Our mornings usually followed a system: my dad took my brother and me to school, and my mom stayed behind to get my little sister ready. The apartment was always filled with chaos: cereal bowls clinking and cartoons on in the background. One morning, my dad left with just my brother, thinking I was still inside, and my mom thought I was with my dad, leaving me out in the cold. My fingers turned numb as I waited, the type of waiting that made minutes feel like hours. At the time, I didn’t realize the effect that morning would have on my childhood. The feeling of neglect, wondering if they truly cared, lingered with me longer than it should’ve. When I asked my parents why it took them so long to realize I was gone, they dismissed my questions and warned me not to tell anyone at school what had happened. I had a feeling it was because of a recent incident involving Child Protective Services; they didn’t want to take any chances. As I grew older, I began looking at that day from my parents' point of view. The daily routine that I thought was straightforward and effortless began to reveal itself for what it was: an overworked mom who constantly worked 12-hour shifts, and a dad balancing two jobs and graduate school, trying to get their kids to school on time. I began to understand how my parents must have been overwhelmed, juggling kids and work while struggling to pay for bills. Understanding that didn’t erase the feelings I had as a child, but helped me realize what happened that day wasn’t neglect, but a rare miscommunication in the chaos that was our lives. Once I reached high school, everything seemed promising. I had outstanding grades, several friends, and no idea of what was coming next. During my sophomore year, the loneliness I felt that day returned, but this time, more familiar and heavier. I can’t pinpoint the exact day everything changed, but I remember staring at the ceiling each morning, wishing the day wouldn’t begin. I was always up before my alarm, lying awake feeling a heaviness I couldn’t explain. I dreaded going to school. I walked in with a fake smile each day, pretending everything was fine. During classes, I was constantly lost in my thoughts. Physically, there, but mentally I was checked out. I struggled to understand the material, and asking for help was difficult. Every bell that rang felt like a relief, but also a reminder that I would have to do it all again next period. I wish I could say I found healthy ways to cope, but I’d be lying. With therapy not being an option for me, I turned to unhealthy mechanisms that eventually took a toll on my physical health. Not receiving the support and comfort I needed when times were hard has pushed me to check in on others and offer nothing but support. I have learned to listen, not to fix things but to allow others to feel heard. Although I can’t go back in time and comfort the little kid who lay on those steps, or the boy who cried alone quietly in his room, I can be that source of comfort to someone else. I strive to one day become a psychiatrist specializing in children and eventually open a private practice. I plan to go straight to medical school once I have received my bachelor's degrees in Psychology & Business. My goal is to create an environment where children and teens feel seen, heard, and understood.

I have taken intentional, structured steps to prepare for my future career in medicine, with a long-term goal of becoming a psychiatrist. Understanding the academic rigor and clinical experience required for this path, I have focused on building both a strong educational foundation and meaningful hands-on exposure to healthcare settings. To prepare academically, I have taken psychology and sociology courses to better understand human behavior, mental health, and social influences on well-being. These courses have not only strengthened my analytical thinking and provided a foundational understanding of the people I hope to serve in the future, but have also given me the motivation to further my studies and find the root of problems certain communities face. In addition, I am currently completing an Emergency Medical Technician (EMT) course, which will allow me to take the National Registry of Emergency Medical Technicians (NREMT) exam by the end of my senior year. This certification will enable me to work during college while gaining the valuable clinical hours required to apply to medical school. Beyond the classroom, I have actively sought real-world medical experience. I have completed clinical hours in a hospital setting and participated in ambulance ride-alongs with the local fire department. These experiences exposed me to high-pressure medical environments and allowed me to observe patient care, teamwork, and decision-making firsthand. Through these opportunities, I have developed strong communication skills, adaptability, and the ability to remain calm under stress—skills that are essential for a future physician, particularly in psychiatry. Additionally, I joined my school’s medical club to connect with peers and professionals in healthcare, expanding my understanding of medical careers and networking with individuals currently working in hospital settings. To stay focused and accountable, I made myself a five-year plan outlining my academic, professional, and personal goals. This plan serves as a guide during moments of self-doubt and a reminder of what my end goal is. Through deliberate coursework, clinical exposure, professional involvement, and long-term planning, I have taken proactive steps to prepare for a future in medicine and the responsibilities that come with it. My long-term goal is to open a private practice that prioritizes accessibility, trust, and comfort for children and their families. In this setting, I hope to reduce the stigma surrounding mental health by creating an environment where seeking help feels normal and encouraged. By collaborating with families, schools, and other healthcare professionals, I will ensure that children receive consistent support across multiple areas of their lives.

Some moments from childhood fade—but others stay with you, shaping how you see yourself and the world. For me, those moments sparked a deep interest in understanding why people think, feel, and behave the way they do, especially during childhood and adolescence. Over time, that interest grew into a passion for psychology. Psychology is grounded in a wide range of theories that have been developed, examined, and studied through years of research. One theory that deeply resonates with the challenges I've faced in my life is Erik Erikson’s psychosocial stages of development. Erikson emphasizes the period of “Identity vs. Role confusion” in adolescents, where young people struggle to understand who they are and where they fit in this world. Saying I understand what that feels like would be an understatement. In all honesty, I myself have experienced periods of isolation and loneliness. During my sophomore and junior years of high school, I faced significant mental health struggles that tested my resilience. When I reflect on my childhood and some of my teenage years, I realize that these formative stages have significantly shaped my life. Those same feelings of isolation and pretending to be okay made me question my identity and worth, demonstrating the struggles of Erikson's adolescent stage. Learning about these stages has helped me understand my own experiences and motivated me to help others navigate through theirs. Through all of the hardships I have faced, I have been able to learn valuable life lessons. I have learned to ask for help when needed and to have an open mind when going into new experiences. Gaining this quality has helped me grow not only as. person, but as a friend to others. I have become a person whom others confide in, not because I give good advice, but simply because I listen. I hope to bring this quality into my career path and eventually help children and adolescents who face such struggles navigate their difficult periods and help them feel seen. Once I receive my college degree, I will use my education as the first step toward a career dedicated to improving mental health care. I plan to attend medical school and pursue psychiatry, with the long-term goal of opening my own practice focused on child and adolescent mental health. Through this path, I hope to eventually make meaningful contributions to individuals and families who face mental health challenges. In this setting, I aim to reduce the stigma surrounding mental health by creating an environment where seeking help feels normal and encouraged. By collaborating with families, schools, and other healthcare professionals, I will ensure that children receive consistent support across multiple areas of their lives. Ultimately, I intend to one day use my education and professional training to advocate for early mental health care and to expand access to psychiatric services for all, but not limited to young people. By supporting children during critical stages of development, I aim to help them build resilience, confidence, and emotional stability. Through this work, I aim to contribute to healthier communities and to a future in which mental health care is viewed as an essential part of overall health and well-being.

Our mornings usually followed a system: my dad took my brother and me to school, and my mom stayed behind to get my little sister ready. But one day, my dad left with just my brother, thinking I was still inside, and my mom thought I was with my dad, leaving me out in the cold. My fingers turned numb as I waited, the type of waiting that made minutes feel like hours. At the time, I didn’t realize the effect that morning would have on my childhood. The feeling of neglect, wondering if they truly cared, lingered with me longer than it should have. When I asked my parents why it took them so long to realize I was gone, they dismissed my questions and warned me not to tell anyone at school what had happened. I had a feeling it was because of a recent incident involving Child Protective Services; they didn’t want to take any chances. As I grew older, I began looking at that day from my parents' point of view. The daily routine that I thought was straightforward and effortless began to reveal itself for what it was: an overworked mom who constantly worked 12-hour shifts, and a dad balancing two jobs and graduate school, trying to get their three kids to school on time. I began to understand how my parents must have been overwhelmed, juggling kids and work while struggling to keep the bills paid. Understanding that didn’t erase the feelings I had as a child, but helped me realize what happened that day wasn’t neglect, but a rare miscommunication in the chaos that was our lives. Once I reached high school, everything seemed promising. I had outstanding grades, several friends, and no idea of what was coming next. During my sophomore year, the loneliness I felt that day returned, but this time, more familiar and heavier. I can’t pinpoint the exact day everything changed, but I remember staring at the ceiling each morning, wishing the day wouldn’t begin. I was always up before my alarm, lying awake feeling a heaviness I couldn’t explain. I dreaded going to school. I walked in with a fake smile each day, pretending everything was fine. During class, I was constantly lost in thought. Physically, there, but mentally I was checked out. I struggled to understand the material, and asking for help was difficult. Every bell that rang felt like a relief, but also a reminder that I would have to do it all again next period. I wish I could say I found healthy ways to cope, but I’d be lying. With therapy not being an option for me, I turned to unhealthy mechanisms that eventually took a toll on my physical health. Not receiving the support and comfort I needed during difficult times has motivated me to check in on others and offer nothing but support. I have learned to listen, not to fix things but to allow others to feel heard. Although I can’t go back in time and comfort the little kid who lay on those steps, or the boy who cried alone quietly in his room, I can be that comfort to someone else. I strive to one day become a clinical psychologist specializing in adolescents, earn my PsyD, and eventually open a private practice. My goal is to create an environment where children and teens not only feel seen and heard but also understood. Mr. Terry's story inspires me to push past my adversity and put in work and effort to also push my story out there and help others heal.