Mental health has been this quiet, constant part of my life, shaping who I am in ways I’m still figuring out. From as far back as I can remember, I felt things I didn’t really know how to explain, like anxiety tightening my chest, sadness that would come and go for no reason, and a mind that just wouldn’t stop racing. Growing up as a Cuban immigrant, dealing with new languages, cultures, and expectations, I often felt like I was carrying this invisible weight nobody else could see or understand. Over time, that weight taught me about resilience, about being vulnerable, and about how much we all need to be seen and heard. Those lessons changed the way I think about mental health, how I connect with people, and why I want to build a career helping others find their own voice and strength. For me, mental health is way more than just managing symptoms. It’s about accepting that healing isn’t a straight path and that strength doesn’t come from pretending everything’s perfect. Growing up, especially in my community, mental health was something people barely talked about. There was this unspoken rule that if you struggled, it meant you weren’t strong enough. You just had to push through, keep it to yourself, and not complain. But over time, I realized real strength is being able to admit you’re not okay. It’s having the courage to ask for help and be honest about what you’re feeling, even if it’s messy or uncomfortable. That shift changed how I see myself and the world. It made me want to break down the stigma around mental health and create spaces where people can talk openly without feeling judged. As a Cuban immigrant, I get how culture can sometimes make it harder to talk about these things, how it can make people feel distant or alone. But culture is also a source of strength, and I believe mental health care needs to respect people’s backgrounds and identities, not erase them. That’s something I want to bring into the work I do, meeting people where they are and honoring their whole story. My experience with mental health has also changed how I relate to the people around me, my family, friends, and community. There were times when I felt totally alone, like no one really understood the storm inside me. But it’s also taught me how important connection and empathy are. Learning to open up about my feelings helped me build deeper relationships. It showed me how powerful it is to really listen and make space for people’s struggles, even when they’re complicated or hard to understand. Working as a Registered Behavior Technician with kids on the autism spectrum gave me a new perspective. Helping those kids learn to identify and share their emotions showed me how vital emotional awareness is, not just for talking, but for feeling safe and confident. I remember one kid who had a hard time telling others when he was upset. With patience and steady support, he learned to recognize his frustration and use words or signs to get help. Watching him grow more confident reminded me that mental health support isn’t a one-size-fits-all thing. It’s personal, slow, and takes kindness. Volunteering at Vinceremos Therapeutic Horseback Riding Center added even more to what I know about healing and relationships. Helping people with physical and developmental challenges connect with horses was powerful. Sometimes healing comes from something as simple as a gentle touch, a moment of trust, or the calm presence of an animal who just accepts you. Those moments showed me that healing is really about connection, connection to ourselves, to others, and to the world around us. These experiences also taught me how important it is to have boundaries and practice self-care. Supporting people with mental health challenges is rewarding but can be draining. I’ve learned I can only be a good friend, helper, or future clinician if I also take care of myself. Finding that balance is something I keep working on with patience and humility. All of this is why my mental health journey and my career goals are so tied together. I want to work in a field that focuses on mental health, kindness, and respecting culture. The work I’ve done as an RBT and as a volunteer showed me that therapy can be creative, flexible, and human. It’s not just about labels or plans, it’s about building relationships, empowering people, and honoring their unique experiences. Seeing how teaching kids to understand their feelings helped them connect and communicate fired up my passion. I want to keep learning and training so I can provide mental health care that’s accessible and culturally sensitive, especially for communities like mine that often get left out. My goal is to create safe places where people don’t have to hide their pain or feel ashamed, where their identities are celebrated, not erased. I’m drawn to approaches that see mental health in a big, holistic way. My time at Vinceremos taught me that healing happens in all kinds of places, not just in an office. It’s about community, creativity, and compassion. I want to bring that energy to my career and push for mental health programs that are flexible, inclusive, and centered on the person. Mental health has shaped my beliefs, my relationships, and my dreams in ways I never expected. It’s taught me that vulnerability is real strength, that healing is messy and personal, and that connection is everything. As a Cuban immigrant, I carry the weight of cultural stigma but also the strength of resilience and community. These experiences have made me determined to help create mental health care that’s open, kind, and available to everyone. This journey isn’t finished yet. I know there’s a lot more for me to learn, but I’m committed to growing with the people I serve and using my story to offer empathy and hope. Mental health isn’t just what I want to work in, it’s why I want to show up in the world. It’s my passion, my purpose, and my promise.

Mental health is something I’ve been passionate about for a long time, mostly because I’ve had to be. I had to learn how to take care of my emotions pretty early on, even when I didn’t always have the words for what I was feeling. Over time, I started to notice how many people around me, especially in marginalized communities, were doing the same thing. Just trying to keep going, trying to heal, without much support or understanding. As a Cuban immigrant, I’ve seen how stigma, cultural expectations, and language barriers can make it harder to talk about mental health, let alone ask for help. In my community, it’s not always seen as something real or important. There’s this idea that you just have to be strong, get over it, or keep it to yourself. That’s part of what drives me. I want to help change that. I want to make mental health care feel more approachable and more human for people who have been left out of the conversation for too long. That’s why I’m pursuing a career in this field. I want to help create spaces where people feel safe and understood, where they can show up as they are without fear of being judged or misunderstood. Working as a Registered Behavior Technician has shown me just how powerful that kind of support can be. I’ve worked with kids on the autism spectrum, helping them with emotional regulation and communication. Teaching them to recognize their feelings and giving them tools to express themselves made a huge difference, not just in how they interacted with others but in how confident and in control they felt. It reminded me that when people have the language and support to understand what’s going on inside, everything else becomes a little more manageable. Volunteering at Vinceremos Therapeutic Horseback Riding Center had a similar impact on me. I worked with people with physical and developmental disabilities and saw how even small moments, like brushing a horse or sitting tall in the saddle, could help someone feel grounded, proud, and connected. It taught me that healing doesn’t always have to happen in a traditional setting. Sometimes it looks like a child smiling for the first time during a session or someone finding calm just by being around an animal who accepts them as they are. Outside of work, I’m the friend people come to when they need someone to talk to, and I genuinely love being that person. I know I still have a lot to learn, but I also know this is the kind of work I’m meant to be doing. Mental health isn’t just something I study or talk about. It’s personal. It’s something I live every day, and I’m committed to using what I’ve learned to make a real difference for others.

I’ve always felt deeply connected to the work I do as a Registered Behavior Technician (RBT), especially when it comes to supporting nonverbal autistic children. One experience that stands out to me was working with a young child who had struggled to communicate for a long time. We spent weeks working together, trying different approaches to find a way for this child to express their needs. Finally, after lots of patience and repetition, the child learned how to communicate using sign language. It wasn’t just the act of teaching them a new skill that felt rewarding—it was watching them experience a moment of pride when they were able to share something so basic yet so powerful: their voice. That moment changed my perspective on what I want to do with my life. I realized that it’s not just about teaching a child to behave in certain ways—it's about giving them the tools they need to connect with the world around them. It’s about helping them express themselves, build relationships, and have a voice in their own lives. That’s when I decided I wanted to dedicate my career to working with individuals with special needs and their families. Working with these children, I’ve also learned how crucial family support is. Parents often bear a huge emotional and physical load when caring for children with special needs, and I’ve seen firsthand how overwhelming it can be. I remember having long conversations with parents who were feeling lost or unsure of how to best help their child. Just being able to listen, offer some guidance, and reassure them that they’re not alone meant a lot to both them and me. It became clear to me that true support isn’t just about working with the child—it’s about helping families as a whole, making sure they feel empowered and supported too. Looking ahead, I want to open a clinic where families can come for support. My goal is to create a space that’s not just for children but for their parents too. A place where families can get the therapy, resources, and emotional support they need. I want to help break down the stigma around seeking help and provide a space where families can feel understood, supported, and equipped to face the challenges that come with raising a child with special needs. Through my career, I hope to make a real difference in the lives of children and families, helping them navigate their challenges and build stronger, healthier relationships. I want to make sure that every child, regardless of their abilities, has the chance to communicate, to be heard, and to thrive in the world around them.

Growing up, mental health was something we never talked about. Not at school, not with friends, and certainly not in my Cuban household. It was as if mental health didn’t exist, and if it did, it was something to be ashamed of. Every time I mentioned anxiety or depression at home, my family would laugh it off and claimed I was becoming a "soft gringa." But over the years, I’ve learned that ignoring mental health doesn’t make it disappear, it only makes it harder to face. That realization has become the driving force behind my commitment to breaking the silence and advocating for mental health in my community, starting with my family. Mental health is incredibly important to me as a student because it has shaped much of my own journey and academic experience. As a first-generation immigrant from Cuba, adjusting to a new culture and country added an extra layer of stress to my life, and at times, I struggled to balance the pressures of school with personal challenges. Growing up in a family where mental health wasn’t openly discussed, I often felt isolated and unsure of how to handle my emotions. I realized over time that mental health is just as crucial as physical health, and it directly impacts our ability to succeed, both academically and personally. At home, advocating for mental health has been a slower, more personal journey. I’ve had many conversations with my parents about the importance of mental health care, trying to shift the narrative that therapy is something only “weak” people need. I encouraged them to be more aware of the signs of mental health struggles, but it wasn’t always easy. Coming from a background where emotional challenges were often dismissed or not fully understood, my parents were initially resistant to the idea of therapy or seeking professional help. However, through patience and open conversations, I’ve seen small but significant changes in their understanding. I’ve shared how therapy has benefited me and how taking care of emotional well-being can make us stronger, not weaker. My mom, especially, has become more fluent in identifying her own toxic patterns and where they come from. She realized having an alcoholic father and a perfectionist mother led her to feel ashamed whenever she made a mistake and coped with unhealthy habits. Though it’s been a struggle at times, I feel proud that I’ve been able to encourage my parents to begin viewing mental health as an essential part of overall health. For me, advocating for mental health means being open about my own experiences, listening to others, and encouraging them to seek support when needed. I want to continue normalizing conversations around mental health, especially in immigrant communities like mine, where it’s often overlooked or misunderstood. As I continue my studies in psychology, my goal is to make mental health resources more accessible, break down the stigma, and create a world where no one has to suffer in silence.

I was born in Cuba and moved to the United States with my family when I was five years old. Adjusting to life in a new country was challenging, especially with the language barrier and the financial struggles we faced. As I grew older, I found myself missing the culture, traditions, and sense of community that defined my early years in Cuba. To cope with this longing for home, I joined the Cuban American Student Association (CASA) at Florida State University. Being part of CASA allowed me to reconnect with my Cuban roots, meet others who shared similar experiences, and build a sense of belonging within the larger student body. It was an important way for me to celebrate my heritage and find comfort in a community that understood the unique challenges of being Cuban-American. Growing up as a first-generation immigrant, I learned the importance of resilience and hard work early on, and these values have guided me throughout my life and education. Being a first-generation college student came with its own set of challenges, particularly financial hardships. Despite these obstacles, I graduated from the Honors College at Florida State University two years earlier than expected. My experiences there helped me recognize how my Cuban background has influenced my approach to education. It taught me the importance of balancing independence with a sense of community. The support of my family and the connections I made through organizations like CASA have always been a constant source of strength. Through my studies, I developed a strong interest in psychology, particularly in family systems and the dynamics between parents and children. This interest grew deeper during my time working as a Registered Behavior Technician, where I specialized in helping nonverbal autistic children. This role has made me more aware of how important the family environment is in shaping a child’s development. I’ve seen how certain patterns and behaviors can be passed down from one generation to the next, which led me to want to focus on helping families break these cycles. Growing up, mental health was not always something that was openly discussed in my family or within the Cuban community. Therapy was often viewed with skepticism, and there was a lack of understanding about its importance. This has been a big motivator for me to pursue a career in mental health. I want to help normalize conversations about mental health, especially in communities like mine, where there is still stigma surrounding it. I believe that providing a space where people can openly discuss their struggles can lead to greater healing and well-being. My goal is to eventually open my own mental health clinic where I can work with families to address issues like generational trauma and unhealthy behavior patterns. I want to create a space where families feel comfortable and supported in navigating their challenges, and I plan to use techniques like play-based therapy and communication strategies, such as sign language, to help make therapy more accessible and engaging. By helping families develop healthier communication skills and coping strategies, I hope to contribute to breaking harmful cycles that affect future generations. In the future, I aim to use my background and experiences to make a positive impact in the mental health field. I want to continue learning and growing so that I can support families in a meaningful way, creating a more open, understanding, and supportive environment for those who need it most.

As a Registered Behavior Technician specializing in nonverbal autistic children, I had the opportunity to demonstrate leadership through my work with a nonverbal child who struggled to communicate and express appropriate behaviors. This child’s frustration was evident, as they lacked the ability to express their needs effectively, which often led to challenging behaviors. Recognizing that communication was key to alleviating these frustrations, I took a proactive approach by collaborating with my supervisor to implement a strategy that combined behavioral techniques with play-based therapy. Play-based therapy was crucial in engaging the child in a way that felt natural and enjoyable. I introduced simple sign language to help the child communicate basic needs, such as “more,” “all done,” and “help.” I used play as a means of reinforcing these signs, turning learning into a fun and interactive experience. This method not only encouraged communication but also helped build a trusting relationship between the child and me, as they began to associate communication with positive outcomes like praise and rewards. Through consistent reinforcement and patience, the child began using sign language to communicate their needs, which significantly reduced their frustration and helped regulate their emotions. The results of this approach were transformative, not just for the child but for their family as well. The child’s increased ability to communicate meant fewer behavioral outbursts and a more peaceful home environment. The family became more confident in managing their child’s behavior and felt empowered to continue using the strategies we had worked on together. This experience reaffirmed my belief in the power of collaboration—whether with supervisors, families, or other professionals—and highlighted the importance of using creative, engaging methods to help children develop essential skills. This experience also deepened my commitment to working with families, particularly in addressing the deeper emotional and behavioral challenges that can arise from generational trauma and toxic patterns. It is one of the key reasons I am so passionate about opening my own mental health clinic in the future. I envision a clinic that offers a supportive, safe space where families can work through their challenges together. I want to integrate a variety of therapeutic approaches, including play-based therapy, to foster communication, emotional regulation, and positive behavioral change. In addition to offering individual and family therapy, my goal is to provide resources and education to parents, teaching them techniques to better understand and support their children. By helping families break unhealthy patterns, I hope to create a lasting positive impact on future generations. The leadership skills I developed in my work as a Registered Behavior Technician—such as patience, empathy, and creative problem-solving—are ones I will carry forward as I work toward making this vision a reality in my mental health clinic.