My passion for psychiatry began with tragedy. When we were only sixteen years old, I found my highschool boyfriend hanging by a noose. I stood in the doorway to his bedroom, eyes frozen on his bloated face, knowing that in this moment I had been instantaneously transformed. I had just opened a metaphorical door between my past and future. Behind me was my past– where I was ignorant to mental health– and a future where it would be my calling and my cross to bear. At that moment I knew I needed to become a psychiatrist. I had to dedicate my life to preventing this from happening again.
Unfortunately, difficult stories like this were typical for my childhood. I grew up in a mold-streaked house that my parents were too busy working multiple jobs to fix. I was constantly told that we had to eat the food in front of us because we didn’t know when we’d have to skip a meal– which led to my development of an eating disorder many years later. Nowadays when balancing bills between tuition, housing, and other necessities, food is still the first thing I cut. I often rely on food banks or pantries, and grocery stores feel like a complete luxury.
My struggles didn’t stop in childhood. As a teenager, I started feeling overwhelming mood swings– I would flip from manic to desolate. I had developed Bipolar Type II. My parents were adamant that there was “nothing wrong with me” as I fought a battle in my head every single day.
I entered college regardless, as a first-generation student. I tried to balance academics and mental health but I felt like my hamstrings had been cut before starting a race. It all came to a head when I became homeless as a result of the 2017 Tubbs Fire. It was here that I found myself facing another door: do I leave it shut and continue to suffer inside my own head, or do I fling it open, take my life by the horns, and get myself better by all means necessary?
I was resolute. This illness would not conquer me. I finally began seeing a therapist and a psychiatrist out-of-pocket, while I also managed to secure housing. Although my family is unsupportive, now I am surrounded by a found family of caring people. Additionally, my current partner has also survived trauma and we are healing together. I have never felt more surrounded with love.
Determined to make a real difference, I also engage with mental wellness outside of work and school; I am conducting research with local nonprofits on mental health solutions for youth. Because of this, I was recently selected to present at a conference on Youth Peer Counseling. Professionally, I am always in high-gear, working full-time as a peer counselor at a nonprofit, in addition to being a research assistant for EdEon at SSU. Our research is on improving college accessibility for disabled people, while my work is focused on providing free mental healthcare to homeless individuals.
I push myself every day, and no one knows that I worry about whether I’ll be able to make ends meet. I pay for my $5000 tuition entirely out of my paychecks. I decided a long time ago, regardless of the obstacles I face, I will walk through that door of opportunities, run if I have to, with my head held high. Please consider supporting me in my journey to serve others in psychiatry. Thank you so much.
I've always felt like a nuisance to my parents. This is coming from a girl with the most loving parents in the world. Growing up as the middle child of five daughters wasn't easy, especially because of our increasing financial difficulties. And while my parents' everlasting resilience always gives me a proud feeling to be their daughter, the most influential person in my life was my grandfather. And my biggest regret is not understanding the depth of what he told me and his experiences until after he passed away in 2020.
My grandfather was always one to stand up for his beliefs, even if it meant getting hurt in some way or losing something because not losing himself was more important. Every time I cried, for whatever reason, he was always there to wipe my tears and tell me to "be smiley". At the time, I thought his phrase was rather cringy since it wasn't "cool." Now that phrase is anything but cringy, and it's so dear to me that it's on the personalized stuffed animal my best friend gifted me.
When he died, a part of my innocence withered too; I lost a large part of myself, and the pain was unimaginable because he had a large hand in raising me. Whenever he'd go for grocery runs, he'd ask if I wanted to go and I always did, but only after a bit of convincing. I'd race to change to go shopping with him just one more time or to hear a story from his perspective. I mean, he taught me how to tell if fruits and vegetables were ripe, how to be useful with a hammer, gardening, self-defense, and even fun activities like arm-wrestling and patty-cake. My mom's best friend had kids who weren't so lucky with grandparents, so mine stepped up and taught them skills and gave them core memories.
Only after he died did I find out that he raised his siblings because his parents died when he was young. So, he single-handedly provided for and educated all of his siblings since he was 17 and worked his way up from dirt. Being darker-skinned, he was already at a disadvantage in life because of racial views, especially around the time he was young, but that didn't stop him. He ended up becoming a successful accountant who worked for a prince who trusted him so much that he wouldn't sign off on a single paper unless my grandfather agreed, which are other qualities I strive to hone like him, loyalty and honesty. However, while he was on vacation with his family, a war broke out in Kuwait to the point where it wasn't safe to return so they lost practically everything of financial value.
He just filled his life with so much beauty because of his mindset, and every person could feel his radiant presence, as bright as his contagious laughter and ability to make anyone smile. My mom told me that he touched so many lives that when he died, people from all over the world of different ages that she never even knew, called her and gave their condolences because he helped them in some way. My name, Noor, means light in Arabic and I want to encompass that in myself. I want to be that flashlight in the dark for people, just like my grandfather. Even though I had, and still have a variety of medical problems, from autoimmune to more common things, his life gives me the strength to be something more but to make sure I don't lose sight of it all.
