For 21 years, I have battled with mental health challenges that shaped not only my personal journey but also my purpose in life. As a child, I was bullied often, and it left me confused and deeply hurt. I couldn't understand why I was treated so differently, and that confusion led to years of quiet depression. I learned early on how to mask my pain by making others laugh—humor became my shield. I shut down emotionally to avoid showing the pain I carried, wearing a smile while feeling broken inside. The loss of my cousin Shandy in a tragic car accident shattered me. She was my safe place—the one person I could talk to without judgment. Her death sent me into a spiral of numbness. But during that dark time, I found a small light: helping others. Supporting people through their struggles became my escape, and in comforting them, I found a temporary comfort of my own. As I got older, life didn’t get easier. I got married, but the relationship quickly turned toxic. I developed a drinking problem as a way to cope with the emotional turmoil. Then came unexpected news—I was pregnant. That moment became a turning point. I knew I wanted to be better for my child, so I began changing my lifestyle and focusing on my health. But my marriage continued to fall apart, and after the birth of my second son, I made the difficult decision to leave the relationship for the sake of my peace and my children’s well-being. Later, I entered another relationship, hoping for better, but instead endured emotional and physical abuse. That was the moment I said “no more.” I asked my parents to keep my children temporarily while I worked on healing every part of myself—mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically. I remained present in my children’s lives, fulfilling all of my parental duties while also making sure they had the space and support to heal with me. I made therapy a priority—not just for myself but for my children. I chose to forgive and co-parent peacefully, always shielding my children from the pain I had endured. I never allowed my personal struggles with their fathers to affect their emotional well-being. I worked tirelessly to maintain a peaceful environment for them, even as I fought silent battles of my own. Over time, I noticed something: people gravitated toward me. They sought my advice, trusted me with their pain, and found comfort in my words. That’s when it hit me—this was my purpose. I want to become a psychologist because I know what it feels like to suffer in silence and to feel alone in the world. Through my healing, therapy, and ongoing self-care, I’ve learned the power of support, understanding, and empathy. I want to be the help for others that I once so desperately needed.

For 21 years, I have battled with mental health challenges that shaped not only my personal journey but also my purpose in life. As a child, I was bullied often, and it left me confused and deeply hurt. I couldn't understand why I was treated so differently, and that confusion led to years of quiet depression. I learned early on how to mask my pain by making others laugh, humor became my shield. I shut down emotionally to avoid showing the pain I carried, wearing a smile while feeling broken inside. The loss of my cousin Shandy in a tragic car accident shattered me. She was my safe place—the one person I could talk to without judgment. Her death sent me into a spiral of numbness. But during that dark time, I found a small light: helping others. Supporting people through their struggles became my escape, and in comforting them, I found a temporary comfort of my own. As I got older, life didn’t get easier. I got married, but the relationship quickly turned toxic. I developed a drinking problem as a way to cope with the emotional turmoil. Then came unexpected news—I was pregnant. That moment became a turning point. I knew I wanted to be better for my child, so I began changing my lifestyle and focusing on my health. But my marriage continued to fall apart, and after the birth of my second son, I made the difficult decision to leave the relationship for the sake of my peace and my children’s well-being. Later, I entered another relationship, hoping for better, but instead endured emotional and physical abuse. That was the moment I said “no more.” I asked my parents to keep my children temporarily while I worked on healing every part of myself—mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and physically. I remained present in my children’s lives, fulfilling all of my parental duties while also making sure they had the space and support to heal with me. I made therapy a priority—not just for myself but for my children. I chose to forgive and co-parent peacefully, always shielding my children from the pain I had endured. I never allowed my personal struggles with their fathers to affect their emotional well-being. I worked tirelessly to maintain a peaceful environment for them, even as I fought silent battles of my own. Over time, I noticed something: people gravitated toward me. They sought my advice, trusted me with their pain, and found comfort in my words. That’s when it hit me—this was my purpose. I want to become a psychologist because I know what it feels like to suffer in silence and to feel alone in the world. Through my healing, therapy, and ongoing self-care, I’ve learned the power of support, understanding, and empathy. I want to be the help for others that I once so desperately needed.