Looking back at my childhood, one of the most defining moments was when my parents got divorced. I was seven years old when they separated, and even if I didn't fully understand what was going on, I knew that it wouldn't be the same again. At first it seemed like thing might still be okay, there was a shared custody agreement between my parents. Mom on the weekdays and dad on the weekends, but as time went on, it became clear that the divorce had opened up a door for a deep and painful experience. Shortly after the divorce, my dad introduced me to his new girlfriend. I didn't know it then, but this person would become a major source of trauma in my life. For four years she was a constant presence during our weekend visits, and during that time she did everything she could to turn me and my little brother against our mother. At such a young age, I didn't understand emotional abuse and manipulation, but I felt the confusion, the anger and the sadness. She painted our mom as the villain, and because I was just a child, part of me believed it. But it wasn't just emotional manipulation. The abuse went far beyond words. She abused my brother and me in any way imaginable: physically, mentally, sexually. Sometimes, she would get my dad involved. He wasn't around often during our visits; he was either out or at work, but when he was there, sometimes he'd watch it happen. Other times he'd follow through on things she told him to do, and seeing your father at any age allow and contribute to abuse towards you, creates a fracture in understanding love and safety which doesn't heal easily. These years left a lot of deep scars that I didn't even fully recognize until much later. At the time, I was simply in survival mode trying to cope with the instability and fear. I didn't have the words to explain what I was going though, and I didn't have the support system I needed to deal with the trauma. I buried it deep and tried to pretend like things were normal. and focused on getting through each day, and I didn't realize until seven years after my dad lost custody on how it affected me. What I discovered was both eye opening and heartbreaking, all those years of emotional turmoil, manipulation, and abuse had shaped who I had become in way I never noticed. I realized that I struggled to connect with others, to process my emotions, and to feel empathy the way others seemed to. Eventually, I was diagnosed with Anti-Social Personality Disorder (ASPD), and the doctor told me something that made sense everything I have endured during my life contributed to the development of this disorder. Living with ASPD is hard, it's not just about lacking emotions, it's about being painfully aware of what you're supposed to feel and how your supposed to act but feeling disconnected from it all. I can recognize when someone is hurting, when I should care, when I should be sad or happy, but the feelings don't come naturally. It is like watching your life through a window, knowing what happening but not being able to do anything about it. One of the hardest parts of this journey has been accepting that the people who were supposed to protect me didn't, that my father allowed someone else to hurt me, that someone who came into my life as another 'parental' figure, someone I'm supposed to be able to trust, used things to their advantage and broke me in the process. Despite everything, I'm trying, I'm working to take control of my future which is why I decided to pursue collage and find something that I like to do that will contribute to the world or even one person. I would be happy if all my life, that if i only helped one person instead of the crowd because that one person could also change the lives of millions.

One day, while I was walking to the corner store like I usually do, something happened that stuck with me. It was a regular afternoon, nothing out of the ordinary, until I saw a situation that didn’t sit right with me. There was an elderly woman standing by her car, looking a little flustered and uneasy. As I got closer, I noticed a man standing far too close to her, pressuring her to give him money. He wasn’t just asking politely, he was being aggressive, blocking her from getting into her car, and clearly making her uncomfortable. I have a soft spot for elderly people. Maybe it’s because they remind me of my own grandparents, or maybe it’s just a general respect I have for those who’ve lived long lives and deserve to be treated with dignity. Whatever the reason, I knew I couldn’t just walk by and do nothing. So I approached calmly, trying not to escalate the situation but also making it clear I wasn’t going to ignore what was happening. I walked up and said something like, “Hey, is everything okay here?” I looked directly at the man, letting him know that I saw him and that I wasn’t afraid to get involved. The woman looked relieved to see me. She didn’t say much, but her eyes said everything, she needed help. The man got defensive at first, muttering something about just needing a couple bucks. I stayed calm and firm. I told him that this woman didn’t owe him anything and that he needed to move on. I didn’t raise my voice or try to cause a scene, but I made it clear I wasn’t going to let him intimidate her any further. After a few tense moments, he finally backed off and walked away, still muttering to himself but no longer a threat. I turned to the woman and asked if she was okay. She looked a little shaken but managed a smile and thanked me. She told me she was just trying to get home from the grocery store and just needed to fill her gas tank up and didn’t know what to do when the man started bothering her. I offered to stay with her until she felt safe enough to drive off, and she accepted. We chatted for a couple of minutes until she felt calm again, and then she thanked me once more before getting into her car and driving away. I didn’t do anything heroic, but sometimes it’s the small things that matter the most, just being there for someone in a moment of vulnerability. That day reminded me how important it is to look out for one another, especially those who might not be able to defend themselves. We don’t always get to plan when we help someone, but when the moment comes, stepping up can make a big difference.

Education is incredibly important to me because I believe that knowledge is power, and power, when used with intention and integrity, earns lasting respect. In this world, respect is one of the few things you carry with you no matter where life takes you. It cannot be bought, borrowed, or handed over. It’s something you earn through your choices, your resilience, and your understanding of the world and yourself. That’s why I value education so deeply, not just as a way to get ahead, but as a means to grow into the best version of myself and to uplift others along the way. I am a first-generation college student from a low-income family. My family may not have had financial privilege, but we’ve always been grounded, supportive, and deeply connected. They taught me the value of working hard, staying humble, and standing firm in what I believe in. Everything I’m doing now is built on the foundation of those lessons. Being the first in my family to pursue higher education is not something I take lightly. It’s an honor, a responsibility, and a symbol of change for both myself and those who will come after me. I want to show my younger relatives, and others like me, that where you come from doesn’t define where you can go. My passion for learning goes beyond personal success. It’s also a deeply spiritual journey for me. I follow a spiritual path rooted in devotion to ancient deities, and the one I feel most connected to is a bringer of knowledge and wisdom. In honoring this deity, I have made it my mission to seek knowledge in every area I can, academically, emotionally, and spiritually. I don’t just learn for myself; I learn so I can pass that wisdom on to others. Teaching, guiding, and sharing what I know is part of how I live out my devotion. It's how I honor the divine forces that walk beside me and guide me. In both my future career and my spiritual path, I hope to leave behind a legacy of inspiration, strength, and transformation. Through my work in Criminal Justice, I want to create change in a system that too often fails the most vulnerable. I want to use my story and my education to advocate for justice and reform. Spiritually, I want to be a source of light and understanding for others who may feel lost or misunderstood. I want to be someone who helped others grow, not by being perfect, but by being real, driven, and deeply committed to a path of learning and service. At the end of the day, everything I do is for more than just myself. It’s for my family, for those who will follow in my footsteps, for the people I will serve in my career and for the deities who guide me. I want my life to speak volumes about perseverance, knowledge, and the power of turning pain into purpose.

Jack Terry’s story is one of unimaginable tragedy, resilience, and triumph. To survive the Holocaust, endure the loss of his entire family, and emerge with a drive to live a meaningful, successful life is incredibly inspiring. What speaks to me most is not only his survival, but his determination to turn pain into purpose. Despite every reason to give up, he chose to build a life rooted in growth, education, and giving back. That kind of strength reminds me that no matter what we face, we have the power to push forward, and that our stories can become tools for others’ healing and growth. Like Jack Terry, I have faced adversity that shaped the way I see the world. I was diagnosed with high-functioning Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD), a condition that presents challenges, particularly when it comes to emotional connection and empathy. Forming bonds and relating to others doesn't always come naturally to me, and that’s something I’ve had to work hard to understand and manage. On top of this, I endured years of abuse in my childhood, experiences that left deep emotional marks but also taught me survival, persistence, and the importance of inner strength. Despite these challenges, I never gave up. I’ve chosen to pursue higher education, not only for myself, but for those who don’t always have the chance to. I’m passionate about Criminal Justice because I want to understand the systems that impact people’s lives, especially those who, like me, have faced difficult beginnings. I believe that knowledge is power, but more importantly, it is something meant to be shared. Jack Terry used his story to educate and bring hope to others. I want to do the same. My goal is to take what I learn in my studies and apply it to real-world issues, advocating for justice, fairness, and access to resources for people who may feel unseen or unheard. I want to work with individuals who’ve experienced trauma, those who struggle to navigate the justice system, or who are written off by society. With my lived experience and academic background, I can connect with them in ways that others might not. Living with ASPD is not easy, but I don’t let it define me in a negative way. If anything, it pushes me to work harder, to prove that I can still make a difference. I’ve learned to turn my challenges into tools, tools that allow me to persevere, to stay focused on my goals, and to never give up on what I believe in. Just like Jack Terry, I want to use my story to make a difference, to bring understanding where there is judgment, and to help others see that no matter where you come from, you can always move forward.