Discovering Resilience by Laila

Discovering Resilience by Laila - January 2026 Scholarship Essay

I did not discover my strength in a moment of triumph.
I found it in stillness.
In hospital rooms where time stretched too long and nights felt endless.
I was sixteen when my body turned against me. Ulcerative colitis was not just a diagnosis; it was a thief. It stole my appetite, my energy, my sense of normalcy. I spent weeks watching the world through a window, listening to the steady rhythm of machines while my friends moved forward without me. My body was failing, but the most frightening part was the fear that my mind might follow.
Before that moment, I believed strength meant endurance without complaint. Smiling through pain. Pretending everything was fine. But lying in a hospital bed, stripped of routine and control, I realized how fragile that definition was. There was no pretending anymore. There was only me, my thoughts, and a question I could not escape: Who am I when I cannot keep up?
At first, the answer scared me. I felt small. Powerless. Angry at a body that refused to cooperate and a future that suddenly felt uncertain. But somewhere between blood draws and sleepless nights, something shifted. I stopped fighting the reality of where I was and started focusing on what I could still do.
I could choose to keep going.
I brought my schoolwork into the hospital. I studied between treatments. I completed assignments while my hands shook and my body ached. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't graceful, but it was deliberate. Each finished page became proof that my illness did not get to decide my worth or my future. By the time I was discharged, I had maintained a 3.7 GPA not because it was expected of me, but because it reminded me that I was still capable.
That was when I discovered resilience. Not the loud, dramatic kind, but the quiet strength that shows up every day. The kind that looks like getting out of bed when you are tired of being brave. The kind that whispers, just keep going.
That strength did not stay in the hospital room. It followed me back into my life. I became more intentional with my time, more compassionate with myself, and more patient with others. I learned to lead with empathy as a cheer captain, understanding that everyone carries battles we cannot see. I balanced two jobs, academics, and leadership not by ignoring exhaustion, but by honoring my limits while still pushing forward.
Resilience also shaped my academic passions. Living through illness made me deeply curious about the human mind and behavior. I want to study psychology and criminology to understand how people survive trauma, adapt to adversity, and rebuild themselves after life interrupts their plans. I know what it feels like to be vulnerable, and I know how powerful it is when someone believes you can overcome it.
Today, resilience is no longer something I search for. It is something I carry. It shows up when challenges arise and I do not panic. When I fail and try again. When the future feels uncertain, but I move toward it anyway.
I did not leave the hospital cured, but I left transformed. I learned that strength is not the absence of struggle. It is the decision to grow through it. And that discovery has shaped not only who I am, but who I am becoming.