When I was a child, I viewed walking quietly, without disturbing my father, into the kitchen to cook myself whatever was in the fridge or cabinets as a success. I viewed the days when there was peace at home as a success, when my father was calm and my mother was stable as something to celebrate. My successes were based on my survival, and as a child, I rarely ever thought about a realistic future because I never really believed I would get to have one. But my child mind did imagine flying to other planets, talking to animals and bugs, and hoping for a world where my parents and loved ones were happy. Imagining different worlds where things were alright and people were happy helped ease my mind, and I’m grateful that I had my imagination to fall back on when things were unpleasant. As an adult, I still imagine flying to other planets, talking to animals and bugs, and hope for a world where my parents and loved ones are happy. But my view of success is no longer dependent on what my father had in the fridge or dusty cabinets to eat, and his peace is no longer a concern of mine. Instead, my success is decided by me. My goals, my happiness, are all decided by me. I’ve decided to shoot for the metaphorical stars, flying to the planet of college to complete a bachelor's degree in Psychology and hopefully go on to medical school to become a Psychiatrist afterward. Because although I may never truly be able to talk to animals and bugs, I can talk to people. I can hear their stories and listen to their pain. I can let them know that they are not alone and that I care about them. Success to me now is completing my degree in Psychology and working hard to get into medical school, where I would study in order to become a Psychiatrist. Success to me is helping others and hopefully helping to make the world a better place for everyone’s parents and loved ones in order for them to be a tiny bit happier. If I had to go through the pain of abuse and neglect, I want to use that pain to lift others from theirs. This opportunity would help me with that dream because it would give me the funds to make it through my bachelor's degree program. It would give me breathing room and lift copious amounts of financial stress from me. It would help me continue on my journey toward medical school and would allow me to continue my volunteer efforts with a local healthcare clinic where I am currently being trained and accumulating my clinic hours for medical school. It would allow me to continue to volunteer on my campus as part of the Residence Housing Association and the National Residence Hall Honorary, where I help plan campus events and participate in campus clean-ups and more. My view on success has changed greatly over the years, and so has my self-confidence. I believe in myself and my ability to achieve my dreams and goals. The realistic future I never thought was possible as a child is now well within the realm of possibility for me. I want to create a lasting impact on this world by making it a better place using my unique perspective and experiences in order to help heal others' pain. Given this opportunity, I will continue on my journey to do just that. I will achieve my goals and dreams, and I will work hard to use every last dollar of this scholarship in order to help me achieve those goals and dreams. I hope that by working hard and being passionate in advocacy, justice, empathy, and Psychology, I can help others realize their dreams, too.

One summer afternoon, when I was around five, I remember my father taking his shotgun out from the mudroom wardrobe, tugging me outside along with him. I remember his look of concentration as he held the shotgun up to his shoulder, the side of his face against the gun. And I remember the force of the blast as he fired and the tiny screech that sounded after. He had shot a groundhog, and the expression of pure nothing he wore afterward scared me. He tugged me along once more, forcing me to carry a full-sized shovel in my tiny hands, and I remember trying my very hardest to hold it above the ground so it wouldn’t drag against the dried dirt. I had to focus on something. When we finally approached the groundhog, it was twitching uncontrollably in a pool of its own blood, tiny agonized squeals erupting from its body. My father then instructed me to put the groundhog into the shovel. I protested, saying it was still alive. In response, he forced me to watch as he stomped it to death. I still remember the sounds of the bones crunching, of the groundhog's final breath. How the innocent animal’s twitches had stilled, and how my father's brown boots were now bloodstained. I put the groundhog in my shovel without any protests afterward. My father then instructed me to follow him. I did. We walked past our house, down a small trail on our property. We came to a stop, my father standing in front of me. He then grabbed the shovel out of my tiny hands and threw the groundhog into a pit. I was crying at this point, and although I tried to hide it, the grass I was staring at started becoming a burry mass of green. My father noticed, and he told me to look at the pit. Out of fear, I followed his orders. The pit was filled with the dead bodies of dozens of animals, some just bones by this point and some half dead and rotting. He kneeled down to my level, staring into my tear-stained eyes, and grabbed the sides of my face, hard. He said, I remember vividly, “If you don’t listen to me, this is where I’ll put you.” The fear I felt was unimaginable. My body felt like stone, and yet I remember somehow running away from him. After that, the day is a blur - like much of my childhood. My story is just one of many neglected and abused children’s stories. It is not unique. I am not unique. But I have stopped running. Instead, I’m sprinting toward my future - my goals, my dreams, and my happiness. For the longest time, I believed my life would amount to nothing and that the world was a bleak and terrifying place. I never realized that being outside the darkness of my past was possible - not until I came to college and started studying for my bachelor's degree in Psychology. My childhood gave me deep insight into many different mental health issues. My fathers, my mothers, and then my own. If I had not experienced the things I had, I doubt I would hold such a deep sense of justice and have such strong empathy. I would not believe in myself as much as I do, and I would not be so incredibly interested and enthralled with Psychology as I am. My childhood and my own mental health struggles, whether it’s dealing with my PTSD, depression, or anxiety, has shaped who I am. And it has influenced my goals deeply. If I had not witnessed my parents’ struggles and gone through my own mental health struggles, I doubt I would want to help heal other people’s anguish so much. I want to let others know that they are not alone, that their emotions and feelings and fear are heard and listened to. And what better way to help heal others' mental anguish than by aiming to be a Psychiatrist? My understanding of the world when I was a child was that it was cold, uncaring, and dark. But as an adult, I realize life is full of light if we choose to be the light that shines in the darkness. So, every day, I choose to make my life bright. And hopefully, I shine that brightness onto others. I have volunteered at my campus warm-line, Agora, and I currently volunteer at a local healthcare clinic, Simply Salud. Both of these incredible experiences have made me realize I truly love Psychology and medicine and have re-solidified my goal of becoming a Psychiatrist one day. I'm also involved in my campus’s Residence Hall Association and National Residence Hall Honorary, where I volunteer and try to make my campus a better place for all students through campus events, campus clean-ups, and more. I try every day to make our world a better place, where kids like me can become something. I have found wonderful, supportive friends here on my campus, whom I hope to know 50 years from now. I feel happy, something my five-year-old self would never have even hoped to imagine. And I feel lucky. Lucky to be at college, to be studying what I love, and to be helping people. So, to all the people like five-year-old me who felt as though their trauma will never end, that life is better off without them, and that they don’t matter: your trauma will end, life is better with you in it, and you do matter. Depression may come and go, and trauma may stick with you. But life is bright and wonderful and so full of amazing things. Five minutes from now, maybe a friend will call you to tell you about their day, maybe your cat will meow, or maybe the sun will rise. Maybe none of that will happen - maybe all of it will. Our lives are uncertain, but in uncertainty, flowers can bloom.

I was fifteen when I lost my father. He did not die, not physically, but he was lost nonetheless. I remember the day like it was yesterday; it was cold, and dreary. And as I left the home of the most abusive man I had ever known, I felt nothing. He was behind a wall of glass, his hand up in a half-wave and his tired eyes staring me down, a look of defeat on his pale face, as the uber driver started up the car and drove off. That was the last time I saw my father, and for all intents and purposes, he is dead. My mother raised me by herself from then on, even if she had basically already been doing so since I was four years old, which was when my parents divorced. She endured heavy challenges. She worked long hours and most of the time, unless I stayed multiple hours after school ended, I had to walk home. It was an hour walk each way, and I happily did the walk because I knew we could not afford an uber everyday, and where I lived, there were no good public transportation systems. I did not buy school supplies unless absolutely needed, and when we went grocery shopping, we did not buy anything other than the necessities. But I know I was able to buy the needed school supplies and have dinner on my plate because of my mother. I was privileged enough to have a roof over my head, and even when we did experience a bout of homelessness, she made sure that we had food to eat. My mother is my hero. She made me want to work hard, and has shown me that hard work is worth it. She is the reason I have high expectations for myself, and is the reason why I am currently involved in so many volunteer opportunities, not just on my college campus, but outside of it. Her support and reassurance are some of the sole reasons I believed in myself enough to pursue not only a degree in Psychology, but to pursue a future in the healthcare field. She made me believe that I was put on this planet to help others, and that if I tried hard enough, I could do just that. She made me believe that despite our circumstances, despite our differences, we can change the world. We can be the beacon of hope and light that we once wished the stars for, because if we work hard enough, we can become the stars.

For the past two or so years I have been helping my mother and brother navigate their mental health journeys. About two years ago, my brother was diagnosed with leukemia. Since then, my mother has had to witness her child go through chemo and various other cancer treatments, and my brother has had to physically and mentally deal with his cancer. At my university, the University of New Mexico, I have volunteered at Agora, the campus warm-line. During my time volunteering at Agora, I learned many invaluable tools that have helped me navigate how to speak to and comfort my mother and brother, both of whom have and are going through tremendous amounts of stress. I have also learned many different ways to deal with stress and life changes through my time majoring in Psychology. Because of the wonderful opportunity I had to volunteer at Agora, and my privilege to be able to study Psychology, I have already had the chance to use my studies and volunteering experience to emotionally support others around me. I know that the more I learn, the more I study, and the more I volunteer, I will be able to help the people I love in better ways. I will also be able to better support the people I work with, and random strangers I see or interact with on a daily basis. Because the more I learn, the more I realize just how wonderfully complex the human mind is, and how beautifully unique every single person seems to be. But despite this obvious uniqueness, humans share a common want: kindness. And if I can be a part of that common thread and be a beacon of that kindness, then I will feel like I am doing my job as a fellow human being to those around me.