When I was fifteen years old, I was invited by my grandparents to attend our church’s Christmas celebratory dinner, as a way to honor and celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ. I was a frequent church goer at this time, and instantaneously, I said yes. I didn’t think that same night would lead to a complete change in my life. I remember being given the dinner pamphlet, completed with hymns and the names of our lessons for the night. As I scanned through the paper, one lesson title caught my eye: “Don’t Ask. Just Believe.” I remember feeling confused, looking around to see if anyone else was a bit taken aback by the direct orders of our sermon. Yet, nobody else batted an eye. However, this was not the first time I had dealt with my own confusion towards the Evangelical church. Several years prior, I attended a Christian club at my school, only to end up angering the pastor when I asked if the Lord was supposed to be all powerful, why he couldn’t simply turn everybody Christian. The following year, I had sat alongside a fellow teen girl, as our pastor lectured both of us on how the menstrual cycle was God’s eternal punishment to women because of Eve eating the apple from the tree of knowledge. To tell the truth, I was shocked listening to a grown man, time and time again, repeat lessons about how my very body was a sin, and I deserved God’s punishment for merely existing in my natural state. Yet, it was being told straight to my face that I was not allowed to ask, and instead simply believe, that made me realize I finally had enough. When I went home that night, I remember hiding the cross my grandmother gave me into the back of the closet. Yet, some part of me felt such a twinge of guilt, I ended up unable to sleep that night. I didn’t attend church that Sunday, too caught up in my own confusion. Why was I not allowed to ask questions about my own faith? Why was my body a sin in its natural form? Was I to spend an eternity in hell if I questioned what I was raised to believe? Before I knew it, I found myself on a downward spiral into the truth. Yet, no matter how many bible verses I read, no matter how many hours I watched footage of priests going into the scripture in vivid detail, I was left with more questions than answers. Even spending two years in weekly biblical study only left me desiring more knowledge. To have my constant need for answers to be met with the response that my natural curiosity was born out of hate for God crushed my soul. At this point, I wasn’t even sure if there was a God in this world anymore. Thus, despite the anxiety and shame I felt with every moment I spent thinking about my upbringing, I inevitably found the strength not from a higher power, but from within myself, to leave the Evangelical church for good.

My entire life, I have been fascinated by the human brain and all its capabilities. In sixth grade, my grandmother bought me an informational book about the brain and its functions. I’d spend hours reading every detail on the various purposes of the mind and how it controls the rest of our body through day-to-day life, and my appreciation for the complexities of the brain expanded from there. Yet, a career felt impractical, a fantasy of sorts. It wasn’t until my junior year of high school, when I took an AP Psychology course, that I looked at myself and realized that this was what I wanted to do. I thrived in the class and felt a true sense of worth. I am fascinated and excited about the idea of continuing to explore the multiple facets of the brain and the basic ins and outs of how and why people behave the way they do. Therefore, Psychology is a field I firmly believe I would not only enjoy but excel in. My interests in this field, however, still seemed general. I felt passionate about the purpose but wasn’t entirely sure why until recently. I had always known that I functioned “differently”, but my official diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder helped me realize my passion may be quite personal as well. Since my diagnosis, I’ve gone through my own psychological and personal journey to discover exactly how my brain works and I have used this knowledge to help me function in a neurotypical society. It has been an enlightening journey to say the least, and the diagnosis provided me with a wonderful sense of relief. I felt empowered knowing there was a reason for my oddities. This gave me an amazing opportunity to address some social issues as well as learn to cope and temper my responses. I’ve gotten comfortable with the usage of noise-canceling headphones at school events, and I’ve learned the many benefits of fidget items to keep my brain on track. Understanding the disconnect between my brain and social expectations has allowed me to learn and grow into a much more sociable woman. I finally feel I have begun to find my place in this world, and I believe there are many others like me whom I would love to help. In addition to developmental disorders, I know there are many, especially in a post-pandemic world, who are struggling with some form of mental health issues. I have struggled with anxiety and depression in one way or another for almost my entire life, especially during my teenage years. Much of my loneliness and neuroticism had stemmed from the constant belief that there was something wrong with me and that I was destined to struggle socializing with others for the rest of my life. When I learned I was autistic, many of the traits and quirks I had put myself down for finally began to make sense. While I still deal with these issues today, seeking out therapy and proper help truly aided me with my psychological recovery and self-acceptance. Knowing the peace of mind that proper therapy and knowledge have brought me, I would love to enter the world of clinical practice to pay it forward and help provide this same assistance to the many who need and deserve it. I believe that mental health is just as important as physical health, and I am thrilled at the opportunity to spend the next four years of my life continuing my journey and hopefully helping others learn to navigate this constantly changing and complex world.