I felt the cool leather car seat beneath my hands as I stared out the window, watching the trees blur by in shades of green. In the front seat, my grandmother hummed softly along to the radio. Then a question rose in my five-year-old mind: “What is it like to see the world through somebody else’s eyes?” The question felt enormous—as if the world had shifted around me. That curiosity, that longing to understand and connect, has guided me ever since and now calls me to pursue a doctorate in Clinical Psychology at Midwestern University.
As I grew older, that question followed me into friendships, classrooms, and eventually my studies. I wanted to understand what others felt, why they felt it, and how their experiences shaped the way they moved through the world. However I didn’t just want to understand; I wanted to ease their pain, to offer relief from the weight of being human, even for a moment. For a long time, I believed the best way to do that was through medicine. Coming from a family deeply rooted in healthcare, I was told I would be the first medical doctor in the family, the one to help our village in the Philippines and bring honor to our name. Yet through my own mental health journey, I realized that true healing requires more than diagnoses and prescriptions. It takes time, understanding, and genuine presence—the same qualities that first made me wonder how others see the world.
As a research assistant with the Arizona Twin Project, I saw how deeply context shapes the way people live, think, and heal. One of the most defining moments occurred during a visit in Yuma, Arizona. The interview progressed as expected: efficient and formulaic. Then it shifted. Her eyes grew heavy with memory, her voice trembling as she recounted the challenges of raising four children alone. In that moment, I chose to set aside the protocol and respond to her vulnerability with presence. Through my actions, I wanted her to know: “I am here with you. Show me your world, and I will help you carry what you can no longer hold alone.” That experience reminded me that the essence of psychology is not found in manuals or checklists but in human connection. Healing begins when someone feels seen, when their story is met with empathy rather than judgment. That day, I learned that presence itself can be a form of intervention. That simply bearing witness to another person’s pain with genuine care can begin to lighten its weight.
While I believe in the power of connection, I also value science and the rigor of evidence-based practice. Effective clinical work requires both compassion and knowledge of the human mind. Interventions are not tools to “fix” people, but pathways to help them understand themselves and rediscover who they are capable of becoming. My work as a Registered Behavior Technician and Psychometrist allows me to live these principles daily. Working with children, adolescents, and adults of all walks of life has shown me that no two people are alike. Even evidence-based methods require flexibility and creativity to truly reach the individual. Some of the most meaningful progress occurs not through perfect technique but through trust, patience, and genuine connection. These experiences reinforce my belief that healing requires both structure and empathy and deepens my commitment to psychology as a lifelong practice of presence, curiosity, and care.
Ultimately, I want to study, and explore through clinical practice, how treatment can be adapted to meet each person’s unique context and push against the barriers of streamlined healthcare.