I come from a long line of mental health struggles from both my paternal and maternal sides of the family. When my aunt was a teenager, she struggled with anorexia so severe that she was admitted into a hospital for several years hooked up to a feeding tube because she could not bear the thought of eating. My grandfather had several breakdowns when my mother was young, and he would sit with a blank stare on his face unable or unwilling to communicate for days at a time. In turn, my mother was diagnosed with depression and social anxiety, and takes medication to be able to function. Both of my grandmothers have struggled with alcoholism throughout my lifetime, each one thinking she is better than the other for displaying it differently – when the truth is that it is alcoholism however you look at it. My father’s aunt committed suicide when he was young by setting her house on fire and burning with it, and my father has struggled his whole life with depression, often being in bad or angry moods around me and my family of seven. It wasn’t until a couple years ago that he was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) and properly medicated and started therapy that he was able to think through the chaos of his mind, which has improved our relationship exponentially; my dad and I have always been alike, we just never got along because our mental health got in the way. One of my four younger sisters has also been diagnosed with ADHD and Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD). As for me, from the time I was very young I have dealt with emetophobia. Emetophobia is the irrational fear of throwing up, whether it be from me, from someone else, animals, or even on TV. Symptoms can include intense panic and anxiety around new people and situations, food aversions, vivid recall of triggering incidents, and so much more, all surrounding the fear of me or someone else potentially getting sick. I remember the first time I experienced a phobic reaction to an incident, I was in kindergarten and one of the children in my class was sick after eating rainbow popcorn. I remember panicking and crying, and not understanding why I was having these feelings when other people only reacted with disgust. It slowly turned into anxiety whenever my stomach hurt or when someone else talked about not feeling well, and sitting in classrooms became quite difficult as nor me or my parents really understood what was going on. When my family relocated from Perth, Australia, to Winchester, Virginia, I was in the middle of 6th grade, and I started middle school towards the end of the school year. This did nothing for the anxiety I already felt for new situations, but it was also my first experience with public schools and I found it quite overwhelming. My inability to stay in the classrooms – as I experienced intense panic attacks – started affecting my grades and my parents eventually brought me to a therapist where I was diagnosed with acute emetophobia. Even with the diagnosis I still struggled with the phobia because I didn’t know how to handle how I was feeling, but I was also embarrassed by being afraid of something so irrational, which only compounded the existing anxiety. The common response I got from people – peers and adults – when I mentioned that I had a “fear of throwing up” was, “nobody likes to throw up,” and nobody really understood that it was so much more than that. Eventually towards the end of middle school I saw a crisis counsellor because my anxiety around performing everyday tasks had become so debilitating that I could barely leave the house. Out of all the outside counsellors I had met with during that time in my life, she’s the only one that I remember by name – Leigh-Anne. She came into the room in a typical medical lab coat, but underneath that she had heavy tattoos and dyed silver hair with a couple facial piercings. I remember thinking, “Are you sure this is the right woman?” but she had a clipboard and I was 13, so I assumed the adults knew what they were doing. We had talked for a while, and eventually she interrupted me and I remember very clearly her saying, “So what?” It caught me off guard a little bit, because at that age I was used to the common response of, “You’re weird,” or “That’s not normal,” but I had never heard “So what?” She then explained, “Everybody has something that they live with that they don’t often tell people for fear of other people noticing. Just because you wear your anxiety on your sleeve doesn’t make what you’re going through a bad thing. I think it’s awesome that you have this fear, because it means that you can empathize with people who don’t show their fears, and you should tell people what I told you, ‘so what?’ Ultimately, it doesn’t matter if you have a fear of throwing up or a fear of spiders, it’s something you’re going to deal with either way, so why should you let it bother you.” I’m not sure if it’s because she didn’t look like a doctor or if she spoke to me so authentically as if I was a human being and not just a kid with a mental illness, but what she said really stuck with me. Now, as an adult, I still deal with emetophobia, but on a very minor level. I easily remove myself from triggering situations and can control the obsessive thoughts through logic and reason while living a fully functional life, but it wasn’t easy to get here. After speaking with Leigh-Anne, I started to tell myself that it really doesn’t matter if I have this road-block, it only matters that I keep moving forward from it, and to this day whenever I face a challenge, I tell myself, “So what?” It is what it is. With that, I went on to high school and realized that I had an affinity for helping people. I volunteered with my local church and noticed that helping people was one way I burned off steam when I was otherwise stressed or anxious. I started working with the staff in my school, mental health professionals or not, to get to a point with my mental health where I could not only function, but I was thriving. They implemented a 504 plan to make basic accommodations if I needed them, which included being able to study in the library instead of the classroom, and choosing my seat in the classroom regardless of a seating chart, which helped me throughout the first three years of high school. By my senior year of high school however, I was able to stop taking my medication, I barely utilized the 504 plan, and I was getting straight As. Now in college, I haven’t brought up my 504 plan, I have a 4.0, and I live an amazing, happy life in a world that doesn’t always make that easy. I have also been able to work full time to stay debt-free throughout my undergrad degree, but my Master’s degree will be more hands on and I will have to rearrange my finances and possibly take out student loans. The point of this essay was to talk about my inspiration for pursuing a career in mental health, and as I was thinking about my answer, I realized that it’s because of my family, the girl I was versus the woman I am today, and the impact I can make on other children who are struggling with their mental health that I want to do this for the rest of my life. I believe that if my extended family was afforded the same opportunities to seek mental health treatment that I was while they were growing up, they would have lead different lives, but the mental health field is gaining more traction now than ever. Growing up, my school district did not have a School Psychologist, but every single person I worked with represented different aspects of what School Psychology is, and that is what I am going to do with my life. I currently volunteer in the NICU at Winchester Medical Center, but ultimately I would like to work in the same school district that helped raise me, as they now offer School Psychologist positions and internships. Children are fragile, but they are also very resilient; they just need someone to listen and to be there, and to not give up on them when adversity comes knocking, just like the people in my life had been with me. Thank you for considering me!