I was in kindergarten when I realized I liked helping people. It was a weekday afternoon, sometime during October or November. The blinds were open, and sunlight streamed in through the windows as twenty-something five-year-olds ran around the small classroom. My teacher was a middle-aged woman, who was sweet with a soft voice. On this particular day, everyone in my class had made a craft. The specifics of what this craft was escape me, but I do remember helping my teacher hang them up. She pulled me aside, and said calmly, “Have you ever learned how to make tape donuts?” I giggled at the name and shook my head. I didn’t even know what tape donuts were. But a piece of me felt special, that out of every crazy kindergartener, she had asked me. For a few minutes, we sat at a pair of low desks, her demonstrating how to make these tape donuts, and me watching in fixated silence. Then, it was my turn to try. I ripped off a piece of tape, flipped it back on itself, and stuck it in a way in which I had created a sort of double-sided adhesive: a tape donut. But that wasn’t the best part. After I had been instructed in the art of tape donuts, I was then given the task of passing on this information to the rest of my class. Everyone stood in a half circle around me as I copied the process that I had been taught. It felt good. Not because I had the power of all eyes being on me, but because I was teaching people something. I was helping them. This feeling never wavered. Whether I was showing one of my peers how to spell a long word or talking my mother through a bout of intense anxiety, I was content knowing that I could improve someone’s life. At twelve years old, I began to think about how I could turn this feeling into a career. At this age, I had started to develop a great deal of my mother's mental health struggles, and by the time I was fifteen, I began to wonder if I even had a future to look forward to at all. Was it really worth living a life with that constant pain in my chest and that never-ending sinking feeling in my stomach? And that's when it hit me. I began to realize how fortunate I was, to be comforted by a close friend or family member. I knew that not everyone has this opportunity, and I wanted to combat that. My role as a therapist will help make it so that people will not have to endure this pain on their own. By listening to their struggles, I can help my clients lighten the load they carry on their shoulders. I will be able to fulfill the dream that was planted in my mind when I was five, making tape donuts in front of my entire kindergarten class.