Being a single kid in a family of working parents, the COVID-19 pandemic took a toll on me psychologically. Online studies and losing personal contact with my friends led to anxiety and low self-esteem, and transitioning to a new high school filled with unfamiliar faces further heightened my anxiety. I felt trapped between expectations and self-doubt, and hit rock bottom mentally. Thanks to my parents and professional counseling sessions, by sophomore year, I found the strength to accept my challenges and recognized the need to take control of my life.
That personal brush with mental adversity is what motivated me to join the UNICEF-affiliated Houston Youth Ambassadors program, specifically its Mental Health Committee. I wanted to understand what others like me were going through and find ways to help. Working alongside medical professionals and city officials, I helped create Houston’s first Youth Mental Health Guide, a resource that compiled affordable mental health services and coping strategies for students. But simply making a guide was not enough—we needed to reach people in a way that felt real.
So, I encouraged my fellow ambassadors to share their mental health journeys on social media. We filmed videos about our struggles, the steps we took to improve, and the importance of seeking help. Being open about my own experiences was difficult, but I realized that vulnerability had power. Our videos collectively reached thousands of students through UNICEF-affiliated Instagram accounts, and for the first time, I saw how simply talking about mental health could break down stigma and create connections.
Even then, I felt like something was missing. Online advocacy was great, but what about the students who were not seeing our posts? To bridge this digital divide, I proposed taking our message directly to students. We organized in-person presentations, starting with Breakthrough Houston, where we spoke to middle and high schoolers about mental health awareness. Unlike scripted videos or statistic-filled guides, these sessions were raw and personal. I learned to step away from rehearsed speeches and instead speak from the heart. I wanted every student in that room to know that their struggles were valid, that they were not alone, and that help was available.
Beyond advocacy, I also searched for ways to improve my own mental health. While I never considered myself an athlete, I joined my school’s cross-country team as a way to push myself. The early morning runs along the Houston Bayou became more than just exercise—they were an outlet. The discipline of training, the support of teammates, and the thrill of shaving seconds off my time gave me a newfound sense of stability.
Looking back, my high school journey was shaped as much by struggles as by growth. I learned that mental health is not something to be ignored or pushed aside—it is as real as physical health, and it deserves the same attention. At Carnegie, where the pressure to perform is intense, it is easy to feel like we have to handle everything on our own. But the truth is, we do not. Whether it is seeking help, supporting a friend, or simply being open to conversations, change starts with small steps.
