Voice to Values Manifesto – Mental Health and Resilience

Part 1: Opening Statement (Hook + Core Value)

Do I believe mental health should be treated as the foundation of everyday life, not an afterthought after trauma has already settled and buried itself in our conscious and subconscious minds? My answer is yes.

Growing up in foster care, I had to learn early that survival and healing are two very different paths, paths that should ideally lead to the same road. When I was adopted at eleven, I carried more than just memories. I carried invisible weight, the traumas I endured in each foster home, the pain that made me act out at home and even more so at school.

ADHD made every classroom feel like a mental battlefield, and being placed in special education sometimes felt like a label I’d never escape, a label few ever did. But I was lucky, i only endured the special education system from 1st - 4th grade. Through prayer, patience, and my mom Carlyne's belief that I was more than a diagnosis, I started to see myself differently. My God-fearing mother took me off medication (Ritalin) when she saw it dimming my spark, the personality I once had was gone.

As a child, mental health often meant being thrown into special education or medicated to keep you in line, and I experienced both. But her faith gave me back a sense of control over my own story. It gave me the strength to overcome and the courage to tell my story to help others.

Thesis (Cause and Effect):
Because I experienced the mental and emotional challenges of foster care, adoption, ADHD, and extensive therapy, I believe that advocating for mental health is essential, not only to heal our own lives but to create a culture where support and understanding can transform the lives of others. My journey taught me that mental health isn’t just about fixing what society deems broken, it’s about discovering who you are beneath the noise.

Part 2: Why This Value Matters (The Why)

Mental health matters to me because I know what it’s like to feel unseen, to be placed in a room simply because the system was too lazy to create a real remedy. As a kid in the system, therapy wasn’t optional; it was survival.

Ms. Bedford, my therapist, probably knew me better than anyone. Her warmth and deep sense of care made me comfortable enough to open up. She played a huge role in helping me resolve issues I carried for years. Over time, therapy became more than just a requirement, it became the space where I could understand myself without judgment. Those sessions gave me language for the pain and resilience I was carrying, and that understanding changed everything.

According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), nearly half of all children in foster care experience significant mental health challenges, yet many go untreated. Those untreated kids often end up in prisons, on the streets, or in morgues. I could have been one of them, lost and forgotten.

I also learned that ADHD, while challenging, could ironically become one of my greatest strengths. My ability to hyperfocus has been a driving force behind my business ventures and entrepreneurial mindset. I’ve owned several successful businesses. ADHD taught me that sometimes the very thing that makes life harder can also give you a unique kind of brilliance, if you learn how to harness it. It reminds me of the character Monk, whose obsessive attention to detail becomes his greatest tool as a detective.

What I’ve learned is that you can’t always “get rid of it.” Sometimes, you have to learn to live with it. Every day can be a battle to stay focused, balancing school, work, relationships, and raising a six-year-old who deserves every ounce of my attention. Some days I win that battle easily; other days, it takes everything I’ve got. But those struggles define me in the best way possible. Our challenges don’t have to limit who we are, they can shape who we become.

I thank my mom and the strong people who fought for me, like my second-grade teacher, Ms. Golder, who I still keep in touch with today. They believed I deserved to be treated like any other kid, not defined by my mental health. Their faith in me taught me to fight for myself and to help others do the same.

Part 3: Purposeful Partnership (The How)

My platform will always be rooted in authenticity because my experience is authentic. I don’t speak from theory; I speak from lived experience. When I talk about mental health, I’m talking about the nights I cried quietly in new homes, the years of trying to sit still while my mind raced in every direction, and the power of being believed in.

To turn that story into action, I want to partner with The Jed Foundation, a nonprofit dedicated to protecting emotional health and preventing suicide among teens and young adults. Their mission aligns perfectly with my purpose, to create open, honest conversations about mental health and provide resources for those who feel alone, especially in disenfranchised communities that are too often underserved.

In practice, I would use my platform to share The Jed Foundation’s campaigns, highlight their online resources, and host collaborative awareness events that bring people together. I would also create content that normalizes therapy, showcases faith-based perspectives on healing, and celebrates personal growth. My advocacy isn’t performative, it’s participatory. Partnering with an organization like Jed shows that my message doesn’t stop at storytelling; it leads to quantifiable, measurable impact.

Part 4: Action and Vision for Change (The What Now)

My ultimate goal is to build a community where mental health conversations feel safe. I plan to use my voice and experiences to reach students, parents, and young adults who are trying to balance life, family, and personal goals.

I want to show that therapy, prayer, and persistence can coexist, and that none of us should ever have to choose between our success and our sanity. I will use my story as a platform to build trust.

Because I’ve lived through the emotional turbulence of foster care, adoption, ADHD, and therapy, I know that true advocacy isn’t just about awareness, it’s about connection. Like me, you can’t tell someone how to deal if you’ve never dealt. I want to help normalize therapy, celebrate the courage it takes to ask for help, even when it feels like none is available, and inspire people to view mental health care as an act of strength, not weakness.

My vision is to help others find rhythm in the chaos. My old gym teacher, Mr. Reddin from Brentwood High School, used to say something I didn’t understand until I was older: “There’s always control in chaos.” The chaos of life, the chaos of your mind, the chaos of self-doubt, and the control is you. I want people to remember that mental health is not a limitation but a form of power waiting to be understood, not in all cases, but in most.

Closing Reflection

I’ve learned that healing doesn’t always mean being cured, it means growing stronger in the places you were once broken. My journey has shown me that the mind can be both your battlefield and your blessing. I don’t run from my challenges; I build with them. Every late night of studying, every day balancing business and parenthood, every quiet moment of prayer is proof that resilience is real.

My story isn’t about perfection, because nobody is perfect. It’s about persistence. And if my voice can remind even one person that they’re not alone in their fight, then all the battles I’ve faced have already found their purpose.

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