2026 Awardee – Maya Jade Tolman – Utah Military Academy – Camp Williams HS

Everyone knows that girl in their school who just seems to have the perfect life. She’s the goody-two-shoes who seems good at everything, and no one knows why. Everyone tells her how incredible she is, and she just smiles. Little Miss Perfect. Well, that’s me. Except my “perfect life” wasn’t so perfect. I grew up begging that someone would understand. Hoping someone would get the message I was sending off into the universe. I was abused by my grandfather for 8 years until he was arrested when I was 11. I thought the story was over then. I would have a fairytale ending. Little did anyone know that my grandfather’s arrest would fracture my family. My father could not forgive himself for allowing his father to be a part of our lives. My mom was angry at the world for a long time. My brothers were out of the house and didn’t know how to process this new reality, and my sisters isolated themselves. I thought the abuse was bad enough, but then I had a family that was fighting to stay afloat, and I entered middle school. I got a therapist, but she didn’t seem like much help. I wanted the pain to just stop. So I began to self-harm, I wrote the story of my life through cuts across my skin, always hating the girl in the mirror. I was haunted by the past like a ghost, reliving the worst parts of my life daily. Soon, time sped forward again, and I started high school. I decided that I would just improve the person I am into someone I would like. I began working an inordinate amount. Soon, countless hours studying, working out, and extracurriculars with any team that would take me. Turns out working that hard 24/7 made you really good. It built this facade that I was just so talented, that I was incredible, and I lived the perfect life. But the pain still ate at me. I’d laugh and smile, but I felt numb to the world. But I was one of the best. Then I lost my first friend to suicide. I remember tearing myself apart, but it was like there was this barrier between what I knew I was feeling and what I actually felt. I didn’t talk about him to anyone anymore. I went to his funeral and then acted as though he never existed, unable to allow myself to feel that pain. My family started mending itself back together, but I wasn’t sure if it mattered anymore. So I prayed. I begged God to see me, to hear me, to talk to me, to understand me, and to deliver me. I still cannot articulate what happened next. Nothing changed; my friend was still dead, I was still working at the same level, and nothing in my past had changed. But I started to see some light. I stopped self-harming. I decided that my trauma could be used for good. I decided that I wanted to be a doctor to help kids like me. I started working with non-profit groups. I would bring food to neighbors. My life is not ever gonna be perfect, and I was never perfect. It is going to affect me for the rest of my existence. I still wake up some mornings hating myself, loathing the scars that showed my story, wishing that my life had been different. But I also know that is not my whole story. I started to accept every side of me. I’m messy but disciplined. I work hard, but I am also in pain. I see the darkness around me, but I also understand the light. I get to write the ending of my story, and I am going to help someone every day for the rest of my life. Because if I ended up going through all of that to merely help one kid who was still in that place, it would be worth it.