My name is Mae Armstrong, and I am a 20-year-old dancer and student pilot. I began working toward earning my Private Pilot’s License at the end of 2024. I am currently a freshman at the Ann Lacy School of Dance at Oklahoma City University, where I am pursuing my academic and artistic journey and continue to develop my technical and creative foundation.  During college breaks, I plan to continue my flight training as I work toward earning my private pilot license. 

My long-term academic and professional goal is to become a Dance and Movement Therapist, blending creative expression with evidence-based approaches to support mental and emotional well-being. By combining my passion for movement with my commitment to mental, emotional, and physical well-being, I hope to create a meaningful and lasting impact through holistic wellness.  I am deeply interested in how movement through dance can promote emotional regulation, self-awareness, and healing, particularly for individuals with disabilities and those navigating stress, anxiety, and life transitions. 

I am passionate about empowering others through movement, connection, and intentional care. I believe in the transformative power of dance not only as an art form but as a tool for healing, resilience, and self-discovery. Through my work, I aspire to empower individuals, foster healing, and positively influence the well-being of individuals and communities I serve. 

The Why

In March of 2021, I lost two friends to suicide after they struggled with their mental health. While this was my first time experiencing a death surrounding mental health illnesses, it certainly wasn't my last. Brody and Kennedy were two very bright lights in my life. Every time I saw them, they never failed to make me smile, laugh, or feel valued. Brody was more like a brother than anything, and Kennedy was one of my favorite people that I met through the Miss Arkansas Scholarship Organization. 

 How did it change you? 

Their loss forever changed the way I view this topic. 

At first, I didn’t know what to think. My mind was filled with questions. Why them? What made them do it? Didn’t they realize how much they were loved? If I’m being honest, I was angry. I felt angry that they chose to leave us. I thought it was selfish that they took their own lives and that we could no longer love them here on Earth. I couldn’t understand how someone who was loved by so many people could make that choice. But as time passed and I began learning more about mental health, my perspective and knowledge started to change. I realized they did know they were loved. 

The truth is, they were in unimaginable pain. When someone is struggling that deeply, the darkness can become so overwhelming that they can no longer see the light breaking through the cracks. That realization shifted my heart from anger and confusion to compassion and purpose. It’s why I now advocate for open conversations about mental health and suicide prevention—so that people who are struggling know they are not alone and that there is always hope, even when the darkness makes it hard to see. 

What have I learned from these lived experiences? 

Since then, I have taken several training courses to better understand the warning signs of suicidal thoughts. Some of these signs can include withdrawing from friends and social activities, disappearing without explanation, acting out at school or at home, or even giving away meaningful personal belongings. 

My biggest fear is losing another loved one to suicide. If I can do my very best to recognize these signs in someone I care about, then maybe—just maybe—I can help them see the light within themselves that I already see. 

What can you learn? 

What I hope people take away from my story is that mental health matters, and it is something we need to talk about more openly and more often. We live in a world that often creates barriers around conversations about mental health, making it seem like something we shouldn’t talk about. But in reality, those are the conversations we need the most. By talking openly about mental health, we can break down stigma and create safe spaces where someone feels comfortable reaching out when they are going through a mental health crisis of their own. 

Brody and Kennedy are forever sixteen years old. They will never get the chance to experience many of the things I have experienced in the last four years. That reality is heartbreaking, but it also fuels my passion to advocate for mental health awareness and suicide prevention. 

If speaking up, sharing my story, and encouraging these conversations can help even one person stay, then maybe more people will have the opportunity to experience the little moments in life that are often the most meaningful.