My childhood was a happy one. I was an innocent and bubbly kid, getting out of my life as much as I could, naive to many of the truths of the world. Those days are a time that I miss, a time that I would love to return to, if only for a day. It was a time where the most of my worries were if I would be able to get a Barbie Doll from Walmart and the biggest debates were which Disney Princess was best (and why I would only believe the correct answer to be Ariel from the Little Mermaid). As I grew older, my views (just like everything with the passage of time) began to shift and change. I was around the age of 12 or so, in the seventh grade, when my mom called me up to the living room one afternoon. My little sister and I innocently sat ourselves on the couch, curious as to what mom was going to tell us. She seemed serious, and when she began to explain my heart dropped. I believe I yelled out in denial, confusing my sister but saddening my mom. Divorce always felt like something beyond my family. Although it is common, the idea of my own parents getting divorced seemed more like a fantasy. But my mom’s words made this far off fantasy a horrid reality. For the next 5 years after she told us initially, I found myself in the middle of a war. The shield that my mom had put up for me my entire childhood was beginning to crumble down. The facade my so-called father had been putting up (that of a loveable goof) fell away. The monster that my mom tried so long to protect me from had been revealed. He would call my mom names in phone calls, yell like the broken drunk he is, and try to manipulate me and my sister into taking his side to break her down. In the process he broke me too. For the longest time I did not know who to trust, which parent was sincere and which was trying to bring the other to their knees. Though the answer is obvious now, it was hard for a child like myself to really understand. It did not help that the court refused to listen. They worked against what we needed, sending myself and my sister to visitations despite our crying. The world I once knew was gone. No more was I wanting cute Barbies or debating about Ariel. I found I had developed depression and anxiety, my emotions being such a mess. Within the new world however, there was a comfort within the dark. In the early days of the divorce, I was in therapy. These people, trained to help those in need such as myself, were able to pull me out of the dark place I was in. They were able to listen when the courts would refuse. Being with these people, I found what I wanted to do with my life. If there was a way for me to help others in situations such as mine, I would take that opportunity. Even if I would be able to help one hurt child get through a terrible situation, then it would be worth it. That is the reason I am going to pursue a degree in psychology. With the degree and training, I will be able to do what I’ve set out to do, help those who have lost their formly happy childhoods.