'I met my AR goal' reads a bracelet I keep as my own trophy to this day. I am twenty-two years old following my fourth year in college for a bachelor's in psychology. And, I cannot read. As a kid, my reading scores were impactfully low to where the school regularly contacted my mother to describe me failing Accelerated Reading curriculum used at that time. For those unfamiliar, we were assigned a specific amount of books to read and accumulate a graded score. As a fourth grader, I cheated this system. I took tests on toddler level books because I could not focus to read. My home life was chaotic; in turn, my mind was chaotic. Reading for me was never fun but a mandated personal hell of crying, trying to see to be able to read the words. The words blurred together even without tears. My focus and inability to process information through reading was such a burden I even had an eye exam. Hindsight, this is hilarious but a painful question loomed over my kid mind, "What is wrong with me that I am that stupid, I can't even read." I gave up on reading entirely until freshman year in college, 2019. Over fifty page reading assigned each week, and this was devastating to my mental health. Again, I thought the exact question I asked as a child. Adding, is college this difficult for everyone else as it is for me? I pleaded with my advisor asking what can I do differently. He described something to me I am all too familiar with because of my field of study. Have you guessed it? My advisor who is roughly seventy years old explained to me how he was diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactive disorder (ADHD) "before it was cool." Although my major and passion is the study of the mind, my empathy is shamefully biased. I did not, could not accept the possibility of me having ADHD. This negative mental health related belief granted two more long years of me suffering, simply just trying to focus. After dedicating excess amount of time to persuade my mind to read, I have learned there is nothing wrong with me. It is not my eyes but my mind. Through advisor, friend relationships I have found amazing and clever ways to obtain an attentive focus. Challenging my own personal bias of mental health has not only benefited my relationships yet has allowed my own self to seek help. I hold this grace and care for others, yet I did not allow care for myself. My career aspirations follow my view on mental health. For roughly fifteen years, I spent suffering. This could have been avoided. And, one crucial illustration is this societal, negative view and bias encumbering mental health. Mental health is not known but known of. Mental health is not important but a necessity. There are vast challenges and changes that must be granted for the societal view on mental health. My example read above might illude to dismissal, how silly that a girl can't read; however, it is representative of the critically avoidable message towards suffering. My minor is substance addiction education that I hold a personal, life-long dedication to. I leave with one question, What would the world be if we all held the belief of empathy the same for the one we love, to a stranger, to ourselves?

Imagine a girl who was afraid of everyone and everything. She was afraid of strangers, afraid of her father. She was afraid of rooms with no windows, eyes that always watched. She later became afraid of herself. I am the girl who has overcome these fears and still bear the aftermath of childhood trauma. My career path chose me. I started college with no direction just the thought of being more than what I come from. This thought prompted a dream. And, this dream I now see as an obligation. My obligation is to help others who hold that same fear and pain. Fear takes many forms. It is fear of losing a loved one. It is fear of not having a bed to sleep in and warm food to eat. It is fear of not being able to quit drugs. It is fear of losing oneself. And, it is fear of asking for help. Pain visits when we allow these fears to harbor. My passion is all psychology and mental health, yet my heart belongs to the field of substance addiction. Addiction is deeply engraved within my family history. My own father succumbed to the bottle he held above his family, above me. One mandatory assignment I finished some years ago instilled that obligation of me needing to help others. I had to attend an Alcoholic's Anonymous(AA) meeting; this was my first time engulfed in an environment leaving the school books behind. The assignment was simply to listen. Previous to this assignment, I studied the physiological affects of drugs, how certain drugs alter neurotransmitters. These neurotransmitter levels can have a genetic predisposition of imbalance...The AA meeting assignment was not concerning any of this. These are human beings, people who hurt and suffer everyday of their lives. All I could do was listen. And, I listened to all that pain and hurt seep through their voices. I knew then I had every prospect and every ambition to help. With financial support, I will be able to finish my bachelor's degree by the end of 2024. I will immediately pursue higher education, graduate degree. Moreover, my dream is to hold the title of Doctor. I will open my own clinic catering to individuals of low-income. With my own clinic, it will not be centered towards maximizing profit yet centered towards helping. I have experienced too much of what money and greed means for the American Dream. I will not allow greed into a safe-space I build. All will be welcomed, and all will be provided the opportunity for help. I once was afraid of everything. Through my studies, I have found a purpose. I found an obligation to be more than myself.

I am not in this field of study for choice; I study psychology specifically substance addiction education because of my background. I have personally seen addiction ravage family, and I have personally seen the aftermath of pain. From my studies, I have learned addiction's biopsychological toll on the brain and the mind. I have learned substance addiction is vastly convoluted. From my own growth, I have learned to never speak the word 'addict.' It is a dehumanizing term for people who struggle with addiction. I started in the broad field of psychology having no direction a summer after graduating high school. I felt as if I owed it to my younger self to enter this field. I entered this field for selfish reasons; I wanted to know why do I hurt. Why can I not concentrate, why do I fear people. My third year pursuing a bachelor's, I transferred to a four year institution where I had to declare a minor. I battled with myself, did I want to declare a minor is substance addiction. This I knew would resurface all the pain from my family, the loss of my father. I see now after almost two years, I have no choice. This time it is not about me, it is about my father, about the people like my father that I will be able to help. My father was cruel, abusive, and manipulative. He chose alcohol over three marriages, over all his children, and over me, his youngest daughter who he undoubtedly loved even when his actions stated otherwise. And, he chose alcohol over his own life. As a child, I could not understand why he reached for a bottle before he reached for a hug something that was never provided for me until too many bottles were reached. Like many others who struggle with addiction, my father hurt and suffered before he ever touched alcohol. As I have been able to understand addiction not from a survivor of abuse, not from a survivor of addiction itself, yet from my studies and fellowship meetings, I understand that no one wants to hurt; no one wants to feel pain. I was not able to help my father, one of my biggest hardships. However, I can use all that love for him I carry to this day to help others. My future degrees and aspirations are not for me anymore. They are for the people who did not and could not receive help. Some of my aspirations are to graduate early with a bachelor's and immediately enroll for a graduate degree. I will not stop. I will open my own clinic specifically catering to people of low-income backgrounds where every one can receive help. There will be no judgement.

My family is all of why this field of study chose me. I am twenty-two years old following my fourth and hopefully final year for my bachelor's in psychology with a minor in substance addiction education. I will not stop there. My father was born in 1948. He was born in a different time; a time of alcohol over family, a time of his definition of respect over abusing the family he claimed to love. I witnessed throughout my life what a man's pain, fear, and anger can tarnish. The alcohol did nothing but fuel the pain and shorten his life. Candidly, I could not fathom how my father was able to sleep at night. From my studies and own personal growth, I now can understand he did not. He was never diagnosed therefore never treated for anything. Presumably, I could interpret him having narcissistic personality disorder from his grandiose personality, his excessive entitlement, and his need for admiration. Maybe, the admiration I confuse with validation; something he was never granted. My mother was born in 1963. She suffers from chronic pain, and I have seen how easy it can be to believe physical and mental pain can be cured by just one extra dose. Neither of my parents was allowed to hurt or allowed to be helped. Just recently, I have helped my mother see mental illness from a different perspective. What she has always called 'sugar shakes,' she can now understand they are anxiety tremors. My mother and I are trying a new technique as well called, it is okay to ask for help. I am undoubtedly a concoction of 'coming from a dysfunctional family.' I have severe social anxiety where some years ago, I could not stay in any building without the overall fear of entrapment. The air in my lungs seemingly dissipated and the walls swarmed around me, closer and closer. I feared everyone having seen as a child what people are capable of. No guise as they might love you; this did not matter. Anyone including myself was capable of harming me. My family, that is broken and that has mourned, has given me all the courage and strength to do and become anything. School is everything to me. It gives me purpose. It gives me validation. It gives me hope that I can help my mother, that I can help people like my father, and that I can help myself. Lastly, I want to add, there is one question I have struggled with most. If you could trade every painful, negative experience you have had at the expense of becoming a different person, would you? I would not. All these terrible instances of my personal life I have shared are why I am who I am. These experiences have furthered my character and my need to help others. Mental illness awareness today has progressed yet is disrespectfully nowhere close to what it should be. I am from a family who needed that awareness, who needed the help. I hope to change this for others.

Mental health is not important; it is a paramount necessity within each one's life. We might skip eating an entire family-sharable size Twix bar for our health, yet we neglect our fundamentals of obtaining and upholding a healthy mind. As a psychology major, I have undoubtedly entered this field for selfish reasons. However, I realized with helping and understanding myself, I can then help others. Mental wellness is not just long-term goals, strict regimens, and positive affirmations, it is the small aspirations and actions following daily life. And, it is proudly walking away from stressful situations. The quotes surrounding 'do all you can today for tomorrow' perspective alludes to guilt when we choose not to be productive one day. Setting small goals and achieving them is like the child's game of rolling down a hill. The momentum of having the smallest accomplishments progresses into a healthier mind and grassy clothes. When one is at a low point, no direction, no meaning, it can be difficult to just brush her hair, to get out of bed, and to breathe. The wellness can stem from allowing the space and time for progression. Feeling deserving to drink a glass of water or soak in a hot bath or seemingly daily tasks for most, it is an essential fragment of mental wellness. Utilizing some of Cognitive behavioral therapy has allowed me to adapt my intolerable negative thinking. When a negative thought arises, we acknowledge it, challenge it, and finally, let it pass. I grasped this mindset too heavily. I never allowed myself the space to say something negative towards myself. One random night, I wrote all the self-hate down. I unintentionally wrote things I never dared to speak into existence. After I wrote such horrid things directed solely to me, I wrote how I addressed others, how I answer my family, my best friend, and my younger self. I found that all the love and compassion I give to others, I can give to myself. Is mental health acceptable in today's world? No. Mental health may be more known yet not understood. Mental health awareness is equivalated to weak or feeble minded people. I have seen this projection and ignorance from many. From my own retail job, it is acceptable to call out sick or physically ill than to even mention mental health related concerns. If we can all acknowledge mental health is not just important but a necessity, we can acknoweldge it as a vast and misunderstood form of self-love.