury that made it excruciatingly painful to walk, much less run. In a streak of bad luck, this injury aligned with the beginning of the pandemic, leaving me confined indoors with little chance to exercise beyond the walk to the fridge. Each attempt to run worsened my injury, making it difficult to find the motivation to try again the next day. I realized that instead of recklessly forcing a recovery, I should find a balance and reevaluate how to apply the consistency and persistence I learned in my first year as a runner. I assessed what was causing the injury and slowly reacclimated myself to running, starting with short distances that I slowly increased as I was able. Although it was difficult at times, I refused to lose my love for running or let all my progress slip through my fingers. I continued to push my limits and after months of consistent effort I had not only caught up but had far exceeded my previous abilities. Through all the uncertainty of the past few years, running has become an anchor for me. Though track first sparked my love for running, I have since decided to withdraw from competitive racing in an effort to reduce anxiety. My daily runs are now a time for self-reflection and an opportunity to alleviate stress. Running has helped me discover a more positive and open outlook in life by providing an outlet to focus on myself. I hope that in the future I will continue pushing my limits and reaching milestones. Although my hand-eye coordination has not improved, this experience has shaped the way I work through problems, reformed my attitude towards challenges, and solidified my self worth. I’ve grown in incredible ways since freshman year, and I will always be grateful that running changed my life.

Mental health has always been a taboo in my family. In order to avoid any form of uncomfortable conversation, the topic was always brushed under the rug and never addressed. Growing up, no matter how difficult one's situation was, there was always an unspoken obligation to "suck it up" since showing any sort of emotion was equated with weakness. After years of suffering and a handful of severe mental issues, I broke this rule and spoke up. As a little kid I was outgoing, social, and would unabashedly speak my mind. At times I will admit I could be a bit over the top, but nevertheless, I was happy. When I started school I was an effervescent social butterfly and would try to be friends with just about anyone who crossed my path. The year after that, I changed schools. I did the same the next year and the next year and the next, accumulating in a grand total of eight schools. The seemingly inexhaustible social energy I once had was extinguished. I became a social recluse. Each year when I was forced to adapt to an unfamiliar environment I would not bother meeting people and making friends. There was no point since I would leave the next year. When I was picked on by other students, when I became depressed, when I felt completely abandoned there was no safety net to catch me, so I fell. Over the next few years I spiraled. My family had just moved to California, giving me the opportunity to stay at the same school for more than one year. By some luck I was adopted by a kind group of people, but I kept them at a distance. I was terrified to burden them with my issues and was paranoid that if I did I would be seen as weak. I isolated myself as a result of my depression which only strengthened its grip on my life. By freshman year of high school I was suicidal and sincerely believed that I would die at my own hand before I graduated. My father lost his job the year before, placing financial strain on my family and raising tensions at home. I hated being at school and hated being home. I believe that I had no place as a result. At the beginning of the pandemic lock down, I reached a new low. I barricaded myself in my room with the shades drawn, hardly moving all day. I found myself binge eating and rapidly gained weight. Already being incredibly insecure, this sent me over the edge. I believe that I was disgusting and not worthy of the air I breathed. I purged almost everything I ate. I counted every calorie I consumed. My weight plummeted. I withered away and was visibly sick. Nobody said anything. I honestly do not know how I survived this year. Stress from juggling a demanding schedule from work and a rigorous workload from school compounded, making my mental issues multiply. All while battling brain fog and extreme fatigue from my bulimia, I refused to ask for help. I was prepared to give up the fight when my sister reached out. The story she told me was remarkably similar to my own: struggles with depression, suicide, anxiety, and eating disorders. With her encouragement I slowly started to open up. I was not shamed for having emotions which allowed me to question the other lies I clung to for so long. I spoke to my doctor and received medication. My perception of food as an evil substance shifted and I returned to a healthy weight. I included my friends in my life and built a support system. I confronted my father with my mental health issues and asked him to help me dismantle the stigma against the subject. I did the impossible, I took the first steps towards recovery. I do not want anyone else to trek through the hell that I did. For this reason I believe that it is my calling to become a doctor specializing in eating disorders. By doing so I hope to pay forward this scholarship. I am confident in my ability to not only achieve this feat but to excel. Although I still struggle with these problems, I no longer believe that I am without hope. I have a place in the world. I am capable of a complete recovery. I am worthy of life.

For most of my life I preferred racing through a good book series to actual racing. As someone who was not blessed with good hand-eye coordination, I considered sports something to watch on TV when there was nothing better to do, but never to partake in myself. This all changed my freshman year when a friend convinced me to join the track team with her. What drew me to track is that you don’t have to memorize complex rules or be well coordinated, you simply have to know how to run and be willing to put in effort. While most would find it discouraging to begin running alongside kids with years of achievements under their belts, I embraced it as a challenge to catch up. I didn't manage to overtake the more experienced runners that year, but I was able to beat my own records. Each goal I reached was an indication of my hard earned progress. In just my first year I discovered my mental strength, dissolved my limited perception of myself, and built up an unshakable confidence that began to shine through in every other area of my life. In my second year of running, I developed a shin injury that made it excruciatingly painful to walk, much less run. In a streak of bad luck, this injury aligned with the beginning of the pandemic, leaving me confined indoors with little chance to exercise beyond the walk to the fridge. Each attempt to run worsened my injury, making it difficult to find the motivation to try again the next day. I realized that instead of recklessly forcing a recovery, I should find a balance and reevaluate how to apply the consistency and persistence I learned in my first year as a runner. I assessed what was causing the injury and slowly reacclimated myself to running, starting with short distances that I slowly increased as I was able. Although it was difficult at times, I refused to lose my love for running or let all my progress slip through my fingers. I continued to push my limits and after months of consistent effort I had not only caught up but had far exceeded my previous abilities. Through all the uncertainty of the past few years, running has become an anchor for me. Though track first sparked my love for running, I have since decided to withdraw from competitive racing in an effort to reduce anxiety. My daily runs are now a time for self-reflection and an opportunity to alleviate stress. Running has helped me discover a more positive and open outlook in life by providing an outlet to focus on myself. Although my hand-eye coordination has not improved, this experience has shaped the way I work through problems, reformed my attitude towards challenges, and solidified my self worth. I’ve grown in incredible ways since freshman year, and I will always be grateful that running changed my life.

For most of my life I preferred racing through a good book series to actual racing. As someone who was not blessed with good hand-eye coordination, I considered sports something to watch on TV when there was nothing better to do, but never to partake in myself. This all changed my freshman year when a friend convinced me to join the track team with her. What drew me to track is that you don’t have to memorize complex rules or be well coordinated, you simply have to know how to run and be willing to put in effort. While most would find it discouraging to begin running alongside kids with years of achievements under their belts, I embraced it as a challenge to catch up. I didn't manage to overtake the more experienced runners that year, but I was able to beat my own records. Each goal I reached was an indication of my hard earned progress. In just my first year I discovered my mental strength, dissolved my limited perception of myself, and built up an unshakable confidence that began to shine through in every other area of my life. In my second year of running, I developed a shin injury that made it excruciatingly painful to walk, much less run. In a streak of bad luck, this injury aligned with the beginning of the pandemic, leaving me confined indoors with little chance to exercise beyond the walk to the fridge. Each attempt to run worsened my injury, making it difficult to find the motivation to try again the next day. I realized that instead of recklessly forcing a recovery, I should find a balance and reevaluate how to apply the consistency and persistence I learned in my first year as a runner. I assessed what was causing the injury and slowly reacclimated myself to running, starting with short distances that I slowly increased as I was able. Although it was difficult at times, I refused to lose my love for running or let all my progress slip through my fingers. I continued to push my limits and after months of consistent effort I had not only caught up but had far exceeded my previous abilities. Through all the uncertainty of the past few years, running has become an anchor for me. Though track first sparked my love for running, I have since decided to withdraw from competitive racing in an effort to reduce anxiety. My daily runs are now a time for self-reflection and an opportunity to alleviate stress. Running has helped me discover a more positive and open outlook in life by providing an outlet to focus on myself. Although my hand-eye coordination has not improved, this experience has shaped the way I work through problems, reformed my attitude towards challenges, and solidified my self worth. I’ve grown in incredible ways since freshman year, and I will always be grateful that running changed my life.

Through all the uncertainty of the past few years, I have stayed optimistic through running. My sophomore year of high school I developed a shin injury that made it excruciatingly painful to walk, much less run. In a streak of bad luck, this injury aligned with the beginning of the pandemic, leaving me confined indoors with little chance to exercise beyond the walk to the fridge. I was absolutely miserable. At my lowest point, I decided that I could not stay this way. With the threat of never being able to run again I stayed motivated to slowly reacclimate myself to running, starting with short distances that I slowly increased as I was able. Although it was difficult at times, I refused to lose my love for running or let all my progress slip through my fingers. I continued to push my limits and after months of consistent effort I had not only caught up but had far exceeded my previous abilities. My daily runs are now a time for self-reflection and an opportunity to alleviate stress. Running has helped me discover a more positive and open outlook in life by providing an outlet to focus on myself. This experience has shaped the way I work through problems, reformed my attitude towards challenges, and solidified my self worth. I’ve grown in incredible ways and I will always be grateful that running changed my life.

“As long as it doesn't affect me, I don’t really care.” As this phrase becomes more and more common among the youth, the more precarious the future becomes. Apathy poses the biggest threat to the world right now. This issue on the rise affects all areas of potential progress since if people don’t care enough to make a difference, no difference will be made. A disturbing example is that despite it being well known that the clothing company “Shein” mass produces using sweat shops, child labor, and other dodgy methods, people continue to purchase their clothing in bulk under the justification that since they're not the ones suffering, it is not their problem. Because a problem is not prevalent in one’s own reality, it doesn't seem real. This attitude is spreading like an infectious disease among the youth; unless a problem is visible and impeding on their own freedoms, people do not care. This normalizes self centeredness and makes selflessness scarce. In a world with an abundance of problems, most people are desensitized to news of mass shootings, oppression, famine, climate change, ect and thus do not care since nothing seems out of the ordinary when trouble arises. Since it is a lack of empathy for others in difficult situations that seems to have caused this problem, growing that empathy back would be the best solution. Mandatory community service by schools would force students to face the ignored pain and suffering in their own community. By doing this, students could apply this common experience to the rest of the world and be motivated to make a difference. This would yield a generation of leaders, prepared to take on the challenge and make the world a kinder place.

While I feel drawn to the sciences as a career path, my creative side has always been equally important to me. Participating in the arts has been a special opportunity for me to escape from the daily pressures of life and explore the beauty of the world as I see it. My drawings and paintings illustrate the things that I believe should be treasured, particularly the beauty and tranquility of nature. The never ending variety of life has fueled my interest in biology as another opportunity to appreciate nature. In addition to the visual arts, I integrate all my senses into art forms by weaving my emotions into cello playing. I also explore both visual and flavorful frontiers through baking and decorating. Because I have no formal instruction in the arts, I have had the opportunity to freely explore and teach myself. In place of a teacher that might promote particular methods or viewpoints, I have the ability to see the world untinted by someone else's vision. This gives me the freedom to discover and invent techniques for myself and tailor them to fit my own style. I can always have confidence that what I produce is a unique representation of myself and my perspective. In addition to more formal pursuits of expression, I try to cultivate my creativity by finding the beauty in the mundane. Whether it is doodling on my math homework or taking extra time to arrange my lunch in a certain way, it is these small things that add together to make life interesting. I believe that the beauty of life is that the opportunity for self-expression can be found everywhere.

Nobody can walk through life without making an impression on the world. How consequential that impression is and whether it is positive or negative depends on the person. There are those who selflessly dedicate their lives to good deeds in pursuit of progress, those who embody chaos and malevolence reaping only devastation and those, the majority, who reside somewhere in the middle. I believe that the grand meaning behind life is to shift out of the negative and the middle and instead create a positive change. How one accomplishes this task utilizes the full spectrum of human creativity: activism, volunteering, art, a kind word, the possibilities are endless. Because the positive traits of human nature are highlighted and humanities fall-shorts are minimized, this theory coincides with the idea that people are inherently good. I have already made progress towards this goal by intentionally reaching out to others, caring for the environment, lending a hand to whoever needs it, and speaking out. I hope to make a more substantial impact in the future by becoming a doctor with the ability to reach more people. Even though as humans nobody will ever succeed in leaving only a positive impression on the world, everyone is capable of leaving behind more of the good than bad. For this reason there is hope.

Since no one can go through life without leaving behind a footprint, it is my belief that a citizen of the world should intentionally leave a positive impact. For me, the simplest way to do this was to become an advocate for mother nature and to work for the preservation of the environment in my local community. Once I started looking, opportunities to help jumped out just about everywhere I turned. While walking, I picked up garbage neglected on sidewalks and trails. If something broke or was damaged I would either fix it or repurpose it, only using the trash bin as a last resort. I incorporated these small efforts into my routine which over time resulted in both my home and community noticeably brightening. After a few months, I observed that my passions were beginning to rub off on my family. Now my siblings and parents too returned home with pockets full of wrappers and bottles found on their nightly walks. When my younger brothers complained about how a popular hangout had been trashed by some local teenagers, I suggested that we clean it up together. After hours of hard work, our smiles gleamed as brightly as the hangout while we walked away with two giant bags stuffed with cigarette butts and broken glass. While making my environment cleaner and safer, I encouraged others to make a difference. Even though my contribution as one person is minuscule compared to a world overflowing with problems, on a smaller scale my actions have the potential to improve an entire community. I will always make a point of leaving a positive mark on the world, not only to improve its current state, but to set an example so others will continue making progress.

During my childhood I was often very stubborn. I would refuse to give an inch even for small matters and would frequently find myself in a battle of wills. Even though I made it difficult for my parents, my obstinacy didn’t last. I learned to harness my hardheadedness and turn it into my greatest strength: tenacity. A great example of this metamorphosis was my freshman year when I joined the track team with no prior experience. Whereas most would find it discouraging to first begin running alongside kids with years of achievements under their belts, I embraced it as a challenge to catch up. I didn’t manage to overtake the more experienced runners that year, but the goals I had conquered were a record of my hard earned progress. That season helped me discover my mental strength, dissolved my limited perception of myself, and gave me unshakable confidence, all of which I will be eternally grateful for. After a year more of experience, I found myself with a recurring shin injury that made it excruciatingly painful to walk, much less run. Months of trying to run only to compound the injury left me frustrated at my lack of progress. I realized that instead of being recklessly stubborn, I should find a balance and use my gift of persistence wisely. I tried to assess what was causing the injury and slowly reacclimated myself to running, starting with short distances. I continued to push my limits and soon found myself soaring far above my previous abilities. I had finally caught up. Reflecting on this experience, I proved to myself that my tenacity can overcome both mental and physical roadblocks. With this as my greatest strength I know I will be ready to conquer whatever life throws my way.

Since no one can go through life without leaving behind a footprint, it is my belief that a citizen of the world should intentionally leave a positive impact. For me, the simplest way to do this was to become an advocate for mother nature and to work for the preservation of the environment in my local community. Once I started looking, opportunities to help jumped out just about everywhere I turned. While walking, I picked up garbage neglected on sidewalks and trails. If something broke or was damaged I would either fix it or repurpose it, only using the trash bin as a last resort. I incorporated these small efforts into my routine which over time resulted in both my home and community noticeably brightening. After a few months, I observed that my passions were beginning to rub off on my family. Now my siblings and parents too returned home with pockets full of wrappers and bottles found on their nightly walks. When my younger brothers complained about how a popular hangout had been trashed by some local teenagers, I suggested that we clean it up together. After hours of hard work, our smiles gleamed as brightly as the hangout while we walked away with two giant bags stuffed with cigarette butts and broken glass. While making my environment cleaner and safer, I encouraged others to make a difference. Even though my contribution as one person is minuscule compared to a world overflowing with problems, on a smaller scale my actions have the potential to improve an entire community. I will always make a point of leaving a positive mark on the world, not only to improve its current state, but to set an example so others will continue making progress.

I have always been conscious of what impact I will leave on my community. Because no one can go through life without leaving behind a footprint, it is my belief that a citizen of the world should intentionally leave a positive one. For me, the simplest way to do this was to become an advocate for mother nature and to work for the preservation of the environment in my local community. Once I started looking, opportunities to help jumped out just about everywhere I turned. While walking, I picked up garbage neglected on sidewalks and trails. If something broke or was damaged I would either fix it or repurpose it, only using the trash bin as a last resort. I incorporated these small efforts into my routine which over time resulted in both my home and community noticeably brightening. After a few months, I observed that my passions were beginning to rub off on my family. Now my siblings and parents too returned home with pockets full of wrappers and bottles found on their nightly walks. When my younger brothers complained about how a popular hangout had been trashed by some local teenagers, I suggested that we clean it up together. After hours of hard work, our smiles gleamed as brightly as the hangout while we walked away with two giant bags stuffed with cigarette butts and broken glass. While making my environment cleaner and safer, I encouraged others to make a difference. Even though my contribution as one person is minuscule compared to a world overflowing with problems, on a smaller scale my actions have the potential to improve an entire community. I will always make a point of leaving a positive mark on the world, not only to improve its current state, but to set an example so others will continue making progress.

Try antidepressants, stay active, improve your diet, take a break, journal, meditate, take a deep breath, that's what I was told to do. All to no avail. In my personal battle with mental health these solutions have only mitigated effects and none have done much to treat the actual sources of my mental issues, so they return. The mistake I continued to make for years throughout my struggles with depression, anxiety, and several eating disorders is that I relied solely on these methods to cope rather than use them as a tool to recover. Although these activities alone can by no stretch of the imagination erase mental illness, I have found in my personal experience that they can create a window of clarity and a moment of motivation. My advice to people who struggle with mental health is to use these instances of relief to take a step. Instead of recklessly pushing oneself out of one's comfort zone in hope that something will work and ending up worse than before, this method allows one to move at their own pace. Even something seemingly insignificant such as picking up laundry off the floor or texting a friend back can over time accumulate in a healthier environment capable of supporting recovery. With consistency these windows in which to act grow and it is possible to take larger steps, creating tangible progress. I am well aware that these strategies are repeated ad infinitum to those with mental issues, however when applied unconventionally and adapted to the individual, they become an entirely new method with the potential of progress.

Mental health has always been a taboo in my family. In order to avoid any form of uncomfortable conversation, the topic was always brushed under the rug and never addressed. Growing up, no matter how difficult one's situation was, there was always an unspoken obligation to "suck it up" since showing any sort of emotion was equated with weakness. After years of suffering and a handful of severe mental issues, I broke this rule and spoke up. As a little kid I was outgoing, social, and would unabashedly speak my mind. At times I will admit I could be a bit over the top, but nevertheless, I was happy. When I started school I was an effervescent social butterfly and would try to be friends with just about anyone who crossed my path. The year after that, I changed schools. I did the same the next year and the next year and the next, accumulating in a grand total of eight schools. The seemingly inexhaustible social energy I once had was extinguished. I became a social recluse. Each year when I was forced to adapt to an unfamiliar environment I would not bother meeting people and making friends. There was no point since I would leave the next year. When I was picked on by other students, when I became depressed, when I felt completely abandoned there was no safety net to catch me, so I fell. Over the next few years I spiraled. My family had just moved to California, giving me the opportunity to stay at the same school for more than one year. By some luck I was adopted by a kind group of people, but I kept them at a distance. I was terrified to burden them with my issues and was paranoid that if I did I would be seen as weak. I isolated myself as a result of my depression which only strengthened its grip on my life. By freshman year of high school I was suicidal and sincerely believed that I would die at my own hand before I graduated. My father lost his job the year before, placing financial strain on my family and raising tensions at home. I hated being at school and hated being home. I believe that I had no place as a result. At the beginning of the pandemic lock down, I reached a new low. I barricaded myself in my room with the shades drawn, hardly moving all day. I found myself binge eating and rapidly gained weight. Already being incredibly insecure, this sent me over the edge. I believe that I was disgusting and not worthy of the air I breathed. I purged almost everything I ate. I counted every calorie I consumed. My weight plummeted. I withered away and was visibly sick. Nobody said anything. I honestly do not know how I survived this year. Stress from juggling a demanding schedule from work and a rigorous workload from school compounded, making my mental issues multiply. All while battling brain fog and extreme fatigue from my bulimia, I refused to ask for help. I was prepared to give up the fight when my sister reached out. The story she told me was remarkably similar to my own: struggles with depression, suicide, anxiety, and eating disorders. With her encouragement I slowly started to open up. I was not shamed for having emotions which allowed me to question the other lies I clung to for so long. I spoke to my doctor and received medication. My perception of food as an evil substance shifted and I returned to a healthy weight. I included my friends in my life and built a support system. I confronted my father with my mental health issues and asked him to help me dismantle the stigma against the subject. I did the impossible, I took the first steps towards recovery. I do not want anyone else to trek through the hell that I did. For this reason I believe that it is my calling to become a doctor specializing in eating disorders. I am confident in my ability to not only achieve this feat but to excel. Although I still struggle with these problems, I no longer believe that I am without hope. I have a place in the world. I am capable of a complete recovery. I am worthy of life.

Mental health has always been a taboo in my family. In order to avoid any form of uncomfortable conversation, the topic was always brushed under the rug and never addressed. Growing up, no matter how difficult one's situation was, there was always an unspoken obligation to "suck it up" since showing any sort of emotion was equated with weakness. After years of suffering and a handful of severe mental issues, I broke this rule and spoke up. As a little kid I was outgoing, social, and would unabashedly speak my mind. At times I will admit I could be a bit over the top, but nevertheless, I was happy. When I started school I was an effervescent social butterfly and would try to be friends with just about anyone who crossed my path. The year after that, I changed schools. I did the same the next year and the next year and the next, accumulating in a grand total of eight schools. The seemingly inexhaustible social energy I once had was extinguished. I became a social recluse. Each year when I was forced to adapt to an unfamiliar environment I would not bother meeting people and making friends. There was no point since I would leave the next year. When I was picked on by other students, when I became depressed, when I felt completely abandoned there was no safety net to catch me, so I fell. Over the next few years I spiraled. My family had just moved to California, giving me the opportunity to stay at the same school for more than one year. By some luck I was adopted by a kind group of people, but I kept them at a distance. I was terrified to burden them with my issues and was paranoid that if I did I would be seen as weak. I isolated myself as a result of my depression which only strengthened its grip on my life. By freshman year of high school I was suicidal and sincerely believed that I would die at my own hand before I graduated. My father lost his job the year before, placing financial strain on my family and raising tensions at home. I hated being at school and hated being home. I believe that I had no place as a result. At the beginning of the pandemic lock down, I reached a new low. I barricaded myself in my room with the shades drawn, hardly moving all day. I found myself binge eating and rapidly gained weight. Already being incredibly insecure, this sent me over the edge. I believe that I was disgusting and not worthy of the air I breathed. I purged almost everything I ate. I counted every calorie I consumed. My weight plummeted. I withered away and was visibly sick. Nobody said anything. I honestly do not know how I survived this year. Stress from juggling a demanding schedule from work and a rigorous workload from school compounded, making my mental issues multiply. All while battling brain fog and extreme fatigue from my bulimia, I refused to ask for help. I was prepared to give up the fight when my sister reached out. The story she told me was remarkably similar to my own: struggles with depression, suicide, anxiety, and eating disorders. With her encouragement I slowly started to open up. I was not shamed for having emotions which allowed me to question the other lies I clung to for so long. I spoke to my doctor and received medication. My perception of food as an evil substance shifted and I returned to a healthy weight. I included my friends in my life and built a support system. I confronted my father with my mental health issues and asked him to help me dismantle the stigma against the subject. I did the impossible, I took the first steps towards recovery. I do not want anyone else to trek through the hell that I did. For this reason I believe that it is my calling to become a doctor specializing in eating disorders. I am confident in my ability to not only achieve this feat but to excel. Although I still struggle with these problems, I no longer believe that I am without hope. I have a place in the world. I am capable of a complete recovery. I am worthy of life.