From Pain to Purpose: My Journey from Struggles to Strength

April 2017. I was just a freshman in high school. While others were trying to find their way through new hallways and friend groups, I was trying to survive. I was constantly passing out, suffering from optical migraines, vomiting, and feeling chest pain so intense that I'd sob in the nurse’s office begging her to call an ambulance. I was convinced I was dying.

Emergency room after emergency room, doctor after doctor — and no answers. I became what they call a “frequent flyer”, but each time I left with nothing but confusion and fear. It wasn’t until someone finally looked beyond the physical symptoms that I got a diagnosis: panic attacks.

I was having severe panic attacks just trying to attend school. The cause? A painful mix of relentless bullying, the trauma of my first abusive relationship, and the pressure of simply existing in a high school environment that didn’t understand me.

Medication helped me get through the school doors, but it came at a cost. The panic attacks stopped, but so did everything else. I became numb. A zombie. Detached from my emotions, my dreams, my sense of self. Eventually, I hit rock bottom. I attempted to take my own life and begged my parents to Baker Act me.

Before I returned to school, my mom and I staged a photoshoot so I could tell my classmates I had been away for a 'modeling opportunity' — a cover story to mask the painful truth of why I’d really been gone. Despite the effort, rumors still spread — some even said I’d had a pregnancy scare.

Over Easter weekend, I was admitted to Morton Plant Mental Hospital in Lutz. I hoped for healing. Instead, they increased my dosage. A week later, I was begging to go back to keep me safe from myself, but no beds were available for youth anywhere nearby. In desperation, my parents and I made the mistake of cutting my medication cold turkey. The withdrawals were brutal. I was back to barely surviving.

And yet, I survived — because of the people who stepped up when the system didn’t. I had parents who fought for me, teachers who showed me grace, and access to mental health resources that eventually helped me find the right medication and a therapist who truly saw me.

Each year since then, I’ve slowly rebuilt my life. Piece by piece.

In 2022, I became Miss Tampa. That was the first time I started sharing my story publicly — even if just in pieces. Since then, I’ve continued to grow, continued to heal, and most importantly, continued to speak out. I’ve transformed the shame and guilt I once carried into advocacy. Informed, intentional, and bold advocacy.

Graduating high school was a privilege I never thought I’d have, especially due to my chronic absenteeism. Ironically, COVID-19 became my saving grace — the case meeting with county and school leadership to determine if I’d be able to graduate was canceled, and just like that, I crossed the finish line. For my graduation photos, I insisted we stop by the hospital first — to stand in front of the very doors I once walked through at my lowest, and to honor how far I’d come. From those hospital doors to the doors of a new future, it was a full-circle moment I’ll never forget.

Now it’s 2025, and I’m walking the halls of the Florida State Capitol, shaking hands with legislators shaping the policies that once failed me. Soon, I will be the one writing and voting on those very policies.

I never thought I’d make it past 16. Or 18. And yet, here I am at 23 — not just alive, but thriving. I am so proud of the woman I’ve become. Of the lives I’ve touched. And of the lives I will touch.

My mission is clear: Every child deserves more than survival — they deserve the opportunity to thrive. When I run for political office, my platform will include my passion for education and youth mental health. Not just treating symptoms but preventing crises. Not tossing life vests to drowning kids, but teaching them how to swim before they fall into the deep end.

We are in a youth mental health crisis. We’ve been in one for years. But suicide is preventable. And it's time our policies reflect that. We need a prevention-based, sustainable model that sees children as more than test scores or statistics — we must see them as humans first.

So yes, I’m excited for the signs and the slogans “People Over Profit” and “Join Me and Lead With Empathy.” Because I’m not just a future politician — I am a social worker first, and that will always come before politics.

What makes me a great leader isn’t just my education or knowledge — it’s authenticity, vulnerability, and integrity born from lived experience. I’ve turned my pain into purpose. My struggles into strength. And now, I’m helping others do the same.

This is just the beginning.