"Dad, can we please have a pet dog?" My younger brother asked for the billionth time that day while we were driving back home. My dad lightheartedly laughed as he replied, "We already have a pet dog at home." The pet dog he was referencing was me. Throughout my life, my family has fondly called me "puppy" ever since I was born. Within the Vietnamese Zodiac System, I was born in the year of the dog, granting me the beloved nickname. Those born in the year of the dog symbolize luck, loyalty, and happiness. They are also known for upholding justice and guarding those that they love. When I was born, I was destined to protect my family like dogs in Vietnam used to guard their master’s homes. In Vietnamese mythology, the dog arrived late to the Jade Emperor’s feast because it was busy helping a god defeat monsters in a faraway land. While I don’t physically combat evil demons, every time my parents needed help interpreting important documents or needed me to call someone for them, I would (almost always) immediately come to help them after hearing them say, “Puppy! Help me for one second.” I was ready to answer the call to action even if it was as simple as translating reviews on my mom’s nail salon or as intense as calling 911 after someone broke into our house. Just like a devoted dog to its owner, I was a devoted child determined to help my parents in any way possible, which heavily played into the path I decided to follow. Despite being my family’s “guardian dog”, I had nobody to lean on when I needed help most. I felt scared to reach out for help for fear that it meant I was no longer strong enough to protect my family. Mental health was highly stigmatized within my community, leading me to actively avoid getting resources that could have helped me with my worsening condition. As time went by, the flashbacks that would transport me from the present reality to the past only got worse and more frequent. It was to the point where I didn’t know where I was or what date it was. It was like my life was a broken record player, playing the same horrible memories on a loop. After many years, I was able to finally lift the needle off the vinyl and put an end to the nightmare of a loop. Once I regained control of my life and improved my mental health, I not only went back to proudly being my family’s “guardian dog” but also began to pursue psychiatry. Because I wasn’t able to access mental health resources growing up, I was never able to get a diagnosis. I began searching up my symptoms and learned about PTSD and a variety of other mental illnesses. Ever since then, I grew more and more fascinated about psychology. Around that time, I also found a passion in medicine and decided to dedicate my life to both of my newfound interests. As a psychiatrist, I want to end the immense stigma that surrounds mental health in our society, especially within Asian communities. I want to teach all generations that just because someone suffers from mental health does not mean they are not strong enough to love and take care of those around them. I hope that future “guardian dogs” can come to me when they need help without feelings of shame and guilt. My dad glances at me over his shoulder as he says, “Thank you for being the most perfect protector puppy.”

Despite aspiring to become a psychiatrist, I have avoided getting help my entire life because of the stigma that the Asian community has surrounding the topic. I was always scared to admit that I needed support due to the fear that my loved ones would view me as weak or say that I brought shame to my family. Now that I am older, I do not want anybody else to go through what I did. One of the strongest positive impacts a person can have is by breaking generational cycles and ensuring that it does not continue to repeat. I used to believe that my struggle with my mental health was a lonely path that only I faced. Unfortunately, a majority of Asian Americans also face this bleak journey. Only 8.6% of Asian Americans seek out mental health resources and services, making them 50% less likely than any other racial group to get help or treatment. A majority of Asian Americans, especially those who just immigrated or are first generation, are not taking care of their mental health. Societal pressures from both the west and the east side of the planet are the cause of this issue. In the west, many popularized stereotypes about the intelligence and personality traits of Asian Americans cause more harm than good. Some of these include assumptions that Asian people are far more intelligent or skilled. Many people, including me, grow insecure and anxious when they don’t conform to the mold that society forced them to fit into, leading them to think that they are not enough. In the east, family obligations also add on to the anxieties that Asian Americans face everyday. For most, it is an expectation for them to prioritize and take care of their family and community. Because mental illness is considered a barrier to a person’s capabilities to look after their loved ones, it is frowned upon. The weight of the pressure to conform to both the expectations of western society and their family’s expectations can be overwhelming. Being more open about mental health and having more representation in mental health related careers is crucial to helping more Asian Americans get access to care without the fear of feeling ashamed. I aspire to become a psychiatrist in hopes that I can show that there is no shame in seeking help. I want to make therapy and treatment more accessible to everyone of all ages. Because of my own experiences, I hope that my future patients can feel comfortable with opening up to me and know that I am there for them. I will listen to all my patients with open ears and talk to all of them with love. I want to destroy all the barriers that prevent people from getting the help they need. While I am still completing my education, I am already beginning to create my own impact. I have begun conversations with my family about mental health and educating my parents about how important it is to take care of ourselves mentally. When I told my family that I planned to become a psychiatrist, they were worried that it was a job that held no honor and was not financially stable, but I am not concerned about wealth or distinction. I am willing to put in the time to gain the education and skills needed to become a psychiatrist. I can sacrifice anything to be able to save the lives of those who are suffering alone.